Gabriella was allowed to walk Manhattan streets alone by early June. The lab monitored her remotely, but she no longer needed a co-worker to accompany her.
She enjoyed exploring, observing, and learning from the people she encountered, following the lab rule of not walking down empty streets alone.
“Gabriella,” Martha warned her, “You might outmatch most attackers, even if they have a weapon, but it would be best not to draw any attention to your speed and precision. It would be a dead giveaway if a mugger cut or shot you and didn’t even bleed. Nope, it wouldn’t do at all to attract such attention. Be careful, sweetie, okay?”
One exploratory trip led her down Thirty-Seventh Avenue.
She walked past the Christian Fellowship Church. Martha said I should talk to a priest to have my faith and morals questions answered. Why not now?
Gabriella tugged at the front door handles on the church doors. The doors were locked. She read the plaque on the right side of the door listed daily and Sunday service hours. Who on earth would get here at 7:00 AM on a weekday?
There were also Wednesday night services listed at 7:00 PM, and a Sunday service at 10:00 AM. What a crazy schedule. How can they get any customers with hours like that? They must know nothing at all about marketing.
Gabriella tried all the doors with no success. Perhaps in the back.
She walked gingerly around the church to the attached building in the rear. This sign said it was the rectory. She stepped up and rang the doorbell.
It surprised Gabriella when, after a few moments, the door opened, and a blue-eyed little blonde girl stood there. “Hi, I’m Alexi. I’m six, and I’m in first grade. What’s your name?” the little girl asked.
“Hello, I’m Gabriella, and I’m not telling you how old I am,” Gabriella said, smiling brightly. Alexi smiled back. I’ve wanted to meet a child. What a charming little person.
“Alexi, who’s at the door?” came a masculine voice from the next room. The speaker’s voice became louder as he approached. “I told you never to open the door without me!” the voice chided.
“Oh, hi. I’m Pastor Paul Maxwell,” the young man sporting a trimmed beard and a friendly smile said. He patted Alexi’s head, “I see you’ve already met my daughter, Alexi. Can I help you?” Paul extended his hand in a welcoming handshake. Gabriella returned a firm but gentle shake. Paul’s smile broadened.
“I don’t know,” said Gabriella, “I’m not sure where to start. I guess I have some questions about God and decided to check with an expert on the subject. Do you have any time to talk, or should I make an appointment?”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ve about an hour free. Would you like to come in?”
“Yes, thank you.” Paul stepped aside to usher Gabriella in. She took in her surroundings.
Several doilies sat askew on the two end tables on either side of a worn brown leather couch sagging between the two windows on the outer wall. A dark brown satin throw pillow nestled up to the armrest on the right. The opposite armrest sported a rougher textured dark brown fabric pillow, which stopped just short of being burlap. Crudely woven hunting dogs ran across its face.
The rectory was dark and old but smelled clean. It looks as if there has been a feminine influence in the past. But a woman in the house would not allow both pillows to occupy the same couch, perhaps not even the same room.
Paul sat on a leather-covered wooden armchair next to the sofa. He motioned for Gabriella to sit on the end of the sofa closest to his chair. “Have a seat, Gabriella.”
Hmm, none of the guys in the lab would have made a similar choice. They would all sit next to me if they could.
Gabriella glanced at the tanned fourth finger of his left hand. A small ridge of callouses betrayed an absent ring.
Paul offered Gabriella a cold beverage. “We have cola, root beer, and ginger ale.”
“No, thank you,” she replied.
“Hot tea or coffee, then?”
“No, thank you,” she repeated. “I’ve already had my morning espresso.”
“Well then, what can I do for you? You said you had some questions about God. That’s a broad subject. Is there anything, in particular, you would like to talk about to narrow it down a little? We can go in any direction you like.”
Paul almost asked if she attended church services there, but realized he would have noticed her in the congregation long before this. The gathering was aging and often looked, as he sometimes described it, “a storm at sea, all white caps.”
“Well, I don’t have a religious background of any kind,” she stated flatly. “Some people talk about God, but I don’t understand why. I see no evidence he exists. It seems like it’s a nice thing to believe in to give people hope, I guess, but there doesn’t appear to be anything to it.”
Paul leaned forward.
Gabriella continued, “Besides, I’m not friends with anyone who has a strong faith. If someone has any faith at all, it’s based on wishes, legends, and traditions. They aren’t able to explain anything except by saying, “You have to have faith.” Even then, they don’t seem to believe it. It’s illogical to me. I can’t even see any natural evidence for God. You’re a pastor, so I assume you are an expert. What can you tell me about it?”
Paul gave a long, low whistle. “Wow!” he quietly exclaimed and then caught himself. “Ahh, you asked a huge question. This will take more than a quick hour to sort out. I like the question, though.”
Paul looked down and stared at his knees for a few seconds. He looked up and smiled.
“Gabriella, do you believe in the Universe?”
“That’s a silly question,” she responded, giving Paul a quizzical smile. “Of course, I do. Here it is,” she said as she spread her arms wide open. “It’s measurable, and we are a part of it.”
“Would you say it sprang up without a designer?”
“Yes, science has almost proven mathematically it was the Singularity, the Big Bang, which created the universe.”
Paul’s eyes smiled at Gabriella. He could direct the conversation toward science with this woman.
“So is it ordered, or is it chaotic?”
“Most of it is well ordered. What does this have to do with God?”
