Only Because ...

13.7 billion years ago the universe exploded into existence;
4.6 billion years ago a star went supernova in the Milky Way to form our solar system;
2 billion years ago, bacterial activities brought oxygen level up to 21% so that more complex life forms could develop;
65 million years ago, a meteoroid hit earth and wiped out the dinosaurs which had dominated our planet for the previous 160 million years;
35 million years ago, ape-like creatures began to evolve on earth;
250,000 years ago, Homo Sapiens developed their brains and spread out across the world;
During the 13th century my ancestors in China moved south and escaped the slaughter of the invading Mongolians;
In the 1940s during the Japanese occupation of Hongkong, father got away with just a slap in the face after refusing to bow to a Japanese soldier;
In 1959, despite the hospital’s assessment that I would have at best a 50/50 chance of being born alive, I made it;
On 7 July 2005, instead of taking my usual Circle Line train, I was on my way to a meeting in Harrogate when the bomb exploded on that underground train;
… otherwise where would I be now?

By God, What Do You Mean?

It’s because people mean so many different things by the term ‘God’ that I’m never sure what to say when asked if I believe in God.

If by ‘God’, you mean ‘the totality of existence, of everything that is”, then I’m with Spinoza, God exists.

If by ‘God’, you mean ‘some being who in some way which no one can ever explain played an important part in the universe coming into being and has continued to take an interest in what happens in it’, then I’m not so sure.

If by ‘God’, you mean ‘the owner of that voice which speaks to people, telling them what to do without others ever hearing what is said – including things like “take your son outside and kill him”’, then I’m seriously worried about you.

However, if by ‘God’, you mean ‘an omnipotent and all benevolent being who is not prepared to tolerate what we can all see as the grotesque suffering around us, and who nonetheless allows it to go on’, then no, on that definition, there is no God.

Farewell Marcus

As silence fell in the room, Marcus walked round the carved green stone by the fire and found that it had an opening in its back. He squeezed through it to descend down winding stairs which led him to a cellar resembling the basement of his villa in Arpinum. Ahead of him was the mirror he had run through months before. Should he return home though the memory of his family being slaughtered by his father’s enemies was still painfully fresh on his mind?

Behind him were footsteps coming down the stairs. He hid behind the tall mirror. The voices he could hear were of two men. One said the experiment had failed and it was time to terminate the boy. The other said they should leave him alone and he would fade away anyway with no interest in him. The first one was unwavering in his determination to hunt the boy down so there would a definite end to it. The other one would not allow it and drew out his sword. Fighting broke out.

“Stop!” Marcus cried out. “I know you’re fighting about what to do with me. It’s clear there’s no place for me in this world of yours. For all I’ve tried, I’m no more than a ghost. And I’m tired of being a ghost, seeing so many cold eyes looking straight through me. I have been told that I must continue my journey, but it doesn’t have to be here. I will go and you will have the ending you need.”

The two men, swords by their sides, watched Marcus step across the threshold of the mirror. He disappeared back into his own world. Marcus Cicero grew up to be a vocal defender of the rule of law. Fearlessly, he opposed the dictatorship of Julius Caesar and denounced Mark Anthony for his ruthless ambitions undermining the wellbeing of the republic. He was to be betrayed by the young Augustus and murdered by Mark Anthony’s henchmen.

The Oracle of Hope

The murky water into which young Cicero had dived seemed to possess unfathomable depth. As if being drawn down by invisible weights, he sank relentlessly until he reached a mirror lying flat at the bottom. Cautiously he crept into it and found himself in a warm, dry room where a carved green stone as tall as the boy stood by a glowing fire. “You’re wondering what’s happening? Why you’re caught up with one bizarre event after another? And what it all means?”

Marcus nodded, and the voice continued, “you have been chosen to be the agent of the gods, to draw attention to those who threaten our world and kindle a spirit of defiance in the battle against them. The gods are alarmed by the relentless march of tyrants who rob the poor to aggrandise themselves and their rich allies, fanatics who sacrifice the innocent to gratify their perverted sense of righteousness, and charlatans who spread lies to serve their unscrupulous masters.”

“But what can I do?” asked the boy, “I try to explain but nobody ever listens. I’m as powerless as ever in the face of the horrors you speak of. They are everywhere, and there’s nothing I can bring about to stop them. I fear that regardless of what I do, however much I protest, even if the gods are on my side, all the efforts are in the end futile. How long have I been wandering now? For much, if not all, of the time, I’m just on my own. If I were struck down, nobody would even notice.”

“For a long time to come, it is true, you will remain alone. You will have to continue on your journey fraught with mishaps and dangers. And no one will pay any attention to you. But it is written that you will continue with your quest. Let neither the cold neglect nor scorching attacks you face divert you from the true path. Some day, the dream of Arpinum will give strength to hope, and the resistance to the darkness upon us will burn that much brighter."

