The First Day of Forever

The Webster stories, "Webster's Diction" , are best read in order.

This story is lecture #9, part of a series of lectures given by Professor Webster.

The lectures are ordered as follows:
#1 is "The Color of God" , #2 is "Silence in G Minor" , #3 is "Three Hats, a Blind Man and a Dime" , #4 is "Aristotle’s Pigeons" , #5 is "Waiter, There is Fate in my Soup" , #6 is "Is There a Problem Here" , # 7 is "It's a Matter of Fact"  and # 8 is "Webster and the Case of the Missing Link" 

The First Day of Forever

“Because.” Webster says, as if answering his mother’s plea.

“Because what?” Carlisle assumes the role of the demanding parent.

“Precisely Mr. Carlisle, precisely.” Even as a child Webster could bring a conversation to a screeching halt with weightless monomania.

Carlisle responds with an effortless smile and a lesser nod of the head, as if to say, ‘I have no clue what you’re talking about Webster, but I’m certainly better off pretending I do, but I won’t pretend so enthusiastically as to have you call on me.’ And, lost in this rusty chain of thought, Carlisle fades into the safety of inscrutable obscurity.

With Carlisle dropping the bait, Webster turns to me, “You all know PRD, do you not? He’s the nice gentleman who has been writing about our lectures on Stories.com – for longevity, I suppose.”

Webster points his upturned hand to me, as if saying, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present, your patsy,’ and says, “Mr. D, you’ve been with us for several months now, in the relative safety of the far-away corner of our little universe. I notice an anxious expression in your eyes today. Perhaps Carlisle’s implosion has made room for the gleam in your eye?”

“Well, Professor,” I reply, with the confidence of one who has the power to edit, “I do not believe I have the mandate to interpose, so I will just continue to observe and stay out of it, but thank you for asking.”

“No-one can stay out of it, Mr. D, no-one can step out of forever.”

“Can God step out of it?” I take the bait, and oh, it’s so tasty. ‘Damn you Webster, I told myself that I would not get trapped in your web - hey Web, as in Web-ster, I like that, I just may be able to use it in this story.’

“Very insightful Mr. D, very insightful. Do you refer to the Kabalistic view that God stepped out of infinity, to make room for the world?” Webster is genuinely interested. However, all I know of this topic is what I read in an inquisitive email responding to one of Webster’s earlier lectures. I should have listened to Socrates, when he whispered into eternity, ‘to know what you don’t know is the root of all wisdom.”

“Well, sir, I believe you’ve contradicted yourself.” Did I really just say that? All eyes are on me, so I must have said it. I look to Gupta for support, but his mouth is half opened and I think he’s about to drool on himself. As for Carlisle, he’s no help at all, he’s all but hiding under the table, which is giving Cabra a touch of blush across his face.

“Let me ask you,” I ask him, “would it be unreasonable to suggest two substances can be infinite.” If nothing else, asking him to confirm the negative ought to confuse him.

“Yes, unreasonable. Two infinities cannot co-exist, for, to distinguish one from the other would require limits to one or the other, which would be contrary to infinity.” Webster followed closely, as to be expected.

“So, we have established that there is only one infinity, and you have told us that infinity extends in all directions. This tells me there is no beginning. Yet you have intimated that when you divide the divisible, such that you can divide no more, therein lies the breath of God. Clearly suggesting a beginning. So, which is it, did God create the universe, or has it always been?” I declare with questionable confidence.

“To be, or not to be? – now there is a question for all of time. Where was God on the first day of forever?” Webster invites, already weaving his web.

He continues, one sticky strand at a time. “We are imperfect creatures and our simple logic rules us - because. Since his rear-end was first spanked in the confines of his new world, Mr. Carlisle has known cause. And from that day forward, all things, because. Yet some of us refuse to consider, because God.” Webster’s eyes pan the room, to find Gupta smiling at Carlisle’s umpteenth incarnation, which is timely indeed, as drool would otherwise have escaped from the corners of his mouth.

“But I have no proof that God created the world, or the universe.” When all else fails, ask for the pudding, if you don’t get proof, you at least get a tasty treat.

“Close your eyes, Mr. D.” To which I oblige without haste. “You may open them now.” Which I do, only to find Webster out of my immediate view. “I’m over here,” he says, slightly out of breath.

“How do you suppose I got here, Mr. D?” Webster asks, with a slight wheeze to his voice.