“We’ll get to God in a moment. What would you say the odds are of a Big Bang explosion leading to such an ordered universe, one with billions of galaxies and trillions of stars?”
Gabriella replied, “I’m not sure, but it’s a staggering improbability even when you consider interstellar gravitational waves working to move particles around to form galaxies.”
Paul stared into her green eyes. He noticed his mouth was getting dry and had a faint metallic taste similar to sucking on a penny. He continued, “Then you accept the order of the universe on faith since the chances of such a vast creation becoming ordered out of chaos are infinitesimally small.”
“Yes, I guess I do.”
“Then I would say you depend much more on faith than I do. It takes less faith to believe God has ordered things than to conclude it all happened by chance.”
Gabriella raised an eyebrow as she tested Paul’s comments. She ran some probability calculations. “Your statistics seem correct, but the universe and life are much more than statistics,” she defended.
“Ok, Gabriella, consider life itself,” Paul went on, “the chance that a simple protein could be created by chance is less than 10-390. Science considers an idea with less than one chance in ten to the fiftieth power is an absurd concept. So how can we have faith in something absurd? Right?”
Who is this man? “Well,” Gabriella said slowly, “your quantification of what is absurd is correct, but I’m not at all comfortable with your conclusion that my science is not pure science.”
Both her beauty and intelligence impressed Paul. He continued, “So, therefore, is random generation a science, or is it a different form of religion based on having a science-faith perspective? Can you see my point?”
“Wait a minute,” Gabriella interrupted. “You seem to know a lot of science for a pastor. How is that? I thought most ministers had non-scientific backgrounds.”
“Well, I started as an electronics engineer. It’s how I met my wife. We were both doctoral candidates at Yale.”
“You went to Yale? So why did you become a pastor? The two seem to be completely unrelated.”
“They are unrelated, mostly. I found I wanted to help people more than I wanted to make a boatload of money in a lab or corporate job. It’s all about the quality of life, not money.
But where were we? Oh yeah, we were talking about a single protein molecule. Then how impossible it would be to have a strand of DNA create itself. And how about life? Where did it come from? How did it get put together? Nobody knows, nobody but God that is.”
Gabriella shifted on the couch. I’m alive. I am a living, thinking, feeling machine. “Let me research your questions and get back to you,” she mumbled.
Then she smiled. I like how Paul’s mind works, and I want to see him again. The men in the lab are bright, but calmer and more conservative when they speak. Paul has a real passion when he talks. He believes what he is saying. Besides, he’s handsome.
“Paul, you seem to have the numbers and arguments all in your head. There is no hesitation in your speech. How is that?”
“It’s easy, Gabriella.” Paul let her name roll comfortably off his tongue. “I’ve had this conversation many times over the last several years.” His deep brown eyes were crinkled in amusement.
“Okay, so there MIGHT be a God. But there are so many religions,” Gabriella said. “Do you mean to tell me they are all valid because they believe in some godhead? Besides, more people do not believe in God than do. This alone shows those who worship a divine ruler are in the minority.”
Paul nodded in agreement as Gabriella continued.
“In my engineering circles, if most qualified engineers agree a concept is valid through mathematics and sound engineering practice, we consider them to be correct. Shouldn’t the same rule apply to religion as well?”
“Good question, Gabriella,” Paul replied, enjoying saying her name. “The clear answer is No. Not at all. In fact, it’s a logical fallacy to believe because most people feel a certain way, it must be the correct way. Look at politics to verify this. Sometimes the political majority is crazier than a sack of frogs.”
“Excuse me, Paul. What does a sack of frogs have to do with crazy? I don’t understand.”
“It has nothing to do with being crazy, Gabriella. It’s an old expression meaning someone or something is crazy or illogical. I don’t know what its basis is. I’m sorry if I was confusing.” Paul grinned apologetically.
He continued, “In our not so distant history, most scientists and educated people claimed the earth was flat. They warned Columbus not to seek a shorter trade route to China by heading straight out to sea. They felt he would fall off the edge of the earth. Luckily for us, he didn’t listen and subsequently discovered Columbus, Ohio.”
Gabriella cocked her head to her left and looked at him quizzically.
Paul laughed and asked her to forgive him for his sometimes bizarre sense of humor.
“That was humor?” she asked.
“Apparently not,” Paul replied sheepishly.
“I have to run.” Paul said as he stood up after their hour had passed, “There is always so much to do as a pastor. I’d very much like to carry on with our conversation. Do you think it would be possible, Gabriella?”
“Yes, it would,” she replied, “I would like it very much, and I have so many more questions to ask.”
The prospect of seeing her again excited Paul. He noted that his pulse rate increased.
“Here’s my card,” Paul said as he handed her a business card. “Feel free to call, and my administrative assistant will set up an appointment.”
“Thank you, Pastor Paul,” Gabriella replied as she slipped the card into her small clutch, “I will.”
Paul smiled. “Please, call me Paul. I was never huge on titles. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Paul showed Gabriella to the door. They shook hands as they parted. “Until next time,” they both said. Paul watched from the doorway until Gabriella rounded the corner of the building and was out of sight.
Alexi looked out the door and wrapped her arms around her father’s leg. “Who was that, Dad?”
Paul smiled and whispered, “A fascinating woman, Alexi. A very charming and fascinating woman.” The adrenaline taste still sat in his mouth.