The dialogue began when I was a freshman at the university; and it would never commence. We would still be ‘debating’ the issue four years later as I crossed the stage to obtain my diploma.
It bagan when I had taken a bit of Professor Upshot’s lecture out of his lecture hall and into my mind…to think on my own about these matters. When enough time had passed to kindle within me sufficient discomfort, I decided to confront the man in his own office. I had no idea how much thinking would be involved in coming to conclusions about life and existance.
The Professor had little grounds for his belief; but this seemed to bother him very little, if even at all. He was a theist. When I asked him why, he simply stated, “I assume there is a god…just in case there really is.”
“God is a mere invention of man.” I began.
“Very well, then.” Upshot stood momentarily, offering me a rather crude, though polite, greeting. “Let’s get to it then, my boy.”
I sat down on the old, brown sofa across from his ancient cedar desk. “Get to it?” I pulled my arms out of my black trench coat and allowed it to slide from my shoulders, down my back and onto the sofa behind where I was sitting…on the edge.
“Indeed. We shall have to be slow going about it…but not too slow. We shall have to explore every possibility.” He pulled out his pipe and began to load it; sitting again in his small, rigid, wooden chair.
“Professor?” I was feeling curious.
“If god truly is a mere invention of man, son: let us get right down to brass tacks! It should be a fairly easy game, wouldn’t you say?” He pulled a match box from the inside left drawer of his desk.
“Game?” I asked.
“Let’s?” He opened the match box and pulled out a match and then closed the box again.
I smiled. “Are you suggesting?”
“Precisely. We shall invent a god of our own.” He struck the match and began to administer several starter puffs to his ridiculous corn-cob pipe. “Hurry, son—I fear that I may need saving, after all!”
“So you think our god will need to save us?” I asked.
“Mmm…you are right. That is moving too quickly. Let us start at the beginning.”
“Will our god have a beginning?” I asked.
“I should think not, but for the creatures a beginning is a nice place to start, wouldn’t you agree?” He asked.
“It certainly is.” I said.
“So, where shall the beginning be?”
“Well I like the idea of the creating god—let us say that our imaginary god creates the universe.”
“So our god will create things which have a beginning, whereas he has none…he will create systems of reality seperate from his own system of reality?”
“I’ve always wondered about that, sir. Why would god invent a system seperate from his own. Shouldn’t we think that through before making it so?” I asked.
“And I should say so. Beginning with an obscene risk.” He said.
“Risk?” I asked.
“Well, we do want freedom for our creatures, don’t we?” He asked.
“Freedom in what sense?” I asked.
“Let us say that our imaginary god invents creatures like himself, who are able to think, reason and decide. And that he also gives to them the ability to choose between right and wrong…” I had to stop him.
“Wait.” I said. “Where did that come from? What is right and wrong? Have we to invent these as well?” I asked.
“Well, I suppose we shall indeed.” Said the Professor.
“So, give it to me, sir. What is the right?” I asked.
“Well, if this divine of ours is truly good, and if he is eternal, and if he is all powerful, then he would himself be at the very heart of all things good. He would himself, be the source of such lovely things as his creatures may deem or perceive within their system, even if only by a hint, of goodness. Let us say that, within this absolute heart of things is the right. And let us define wrong as that which has departed from the right—that which has abandoned the absolute heart of all things good…”
“Now that is a vivid imagination you’ve got, sir…” I said.
“Well, we are trying to imagine the best of all possible gods, are we not?” He asked.
“We certainly are.” I said.
“Then it stands to reason that when a creature abides within the domain of the divine, then he is in the right, and when he departs from that domain, he is in the wrong—am I right?” Asked the professor.
“Not so fast. We’ve already begun with a system which is seperate from the system of the divine…if right is within the domain of this god, why invent seperate systems?” I asked.
“Who is to say that the systems are not in some way connected. It is in the heart and will of a creature where he either abides or departs from the divine…am I correct?” Asked the professor.
“Why the seperate systems…the system of the eternal and the system of Time and Space?” I asked.
“Well, both systems would have fixed laws, would they not?” Asked the professor.
“Are you saying that eternity has fixed laws just as our material universe has?” I asked.
