ANOTHER JOAN?

Chapter 8 The Parable of the Rings

On the drive home, Joan felt another bout of tears coming on, and rummaged for something to wipe her eyes. "Oh, crap. I think I left my handkerchief in the Ladies Room at the park. Can we go back for it, Adam?"

"It's been a long day," Adam complained, "and the room may be locked up by now. Is it important?"

"I bought the handkerchief from a sidewalk stand in Florence. It would be hard to replace."

Adam privately thought that it would probably be easy to find a copy on the Internet, but he didn't want to argue. He changed direction toward the park.

A few minutes later he saw flashing lights projected from behind them, and checked the rear-view mirror. "Police car, Joan, and I doubt that it's your Dad. But I haven't done anything."

"Better pull over."

Adam did. They were now on the edge of the park. As the police officer walked up, Adam lowered his window. "Is something wrong, officer?" Joan asked from her side.

"It's an imperfect world, Joan."

She rolled up your eyes. "Policeman God. About time you showed up."

"I measure time by eternities. Why don't we sit on that bench and talk?"

"Anybody that sees us will think we've done something bad."

"I'll divert attention."

They sat on the bench. "OK, please give me a straight answer for once," demanded Joan. "Have you been visiting Debbie O'Brian?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"There are a billion stories on the Naked Planet, to coin a phrase," said God dryly. "Why do you need to know?"

"I thought she was the victim of a con game!"

"Is that the real reason you were concerned, Joan?"

There was a long pause, and Joan finally admitted: "No. I was jealous. I was afraid that you had tired of me and found another girl to be your Friend."

"Doesn't work that way, Joan. My love is infinite. Giving love to Debbie O'Brian does not diminish my love for you. As Luke might say, infinity minus a constant is still infinity."

"But why appear as Jesus?" Adam said. "It's not what you do with us."

"People differ," God said. "Unlike any of you, Debbie O'Brian has had a traditional religious bringing up. To her, God is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Appearing in the forms that you call Cute Boy or Old Lady would confuse her a lot. At least at this stage."

"But is it real?" demanded Joan. "Was Jesus really you? Or are you just pretending to get her trust?"

"You're basically asking which religion is the true one," said God.

"Well, yes."

There was another long pause; one might even say an eternal one. And even when it stopped, God's answer was bizarre. "Joan, have you read the Boccachio's Decameron?"

"I haven't," said Adam. "What is it?"

"Collection of midieval stories," Joan said. "Like the Canterbury Tales, but even bawdier. It was in my bookstore, and I'd read some of the stories when I got bored. But what does that have to do with my question?"

"Do you remember the tale called 'The Parable of the Rings?'"

"No, and you know I don't, because you know everything," replied Joan.

"A man had three sons whom he dearly loved. He also had a beautiful ring. As death approached and he made his will, he divided his property equally among his sons, and he was puzzled what to do with the ring. No matter which son he gave it to, the other two sons would feel less loved, which was not his intention. His solution was to make two perfect copies of the ring, and so each son got a ring. They never found out which was the original, and in the end, they realized it didn't matter. All three sons had had their father's love."

"It's a beautiful story, but I don't get what you're driving at," said Adam.

"The three sons are Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Nowadays Boccacio would probably invent more sons to cover other religions like Buddhism. The point is, none of the three can prove that they have the Truth, and it would be wrong for them to fight about it. They should all enjoy My love."

"And there are other interpretations," mused Joan. "Like one "son" could be me, and another could be Debbie, and there are probably other Friends out there. And we shouldn't get jealous of each other."

"Parables are like that, they can be interpreted in many ways. For the moment, though, I ask you to leave Debbie alone. Let me teach her in ways she will understand. And one other thing. Joan, during the past week you've been doing a lot of lying and snooping. You must stop that."

"Because it's unethical?"

"Partly, but mainly because you're terrible at it. Adam's now committed to paint at the church for the rest of August, and there was the matter of a horse--"

"Yeah, yeah, don't remind me."

"Leave the intrigue to your friend Veronica Mars."

"Do you have missions in mind for her?"

God smiled mysteriously and left with a wave.

THE END