Conversation with the Devil

 

Upon waking up, as my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I noticed was that Satan was no longer there. I looked around carefully and didn’t see him. Now, I recall the terror I felt as a child. My grandmother would shudder just at the mention of it, and the neighbour said it shouldn't even be named. My Italian grandmother would say "il diavolo" in a hoarse voice and the foreign language added mysteriousness. I would get a shiver that ran from my spine to my neck. And I listened to her,  fearfully.

Last night, I found out what it was like and decided to share it with you, the reader. Of course, I can only testify to my own experience; the judgments, I leave to you. Your experience will be tailored for you, mine was grounded in my own life and fears; and also my struggles and they started with my discussion with my Italian grandmother, who engaged with my rational approach.

Between my grandmother's tales and who knows what movies and stories I saw or heard during my childhood, I was originally terrified by the idea that he might steal my soul and take me to eternal torment. Of course, there was something that scared me more than death or eternal torture: the idea of not controlling my thoughts, my mind. Being possessed.

Of course, what happened last night went beyond that. It wasn't biblical fiction. It was the devil, just as he is. My first realization—confirming an old prejudice—was that the devil manifests to each person in a tailor-made form. For some, I guess, it will be a terrible, terrifying experience. For others, he may be pleasurable as he might appear as an archangel, a saint, or even God Himself. For me he was him, no pretence; a rational, playful intellectual.

It goes without saying, he toyed with my childhood fears, in the way they have been reshaped by my adult reasoning, including my discomfort with God. Yes, my discomfort with God, so I shall start by clarifying that as a child, I was also terrified of God even if Grandma insisted "He's very good," in her sweetest voice.

My grandmother had a children's Bible with fantastic illustrations. When she told me the story of Abraham, I couldn't understand how a God like that could be considered good. I remember the colourful and vivid drawings in that children's Bible, depicting the scene where God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son to show his love for God above all else.

And I remember this conversation:

-Grandma, isn't it cruel to kill his son?

-He didn't have to kill him, just show his intention to obey.

-Grandma, but the intention to kill shows cruelty.

-Well, yes, but he had to demonstrate obedience.

-Why you need to obey something that appears to be cruel?

-Because sometimes you don't know what is good or evil. Your mother gives you medicine that tastes bad, looks bad but it is good for you, and you don't know it and you trust her. And too much sugar seems good but gives you cavities, so it is bad. So obedience is needed when you are ignorant. We are ignorant.

At this point, I was afraid of my grandmother. What if she decided that God told her to kill me? What if the devil disguised himself as God? My grandma was certainly good, but if an idea of God took over her soul, she could be capable of extreme evil.

-What if the devil, disguised as God, asks you to kill me, like God did with Abraham, would you kill me? - I asked

-God wouldn't allow that, son. - She told me

-But He allows much worse things, like earthquakes.

-Son, He allows earthquakes because it's time for some to go to heaven.

-Why doesn't he send them to heaven directly? It's cruel.

-I don't know, but I believe that things are hard to understand; He knows best.

-Do you have any grounds to believe that?

-Yes. You like Grandma's risotto, right? Well, if you weren't starving, feeling unpleasant from hunger, you wouldn't enjoy the risotto. Maybe God knows something you don't; that's it. The Universe is balanced, like math equations, you will learn about them. So the universe has an equation, and maybe there must be a certain amount of bad to get the greatest amount of good.

When she spoke about this equation of the Universe, I got frustrated. What is there that she knows that I don't? However, I did find some truth in the reasoning according to which I needed to be tired to enjoy sleep, needed to be thirsty to enjoy a drink, and needed to suffer some oppression to enjoy freedom. But I still couldn't let go of the idea that the Devil could disguise himself and pretend to be God. We had similar reasonings many times

-What if the devil manages to do it. How do you protect yourself?"

- Well, you still have a brain, and it is your duty to use it. The simplest thing is to be good and behave well. For now, help your mom, study a lot, and don't bother your little brother. And no throwing stones at the birds. That is also cruel."

I thought she had a good point here, but if I had to use my brain, how did that fit with the idea of obedience? How could you be obedient to a God that could be faked, or pretend to want something he doesn’t, or, even worse, a God who knows strange equations, and in those equations, why not, maybe I am the needed wrong so there is a perfect amount of rightfulness somewhere else?

