Dear Marion, You won't believe this. I showed your letter to Katenus. He is a wise old man. He read the subject line: "Dot seeks loving parent" and said "How true! How true!" When I looked at him again, I saw tears streaming down his face. "You don't need to worry about her," I said, "She has taken care of herself for seventy years. What's left for her is a piece of cake." Since he doesn't carry handkerchiefs, Katenus wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. "It's not about her," he said, "It's about the fact that she understands. These ideas that I have, you know, don't come easily and are hard to live with." I looked at him quizzically; kept my mouth shut knowing it was not the time for me to talk. "Ideas that no one else has had, are strictly, etymologically, idiotic; and to know that at least one person understands them, gives me confidence that maybe I'm not crazy after all.""But she says she disagrees with you," I objected. "That makes it even better," Katenus said. "If she agreed with me then I would wonder if maybe we, she and I, were both crazy." "But when you say that she understands and disagrees," I continued, "aren't you admitting that your ideas are wrong?" "Not necessarily," Katenus said. "If you read her letter carefully, there's no disagreement at all. She and I are discussing different aspects of deity. My comment that the Hebrew God vouchsafes the reality of the cosmos is an empirical observation. That's what the Bible says. That's how the Bible has been interpreted for millenia. I'm stating as obvious the received opinion of mankind. I'm not saying that received opinion is "true". "She, on the other hand, is stretching the historical narrative to make a point. Why she's looking for a loving parent is not my concern but that of her shrink. Apparently she's willing to settle for a single parent who thinks nothing of drowning his kids in the bathtub if they don't behave. Thank you very much, but that's not good enough for me." I interrupted: "If she's as smart as you say she is, - and I believe you, - why would she want to stretch the historical narrative, as you put it." "It has to do with her religion," Katenus explained. "She goes to that Science Church, where they pray to Charles Darwin and to Albert Einstein, their creed is called DNA and RNA, and they dance around a sculptured obelisk they call the golden double helix, and let me tell you, it is golden if gold there ever was, just look at the balance sheets of the biotechnology companies." "You mean," I interrupted again, "She doesn't believe in God?" "Of course she does", Katenus answered, "She believes passionately in something. Doesn't matter what you call it. Remember, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." And then he lapsed into this annoying habit of quoting from Goethe. MARGARETE: Nun sag, wie hast du's mit der Religion? Du bist ein herzlich guter Mann, Allein ich glaub, du hältst nicht viel davon. FAUST: Laß das, mein Kind! Du fühlst, ich bin dir gut; Für meine Lieben ließ' ich Leib und Blut, Will niemand sein Gefühl und seine Kirche rauben. MARGARETE: Das ist nicht recht, man muß dran glauben. FAUST: Muß man? MARGARETE: Ach! wenn ich etwas auf dich konnte! Du ehrst auch nicht die heil'gen Sakramente. FAUST: Ich ehre sie. MARGARETE: Doch ohne Verlangen. Zur Messe, zur Beichte bist du lange nicht gegangen. Glaubst du an Gott? FAUST: Mein Liebchen, wer darf sagen: Ich glaub an Gott? Magst Priester oder Weise fragen, Und ihre Antwort scheint nur Spott Über den Frager zu sein. MARGARETE: So glaubst du nicht? FAUST: Mißhör mich nicht, du holdes Angesicht! Wer darf ihn nennen? Und wer bekennen: "Ich glaub ihn!"? Wer empfinden, Und sich unterwinden Zu sagen: "Ich glaub ihn nicht!"