Chapter 19 #2
“To the problem of a reincarnating fallen angel?” Louis couldn’t help but laugh. “I hope you’ve put your best minds on the case.”
From his pocket Epstein removed a battered hardback notebook bound with elastic bands. He carefully removed the elastic, licked a finger, and searched the pages until he found what he was looking for: a line of text, entered by hand, in a language that resembled Hebrew:
“It’s Aramaic,” said Epstein. “‘None can kill an angel except an angel’, or that was how it was first translated—inexactly, as it turned out. ‘Kill’ wasn’t the right word.
The verb ‘me’abbad’—to cause to perish, or to annihilate—is open to mistranslation.
A better interpretation might be ‘destroy,’ or ‘unmake.’ Personally, I prefer ‘disincarnate.’”
Epstein turned more pages of handwritten Aramaic.
“Where the sources agree,” he continued, “is that human action against an angel may destroy the host body, but not the spirit inhabiting it. The latter is released, to seek a new host. The method of dispatch is also important. There has to be contact, a confluence between the assailant and the assailed. A bullet won’t suffice, but a blade will, or bare hands.
You’ll be familiar with images of Saint Michael the Archangel vanquishing Satan?
I favor the Reni over the Raphael, but you’ll note that, in both, the saint is wielding a blade: a sword in Reni’s case, a metal-tipped spear for Raphael.
Those references to stabbing or cutting weapons are not a coincidence, but God speaking through the artists. ”
“And did Saint Michael vanquish Satan?”
“Since there’s no agreement on who, or what, Satan might be,” said Epstein, “I would wager that the saint did not. Like the ongoing, ill-advised War on Terror, it’s difficult to destroy an abstract concept.
At its least theoretical, Satan might be a name applied to any or all of a collective: If they fell, they were Satan.
Kittim, by that reckoning, would be Satan.
At its most theoretical, it’s a personification of evil, a means of making figurative, and therefore vanquishable, what is really only metaphysical.
Having seen what I have seen, I find myself drawn toward the first interpretation.
Whatever you elect to call them, the entities are real—and persistent. They return, over and over.”
“And do they remember, these entities?” Louis asked.
“Past hosts, you mean? Kittim did. He spoke of them, while he still had the power of speech. He was also aware of his own nature. He knew what he was, or what he once had been. Assuming we accept the veracity of his claims, he was a banished angel, but he did not resent his exile: he welcomed it. Kittim and his kind did not envy God; they envied man. They were jealous of flesh and all its capacities, even that of experiencing pain. In casting them down, it may be that God inadvertently gave them what they wanted: to think like angels, yet live like men. A better punishment would have been to condemn them to become men in all aspects, so their suffering might be unalleviated by a conception of its novelty.”
“Are you saying God erred?” Louis countered. “That sounds like blasphemy to me. And if I remember right, the preachers always claimed the angels were cast down for wanting to be like God. It was his power they envied, not men. I’m starting to wonder if you’re even a real rabbi.”
“You wouldn’t be the first to level that accusation,” said Epstein.
“It’s why I now find myself somewhat alone, relegated to the peripheries of my tribe.
As for rebel angels, yes, it may be that God’s throne became an object of desire for some.
But have you ever heard of Iblis? According to the Quran, he was a jinn raised among angels who refused to bow before Adam, which caused him to be flung down from heaven by God.
Iblis’s sins were pride and disobedience.
He didn’t want to be like God; he just didn’t consider himself inferior to man.
And who is to say Iblis—or Shaitan, as he is also known, because it’s another telling of the same tale—wasn’t right? ”
“Now you’re referencing the Quran,” said Louis. “They’re going to take away your skullcap.”
Epstein toyed with his teacup and risked a glance at Liat, who had positioned herself so she could read the lips of both men.
The expression on her face was one of amusement mixed with disapproval—and yes, Louis thought, a measure of concern.
Were he forced to guess, Louis might have said that the conversation he was having with Epstein had been discussed beforehand between them, which meant that he, Louis, represented the unknown quantity in the room.
“I believe in the existence of one God,” said Epstein, “so I have that in common with my Muslim brethren. It may be that I simply choose to call Him by a different name. Likewise, then, if we speak of angels and demons, we are giving diverse names to similar entities. It matters only that we accept their reality. Who is to say that the one the Quran calls Iblis does not have another name buried elsewhere, or did not assume a divergent form for the Incas and Aztecs? Iblis must, after all, have predated the coming of man if he witnessed man’s creation—or evolution, if one prefers.
Which, as it happens, being a man of both God and science, I do. ”
The afternoon shadows had stretched by increments across the room, and Louis had a strange urge to distance his feet from the encroaching dark, that it might not touch him.
“You think they were there, waiting for us all along,” said Louis.
“I think they had knowledge of what was to come. If they were cast down, it was to a still-forming earth. Perhaps the time passed quickly for them—what is four and a half billion years compared to eternity?—or they slept through the millennia until the first biped became self-aware, which was the signal for them to wake. As a myth, it’s as good as any other.
But what I find fascinating about Iblis is what his fate implies. ”
“Which is?”
“Not one fall,” said Epstein, “but many: a succession of acts of defiance. It posits God as a ruler confronting the same challenges faced by any king: rebels, rival claimants, traitors. Just because the Creator is perfect, it does not follow that His creations are. Since I am being open with you, and this is an exchange of ideas between intelligent men, I have never embraced the concept of a perfect deity. Even to skim the Tanakh is to perceive a wrathful God, a God who loses His temper. One cannot be perfect and impatient, or perfect and prone to rage. The New Testament, which I do not accept as divinely inspired, attempts to present God afresh through the prism of a gentler son, if one also prone to bouts of anger. But the New Testament is the work of men; only in the Tanakh do we glimpse the true face of God, and it is one to be feared.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Louis asked.
Epstein began further unfastening his high-collared shirt, the top button being already undone.
He usually wore a tie, but not today. Louis had not noticed its absence until now.
With three buttons opened, Epstein pulled back the shirt to expose the skin at the side of his neck.
Louis hissed involuntarily at the sight of the swollen lymph nodes.
“Because I’m dying,” said Epstein.
By the lake, Jennifer Parker’s features softened with pity.
“Oh, old man,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. But we will watch for you when you come.”