“Because you ran, sir?” It couldn’t have been more obvious.

“Did you see me run?”

“No, I did not.”

“Why do you dismiss the notion that I may have materialized here? Or, for that matter, that I have always been here.” Webster runs his fingers along his sides, as if modeling a new outfit.

“Because it’s not rational, sir.”

“Rationality, requires, a cause, you will concede, to that, will you not?” Webster continues, pausing unnaturally to catch his breath.

“I just said so.” Well, I did.

“Indeed you did, indeed you did. It is rational to have a cause. Things can’t just be, they are – because.” Webster’s breath was starting to settle.

“If God was the cause, then the universe must be limited.” I feel I have my honor to rescue.

“How so, Mr. D?”

“If God was the cause, then the universe must have had a beginning. It did not exist before its cause, did it?”

“I follow, go on.”

“If the Universe has a beginning then it cannot be infinite.”

“Hum, I see, go on,” Webster says in an inviting manner, which troubles me a little.

“If the universe in not infinite, then it must have a beginning, and, of course, an ending.” I restate the obvious, to keep him in an affirmative mood.

“That is a logical supposition.” He affirmed.

“You have told us that life, existence, is a perfection. So the lack of existence, or the cessation of existence, must be less than perfection.” I pose the question, hopefully.

“Yes.”

“So, if the universe can cease to be, it is less than perfect. A perfect God cannot create something imperfect, can he?” ‘Try this one on for size, Webster,’ I want to say, but I know better.

“If God wants to, God surely can, for God is capable of all.”

“Yes, you are right,” I have to concede, but, look here, yet another rabbit I can pull. “Tell me, Professor, do you understand God to be moral?”

“Of course. God is the essence of morality.” Webster locks his fingers, palm up by his belly, as if supporting the air before him.

“Do you understand essence to be that which is necessary to the nature of the matter in question?” I hope he does, for I don’t know what else it could be.

“Yes, essence is the necessary nature of something.” He confirms, much more eloquently than I did.

“Then,” I almost want to say ‘ha ha,’ but I continue in proper form, “If God is the essence of morality, His actions must necessarily be moral, correct?”

“I agree.” He agrees.

“You said evil was an imperfection. There is evil all about us. Is it not immoral to create evil? Surely God cannot be both moral and immoral?” I feel my stride now.

“What do you understand morality to be, Mr. D?” Webster asks, after a long string of short answers, catching me slightly off my stance.

“Morality is to do what is good.” At least this is what I’ve always thought.

“We have agreed that to exist is a perfection,” Webster resumes the role of inquirer,”And perfection is good. Therefore to create perfection is moral. Isn’t that right Mr. D?”

“Yes.” It appears it’s now my turn for short answers, when did the tables get turned?

“If something is necessary in the creation of perfection, but it is intentionally omitted, would that be moral?” Webster asks in an interrogative manner. I wonder if he is losing patience with me, but the patient look in his eyes says otherwise.

“No, that would be immoral.” I say, feeling quite confident on this one.

“So morality is not only to do good, but not to intentionally omit that which is necessary for good.” Webster asserts, for greater clarity.

“Yes.”

“Let me ask you Mr. D, if something is said to be the same, or identical, how do you distinguish one from the other.”

“If they are truly the same, you cannot.”

“So you cannot know cold, lest you know heat, and you cannot know true, lest you know false.”

“Correct.” I reluctantly agreed – what would you have me do, lie?

“It follows then, that you cannot know good, lest you know evil, and you cannot know perfect, lest you know imperfect.”

“I believe that is so.” I say, feeling a little sticky, as the web closes in.

“So, imperfection is necessary to know perfection, and to omit imperfection is to deny knowledge of perfection.” This is a big hammer, but he brings it down gently.

“Yes.” Don’t look at me, I have no choice but to agree, it follows logically.

“One cannot do good unless one has knowledge of perfection, and therefore one cannot be moral in a universe that does not know imperfection.” Webster says matter-of-factly.

“You’re saying it was necessary for God to create an imperfect world, to ensure we know and seek perfection. If God chose to, however, God could have made a perfect world, could he not?” I feel I still have some opportunity to turn the tables my way, heavy as they are – don’t you think?

But Webster isn’t ready to fold, “Can God make a stone so heavy that even he can’t lift it?” He says, staring me in the eyes.