? Der Allumfasser, Der Allerhalter, Faßt und erhält er nicht Dich, mich, sich selbst? Wölbt sich der Himmel nicht da droben? Liegt die Erde nicht hier unten fest? Und steigen freundlich blickend Ewige Sterne nicht herauf? Schau ich nicht Aug in Auge dir, Und drängt nicht alles Nach Haupt und Herzen dir, Und webt in ewigem Geheimnis Unsichtbar sichtbar neben dir? Erfüll davon dein Herz, so groß es ist, Und wenn du ganz in dem Gefühle selig bist, Nenn es dann, wie du willst, Nenn's Glück! Herz! Liebe! Gott Ich habe keinen Namen Dafür! Gefühl ist alles; Name ist Schall und Rauch, Umnebelnd Himmelsglut. MARGARETE: Das ist alles recht schön und gut; Ungefähr sagt das der Pfarrer auch, Nur mit ein bißchen andern Worten. FAUST: Es sagen's allerorten Alle Herzen unter dem himmlischen Tage, Jedes in seiner Sprache; Warum nicht ich in der meinen? MARGARETE: Wenn man's so hört, möcht's leidlich scheinen, Steht aber doch immer schief darum; Denn du hast kein Christentum. FAUST: Liebs Kind! MARGARETE: Es tut mir lange schon weh, Daß ich dich in der Gesellschaft seh. FAUST: Wieso? MARGARETE: Der Mensch, den du da bei dir hast, Ist mir in tiefer innrer Seele verhaßt; Es hat mir in meinem Leben So nichts einen Stich ins Herz gegeben Als des Menschen widrig Gesicht. FAUST: Liebe Puppe, fürcht ihn nicht! MARGARETE: Seine Gegenwart bewegt mir das Blut. Ich bin sonst allen Menschen gut; Aber wie ich mich sehne, dich zu schauen, Hab ich vor dem Menschen ein heimlich Grauen, Und halt ihn für einen Schelm dazu! Gott verzeih mir's, wenn ich ihm unrecht tu! FAUST: Es muß auch solche Käuze geben. MARGARETE: Wollte nicht mit seinesgleichen leben! Kommt er einmal zur Tür herein, Sieht er immer so spöttisch drein Und halb ergrimmt; Man sieht, daß er an nichts keinen Anteil nimmt; Es steht ihm an der Stirn geschrieben, Daß er nicht mag eine Seele lieben. Mir wird's so wohl in deinem Arm, So frei, so hingegeben warm, Und seine Gegenwart schnürt mir das Innre zu. "I apologize," Katenus said, "for the lengthy citation, but it's such incomparably beautiful poetry, I couldn't stop. I quoted it to prove my point, that contemplated with sufficient passion, anything will appear divine. As for Goethe's epithets concerning God: "Der Allumfasser, Der Allerhalter," if you changed the gender and wrote: "Das Allumfassende, Das Allerhaltende," what qualities could more appropriately be attributed to DNA?" I was stunned. I looked Katenus in the eyes. "My name isn't Margarete," I said, "But let me ask you her question: Glaubst du an Gott?" Katenus didn't flinch. "In a way", he said. "That's not a responsive reply," I objected, and I repeated the question: "Glaubst du an Gott?" Again Katenus didn't flinch. "Which one?" he asked, and then he answered his own question. "Not the DNA God," he said, "Nor the one that wouldn't hesitate to drown all his kids, - or almost all of them in the bathtub, because there were just too many and they wouldn't obey. No not him either." "But you must believe in something," I insisted. "What DO you believe in?" "I believe in myself," he said, and wiped his nose with the back of his index finger. "That's terrible, that's absolutely terrible," I said. "If anybody heard you..." "Don't worry," he interrupted. "I turned off all the microphones." ============================ It's impossible for me to stop. You will remember that when the PANIC in the police station parking lot on The Island had subsided, Katenus, Mengs and Magus were conducted into the office of Police Chief Martin Brandes, who it turned out was himself a lover of literature, specifically of literature about the girl detective Nancy Drew and who decides, upon being invited by Mengs to lecture at the University, to release the Professor and his assistant, but is persuaded by police officer Buddy Blevins to hold Katenus on charges of sedition and terrotist sympathies, on the classical rationale: If thou let this man go, thou art not Caesar's friend. Accordingly Katenus was detained, but Joachim refused to leave because he was loyal to Katenus, and Jonathan refused to leave because he was loyal to Joachim. On this first night the three find themselves imprisoned in the Juror's Conference room. Katenus attempts to preserve his emotional and intellectual equilibrium by starting among the three of them, a discussion about the theory of knowledge, a topic which is of interest also to Mengs and Magus, although, it turns out, less compelling for them than for Katenus. As a result, the burden of the exposition falls on him. They listen, but only absent-mindedly. Mengs is distracted by day dreams, he silently recites to himself the details of a long life which seems to be approaching a turning point. Joachim, younger and with fewer memories to occupy his mind, starts to examine the framed images with which the walls of the jury room are decorated. These consist of documents such as newspaper clippings, indictments, legal motions, verdicts and sentences, and pictures of prosecutors, witnesses, jurors, judges, of the families of the