The Long Silence
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.
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