At the end of time, billions of people were seated on a great
plain before God's throne. Most shrank back from the brilliant
light before them. But some groups near the front talked heatedly,
not cringing with cringing shame - but with belligerence.
"Can God judge us? How can He know about suffering?",
snapped a pert young brunette. She ripped open a sleeve to reveal
a tattooed number from a Nazi concentration camp. "We endured
terror ... beatings ... torture ... death!"
In another group a Negro boy lowered his collar. "What about
this?" he demanded, showing an ugly rope burn. "Lynched,
for no crime but being black !"
In another crowd there was a pregnant schoolgirl with sullen eyes:
"Why should I suffer?" she murmured. "It wasn't
my fault." Far out across the plain were hundreds of such
groups. Each had a complaint against God for the evil and suffering
He had permitted in His world.
How lucky God was to live in Heaven, where all was sweetness and
light. Where there was no weeping or fear, no hunger or hatred.
What did God know of all that man had been forced to endure in
this world? For God leads a pretty sheltered life, they said.
So each of these groups sent forth their leader, chosen because
he had suffered the most. A Jew, a negro, a person from Hiroshima,
a horribly deformed arthritic, a thalidomide child. In the centre
of the vast plain, they consulted with each other. At last they
were ready to present their case. It was rather clever.
Before God could be qualified to be their judge, He must endure
what they had endured. Their decision was that God should be sentenced
to live on earth as a man.
Let him be born a Jew. Let the legitimacy of his birth be doubted.
Give him a work so difficult that even his family will think him
out of his mind.
Let him be betrayed by his closest friends. Let him face false
charges, be tried by a prejudiced jury and convicted by a cowardly
judge. Let him be tortured.
At the last, let him see what it means to be terribly alone. Then
let him die so there can be no doubt he died. Let there be a great
host of witnesses to verify it.
As each leader announced his portion of the sentence, loud murmurs
of approval went up from the throng of people assembled. When
the last had finished pronouncing sentence, there was a long silence.
No one uttered a word. No one moved.
For suddenly, all knew that God had already served His sentence.
Anon (written before Summer 1982)
First posted here: November 21, 1995