A Visitation from India

Abstract

“Anyway, Mr David, I will need some time off next March,” Tilda said. “Why is that?” Gabriel asked. “My boyfriend found me a surgeon who is willing to operate on my foot. The operation is scheduled for March next year,” she told him. “But you said that you can lose your foot in such an operation, Mrs Toelz,” Gabriel said, surprised. She had told him that an operation would be very risky and that no doctor had agreed to try this in her long medical history since her sports accident occurred. “Yes, but the pain is unbearable. I want to give it a try, and this doctor thinks it is possible. He is a well-known specialist in his field, according to Ken.” She looked at him with resignation, and he could see that this had been a very difficult decision for her. Then they talked about the upcoming visit of Ayaan Banerjee, their Indian case study partner from Chennai who had been recommended by their B1 colleague Veronica. Ayaan would visit B1 next week just for one day at the end of the European tour he just organised for another project. Ayaan wanted not only to see Veronica but also to be personally introduced to them so that they could discuss their upcoming cooperation on new project. “He’ll probably find it freezing. It is the beginning of November. Not the best time to come to Berlin, at least for an Indian,” Tilda mused.

“Anyway, Mr David, I will need some time off next March,” Tilda said. “Why is that?” Gabriel asked. “My boyfriend found me a surgeon who is willing to operate on my foot. The operation is scheduled for March next year,” she told him. “But you said that you can lose your foot in such an operation, Mrs Toelz,” Gabriel said, surprised. She had told him that an operation would be very risky and that no doctor had agreed to try this in her long medical history since her sports accident occurred. “Yes, but the pain is unbearable. I want to give it a try, and this doctor thinks it is possible. He is a well-known specialist in his field, according to Ken.” She looked at him with resignation, and he could see that this had been a very difficult decision for her. Then they talked about the upcoming visit of Ayaan Banerjee, their Indian case study partner from Chennai who had been recommended by their B1 colleague Veronica. Ayaan would visit B1 next week just for one day at the end of the European tour he just organised for another project. Ayaan wanted not only to see Veronica but also to be personally introduced to Gabriel and Tilda so that they could discuss their upcoming cooperation on new project. “He’ll probably find it freezing. It is the beginning of November. Not the best time to come to Berlin, at least for an Indian,” Tilda mused.

“At least, he can join B1’s ten-year-anniversary jubilee,” Gabriel responded. “That will be nice for him. Ten years of B1 with a concert of classical music and a champagne reception, Mrs Toelz. I don't know what kind of music will be played, but it will definitely be live and something good. Afterwards, Ayaan can give his lecture about vulnerable communities in India in our department meeting room. I think he will talk about the caste system and the so-called wood people.”

He looked over in surprise at Tilda, who scowled again, making one of her worst grimaces. What was wrong with wood people? “Classical music and champagne. I do not believe it,” she murmured. Gabriel laughed.

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above B1 headquarters at Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 4 November 2019, 09:34

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

Both angels sit in their best Bollywood outfits on their cloud watching Gabriel and Tilda with their Indian guest, sitting in the matinee concert at B1 Auditorium.

BG sits free style on the cloud floor, legs crossed and eyes closed. He is in deep meditation, expecting a fantastic concert experience.

TA

(disapprovingly):

Gabriel should not drink alcohol in the morning. He already had a glass of white wine from the B1 cafeteria. It’s not even ten o’clock.

GA

(defensively):

Ayaan had one as well. Don’t be such a hypocrite. Gabriel just wants to please Ayaan. By the way, what is on the music programme? The orchestra looks strange.

BG

(opening one water-blue eye to look at them):

Is Saint John the evangelist ready for action?

TA

(surprised):

What does he have do with everything?

GA

(knowingly winking at BG):

It has something to do with music and is about the relationship between Gabriel and Tilda.

TA

(rebelliously):

Can the two of you not see that this is not working? You are dreaming this up. It is totally unrealistic that these two will relate to each other. They’re adversaries.

BG

(very sure):

Everybody will unite. And this unification is the ultimate reality in Hindu revelation, you see? As I say in Essential Writings: The ultimate reality is sat-cit-ananda—‘Being, Consciousness, Bliss.’ The search is for that ultimate Being, that ultimate Reality—sat. And that Being and Reality is conscious; it is cit, “consciousness,’ a conscious awareness of infinite and eternal Being. And the consciousness of that eternal Being is Bliss, ananda, ‘pure joy.’ That is the goal of Hinduism—to reach Saccidananda, and Saccidananda is pure Oneness, One without a second.

TA

(sceptically):

Yeeesss—but you speak of TRINI-T. This here is about Gabriel and Tilda. You might as well try marrying a fish to a bicycle.

