D — Dieu

Under the empire of Arcadius, Logomacos, theological canon of Constantinople, went to Scythia and stopped at the foot of the Caucasus, in the fertile plains of Zephirim on the borders of Colchis. Good old Dondindac was in the great ground-floor hall between his large sheepfold and his vast barn. He was kneeling with his wife, his five sons and five daughters, his relatives and servants, all singing God’s praises after a light meal. “What are you doing there, idolater?” Logomacos asked him. “I am not an idolater,” said Dondindac. “You must be an idolater,” said Logomacos, “since you are a Scythian, not a Greek. Come, tell me: what were you singing in your barbarous Scythian jargon?” “All languages are equal in God’s ears,” answered the Scythian. “We were singing his praises.” “That is very extraordinary,” the canon resumed. “A Scythian family praying to God without having been taught by us!” He soon entered into conversation with the Scythian Dondindac; for the canon knew a little Scythian, and the other a little Greek. This conversation has been found in a manuscript preserved in the library of Constantinople.

Logomacos.

“Let us see whether you know your catechism. Why do you pray to God?”

Dondindac.

“Because it is just to worship the Supreme Being from whom we receive everything.”

Logomacos.

“Not bad for a barbarian! And what do you ask him for?”

Dondindac.

“I thank him for the blessings I enjoy, and even for the evils through which he tries me; but I take care to ask him for nothing. He knows better than we do what we need. Besides, I should be afraid of asking for fine weather when my neighbor was asking for rain.”

Logomacos.

“Ah! I suspected he was going to say something foolish. Let us begin higher up. Barbarian, who told you there is a God?”

Dondindac.

“All nature.”

Logomacos.

“That is not enough. What idea do you have of God?”

Dondindac.

“The idea of my creator, my master, who will reward me if I do good and punish me if I do evil.”

Logomacos.

“Trifles, nonsense! Let us come to essentials. Is God infinite in some respect, or in essence?”

Dondindac.

“I do not understand you.”

Logomacos.

“Brute beast! Is God in one place, outside all place, or in every place?”

Dondindac.

“I know nothing about it.—Just as you please.”

Logomacos.

“Ignoramus! Can he make what has been not to have been, and a stick not to have two ends? Does he see the future as future or as present? How does he draw being from nothingness, and annihilate being?”

Dondindac.

“I have never examined these things.”

Logomacos.

“What a clod! Come, one must stoop, accommodate oneself. Tell me, my friend, do you believe matter can be eternal?”

Dondindac.

“What does it matter to me whether it has existed from all eternity or not? I have not existed from all eternity. God is still my master. He has given me the notion of justice; I must follow it. I do not want to be a philosopher; I want to be a man.”

Logomacos.

“These thick heads are hard work. Let us go step by step. What is God?”

Dondindac.

“My sovereign, my judge, my father.”

Logomacos.

“That is not what I am asking. What is his nature?”

Dondindac.

“To be powerful and good.”

Logomacos.

“But is he corporeal or spiritual?”

Dondindac.

“How do you expect me to know?”

Logomacos.

“What! You do not know what a spirit is?”

Dondindac.

“Not the first word. What use would it be to me? Would it make me more just? Would I be a better husband, a better father, a better master, a better citizen?”

Logomacos.

“You absolutely must be taught what a spirit is. Listen: it is, it is, it is … I shall tell you another time.”

Dondindac.

“I am very much afraid you will tell me less what it is than what it is not. Allow me to ask you a question in turn. I once saw one of your temples: why do you paint God with a long beard?”

Logomacos.

“That is a very difficult question, requiring preliminary instruction.”

Dondindac.

“Before receiving your instruction, I must tell you what happened to me one day. I had just had a summerhouse built at the end of my garden. I heard a mole reasoning with a cockchafer. ‘There is a fine structure,’ said the mole; ‘a very powerful mole must have made that work.’ ‘You are joking,’ said the cockchafer; ‘the architect of that building is a cockchafer full of genius.’ Ever since then I have resolved never to argue.”

