Morning Star View

    I am the Very Reverend Henry James.  At one time that was just a title.  Now it is a statement of fact.

I was suffering a major crisis of faith last year.  My beloved Ellen had passed on after a long, painful bout with cancer. Our son John, reacting in grief, had fallen in with bad companions. He had been arrested with them and was facing prosecution for narcotics possession. I was struggling with the grief and anger we are all prey to. I had seen so many good people struggle and suffer, while those infested with evil seemed to prosper without any effort. Now that it had come to my own home, I too was overwhelmed and had begun to doubt my faith. Had I deluded myself in my choice of avocation? Was there really a God who cared about us? I was seriously considering leaving the church. 


  I was in the habit then of taking a day to go fishing, to clear my head and sort out my thoughts. I had often felt closer to God in the woods. I headed out for my usual spot at Johnson's' pond but, deep in thought, I wandered deeper into the woods than I had ever been before.

  The forest had become dense and thickly tangled with underbrush when I realized I was lost. I took a moment to try and get my bearings. Old and closely gathered trees surrounded me. Nothing familiar was visible. I was pondering which direction to take when I heard the sound of a fish splashing. I headed in that direction. In a hundred yards I came to a body of water heavily overgrown at the bank. I began to circle the water, following a barely discernible path. After a time I came to a spot of cleared bank about twenty feet wide.  Glancing over the small lake, I could see that it was almost a perfect circle. This site was the only access to the lake. 
     

  An old man was sitting there in a reclining lawn chair, fishing. He was dressed all in faded denim, vest, shirt, pants, baseball cap, and even his tennis shoes. His fishing poles were lined up on his left, maybe a dozen or more. He had long gray hair, past his shoulders, with a gray mustache and a beard at least twelve inches long. His bare arms were thick and heavily muscled in proportion to his barrel chest. He had a rounded belly though, which made him look like a boxer going to fat. What I could see of his face was deeply creased, from age or exposure I couldn't decide.


  His tackle box was a startling sight. It was huge, the size of a steamer trunk. It was dark wood with brass fittings and a dozen drawers under the raised lid. It was filled hundreds, perhaps thousands, of artificial lures. Most were the familiar rubber worms, divers, and top water lures. Others were strangely shaped, homemade looking, forms. Still others were hard to see but, somehow, disgusting. I couldn't imagine how he had gotten it to this isolated area. I spoke to him.


  "Excuse me sir, I seem to have gotten lost. Can you direct me back to Mayfield?"


  He turned his head and looked up at me with the greenest eyes I had ever seen.


  "Hello Rev. James. I can direct you back to town if you like, but surely you came to fish. Have a seat. There's room enough for two."


  "Thank you. You know me?" I asked, laying down my gear and unfolding my director's chair.
   

  "I've seen you in town," he replied.
   

  "I don't recall seeing you before."
   

  "One more old man. Who would notice? I'm not seen in town very often, and I've never had need of your services."


  I made note of that last remark. Out of habit I thought, perhaps, I could bring a new member into the fold.


  "You seem to have the advantage of me. What is your name?" 


  "Call me Nick."
 

  "Okay, Nick. I didn't know there was a lake this deep in the woods."


  "Sure you did. This is the Lost Indian Lake."   


  "I thought that was just a fisherman's legend." 


  "A legend is something that may or may not be true. As you can see this is very real, though very few ever find their way here."


  "How's the fishing?"


  "Like anywhere, it goes in cycles. Sometimes I can't reel them in fast enough, other times it's slow."
 

  Suddenly, one of his poles began twitching. With surprising speed he jumped up, reeled in his catch, and deposited it in a large wooden tub I had failed to notice earlier. I tried to see what he had caught, but it was writhing violently, and I found it hard to focus on. He recast his line and seated himself again.


  "What do you usually catch in here?"


  "Oh. You have a wide variety. Some of this, some of that. It's all the same when you devour them. You know, the native inhabitants had their own name for this lake. The Water of Wailing Spirits they called it."


  I had been arranging a nightcrawler worm on a hook, glancing over to him as he spoke. In doing so I pricked my finger on the hook. 


  "Damn the Devil!" I exclaimed.
     

  Seeing the look the old man gave me, I sheepishly explained. "Oh. Sorry. My father was a preacher too, from the old school. When I was twelve I discovered cursing. I also discovered that a curse would earn me a whack upside the head. 'Damn the Devil' was an expression he had used in one of his more fiery sermons. I found that though he still didn't like it he found it hard to fault. He eventually accepted it as the least of an evil. It's the only curse I allow myself. I guess I say it too much."
     