defendants, and of course of the defendants themselves, in shackles, in prison garb, on the threshold of execution, and in several pictures, post mortem photographs of their brains, hearts, livers and kidneys, harvested for anatomic and physiological studies. Also pictures and descriptions of so-called hate parties, social events celebrating the triumphs of justice. (If this is not enough to stimulate Joachim's imagination, there is an unlocked cabinet with court records and documentation going back several centuries, which I haven't yet looked into.) Each of the three men passes the evening in his own way, then falls asleep on the cot that has been provided by the police officers, and begins to dream, talking in his sleep. Katenus dreams that he is in Oslo giving his acceptance speech for the the Nobel Prize in Medicine for his discovery of the biology of knowledge as assimilation, and a second Nobel Prize in literature for having discovered the mathematical nature of Leibniz' Monadology and the theological nature of Leibniz' differential and integral calculus, effectively bridging the chasm between theology and mathematics. Mengs dreams that Katenus has been sentenced to life imprisonment and has died in prison, and that Katenus' housekeeper Elly has moved to the Mainland to keep house for him, and he agonizes whether it is permissible for him to be in love with her. Joachim dreams that his girlfriend, Charlotte has charged him with sexual misconduct and that he is defending himself in a proceeding in which Charlotte is accuser, star witness, prosecutrix, jury forewoman and judge. After she has sentenced him, Charlotte recants and seeks his release testifying that her accusation was false, and that she didn't really intend to accuse him but merely to demonstrate that she was a liberated woman. In consequence of her confession it is either her freedom or his freedom which will be irrevocably lost. As he awakens, Joachim doesn't know what he should do, whether he should sacrifice himself for Charlotte or whether he should sacrifice Charlotte for himself. He falls asleep again and has a second dream in which the ghosts of the convicted, among whom he recognizes Katenus, the ghosts of the accusers, of the prosecutors, of the jurors and the judges are even now concealing themselves in the jury conference room where he, Joachim is the maintenance man responsible for order and decorum. Each of the three men talks, gesticulates and intermittently screams in his sleep, as he tried to explain his dream to his sleeping comrades, absurd and unintelligible revelations out of context. For each of the three, the night has turned into an agonizing ordeal. In the morning, the Chief of Police appears as liberator, even for Katenus. He berates Buddy and Billy that along with Katenus, they also imprisoned Mengs and Magus, who are to be released and escorted home forthwith. Home is Katenus' mansion on Main Street where Elly has been in despair waiting for the return, especially of Katenus, and is now devastated by his continuing imprisonment. It's a long, complex but arguably important story, which will require more than one chapter for its exposition. Enough of the preface; it's now time to proceed. Der Worte sind genug gewechselt, Laßt mich auch endlich Taten sehn! Indes ihr Komplimente drechselt, Kann etwas Nützliches geschehn. Was hilft es, viel von Stimmung reden? Dem Zaudernden erscheint sie nie. Gebt ihr euch einmal für Poeten, So kommandiert die Poesie. Euch ist bekannt, was wir bedürfen, Wir wollen stark Getränke schlürfen; Nun braut mir unverzüglich dran! Was heute nicht geschieht, ist morgen nicht getan, Und keinen Tag soll man verpassen, Das Mögliche soll der Entschluß Beherzt sogleich beim Schopfe fassen, Er will es dann nicht fahren lassen Und wirket weiter, weil er muß. Ihr wißt, auf unsern deutschen Bühnen Probiert ein jeder, was er mag; Drum schonet mir an diesem Tag Prospekte nicht und nicht Maschinen. Gebraucht das groß, und kleine Himmelslicht, Die Sterne dürfet ihr verschwenden; An Wasser, Feuer, Felsenwänden, An Tier und Vögeln fehlt es nicht. So schreitet in dem engen Bretterhaus Den ganzen Kreis der Schöpfung aus, Und wandelt mit bedächt'ger Schnelle Vom Himmel durch die Welt zur Hölle. It would be plagiarism, if I signed my name to these lines from Faust, and I'll leave you guessing about who's responsible for the letter.