Garstein Fellows'."We won't go into that," he agreed."No!""Other religions have told the story in a different way.The Cathars and Gnostics did.They said that the God in your heart is a rebel against the God beyond the stars, that the Christ in your heart is like Prometheus--or Hiawatha--or any other of the sacrificial gods, a rebel.He arises out of man.He rebels against that high God of the stars and crystals and poisons and monsters and of the dead emptiness of space....The Manicheans and the Persians made out our God to be fighting eternally against that Being of silence and darkness beyond the stars.The Buddhists made the Lord Buddha the leader of men out of the futility and confusion of material existence to the great peace beyond.But it is all one story really, the story of the two essential Beings, always the same story and the same perplexity cropping up under different names, the story of one being who stirs us, calls to us, and leads us, and of another who is above and outside and in and beneath all things, inaccessible and incomprehensible.All these religions are trying to tell something they do not clearly know--of a relationship between these two, that eludes them, that eludes the human mind, as water escapes from the hand.It is unity and opposition they have to declare at the same time; it is agreement and propitiation, it is infinity and effort.""And the truth?" said the bishop in an eager whisper."You can tell me the truth."The Angel's answer was a gross familiarity.He thrust his hand through the bishop's hair and ruffled it affectionately, and rested for a moment holding the bishop's cranium in his great palm.
"But can this hold it?" he said....
"Not with this little box of brains," said the Angel."You could as soon make a meal of the stars and pack them into your belly.You haven't the things to do it with inside this."He gave the bishop's head a little shake and relinquished it.
He began to argue as an elder brother might.
"Isn't it enough for you to know something of the God that comes down to the human scale, who has been born on your planet and arisen out of Man, who is Man and God, your leader? He's more than enough to fill your mind and use up every faculty of your being.He is courage, he is adventure, he is the King, he fights for you and with you against death....""And he is not infinite? He is not the Creator?" asked the bishop.
"So far as you are concerned, no," said the Angel.
"So far as I am concerned?"
"What have you to do with creation?"
And at that question it seemed that a great hand swept carelessly across the blackness of the farther sky, and smeared it with stars and suns and shining nebulas as a brush might smear dry paint across a canvas.
The bishop stared in front of him.Then slowly he bowed his head, and covered his face with his hands.
"And I have been in orders," he murmured; "I have been teaching people the only orthodox and perfect truth about these things for seven and twenty years."And suddenly he was back in his gaiters and his apron and his shovel hat, a little black figure exceedingly small in a very great space....
(10)
It was a very great space indeed because it was all space, and the roof was the ebony of limitless space from which the stars swung flaming, held by invisible ties, and the soil beneath his feet was a dust of atoms and the little beginnings of life.And long before the bishop bared his face again, he knew that he was to see his God.
He looked up slowly, fearing to be dazzled.
But he was not dazzled.He knew that he saw only the likeness and bodying forth of a being inconceivable, of One who is greater than the earth and stars and yet no greater than a man.He saw a being for ever young, for ever beginning, for ever triumphant.
The quality and texture of this being was a warm and living light like the effulgence at sunrise; He was hope and courage like a sunlit morning in spring.He was adventure for ever, and His courage and adventure flowed into and submerged and possessed the being of the man who beheld him.And this presence of God stood over the bishop, and seemed to speak to him in a wordless speech.
He bade him surrender himself.He bade him come out upon the Adventure of Life, the great Adventure of the earth that will make the atoms our bond-slaves and subdue the stars, that will build up the white fires of ecstasy to submerge pain for ever, that will overcome death.In Him the spirit of creation had become incarnate, had joined itself to men, summoning men to Him, having need of them, having need of them, having need of their service, even as great kings and generals and leaders need and use men.For a moment, for an endless age, the bishop bowed himself in the being and glory of God, felI the glow of the divine courage and confidence in his marrow, felt himself one with God.
For a timeless interval....
Never had the bishop had so intense a sense of reality.It seemed that never before had he known anything real.He knew certainly that God was his King and master, and that his unworthy service could be acceptable to God.His mind embraced that idea with an absolute conviction that was also absolute happiness.
(11)
The thoughts and sensations of the bishop seemed to have lifted for a time clean away from the condition of time, and then through a vast orbit to be returning to that limitation.
He was aware presently that things were changing, that the light was losing its diviner rays, that in some indescribable manner the glory and the assurance diminished.
The onset of the new phase was by imperceptible degrees.From a glowing, serene, and static realization of God, everything relapsed towards change and activity.He was in time again and things were happening, it was as if the quicksands of time poured by him, and it was as if God was passing away from him.He fell swiftly down from the heaven of self-forgetfulness to a grotesque, pathetic and earthly self-consciousness.
He became acutely aware of his episcopal livery.And that God was passing away from him.
It was as if God was passing, and as if the bishop was unable to rise up and follow him.
Then it was as if God had passed, and as if the bishop was in headlong pursuit of him and in a great terror lest he should be left behind.And he was surely being left behind.
He discovered that in some unaccountable way his gaiters were loose; most of their buttons seemed to have flown off, and his episcopal sash had slipped down about his feet.He was sorely impeded.He kept snatching at these things as he ran, in clumsy attempts to get them off.
At last he had to stop altogether and kneel down and fumble with the last obstinate button.
"Oh God!" he cried, "God my captain! Wait for me! Be patient with me!"And as he did so God turned back and reached out his hand.It was indeed as if he stood and smiled.He stood and smiled as a kind man might do; he dazzled and blinded his worshipper, and yet it was manifest that he had a hand a man might clasp.
Unspeakable love and joy irradiated the whole being of the bishop as he seized God's hand and clasped it desperately with both his own.It was as if his nerves and arteries and all his substance were inundated with golden light....
It was again as if he merged with God and became God....