  "Twenty-seven thousand, eight hundred and thirty two times," Nick said.


  "What?" I said, startled.
     

  "You said you started when you were twelve. You’re what, fifty now? At an average of twice a day.....I was always was good with large numbers in my head."
 

  "I really could have said it that many times? I never realized. Now I feel guilty."   


  "Sort of like a physician having to take his own medicine?" 


  "I suppose it is inappropriate for one in my avocation." 


 

"It is doubly inappropriate. As an educated man it is redundant and as a Christian it is blasphemous."
       

  "How so?" I said, getting my back up a little. Remember that I had started the day in a dark mood.
   

  "First, being the devil he is the first and foremost of the Damned. Damning him again frequently is pointless, though very likely annoying.  Second, you have not the authority to damn anyone and laying claim to it is blasphemous."
   

  "Your points are well taken. I hadn't though of it that way before. Still, the sentiment is hard to argue with," I said, not quite willing to concede.
 

  "Why?"
 

  "Because the Devil has always been the bane of mankind. Always lurking, whispering to us in our weakest moments tempting the innocent, inciting war, hatred, and vice. Delighting in our falls from grace." I was working up into a sermon, in spite of my state of mind.
   

    Nick turned to me with a smile of surprisingly good, porcelain white teeth.


  "Looks like we're going to have us one of those treacherous religious debates. I am something of a Christian scholar myself, though my views are somewhat different than yours." 
   

  I had cast out two lines by this time and had gotten comfortable. Now seated, I could tell that Nick was considerably larger than he had appeared when I was standing. Normally, a theological debate would bring me running like a Dalmatian to a fire, but I was feeling a little vulnerable. I was in an unfamiliar setting, a fish out of water if you like, and feeling somewhat intimidated by the sheer physical presence emanating from Nick.
 

  "If it's all the same to you, I'd just as soon keep it friendly." 


  "Friendly. Sure, friendly. Look, I'm sorry if I seem gruff. I spend too much time alone, and my social skills always were minimal. The mental exercise and fellowship would do me good. The fishing will be slow for awhile. This will pass the time and let us get to know one another. Come on. You wouldn't desert me in my time of need, would you?"
       
   

  "Put that way I can hardly say no," I said.
   

 

"Good. Good. It'll be fun. Since I'm still sensing a little reluctance, I'll give you some motivation. I haven't been in a church in fifty-five years. If you can get me to have the slightest doubt about any of my beliefs, on any point, I'll come to your next service."


  Here was a chance to test my faith. I was beginning to wonder if I had been led to this ancient angler in my time of doubt. 


  "That is a challenge I would be remiss in refusing. What ground rules would you propose for this debate?" 


  "I'm familiar with the tenets of your church. They're pretty much on the mark. My disagreement would be with your views on the nature and role of Satan in Christianity. You have already taken a position on that. I, acting as devil's advocate, will respond and we'll just see where it takes us. Okay?"


  "Alright."
 

  "First, you give the Devil too much credit. I'm sure he wishes he had that much power. The way I see it, he's just like us here. A fisherman.  You could say the Devil was "a fisher of men" before HE was. What do we do? Throw out the bait and wait. Do we go into the water and put the hook in the fishes' mouth? No, it has to choose to bite. There's plenty of food in the lake, why choose the bait?
     

  "Let's take the analogy further. We'll say that I'm the Devil and you're yourself, an agent of GOD. We're here fishing for souls. You've noticed my tackle box. I brought it out here long ago and just left it. No one ever bothers it. It is filled only with artificial baits. The basics of course, but also many others I have designed over the years.  They are flashy, or smell good, but mostly just look good.  In the end they are a cheat. They provide no nourishment. Is it my fault the fish get caught, or theirs? Many of the fish will pass my lures by, recognizing them for what they are. Now you are using nightcrawlers. The fish may get hooked but they are getting a real meal. Fair exchange, right?


  I nodded tentatively, thinking it over.


  "Also, as the Devil I have to work much harder. At the first twitch of the pole I have to set the hook, reel in the catch as fast as I can, and I still have no guarantee of success.  I could tell you the number of times I've had a good catch, had it right to the shore, and it throws the hook.  I've had a catch right in my hands only to have it wiggle loose and get away. With your nightcrawlers, you can wait.  The fish is getting a real meal; it'll hook itself.  You can reel it in at your leisure.  Even if it gets off your hook, it'll be more likely to come back for more of your bait than mine.  You see what I mean?"


