Disclaimer: I do not own HDM, though the books do reflect my own religious beliefs, which are mine.
TGTGTGTG"So you don't believe in God?" Angus Sheridan asked the man sitting before him.
"No." The answer was short and… not curt, so much as… sure.
"Then what do you believe in?" Angus asked, "Obviously you believe in some kind of God if you're here."
The man paused for a moment, casting a glance at the many priests, theologians and pastors attending the conference.
"I believe in the Spirit."
"You mean in the human spirit?" Angus questioned, becoming more intrigued by this man the more they talked.
"That, and the Spirit of the universe, of life," he said looking into Angus' eyes as he did.
"What do you mean?" Angus replied, startled by the intensity behind those dark eyes.
"You've taken classes on other religions," the man asked, "Buddhism, Gnosticism, etc., correct?"
"I'll be taking an Eastern Religions course next semester," Angus answered, ashamed to admit that he had yet to complete his Religious Seminar education.
But his companion didn't seem at all phased by this, and instead continued, saying, "One of the cornerstones of Buddhism and many forms of faith which are considered 'pagan' by many Christians is the belief that our souls are not individual, but part of a greater whole, one which is comprised of everything living. Everything has an eternal soul, whether it be man, woman, tree, frog, cat, insect, grass, fish, bird or even the dirt itself—many extend this belief to the Earth herself as well."
"And you're one of those?" Angus hazarded a guess, sensing that his explanation was at an end.
He merely nodded in reply, a slight, satisfied smirk on his lips as he raised his mug of tea to his lips.
Angus was about to continue his questioning when he was interrupted by the sudden zealous outburst of the speaker on the simulcast system behind him. Sharply turning around, he saw that the speaker on the screen was practically yelling from the podium, holding aloft what looked like The Holy Bible.
"I can't stand Jehovah's Witnesses."
Surprised by the sudden and passionate anger in his companion's voice, Angus turned back around in his seat.
"They may be a little strict and overzealous about doctrine," he replied carefully, "but they're only doing what they believe is right."
"Proclaiming that Jesus Christ is the one and only Salvation is anything but right."
Any response to this truly startling comment (Angus could've almost sworn he felt himself jump) was interrupted by the arrival of a new voice in the conversation.
"God wants to save you, you know. He forgives you even if you refuse to believe. " The speaker's face was one of pity and forgiveness, looking down at Angus and his companion from where he stood.
Angus' companion suddenly snorted then shook his head slightly, accompanied by a few quite chuckles. "If he"—Angus could hear the lack of capitalization in his voice—"has already forgiven me," he asked, "why would I need saving?"
The newcomer puffed out his chest importantly, obviously insulted by this man's attitude.
"To go to Heaven, of course," he replied, and Angus noticed the nametag on his chest, reading in bold 'JOHN FINTAN,' and realized that he hadn't noticed his companion's curious lack of identification until now.
"You really believe that don't you?" said companion asked, almost sadly.
"I have the Truth, that is all I need," John Fintan replied stiffly. Despite wanting to remain a neutral observer, Angus couldn't help but notice that his voice now seemed to carry a certain 'holier than thou' attitude with it.
The dark haired man's eyes hardened, and that depth and intensity that Angus saw earlier transformed into a powerful and cutting gaze.
"The Truth?" he asked, "You know nothing of the Truth."
"What?!" Fintan practically screamed, "You are the one who has been tricked by those pagan lies!"
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because as soon as Fintan did, the other stood. Angus did a double take—as did the other observers (the argument had quickly drawn a crowd)—he didn't even see the man move! One moment he was sitting in an almost unassuming position, the next he was standing erect in front of Fintan, glaring piercingly into the other's eyes.
Fintan apparently couldn't hold that gaze, stepping back and breaking eye contact quickly. "You can not trick me sir," he said, "I am in the Righteous' favor!"
The mysterious man seemed to collect himself at this, his considerable presence calming to a still around him—though it remained just as powerful and compelling as before—as he sighed heavily.
"I met someone like you once," he replied, looking back with calmer, yet deeper, eyes at the man before him. "He spent his entire existence proclaiming God's reign, even up to and including his death, he was sure of his faith in the Christian God. Yet despite his unwavering faith, God did not see fit to save him from the barren wasteland, crowded together with the miserable spirits trapped there, forgetting everything good in life—the sun, the sky, their friends, parents and children—only remembering the pain, the mistakes and fears. And do you know what?" This last questioned was directed all around him, to all his audience, listening intently to his story. "All he had to do was follow a little girl outside and he would have been free. His faith in his God held him back in that purgatory of a hell."
Upon the story's conclusion, he turned to look almost questioningly back at Fintan, who, despite himself, seemed just as awed by this man's presence as everyone else.
"So?" Fintan asked, finally pulling himself together, "This is the earthly world, not the Heavenly. If he believed, than he was saved." He said it like a stubborn child, resorting to their own flawed logic in the face of defeat. And despite his own Christian background and beliefs, Angus found himself doubting the validity of that statement.
The dark haired man just shook his head once more, and said quietly, "He was already dead."
It came out as a silent growl, and for a moment, Angus could almost see a shadowy form, great and majestic, by his side.
Everyone stood staring at him for a moment, then: "I-im-possible! What do you mean?" "That's fantasy! You can't possibly expect us to believe that story!"
"Yet you believe a man could walk on water and rise from the dead?" The dark haired man said it softly, yet he commanded his audience without mercy, and the various religious scholars and leaders silenced their outcries almost instantly.
Fintan chose this moment to reclaim his dignity, shouting, "He was the Son of God!"
"As are we. As are we," was the dark haired man's only reply.
Grabbing his bag off his chair, the man turned around, walking away from the confused Fintan and crowd. But after only a few steps, he paused and looked over his left shoulder and addressed the crowd once more.
"Just remember to tell them stories," he said, "Like I have. Like Jesus did."
It was only then that Angus noticed the man's left hand, and could only stare at the scared flesh that once held his little and ring fingers. Felling the man's gaze on him, Angus broke his stare long enough to raise his head and look at the man's seeking eyes. The man nodded slightly, and it was then that Angus knew, absolutely knew, that this man spoke the truth.
And as the dark haired pagan priest turned and left the conference, Angus couldn't help but wonder what he had gone through to see dead men in hell and stand like an immovable mountain of faith in a sea of anger and hate.
TGTGTGTGWhile the first chapter seemed to focus Will's more aggressive side, I thought that this side of him is more along the lines of what was required of him; building and inspiring others, rather than challenging opposing beliefs.
Also, I felt like I had to reply somehow to Jean's review-that-wasn't-a-review of Mother's Web, which was more a rant about how I don't know God, and how he wants to forgive me. I'm sorry, Jean, but this is my belief, my faith.
Please review!