Satan's Idle Stories, 02. Satan's Legacy

02. Satan's Legacy

 

Once again I call the attention of my grateful readers to the fact that I, Satan, am almost equal to God. This reminder is important in the context of the present story. God created me, an immortal celestial, as the eternal bearer of an alternative to His own views. In this act of the Almighty I see the divine wisdom of the Creator, who recognizes the absolute necessity of an opponent. For if you will speak alone all the time, you will always be right, but He does not need such rightness. 

 

I am not a passive observer of historical peripetias and epochal cataclysms, which are plentiful in the paths of God's servants. I intervene, I meddle, I exercise my ungrateful mission as a miner of evil from the ore of humanity created by God. I enrich the ore. Only the Creator and I, and perhaps a few wise men, realize the usefulness of my acts.

 

I am exemplarily modest, but still I would like to be aware that God values Satan's works highly, on a par with his own, thus suggesting to the sages the importance of interpreting my acts favorably and glorifying them in books. 

 

Once, upset by my blatant non-recognition, I appeared before God and straight from the shoulder declared that the two-footed creatures on Earth thank and praise Him, and this is certainly true, but unfortunately my share of influence on mortals remains in the shadows. The praise of the one means the humiliation of the other. I asked: "In addressing Heaven, do men have only to give thanks, and have they no other reason to remind themselves? If people not only give thanks to Heaven but also repent of sins against Heaven, am I, Satan, not the one who moves people to repentance?"

 

God understood mе. He seemed confused. "Go down to Earth, Satan," God said, "walk tirelessly along the paths of space and time, search out, track down what you are looking for. You will return and report to Me!"

 

I called three helpers, and we went down from Heaven. We found a secluded place in the desert among the hills. To the right was blackened the entrance to a cave, to the left a stream murmured welcomingly, and in the distance we could see a forest rich in berries, roots, and other offerings of nature - in short, sources of sustenance. I and my friends are angels, and in heaven we do not need regular reinforcements, but on Earth it is necessary to take human form, and people need food. However, our stomachs are small, our gastronomic appetites are modest, and we have enough to eat from the forest.

 

My companions took their wings off their backs, six each. I, as an angelic creature close to God and almost equal to Him, am equipped with twelve wings. My friends helped me to free myself from the attributes of belonging to the Heavenly Host, and we carefully stacked our snow-white organs of flight in the depth of the cave, away from the destructive action of the sun's rays and rainwater.

 

A few days were enough for us to settle down on the solid Earth. Then, taking some provision, I set out to fulfill the commission of our God, and most of all, to obtain justice for the recognition of my own merit in His sight. My companions were waiting for my return. I did not take any of the three with me. Their spirits are not yet high enough to penetrate absolutely into my and God's designs; they have yet to rise a few steps. In the meantime, they will be my rear guard, for every trick is to be expected from sinful men.

 

The first people I met on my way were the Jews who had come out of Egyptian captivity. I saw many thousands of people sitting around fires, exhausted from the long, hard journey, singing glory to God. Yesterday's slaves are now happy with their freedom. People chose freedom over slavery, and many paid with their lives for the difficult choice. Heaven marvels at the sacrificial boldness of the people, and the people sing the unconditional support of Heaven.

 

I stood back, watching from behind a rock, unnoticed. I remembered the cowardice of some of the fugitives, their shameful wish to return halfway back to their well-fed slavery. How can such things be forgotten?

 

Then I heard a sound very different from a hymn of praise. I listened. Several people were sitting in a circle, raising their hands to Heaven, praying and crying. I crept closer. Among those praying I saw Moshe himself, the great leader of the tribe of Jews. He was weeping the most bitterly, repenting, begging God's forgiveness for the unworthy lack of faith of not the best part of his flock, he promised to bring sorrow into the heart of every honest Jew.

 

Excited by this observation, I continued on my way. The expanse of Canaan, which the Jews had conquered from the heathens, opened up before me. After the victorious battle, the surviving soldiers shouted loudly in praise of their commander, Joshua, the son of Nun. Though deadly tired, the soldiers found their strength and sang glory to God, the giver of the land. They finished the dithyramb and fell to the ground, exhausted by the toil of war. 

 

From my hiding place, I saw the strongest men gathered around Yoshua's tent and prayed to God, weeping and repenting. I know what they were grieving over. The meanness of the selfish Achan, who stole the gold of Jericho from God, gnaws at the noble hearts of the best. Yoshua prophesied harshly that soon the all the people will wash themselves with tears for the crime of one is the common sin of the whole nation.

 

I truly rejoiced and thought it was time to return to Heaven, but I decided to make a further observation to be sure. I crossed the centuries, entered Ashkenaz, and saw the exorbitant joy on the shaven faces of the enlightened Jews there. Powdered wigs, silver-stitched camisoles, white stockings, buckled shoes. They were quite pleased with themselves, and rarely did any of them sing glory to God. I moved eastward, where the glorious town of Bozhin adorns the bank of the Dnieper. And I heard a universe cry - it was the hasids bitterly lamenting the unreasonableness of their civilized brethren.

 

Oh, how my heart rejoiced at this lamentation! I was glad in my soul - I had something to tell God, and I could finally leave the various-faced Earth, worse than which only Hell, and only Paradise is better than it.

 

Here are my faithful companions. Tired of waiting. The poor angels' spirits are exhausted in the heat and heartlessness of the desert. We helped each other to put our wings behind our backs, took more air into our lungs, held hands and soared high and high, away from this Earth.

 

As I sat on the cloud, I waited for an audience with the Almighty. I was eager to report my observations to Him, but He seemed to be in no hurry to meet me. The assistants, the administrative angels, must have reported my suspiciously joyful face to God.

 

Admitted to the throne, I reported to God substantially what I had seen and heard among the people. "Not only do they praise You, great God," I said firmly, "but they also weep in remorse for the sins they have done. And the weeping of the people grows louder day by day. You know this as well as I m. And You know who draws sinners to the path of remorse - it is me, Your faithful Satan! But why is my merit silenced? Are tears of remorse more watery than tears of joy?"

 

God was silent, pondering the answer. "Satan, listen to Me," He finally uttered, "We will straighten the crooked, and justice will prevail, for the cry of contrition is equal to grateful joy. I will instruct My prophets on earth. In accordance with this, your glory shall also shine brighter. Let us establish henceforth that the lamentation of men is Satan's honorable heritage, and the expression of love to Heaven is the grace of God!"

 

This is how I won the share of recognition I deserved, and whether I succeeded in ennobling my reputation is for you, the readers, to judge.