 

 
"I think I'm beginning to." I replied. I was beginning to warm to this line of thought.  I could see its potential as a sermon. I was debating with myself if I should ask his permission to use his ideas.


  "Second, try to see it from the Devil's point of view.  He gets blamed for everything.  Most of it you do yourselves.  Only humans would take HIS statement ‘The law tells you to exact an eye for an eye, but I say if a man strikes you on the cheek, turn to him the other.' and use the first part to justify any number of sins, while mostly ignoring the later."


  "Yes that's true."  I said. "But the Devil incites them to make that choice."


  "I could encourage you to put a hook in your mouth and throw yourself into the lake as bait.  That doesn't mean that you have to do it."


  "That's ridiculous.  Most people won't harm themselves just because they are goaded to do so.  The Devil is much subtler than that.'


  "Interesting.  A preacher who doesn't think that sin is a self-inflicted harm.  The incitement may be subtle, but the sin never is. No Reverend, that is not the Devil's work.  Did the Devil create War? Murder? Earthquakes? Disease?  No.  Does he use these things?  Yes, but the power to _create_ is reserved for HIM.... and humans.  The Devil has no power to create anything.  Lure, incite?  Yes, but not create.


  "Did he even create himself?  Did he make himself the most glorious of angels, whose first true name was Morning Star?  Not many remember that now.  Did he make himself the most willful, the most proud of angels?  No.  He came into being whole, just as he was created.  No more, no less.  No childhood to make mistakes to learn from.  No past experience.  Did he have any choice but to do what he did, become what he became?  Humans have endless choices to decide what they will become and always, the chance for redemption.  He had no choices; no second chances and, so far, no offers of redemption.  I can only tempt you to harm and kill.  The choice is yours.  Even when you succumb to temptation you can still find redemption and I have to start all over again.  Do you still wonder why I use what pitiful, weak tools I have against you?" He snarled, his voice becoming louder and resonant.


    "Jealousy?"  I ventured.  His "I"s not having escaped me, my neck hairs were standing up.  Was I dealing with some madman, the product of too much time spent alone in the woods?  Or worse, something worse?


    "Yes", Nick went on.  “Jealously.  Imagine.  To be raised above all created creatures, only to be eternally dammed and tormented to benefit the likes of humankind.  You sin again and again; still you keep HIS love.  I sinned once, only once, and have suffered beyond your imagining for it.  Your kind has had five thousand years to learn and still you don't.


   

    He paused.  I tried to think of something to say through my growing apprehension.  Before I could he began again, calmer now.


    "Still some rage and resentment to go with the jealousy I guess.  I've been working on that."


    I had been trying to rise to my feet and found myself unable to do so.  Fear I guessed.  I hoped.  Nick now seemed to have grown more massive, his musculature more defined, like a comic book hero...or villain.  Hoping to humor him I said.  "You really think Satan's fall benefited mankind?"


    "Of course!  Your belief is that everything happens for a reason, is all a part of HIS plan.  Right? "


    "It is."


    "Well, what if I didn't exist?  What if everyone was virtuous, righteous, and just plain nice all the time?


    "That would be wonderful."


    "In Heaven it's wonderful.  Here it would be tragedy.  Your virtue would be meaningless without something to compare it to.  Without something to choose it from.  Do you even understand why your kind exists?  Many of your colleagues believe, often encouraged by me I confess, that you exist only to worship and praise HIM.  Why don't you see that HE already had that with the angels?  I'll tell you something you don't know.  I, and those who followed me, were created long before your kind, but after the other angels had been in existence for GOD only knows how long.  We had a certain amount of free will the originals didn't, apparently only enough to make bad choices.  The only reason I can see for your kinds absolute free will is to see if you could develop into _ company _ for him.  I believe that the other fallen and I exist only to test you.  I can't make anyone sin, I can only dangle the bait.  Being tempted isn't the sin, giving into it is. 


    "I tempted HIM once you know.  HE was hot, HE was thirsty, HE was hungry, and HE was _ tempted _, but no chance there.  Understand now, if HE had been in the desert and not been _ hot _.  Had HE gone without water and not been _ thirsty _.  Had gone without food and not been _ hungry _.  Had HE not been _ tempted _, HIS refusal would not now be worthy of conversation.  You see, I'm just playing out the role assigned to me for the benefit of others, certainly not for my own."


    I had found by now that I really couldn't get to my feet, or even turn my head away from the sight of him, despite my state of terror.  He smiled at me with a mouth full of rapidly decaying teeth.