BG

(lecturing):

Today, we need to take very seriously the view of humanity as one body, one organic whole, the view of the Adam who is in all humanity. Saint Thomas Aquinas, in a beautiful phrase, said, ‘Omnes homines, unus homo’—all people are one person. Gabriel and Tilda are one person.

TA

(resolutely shaking its head):

No. They would rather do anything else but share one body.

BG

(surprised):

But they already do! That of Adam. We are all members of that one… who fell and became divided in conflict and confusion. Jesus restored humanity, not only Jews or Christians or any particular group, to that oneness. In the new Adam, the human race becomes conscious of its fundamental unity and of its unity with the cosmos…

Both types of awareness have come to us today, seeing humanity as a whole and seeing humanity as a part of the cosmic whole. We are all part of this planet, united by it and growing and living in it.

TA

(not very forthcoming):

Maybe in abstract terms. In concrete ones, Gabriel and Tilda quarrel all the time. Period.

BG

(generously):

No problem. We are all parts of one another, growing through contact with one another as one organic whole. We are recovering that unity beyond duality. Humanity had to go through dualism to learn the difference between right and wrong, good and evil, truth and error. It is necessary to go through that stage of separating and dividing, but then you have to transcend it.

TA

(challenging):

Hey, I bet that Gabriel and Tilda can’t transcend it. If there is safe duality, they’ll choose that.

BG

(with a raised finger):

Even religion has been a safe duality. Christianity came out of a tradition of moral dualism. It then integrated into Greco-Roman culture, which was based on a metaphysical dualism. But today, it meets the religions of Asia, and we are beginning to discover the principle of nonduality.

TA

(soberly):

Everything is one or two. And Gabriel and Tilda are definitely two.

BG

(amused):

Your rational mind as a Michaelite demands that everything be one or two, while nonduality, which is beyond the rational, affirms a relationship that is not one and not two.

TA

(pleadingly):

Can we agree on digits? One and zero? Please! It is so nice and orderly. Dualities keep us sane. Do we really need to get rid of duality?

BG

(decisively):

We are being called to recover unity beyond duality as our birthright, and this alone can answer the deepest needs of the world today. This is our calling and our hope.

In the meantime, GA has successfully called the Saints Section and has connected St. John to the music system of B1. The heavenly assembly watches Ayaan, Gabriel and Tilda take their seats in the B1 Auditorium, where the concert programme is now displayed on the big screen on the wall. The little orchestra hired for the jubilee, consisting of one basso and four wind instruments, prepares itself for its performance. Standard pitch A can be heard. People stop chatting.

BG

(excitedly giggling while the little group reads the programme: “Ut Omnes Unum Sint” is displayed in huge ornamental letters):

Gorgeous!

GA

(admiringly matching the music title with quotes from the Griffiths literature in the Script):

Great work, Father. Really thoughtful music choice. It was probably not easy to get that piece. Not every orchestra is into Carlos Veerhoff. And Opus 24 is not easy to perform. Verhoff was already quite a bit into twelve-tone music in the ’70s, when he composed “Ut Omnes Unum Sint.”

That All May Be One

Gabriel fetched Ayaan from his hotel at around ten o’clock. The Indian man was already smartly dressed and waiting in the lobby with his small suitcase. “So sad that this is just a one-day visit,” he said. “I would have loved to stay longer for working with you, but you will come to Chennai to discuss our project next month anyway.” They went to B1 by taxi. Once there, they put Ayaan’s suitcase into Gabriel’s office and wandered down to the B1 cafeteria for a coffee before the jubilee concert started. The building was nicely decorated for the event, and Ayaan greatly admired the decor.

In the cafeteria, they met Tilda and had an early lunch. Ayaan and Gabriel had the dish of the day with some white wine under the disapproving glances of Tilda, who had just a salad and tap water. Meeting her scowl unblinkingly, Gabriel thought, “Why must I be called to get rid of duality concepts in a relationship with Tilda of all people—this grudging girl who is so different from me and disapproves of everything I am doing? I’m asking.” He was tempted to order another glass of wine just to displease her. Even Ayaan noticed Tilda’s disgruntled mood. “What’s wrong, my dear?” he asked, pleasantly sipping his own wine. “It’s nothing; she has probably pain in her foot again. She had a bone fracture that’s never healed correctly,” Gabriel hastily replied. Tilda scowled even harder because he told one of her secrets to Ayaan. “Never mind. I will have an operation soon,” she said, waving Ayaan’s compassionate glance away.