When Arcadius ruled the empire, Logomacos went to Scythia. He was the cathedral theologian in Constantinople. He stopped in Zephirim’s fertile plains, below the Caucasus, near the border of Colchis. The good old man Dondindac was in his big ground-floor hall, between his large sheepfold and enormous barn. After a light meal, he knelt with his wife, his five sons and five daughters, his relatives, and his servants. Together they sang praises to God. “What’s this you’re doing, you idolater?” Logomacos asked. “I don’t worship idols,” Dondindac said. “You must,” Logomacos said. “You’re Scythian, not Greek. Now tell me, what were you singing in that barbarous Scythian gibberish of yours?” “God hears every language as equal,” the Scythian replied. “We were praising him.” “Well, that’s extraordinary,” the theologian said. “A Scythian family praying to God when we haven’t taught them!” Soon he got into a conversation with Dondindac the Scythian. Logomacos could speak some Scythian, and Dondindac some Greek. People found this conversation in a manuscript kept at Constantinople’s library.

Logomacos.

Do you know your catechism? Let’s find out. What do you pray to God for?

Dondindac.

We owe everything to the Supreme Being. It’s only right to worship him.

Logomacos.

For a barbarian, that’s not bad! What do you ask God to give you?

Dondindac.

I thank him for what’s good in my life, even for the hardships he tests me with. But I make sure I don’t ask for anything. He knows our needs better than we do. And I’d worry about asking for good weather when my neighbor might be asking for rain.

Logomacos.

Ah! I knew some foolishness was coming. Let’s go back to the beginning. Who told you God exists, barbarian?

Dondindac.

Everything in nature.

Logomacos.

You’ll need more than that. How do you think of God?

Dondindac.

As the one who made me and rules me. Do good, and he’ll reward me. Do wrong, and he’ll punish me.

Logomacos.

That’s petty, worthless stuff! Here’s what really matters. Is God infinite in a particular respect, secundum quid, or in his essence?

Dondindac.

I can’t follow what you’re saying.

Logomacos.

You stupid animal! Is there a place where God is? Or is he outside every place? Or everywhere?

Dondindac.

I couldn’t say.—Whatever you think.

Logomacos.

Ignoramus! Can he undo the past so it never happened? Can he make a stick that hasn’t got two ends? When he sees the future, is it still future, or is it present? How does he bring something out of nothing? How does he turn something into nothing?

Dondindac.

Those aren’t things I’ve ever looked into.

Logomacos.

What a fool! Well, I’ll have to come down to his level. My friend, tell me: do you think matter could have existed forever?

Dondindac.

Why should I care whether it’s always existed? I haven’t always existed myself. Either way, God rules me. He’s given me a sense of justice. I have to follow it. Being a philosopher isn’t what I want. I want to be a human being.

Logomacos.

These thick skulls make everything so difficult. We’ll take it slowly. What’s God?

Dondindac.

He’s my ruler, my judge, my father.

Logomacos.

You haven’t answered my question. What’s his nature?

Dondindac.

He’s powerful and good.

Logomacos.

Does he have a body, though, or is he a spirit?

Dondindac.

How could I possibly know that?

Logomacos.

What? You don’t even know what a spirit is?

Dondindac.

I haven’t a clue. How would knowing help me? Would it make me fairer to people? Or a better husband, father, master, or citizen?

Logomacos.

I’ve simply got to explain spirits to you. Listen: a spirit is, is, is… I’ll explain another time.

Dondindac.

I’m afraid you’ll tell me what it isn’t rather than what it is. Can I ask you something for a change? I once visited a temple of yours. Why do your pictures of God give him a big beard?

Logomacos.

That’s very hard to answer. There are things you must learn first.

Dondindac.

Before those lessons, let me tell you something that happened to me. I’d just had a little room built at the far end of my garden. I overheard a mole and a cockchafer discussing it. “That’s a fine piece of building,” the mole said. “It must have taken a very powerful mole to make it.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” the cockchafer said. “The architect is a brilliant cockchafer.” After that, I decided I’d never argue again.