    "Speaking of conversation, I must apologize, I've been doing all the talking.  Well, so much for the debate, you must concede that I am far more expert on Christianity than you.  However, I wish to be fair.  You may ask me questions and then I'll ask you one."


    I could only stare at him in horror.


    "Come now.  Where's your faith?  I will do you no harm, here and now.  Not many have had this chance, and I assure you, you will not have it again.  To answer your first question, I will answer as truthfully as I can."


    I was in a state of shock; afraid I had lost my mind.  I somehow quelled my fear and decided to go along. I seemed to have no options and might as well learn what I could.


    "Are you really _ the _Devil?"


"I am the ngel first called Morning Star, others have called me Beelzebub, the Slanderer, the Deceiver, Diablos, Lucifer, Satan, etc...etc.


    "Were you the snake in the Garden of Eden?"


    "Eden was not quite what you think it was, and neither were Adam and Eve.  However, as much as you understand it, yes I was. Ah! If only I had been resisted then, my purpose might have been fulfilled.  Redemption might have been offered to me.  But your kind was always so easy to deceive."


    "Did you incite Cain to kill Able?"


    "That one was all yours.  It would have never occurred to me then to physically harm a created being, and HE wouldn't have allowed me to anyway.  I started out just to show HIM you weren't perfect either.  Believe me, most of the evil you think I created I learned from you creatures."


    "In the Old Testament, were you...?"


    "Of course! You had few guidelines to tell one supernatural entity from another. Those were good times for me.  I always had HIS attention then.  Why do you think HE decided you needed a New Testament.  If it wasn't for me, you creatures would still be confused."


    "Where in the Old Testament are...?"


    "HE has already answered that!  'You shall know them by their works'.  Ask me something you don't already know."


    "How can you... encourage so much evil in so many places at once?"


    "One. I can't be everywhere. That is reserved for HIM. Second, You know I have accomplices, both the other Fallen and your own kind.  The answer to what you're really asking is I learned long ago to start at the top. 'shit rolls downhill', I believe is the expression.  Corrupt the leaders and the followers will follow.  Either out of ambition, hate, envy, or rage.  Even righteous anger can be nudged into vengeance, which is also reserved for HIM.  I don't have to do much encouraging anymore.  Mostly I wait and they leap into my arms.  The last major activity I personally engineered in this country was your President Nixon's pardon.  A magnificent idea, it saved me endless effort.  Nothing corrupts those in power like the idea of being unaccountable for their actions.  At least in this world.  The few moral leaders you've had since weren't strong enough to make it fashionable.  I will admit that school shootings were my idea.  Bullies have always been my allies, along with those authorities who accomplice them by doing nothing.  I just turned up the volume.  Enough!  You ask what you already know.  Wait.  That question I will answer.  Go ahead."


    "Why do you take it out on us?  We didn't damn you. We can't hurt you."


    "You disappoint me, Reverend.  Of course you can hurt me. You could ignore me. Then I could no longer hurt HIM.  One question left."


    "Why am I here?"  I could not understand why I had come to be in this situation.  Why would the Prince of Darkness reveal himself to me?


    "To answer my question.  GOD is perfect right?  He doesn't make mistakes?"


    “I believe that, yes.”


    "Good. I feel my purpose is coming to an end.  Things are happening now, now being the last thousand or so years, which I've had little to do with.  You creatures do things that horrify even me!  Look at the so-called Holy Crusades, slaughter and loot for God.  Nice.  The Inquisition.  Torture and murder the innocent to save their souls, magnanimously caring for their wealth and property afterwards.  And your kind dares to call ME arrogant!  In between, it has been the same thing over and over.  Only difference is place, time, and people.  I believe the time is coming soon when HE will settle all accounts.


      "Don't look so worried. I don't feel it will be in your lifetime, though GOD only knows.  A few millennia, more or less, mean little to me.  My question to you is, if I'm just part of HIS plan, just doing what I was created to do.  Do you think that when it's over that maybe then...I could get a second chance...be offered redemption too?  What do you really think?  I will know if you lie."


    "Why don't you...?"


    "Ask HIM?  We really don't talk anymore.  Actually, I talk, HE listens, and every once in a great while HE gently, but firmly, says no."  The sorrow in his voice was almost physically palatable.


    "Then why keep asking if it is so painful?"  Trying to sound sympathetic.


    He looked at me then with an expression of the uttermost contempt I have ever seen.  I suspected it was as close to his true face as I would ever want to see.


