Two Gods by dvd7936

From my earliest memories, I knew there were two gods. Later I was told there was one, but that did not make much sense to me. There were two! I remember two. It was they I had to thank for my daily bread.

They taught me what was right and wrong, and what the consequences of each was. They gave me knowledge of the basic magic of language, and after a fashion the alchemy of love.

They were the arbiters of my world. They were not beyond doubt. They were simply above it. Their word was law. No, it was more than that, their word dictated what I should believe, and I took it down more accurately than any scribe, although I could not write. Their actions were the hammer and the anvil that shaped me. Law does not encompass their total and utter control in the process of my creation.

Like any good deity, they performed miracles. They made light with the flick of their wrists. They put magic powder of some sort in my water and made it taste far better than any wine. (Although I did not know that word yet,) They smiled, laughed, and made funny faces, which was enough of a miracle for me!

For these miracles I worshiped them. I worshiped them with that peculiar mixture of love and dread found in sermons. The utter love reserved only for the divine, the being to whom you owe all, and who preserves you only at his or her pleasure. They brought me every happiness I ever felt, every second of joy, and every moment of laughter; each was a gift from them to me. Yet it was also true that…There was nothing of my own, nothing that I had ever done, nothing that I could do, to induce the two gods to spare me one moment, if they should desire otherwise. This was my love for them, beyond total, beyond reason. A love both holy, and wholly amoral.

My gods were good gods. Better than any one god I have heard of. They loved me. They worked very hard. They were merciful. They were kind. They punished me for my sins most of the time. Sometimes they punished me for the ill deeds of others I had never heard of. This scared me. But I learned from that.

I was a very quick learner. I learned how to tell if more worship was needed. At which times silence was best. When to speak and when to ask. Most importantly how to avoid their wrath. I delighted in my ability to calm their passionate tempers--that is, when I could calm them.

Sometimes I could not. Sometimes despite my best efforts there was war between them. When there was war in heaven I cried for the pain they sent. I learned gods do not fight with lightning. They use thunder. And that thunder does more than enough without it. I wondered why this particular storm had come, and what I might have done to stop it. What sin had I committed to deserve this storm? There was always a way to stop it. There must be! There must be a reason for my pain! There was always a reason, for my gods were just… if I was just devout enough to find it. I had faith in them, through it all, as much as any one named Job.

Still on came the thunder, until I could stand it no more. It was then I learned the cancerous skill. The ability to take the world, which at that point I still loved with open arms, and reject it. Reject what my senses told me, and live in my own little world. I took shelter from the storm in a place no one could reach me. A soulless, dark, and cold place. But the thunder was quieter there. So I bore the cold.

Despite the muffling effects of my new home, I twisted, turned, trembled, and cried. I screamed, and begged through my tears for it to stop. It did eventually, but not in answer to my prayers. And never soon enough. Yet… I survived. Thank gods.

One day you may be deified, and one day you may hold sway over the minds, bodies and souls, of some disciples, much the same as I was held in thrall, as we all were at one time. I beg you from my dungeon sanctuary to remember this tale of two gods. Just, decent, kind, and good gods, and their small congregation. For they never sought to cause me pain. Would have spared me if they could. For truly they did, and do love me, and I them. Nonetheless, there was pain. So I ask all the gods to remember. Perhaps by writing this anecdote, I can help some other monk with a different, yet not so different faith, through his or her own storms of senseless divine agony.