A Curious Trial

The Judge stared sternly at Marcus. He asked if he had anything to say before sentence was passed. All the boy could muster was that he was an innocent bystander – he neither stole nor damaged anything. “But you didn’t stop the looters,” thundered the Judge, “you are morally weak, you are a pathetic creature who would not stand up for what is RIGHT. Your weakness must be punished, as a reminder to you and as an example to others.”

Looking at the gallery where a large crowd had gathered screaming for the death penalty, the Judge smiled grimly. “The people have a right to expect justice to be carried out on their behalf. They have been wronged and it is my duty to strike back, judicially, to right that wrong. So, based on the power vested in me by an ancient constitution none of you remotely comprehends, I hereby sentence Marcus Tullius Cicero, aged ten, to death by hanging. May God have mercy on you, because we certainly don’t.”

“But I’m innocent”, the boy cried out, “surely you understand that.” That only infuriated the Judge who acidly replied, “How dare you ask for understanding in the middle of a crisis. Now it’s no time for understanding, now we must take decisive action. Only the weak, the liberal-minded, the treacherous ask for understanding. We ask for justice, strength, and resolution. Take this criminal away!”

Back in his cell, Marcus counted out the number of days he had left before his execution. No appeal would be allowed, he had already been told. The Governor, a good friend of the Judge, was running for some even higher political office, and had proudly declared that he was the only man to have the courage to ensure the accused was hung, regardless of the incessant whining about innocence. The boy turned the tap on until water overflowed across the floor. Looking at his gaunt face staring back at him, he dived into the reflection and vanished from the cell.

An Owl in Shining Armour

Marcus kept crawling through the narrow underground tunnel. It had been hours. As he was getting more tired, the space got tighter. Before he even realised it, he was well and truly stuck. There was no way for him to extricate himself. As the clock of futility ticked away, he pined for the quick death he could have secured had he stayed behind in his own world. Then tremors swept across him. The ground above shook and cracked open. Cautiously he climbed up to the surface where hundreds, thousands of people were running around, shouting, and throwing stones at buildings.

He was still staring at the chaos when troops appeared and started firing on the rampaging crowds. Civilians were being torn to shreds. Marcus knew not where he should turn when an owl in shining armour appeared to tell him not to worry. It had contacted a friend in the west who promised them his protection. Within minutes the sky was filled with planes dropping bombs on the trigger-happy soldiers, but also from time to time on the civilians in the streets and those hiding in their own home. Bemused by the deadly help it received from its friend, the owl led the boy across the border to a different land.

Here the streets were quieter, but as dusk approached, a large crowd gathered in a public square decrying the injustice they daily faced. Almost immediately tanks arrived and proceeded to kill defenceless people on sight. The owl flew off to speak to its friend in the west, only to return later with the news that since the name of the land they were now in began with an ‘S’ rather than an ‘L’, no help would be forthcoming. As bullets and shells were sprayed around them, the brave owl guided young Cicero to yet another place where there were no soldiers, just civilians smashing shop windows and burning cars. “I’ll leave you now. You should be safe here”, it said, “this belongs to my friend in the west.”

As the owl disappeared into the night, Marcus felt a truncheon crashed into the back of his head. He woke to find himself arrested for rioting and looting. Repeatedly he attempted to explain that he was an innocent bystander, only to be told sternly that an example must be made of him for daring to mix with the unruly elements of society. A man with an expressionless face threw him into a stinking cell. The boy stared out of the barred window, hoping against hope that the owl would come back once more, but he looked in vain.

The River of Venom

Marcus came upon a river and saw people wearing headbands of different colours mingling together. They wore black, white, pink, green and many besides and happily exchanged greetings and gifts. But then to quench their thirst they approached the river to sip its flowing water. The boy noticed a violent change of disposition amongst them. Rapidly, they were attacking anyone not wearing the same colour headband as their own. Vicious punches were thrown, merciless thumping and kicking spread uncontrollably. Some drew weapons on those with no defence against them. The verdant fields turned raging red.

Fearing for his life, Marcus ran along the river up the hill. In the distance he could see half a dozen figures. He desperately hoped that they would be able to help him. They seemed remarkably calm, and it was possible that they could cure the madness downstream or at least offer him temporary sanctuary.

Men and women each wearing a different colour robe stood at the head of the river, pouring bucket after bucket of dark fluid into the water. They explained it was part of their ritual. They could not live without their constant outpouring of hate against people of different colours and traditions. Great stress they laid on their condemnation of violence. They would not have anything to do with those lunatics lower down. Unfortunately they would not have anything to do with the boy either, for they must carry on infusing the river with their vitriol. They had no time for anything else.

Marcus tried to warn them, but they would not listen. The hate-filled zombies were fast approaching. The boy ran to hide behind a tree and witnessed them picking out those wearing robes with colours they despised to unleash their unspeakable fury. The robed figures, proclaiming their detachment from violence to the last, had their lungs flattened and skulls smashed by those who had unwisely consumed the poison released into the river. For young Marcus Tully, there was no escape apart from that deep hole by the tree. He had no choice but to jump into it.