Her nine disciples were as busy as she was, and as the day wore on, I realized how much work they’d collectively gotten done during the day. Nine people working their asses off for no payment I was aware of, all because they believed she was the daughter of God.
I believed it, too.
Forty-eight hours earlier, I had basically laughed at the idea, but now I knew it was true. This slight, unprepossessing girl, a black girl from a poor family, the most unlikely of choices, was, without question in my mind, indeed the daughter of God.
God, a being I would have also sworn couldn’t possibly exist.
All from looking into her eyes, and a couple words she’d spoken to me.
She knew me. I knew her. I’d killed her by smashing her head with a rock. She should have hated me, refused to see me, wanted revenge.
Instead she smiled at me with that smile the whole world now recognized, and she accepted me without hesitation into her innermost circle of advisors.
She never said, “Hey, David, wanna work for me?”
She didn’t have to. She knew, and I knew. I was meant to be part of her team.
I was her tenth disciple.
In the late afternoon, she nodded at me, indicating she wanted me to follow her. We silently walked out the door together and into the sunshine. It was in the mid-seventies, a beautiful day for a stroll.
Without knowing what she wanted, I walked with her, not talking. She’d let me know what she wanted in her own time.
Finally, she said, “It’s a beautiful day.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“You have questions.”
Well, there was the understatement of the year. My mind had been swirling with questions ever since we first met. How was this possible? How could I have been so wrong my whole life? Why did science still seem to trump religion, when I now knew the truth?
I also had bigger questions, the kinds of things that drive people crazy.
How could God allow a monster like Adolph Hitler to exist and to kill ten million innocent Jews? They were His own people, and he sat by idly while they were slaughtered.
And for every Hitler, there were a thousand mini-Hitlers. People who killed without caring about consequences. Men who raped girls before they could even count themselves as teens. Women who abused their husbands with calculating cruelty, robbing them of their humanity. What kind of a God would put up with that shit? Sometimes it seemed like if there was a God, He must be as cruel and sadistic as His worst creations.
Do we have free will? If God knows all, past, present, and future, and he can direct everything to match His desires, we have no free will of our own. If that’s true, what’s the point of even being alive? It’s like the history of humanity was written in a book, and God is slowly turning the pages at his convenience. More, he’s written the damned book from beginning to end.
Why is the Bible stuffed with demonstrations of God performing miracles and talking to everyday people, lifting them up with his voice, but for the past two thousand years, it seems like God has been silenced. No miracles, and the only people who say they hear God are totally nuts by most definitions.
So, yes, I had questions.
But, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.
“How can you forgive me for what I did to you?”
Erika smiled. “We love all our children. Nothing you can do will ever change that.”
“We?”
She sat on a bench and pointed, so I sat beside her. I was feeling all kinds of intimidation, but at the same time knew I was totally safe.
“My Father, myself, and the Holy Spirit. We’re the Trinity. Three beings unified into a single God.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I know. You will.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
“Have you lived forever?”
She nodded. “It’s not so hard to believe. Time never existed before we created it, so before that, without time, there wasn’t the concept of forever, so it wasn’t anything particularly special.”
My science background kicked in when she said that, and I kind of—well, sort of—understood what she was saying. Before the Big Bang that created the universe, everything that existed would have existed only as a figment of a creator’s imagination. We measured time as how long it takes between two different events, like how long it takes for a second hand on a clock to sweep from pointing straight up to pointing to the right. That constituted fifteen seconds. If there were no clocks, nothing to move, nor people to watch things move, does time itself exist?
At the moment, none of that really mattered. My brain was on fire, and my mind seemed to be running in a thousand different directions.
I opened my mouth to ask her another question, or maybe to thank her or to tell her I needed to go to the bathroom. Whatever it was, nothing came out. I couldn’t think straight, and she reached out her hand and took hold of mine.
“It’s a lot to take in.”
I nodded, not able to speak.
She stood and I did the same. She hugged me and I wanted to hug her back, but my body wasn’t really working all that well. I stood there like a dead tree while she hugged me. She didn’t let go, though, and after what seemed like a million years, I put my arms around her and hugged her back.
I was in the stage wing, watching when Erika was called out to join James Arlender. In times past, I’d watched some of his HBO specials, and with everyone else, I’d groaned at the jokes when he’d make fun of some group. It didn’t matter to him if it was religion, politics, or race. Anything went with him. Being on The Tonight Show, though, I knew he’d have to cut out the swearing and hopefully treat Erika with a bit of respect.
While I watched her walk out, full of confidence and smiling that jarring smile of hers, I clicked away with my camera. It seemed that, without asking, I was taking on the role of official photographer.
I’m pretty sure that’s how all her closest followers joined her team. They found out what they’d be good at and they did it. No need to ask for permission, no discussion of payment (there was none) or any other type of reimbursement. The church bought food and provided a place to sleep for the staff, and everyone accepted that’s all they needed.
“Welcome, Erika.”
I heard Arlender’s voice loud and clear. He shook Erika’s hand but hesitated first, as if he might try to hug her instead. I’m not sure. Maybe he was just always a bit nervous.
“Thank you.”
They sat on opposite sides of a desk.
I wished Jimmy Fallon wasn’t on vacation.
“So, let’s start with an easy question. You say you’re the daughter of God. That’s the big guy in the sky, right? Presumably God could drop a son or daughter anywhere. Why you? Why in a small town in upstate New York?”
Erika nodded. She’d clearly expected the question.
“You mean why a black girl instead of a white man?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. But, to answer your question, my father doesn’t care about color or gender or any of the other things you like to poke at. What matters is that this was the right place at the right time.”
“The right place and time for what? To exploit people?”
“To bring the Lord’s message.”
“What message is that?”
“Have you ever read the Bible, Mr. Arlender?”
He shrugged and grinned. “I’m waiting for the movie.”
The audience chuckled. I took some photos of the audience as the interview went on.
“There’s really only two things you need to know.”
“Weren’t there ten commandments? And a bunch of other laws and stuff?”