    "You have only occasionally sensed the dimmest shadow of HIS faintest whisper.  You have never heard HIM speak.  It's worth the wait, even if it's not what you want to hear."


    Suddenly, he was up again, reeling in another catch.  This time I could see it clearer, though I wish I hadn't.  I shuddered to think of this poor soul being in his clutches.  I thought over my life and faith.  When I had an answer for him he was seated again, staring at me as though he could see into my own soul.  I suppose he could.


    "In my, now, truly humble opinion, I believe GOD has made it clear that redemption is available to all his creations.”


    There was an expression on his face that I can only describe as gratitude, though it looked horribly out of place there.


    Abruptly, I could move again but I was unsure of what to do with this restored power. I had the overwhelming urge to run as fast and as far away as I could.  Then, I felt that when I left it would be better to do it with dignity.  Nick settled it for me.


    "It's getting dark," He hissed.


    He was right.  Though it had been a sunny morning when I had arrived, it was now fast becoming twilight.


    "You had better leave now or you'll never find your way back," He said with an unpleasant chuckle.


    That got me moving.  I quickly gathered up my gear and turned back the way I came.
   

    "Follow the lake to the first path leading to the right, take it and you will find your way."


    I began walking.  After a few steps he spoke.


    "This changes nothing between us you know."  His voice was different again, causing a chill in my bones.


    "I know."  I began walking again.


    I had taken a few steps when I stopped again.  I was sure that I didn't want to turn around and look at him again, but I couldn't help myself.  I turned.  I was right.  The old man was still there, but he wasn't quite the old man anymore.  His image was wavering, becoming something else.  Something I was glad I couldn't quite comprehend.  Still, I had to ask.


    "Why...?" I faltered, as the shimmering became more pronounced, his image more unfocused.


    "Why did I reveal myself to you?"  He finished for me.  It smiled then.  That smile was wickedness itself.  Again I wanted to run into the twilight, ranting madly as I went.  I held my ground.  I had my faith again.


    "Yes.  You must have known that I was having a crisis of faith.  That will never happen again.  I'm lost to you now, and I will keep others from you in the future.  What was in it for you?  My opinion has no authority."


    "See!  I told you I serve a good purpose," it continued in a singsong voice.  "A little time spent with little ole' me, and your faith is like a rock.  Oh! Didn't I mention earthquakes earlier?"  Again the chuckle.


    Not quite finished reforming Itself, It continued  "It's a loss I know, but there are so many others.  I got something I wanted you got something you needed.  Isn't that good enough?"


    I waited.


    The lake was now manifest as a vast mist-filled abyss stretching to the horizon.  Shadowy figures were scurrying about in its depths. 


    "No?  Maybe I wanted to be sure I would never hear 'Damn the Devil' again?"


    "You won't.  Not from me."  I meant it!


    I waited.


    The mist in the vast gorge now reflected the glow of the reddening sky.  Flashes of blue lightning were beginning to approach.


    "Well, though demoted, I am still an angel.  Oh!  There it is again, that damnable pride.  Still needs work."


    It laughed then.  That was viler than the smile.  Its voice had taken on a hollow, unearthly quality.


    I waited.


    "Maybe I'm like the hunter, who after tracking a deer all morning, spots him in an open meadow.  He raises his rifle for an unobstructed shot then, finding it just too easy, deliberately steps on a twig sending the deer scampering into the woods.  Later that afternoon he shoots the deer through a maze of trees and brambles.  More sporting, don't ya know?  Enough!  There can be many answers to a question."


    I waited.  I had my faith again.


    The fishing poles now appeared to be impossibly extended tridents with now, somehow, recognizable lures.  Gluttony...Anger...Envy...Lust...Sloth...Pride...Greed... in all the shades and complex variations imaginable and unimaginable.


    "Every fisherman has to have a story about the one who got away?" It said.


    It was fully formed now and clearly focused.  It took much more than my poor soul had to stand my ground at the sight.  I had more.  I had my faith again.


    A trident twitched.  It grabbed the trident, retracting it rapidly toward the shore; the mournful, piteous cry of the soul attached froze my heart.


    I still waited.


    It turned from me then, having done Its' worst.  It spoke in a voice that, almost, wasn't worth the hearing of the words.


    "ALL RIGHT!"  It roared.  "If you must know."  Then softer, reluctantly.  "I asked HIM again this morning.  HE told me to ask you."


    I turned then and walked as fast as I could into the woods.  Away from the sound of the last three words I heard from the hideous voice howling with laughter.  The three words that will haunt and challenge me until the instant of my death.


  "Catch you later?"



                            END