“No, for the stone would be greater than God, and nothing can be greater than God.”

Webster continues, his eyes still fixed. “And we have already agreed that two things cannot be truly identical, or they would be known as one thing, right?” I nod, hoping non-verbal affirmation to be a lesser concession. “Therefore, there is only one true perfection. Would you agree?”

“I would.” I do.

“So, God cannot make other Gods, other perfect beings.” He continues the interrogation.

“Correct.”

“So, there must need be degrees of perfection.” He proclaims, in an enticing tone.

But I cut in quickly, “So God is not all powerful, for God lacks the power to create himself.” I say, hoping to trap him, knowing, however, it is unlikely.

“It is a greater power to have choice, than to exhaust all capacity. He who can act beyond his demonstrated capacity, but is not compelled to do so and chooses otherwise, has the additional facilities of choice and restraint, and that is a greater power.” Webster clenches his fist, to show strength.

“So God has the capacity for greater action, but chooses not to act, and this, you say, is moral?” Perhaps I can still trip him up.

“If I have the power to kill you, yet I let you live, I have added the power of mercy to my arsenal.”

“What if I am a murderer and it is just to kill me?”

“What do you understand justice to be?” Webster asks, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“To do what is right and good.” Well, what do you think it is?

“But if existence is a perfection, and perfection is good, and good is justice, then to kill must be injustice, since to kill is to stop existence.” Webster lays it out for me.

“But what if I kill a mass murderer, to stop a killing spree. You must agree that my killing him is a lesser injustice. Surely, if there are degrees of perfection, there too must be degrees of imperfection, degrees of injustice.” I say with hopeful expression.

“Yes.” Webster concedes that degrees of perfection, require degrees of imperfection.

“And you have stated that mercy is a power,” I continue, “Therefore, surely God will forgive the lesser injustice. Perhaps even the greatest of injustice, for would not mercy granted on the greatest injustice suggest the greatest of power.”

“Yes, the greater the injustice the greater the mercy required to forgive such injustice.” Webster admitted.

“So, God, who is all-powerful, must forgive all,” I conclude, “Indeed, one might suggest that to be all powerful, He must demonstrate the greatest of power, perpetual mercy. Would this not be injustice to the afflicted? I mean, to do justice to the afflicted God must punish the perpetrator, no?” Come on Webster, one step closer if you will.

“You confuse justice with revenge.” Webster says, crossing his arms.

“What do you mean?”

“If I kill your brother, is it just that you kill me?” Webster asks.

“Yes.” I mean, I only have one brother.

“What if your brother killed my wife, and I was dispensing justice?”

“Well, I didn’t know that.”

“Precisely. You have designed your justice based on intentions. But how do you know intentions?” Webster taps his temple, perhaps a little too intently, requiring a slight rub to relieve the pain.

“God knows, right?” strangely I feel better completing his thought, than having it handed to me.

“Justice is of God, and revenge is of man,” Webster prophesized.

“Tell me,” I feel compelled to regain some advantage, “If mercy adds to his power, then more mercy must reflect more power – would God not be compelled to forgive all, and, as you said, to be compelled is to be weak. Is God weak?”

“God is not compelled, but God will judge the intentions of those who ask for mercy and forgive only those with proper intentions.” Webster is not ready to submit.

“Would one ask for forgiveness, if one believes one has done right?” I ask boldly.

“Of course not, one asks for forgiveness when one believes one has done wrong.”

“So, to receive forgiveness, one must know that one has done wrong and then one must ask for forgiveness.” I continue down a road that I am not entirely familiar with.

“Yes.”

“What about one who is mentally deficient, who believes what wrong he has done, is actually right?” I take another cautious step forward.

“One can be mentally deficient by defect, which is no fault of his own, or by ignorance, an unwillingness to listen to the whisper of God. God may forgive the former, but not likely the latter. As I have previously said, in clarity of mind lies the Constitution of the City of God. And by clarity of mind, I mean a mind with the ability and willingness to reason clearly.”

“So, forgiveness requires a positive action, a request for forgiveness, prayer perhaps, requested by a reasonable person.” Take just another baby step for me Webster.

“Yes.” Webster follows.

“To forgive is a great power, right?” One more step, come to daddy.

“Yes.”

“So, you are telling me that God depends on a request from a reasonable person to exercise his greatest power? Do I hear that perhaps God depends on us, as we depend on God?” I remember Voltaire, ‘If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him.’