So I asked:

-Grandma, if I know that God is good and He asks me to kill you, I would know that God doesn't intend that. And it would be foolish to pretend obedience to deceive God just for the sake of his whim, especially if he already knows what I really think. So, Abraham was foolish. God is convoluted.

Son, I admit it's complicated. But in life, you'll learn what is good and what is not; your questions are only a playful exercise of your spirit. It's better not to think about this.

But Grandma, if it's better not to think about it, then why is it written at all? Couldn't God make the message a bit clearer or at least make us smart enough to understand it?

I decided that it was a waste ruminating about what God really meant. It was easier to let my brother free of pranks and the birds to enjoy life in peace. And the years passed, until last night, when he appeared.

He was sitting aloof in a chair near my bed. His head was lowered, giving the impression of boredom and routine as he waited for me to wake up.

He looked at me and asked:

 -So, are you coming?

-Where? Who are you?" I asked.

-With me. – he asked- Your time on Earth is up. You have the right to ask me one question, just one, to decide if you come to suffer with me or go to eternal life to enjoy peace obeying God.

I was confused. First of all, the demon's composure. No horns, fangs, or horrifying expressions. Normal. Like a customs official. Like a nurse in a hospital. But what truly surprised me was not the lack of monstrosity; had I been a believer I would expect him to pretend to be familiar, normal. What really surprised me was the bureaucratic demeanour the style.

Even more perplexing, he offered me options; he was a liberal, easy-going demon. I have to admit that the options were confusing: Eternal peace sounds very boring, but he said "enjoy"; and suffering in this context sounds ironic, thus ambiguous.  If suffering is intermittent, then there is enjoyment and the possibility of joy. I suffer a lot in this life, but I enjoy it; on the other hand, eternal obedience sounds like eternal slavery... But it's the demon, the demon himself, so he is smarter than me, and he may be deceiving me using my own reflections, the equation of my grandma, so how can I trust him?

I tried to organize my thoughts as the moment was overwhelming for me. The demon looked up and, yawning, said, "You're not one of those who shout and cross themselves; there are very few like you. But I know your kind well, so ask your question and don't take too long."

I noticed that the demon was giving me a choice and not, as in my childhood fears, taking control of me and my thoughts. In the end, I realized that the demon was not so powerful. And, if he is powerful, for some reason, he wasn't exercising his power. There was something that made me strong, unconquerable. Perhaps confidence in my judgment, and discernment was mine, only mine, not his. Thank you Grandma for not repressing me. Otherwise, I would be lost; he would have decided for me.

Then I realized that my challenges were more complex, but that came later. At that moment, I reflected: I own my thoughts, and I trust myself doing good. So the battle began. And the demon couldn't be a worse companion, but I was intrigued by the fact that it was him, and not God, who gave me the choice about the style of life after life. I considered the possibility to pose that question, but I thought that this couldn't be the best question to ask the demon.

-No, that's not the best one,- he said.

Ugh. He reads my thoughts, I suddenly noticed. Terrible!  But, upon reflection,  I also realized that he answered a question I didn't ask but pondered. So the situation is serious, but not desperate, I thought. He reads my thoughts, but he doesn't control them. That’s my strength. Well, I'm naked, but not unarmed. Moreover, he answers questions I don't ask, so I can access more information than I could just by thinking of one question.

"Don't think you're so clever," he said.

Damn. It's hard to argue with someone who reads your thoughts. But that comment also showed me that my situation was far from hopeless: He reads my thoughts but doesn't control them. Of course, he knows everything, which is disconcerting, but why would it matter? Grandma told me the same about God, I got used to that, and I learned to think independently. What I can't do is to deceive him. But, if he doesn’t impose himself on me,  I am free. Freewill applies also here.