“Indeed. In fact, I should assume that the fixed laws of eternity would be much more stern, more demanding, more inexorable than the fixed laws of our material world. Let us say that decisions, for example, would weigh heavier in this system…consequences would become irrevocable; they would become irredeemable in our eternal system…”
“How dreadful is this system…” I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
“Dreadful indeed—but equally delightful, as reality in this system should be more brilliant, vibrant, and dynamic as well.” He added.
“But…from the one who has much, much will be required…” I said.
“You are beginning to sound religious, my boy.” He said.
“Me? I’m not that sort and you know it.” I retreated further back into the sofa.
"So why should our divine being create a system seperate from his own and call it Space and Time? The professor asked.
“For the safety of the creatures, I suppose. I mean, you would likely have to be pretty wise in order to dwell within the system of god…else you might doom yourself to eternal nose-picking or some other more tragic accident…”
“So the created system would be more safe? Is that what you are saying?” He asked.
“Yes. Time and space would give to the creatures a setting within which they might become wise enough to graduate to the system of eternity…”
“A sanctuary…I like this, my boy. Time and space shall be our sanctuary from the terrible and frightful demands of the eternal system of goodness…what shall we call these two systems?” He asked.
“Heaven and hell…” I took a long drag of my cigarette, “was that what you were edging on, sir?” I continued.
“I don’t like the sound of those…no, let us name them something else instead.” He said.
“We call one reality and the other practice?” I offered.
“Too generic…” He said. “One is solid, while the other is more flexible and has more give…hmmm…”
“I’ve got it! We shall call the eternal system glory and the other system home…”
“That’s something…but, no, no, no…” He stood up and began to pace. “We shall call the eternal system Home and the other system Abroad. You see, the creatures are abroad for a time. They are becoming wise so that they might eventually return to their home in this eternal system…”
“Why, sir, did our god not just keep them at home in the first place?” I asked.
“Well, heavens! It just would have been too great a gamble, son. These creatures have not a clue…they must become wise first, before abiding within the system of eternity. They are ill prepared for their home.”
“Why didn’t our god create them such that they were fit for this so called home?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Apparently we do not understand our own invented god?” The professor walked over to an oversized chair in the corner of his office and sat down in it. “He seems to have felt it worth the risk, I suppose—inventing creatures with the power to choose between right and wrong. This power leaves the door open to great beauty and goodness, but also to great evil. Perhaps our god knew that the creatures would need to want to come home, of their own free desiring. Perhaps he did not want to keep them under lock and key and against their will.”
“So why did he allow for the abuse of free will?” I asked.
"Because it allows for the proper execution of free will as well. Without freedom to choose between right and wrong, there can be no such thing as courage, decency, self-sacrifice. Without freedom to choose between right and wrong, there can be no such thing as ‘coming home.’
“So he not only wants his creatures to come home, but he wants them to want to come home…to desire of their own free will what we have already designated as the right…the true home of the creatures being within the domain of the divine. Must we have such a demanding god. Haven’t we invented that egotistical and jealous god all over again?” I asked.
“Not so fast. If our god is truly good, then he ought to have good intentions for his creatures, oughtn’t he?” He asked.
“Certainly, sir.” I said.
“We shouldn’t jump to any concusions here, then.” He said.
“What? I thought we were drawing up our own god in the first place. We should be able to understand our own god, shouldn’t we?” I asked.
“Well, let us say that our god possesses much mystery, and that this too is good.” He said.
I had to think on this one for a bit, as I felt as though I was being tricked for a moment.
“Sir. Are we merely re-discovering America here or are we inventing our own god?” I asked.
“Well, what are you saying? Have we come to nothing again? Shall we scrap our whole idea and start from scratch again?” Upshot stood and walked over to his coat rack. “Son, I’ve got an appointment for which I am want to be punctual.”
“You?” I asked.
“I do not want to be late, son.” He pulled his coat from the rack.
“Why not? It is to be expected, sir.” I stood up, feeling suspicious as I did.
“We must begin again at a later date.” He persisted. He put on the thin jacket and pulled a silly looking old derby hat from the top of the rack as well. “I must lock up, son.” I grabbed my coat and follwed as he took out his keys and pulled the door shut, locking it.
“We will continue our discussion later, then?” I asked.
“Mmm…” And that was the end of the beginning of our dialogue…