“What hydrogen is to water, so is God to life.” He proclaims.

“Say that again.” I’m not sure I get it, do you?

“Mr. D,” Webster continues like a patient uncle, “You are an interesting creature indeed. Let me ask you this. We have spanked Mr. Carlisle into life months ago, and here he is today still alive before our eyes. Do you agree that he had all that is necessary for life on the day we created him.” My nod gave him the right of way. “Has he acquired any new faculties that are necessary to keep him alive?” I continue to give the right of way. “Then, all the necessities of life, the binding matter - that which is necessary for the continuation of Carlisle, follows him each and every day.”

“Yes.”

“Do you suppose God winds his clock every day?”

“Oh, I see.” Don’t you?

“Class dismissed!” Webster calls an end to a long afternoon.



Gupta’s Notes:

Cole is the first to leave the room today, giving me a much needed break from the eyes that weighed upon me until just now. She creates a wake when she departs, pulling all thoughts is her direction. A chorus of flashing glances runs through the room, like a yawn in the early-morning train. We all know Gupta is in love with Cole, but infatuation still runs amok, for in infinity, all chances are fair.

I have, thus far, not taken great care to describe Cole, but I think the diversion will give me ample opportunity to slip out unnoticed, and once again fade into the margins, where I feel I belong.

Cole is five foot six, or seven, with shoulder-length straw-blonde hair which she customarily pulls into a pony-tail, though wisps of it always frame her face, giving her an air of carelessness, which contrasts entirely with her determined stride. Her pupils are sharp blue crystal spokes that spin until you’re lost in their intensity. And her soft-spoken tone invites you into her mire where you soon find it’s too deep for an easy escape. Her fingers are long and slender, but her nails are kept short, giving her an air of innocence, perhaps too enticing to be credible. Her Levis are loose, but not enough to leave you guessing, and her belly shows with just a hint of promise, like the Spring sun in Alaska.

As for Gupta, well, I’d describe him further, but he has long since followed Cole. And seeing as your eyes have turned to this odd pairing, let me slip out unnoticed.

“That was an interesting exchange, don’t you think? I mean all this time, I didn’t know he was there.” Gupta says, running his finger along Cole’s cheek, as he places the loose wisps behind her ear.

“Very Socratic, I would say, though I’m not sure who wore the sandals.” Cole says, cross-legged and rocking her own sandled foot, as if keeping time with the clock about her. “Say Gupta, who do you think was right?”

“I don’t think it matters. I mean, Webster was not fishing for an answer, he was fishing for the right questions. After all, philosophy is first and foremost about asking questions. The more questions, the bigger the hole.”

“I know, I’ve heard it from you before,” she says with a sarcastic tone, “Philosophy is like a seed of wisdom, it’s growth is limited only by the hole we dig. God, Gupta, you’re starting to sound like Webster.”

“While we are on the topic of God, where was God, on the first day of forever? I mean, sounds pretty deep, but it’s a good question. Webster has essentially said that God was breathing life into the universe, on the first day of forever, but forever implies infinity. How do we reconcile infinity with a beginning?” Gupta asks Cole, thinking he already knows the answer.

“The question is, how can the universe have a beginning and no end? I mean, can something be both finite and infinite? Isn’t that what Webster suggests?” Cole says, rubbing Gupta’s hand, allowing him the opening to answer his own question.

“What hydrogen is to water, so is God to life. Hydrogen is the essence of water, as God is the essence of life. He’s telling us that God is necessary to life, indeed intricate to life, just like hydrogen is intricate to water, water cannot exist without hydrogen, but hydrogen exists independent of water.” Gupta is happy to complete his thought.

“But hydrogen must pair with oxygen, for there to be water.” Cole still commands a challenge.

“Yes, therein lies the breath of God.”

“OK, I get it Gupta, the universe has a beginning and, in-and-of itself, it is finite. However, as long as God sustains it, it shall be infinite. The breath of God not only began life, but it sustains it daily, right? I mean, Webster said that the necessary conditions which started Carlisle’s life are the same conditions present each day. Life will keep ticking as long as God winds the clock daily.” Cole rubs her thumb and finger in a winding motion.

“But what if God forgets to wind it?” Gupta winks at her.

“Now that would be immoral.”

The next lecture is "Surviving Death-Neat Tricks of the Soul"