Altar of Peace by Tiago Bonacho - HTML preview

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VIII

 

Do you know the one about the illegal alien? Illegal?! What do you mean, illegal? I left my papers in the spaceship…

 

Maybe not today.

 

Professor Alexander King sometimes started class with a joke. Or what he considered to be a joke, anyway. That wasn’t to be the case today, despite of having already smiled to the thought of the aforementioned.

 

Alex had been a Professor of Theology for some time now, in Japan, but he still taught his classes in English, given that his Japanese was still so and so. And Professor King avoided speaking in a language he felt he didn’t quite mastered. The last attempt, in Japanese, was still fresh in his mind, those attempts usually taking place after the forgetfulness of the previous attempt had taken over combined with a bottle too many of sake, one of the few alcoholic beverages the Professor drank. Not that the Professor would get drunk or inappropriate or anything of the sort, but, well, looser in what comes to social conventions, more relaxed, if you will.

 

But the last time he had tried to speak something in Japanese, the interlocutor stood looking at him with suspicion, to say the least, something that puzzled him at the time, given what he said, or thought he said. That look, however, being understood after having confronted one of his colleagues with what he said on the previous day: wanting to pay a compliment, reviewing the words, or with the phonetic proximity he remembered, it appears he ended up telling his listener to go, well, something that a Professor really shouldn’t tell to go to the Dean’s wife amidst a faculty dinner.

 

Thank God I didn’t say it out loud for everyone to hear, as I first imagined, thought the Professor whenever that episode came to mind.

 

– The first thing to understand about the Bible – continued the Professor in his class – is that it consists of a sum of Texts (or the sum of Texts, if you’re a Catholic, as I am) of a post apocalyptical world. And what apocalyptical event am I talking about? Anyone…? Book of Genesis…? Noah…?

 

– The Flood – answered one of the students.

 

– Precisely. The Flood or the Deluge.

Everything that was, met its end in the waters that covered all the land, thus waters being not only the context of that end, but also the one of the new beginning, that is, the beginning of the world that emerged from the Flood. Let’s see, now, how creation and the context of existence are described in Genesis: «In the beginning, God created heaven and earth. The earth was empty and vague/deserted/shapeless, and darkness covered the abyss, and the Spirit/breath of God agitated the surface of the waters.»

 

»Waters. Shapeless, formless, dark waters. Looks like a post flood description to me, wouldn’t you say? This is not just what could be considered as an interesting observation, but an essential premise to keep in mind so to understand in a global perspective the nature or policy of God while communicating with human beings, as in, this world, or, better said, this time, being the grand finale in the finality or purpose of creation, the glorification of the Son of God, victory of good over evil, Light over darkness, Love over hatred, poetry commanding mathematics.

 

The note that Professor Alexander received the previous night still dwelled in his mind omnipresently. And he had been trying to confer with his Guardian Angel since the start of that day. But Professor Alexander’s Guardian Angel was like most Guardian Angels: invisible and silent.

 

Well, not completely silent. Or invisible, for that matter. Alexander King had what could be described as an easy soul, the kind that believes without too much complications.

Simply put, a soul that trusts in God. Alex was the kind of person that sometimes, while waking up, opened his eyes, looked around, and think something like, Guardian Angel’s invisibility: check. Showing green across the board.

 

– And this concludes the class for today.

 

Was it done already?, resounded the Professor’s final words in his thoughts while the students exited the classroom, donating their voices and presence to the classical recess clamor halls. A tight mash up of roaring whispers, like an invisible cloud in between the ceiling and the heads of its commuters. I’ll write a poem later, he dismissed it.

 

Phase One.

 

That’s what the note said.

 

Nothing left to do but to take the considerations, that that note would naturally trigger, as it already had, to a sushi dinner he already imagined: the usual place, or something else that might appear during the day – one should try to keep an open mind about routines –, with this fish and that fish and the usual. Sushi and sashimi, dipped in soy sauce with a generous pinch of wasabi. Yes. Japanese food was one of the reasons why the Professor sought to work in Japan. Another reason was the people. The respectful and modest ways of the Japanese were also appealing to him.

 

– More coffee?

 

– Yes, please – replied the Professor to the interruption of his thoughts made by the airline stewardess – being the reason for being in that flight what had been with him all week, and that took over his thoughts immediately after having accepted more coffee:  Phase One.

 

That meant that the others already received a similar notification. Spain and Egypt. Now Greece, where he was headed.