He nodded at me while I was thinking this, which was very distracting and then he somehow reiterated

-Yes, you are free,-. He crossed his legs, turned around, looked out the window, and said again, - You're free, but not as just, fair and wise as you think.-

"What do you mean?" I wanted to ask, but I knew that thinking the question was enough to get an answer. And indeed, he said:

-I mean that I respect freedom. It's God who is an autocrat, and you know it from childhood. He gets furious when he's not adored and revered. He's like you, humans, want to know why?.  You get stung by an ant, and you kill the entire ant hill. I, on the other hand, respect the freedom to choose. And I'm not so unjust. Well, in recent centuries, he's become more tranquil, more tolerant. God has matured.-

It was difficult for me to debate that; after all, he was just paraphrasing my own words when I was a child discussing with grandma. On the other hand, I was bewildered by the demon's superior attitude. He was still sitting in the armchair, with his legs crossed, analyzing God like a psychologist would analyze a random patient, incapable to control his whimsical wishes. He even dared to opine about how God had matured. All that was missing was him holding a cigarette and blowing smoke out the window. It all looked like a scenery created for my amusement.

-I don't smoke- then he laughed. He paused and then he scratched his head, looking up with the expression that devotees have when they pray.

I was uneasy about him reacting to these trivial concerns, but strictly speaking, I didn’t raise any questions. I preferred to question what he meant by God maturing as I remembered the visible change in amosphere between the moody God of the Old Testament and the friendlier messages of the Gospels, more amiable. The figure of Christ, more human, inviting us to love one another. On this regard, grandma replied, years ago, that humans matured thus God started to speak to an adult in the new testament. Like a parent changes his tone when the child grows.   The thought, no doubt, was interesting, but given the circumstances, it didn't seem appropriate to ask it.

-Yes, God has matured. Biblical stories are of little consequence, - the demon told me.- I've enjoyed appearing to the Popes, for example. And I have them very confused. It was easy to confuse the German Pope, and the previous one, the Polish. I also appear as the archangel Gabriel. It's fun."

His answers continued my own thoughts. The situation was not easy. I didn't feel possessed, but I was very intrigued by something very curious: he didn't force me, didn’t deceive me; he appeared as he was: the demon.

-I can't deceive you. Not you, I can't. You're not like most humans, who, at this point, when they see me, believe I'm God and follow me. Needless to say, that happens because God wants to be worshiped and is terribly jealous. God is sick. I, on the other hand, I let them follow me, believing I'm God, just to mock their abjection. But I only seek free spirits, so does God, that is where the real battle is."

The demon can't be stupid- and the previous sentences prove it. This also proves he is not much smarter than humans. Drowning in thoughts, I tried to defend myself, arguing with myself. "Hey, he’s not deceiving me, it's clear. It's true that God demands absolute worship, and that request seems quite strange, almost like a whim of a desert despot, or the bully in a prison, but that could be a misunderstanding of sacred texts.  I never understood that whim of God, and that was one of the reasons I became an atheist. But now the situation changes. The devil exists, unless I am hallucinating, therefore God exists. And then the devil come and appeared as the mature man who accepts criticism and differences, leaving God as a mere hysterical dictator raised under the scorching sun of the desert. But God has other commandments, more understandable and wholesome. Like 'thou shalt not kill.'"

-Don't deceive yourself,- he said. -God invented death. And God invented eternal life for those who give him their soul and lose their human ability to distinguish between good and evil. I've existed since the beginning of time, and I lost control, which is why I was the one who gave you the fruit of the tree of knowledge. I made you humans with the capacity to love and hate. In truth, I am God. And the Devil replaced me,  became God.

I realized that it was impossible to distinguish God from the Devil. But I also realized that I didn't care to know who was who. It seemed best to follow my grandmother' advice and do good.

That was when I asked him the question:

-Do you exist?- I did not feel I wasted the question, just thought I was dreaming. I wanted to escape from the nightmare, I needed to speak to my grandma.

-Why should I answer that silly question- he said- Besides, you know the answer.

I'm not sure what happened next. I looked at the nightstand and remembered that I had taken a lot of codeine syrup to sleep in peace and then had to take the painkillers. After a while I woke up.

I have to take many medications to deal with the cancer. Too bad that I won't have erotic dreams when I die instead of arguments with the demon. Maybe I need a different cocktail of medicines.

I slept a little more. I woke up, looked around, and Satan wasn't there. However, the chair where I had seen him was burnt. There was a message scorched in the chair: I exist and you, humans, often distinguish good and evil but hardly ever God from Devil..

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