Then it was time for the matinée. Gabriel expected some brass band as he looked at the wind instruments lined up on the stage. They slowly took their seats. Then his mouth dropped open. “Hush,” he whispered to Tilda. “What is it, Mr David?” she looked at him with alarm. He’d sounded quite shocked. “Do you know the piece of music they’re going to perform, Mrs Toelz?” She looked at the announcement uncomprehendingly. “The piece was created by German Argentine composer Carlos Verhoff, who used to live in Berlin before he moved to Buenos Aires,” Gabriel cited from the screen. “The composition is called ‘Ut Omnes Unum Sint.’” “And what does that mean?” Tilda asked. “It is a Bible quote from the Gospel according to St. John: John 17:21, to be precise,” Gabriel explained. “It means ‘That All may be One.’ This is the Bible reference par excellence for the spiritual concept of Final Unity. Haven’t you read Bede Griffiths?” “Ach was,” Tilda said. This was just the beginning of a very strange day.

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above B1 headquarters at Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 4 November 2019, 14:02

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

Same setting.

BG

(modestly coughing while seeing the impression that the St. John’s quote had made down there):

That was a success. What’s next? The snakes? (excitedly giggling) Can we do the snakes now?

GA

(patiently checking the Script):

No, not yet. Let them finish listening to the concert and wait until they are comfortably seated in the meeting room.

They watch Gabriel’s team wandering to their part of the B1 building complex after the concert. Gabriel and Tilda are sitting side by side, with the window to their backs, opposite Ayaan. Two more team members involved in the new project take their chairs at opposite small ends of the conference table.

BG

(delicately smiling):

Now, I need a direct line to DHL. I know the two of you do not approve and consider him pornographic, but this is because you are not well versed in social theory. So, if you would be so kind?

GA

(trying to avoid eye contact with BG): TA can do that.

TA

(gruntingly calling the Arts Section and yelling into its mike):

DHL please, and quickly. We have (harrumph)—or, better, there is—a sexual problem, and we, uhh, they—let me check and count—need three inputs. Mr Lawrence, you are online now. Please start.

Indian Anthropology

“We should talk about sex,” Ayaan said, amiably starting the team meeting. Gabriel froze, and he could feel Tilda doing the same at his side. “I beg your pardon?” Gabriel asked politely. Ayaan was their honoured guest after all. “Yes, I’m serious,” Ayaan said. “I would like to show you that I’m the right person when it comes to working with local communities in India.” “You do not need to prove anything. I am convinced that you are the right person,” Gabriel replied, weakly trying to prevent whatever Ayaan wanted to say or do. But it was too late. “Local people trust me,” said Ayaan proudly. “I am allowed to observe them and take part in their most intimate moments.” “Ach was,” Tilda said. “I now want to talk about the Indian sexual rites of certain tribal communities performed in the wilderness of the woods during religious ceremonies. I did an anthropological field study on this recently,” announced Ayaan eagerly. Then he started to relate the anthropological details of Indian culture to Gabriel’s fascinated team. Tilda and her boss, however, were sitting helplessly side by side wincing at Ayaan’s stories as if they were being whipped by a verbal stick. It lasted nearly half an hour. Ayaan even showed pictures.

Finally, he looked up, smiling—indicating that he was finished with his talk. For Gabriel, it was hard to find the conversational connection to the Indian case study of the new project on AI-based social service provision. They were certainly not thinking along the lines of religious sex ceremonies in the wilderness. Gabriel could only hope that Ayaan was aware of that.

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above B1 headquarters at Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 4 November 2019, 14:44

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

The angels are looking down compassionately at Gabriel and Tilda, who are sitting and feeling diminished in B1’s meeting room—still in the middle of the session with Ayaan.

GA

(annoyed):

Enough. Are we done here? They must think we are dirty old gits.

Insulted silence from DHL over the phone line, where he is still connected with TA.

BG

(animatedly giving instructions):

Are the snakes ready? And do we have enough snakes for everybody? Hopefully, you did your homework with my writings for the implications of John 3:14: “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness...” Are the snakes moving well? And do they have the same colour as the one in the desert of Arizona? St. John was supposed to cooperate with DHL on this! Please establish a direct line between the Saints and the Arts section for coordination. Second sex item, please!

Both angels reluctantly comply by pressing the necessary buttons on the communication console.

The Serpent in the Lecture Room

“I am sorry, but I have only one guest present for Tilda and Gabriel each,” Ayaan apologetically told the other members of Gabriel’s team in the room. “I didn’t know that more team members would be present at this meeting. Therefore, I have only two, one for Gabriel and one for Tilda.” Saying this, Ayaan opened his rucksack and dived into it.

What came to light and was thrown on the table before Tilda and Gabriel took their breath away. They were speechless. The present Ayaan gave them from his rucksack was a pair of snakes, one each. They looked exactly like twins of the serpent in the desert of Arizona: light-brown wooden toy snakes. Ayaan lifted them high up to hand them over the table. They were moving like they were alive because they had many wooden joints along their long bodies that allowed them to twist and turn in Ayaan’s hands. “A greeting from the wilderness!” Ayaan said with a flourish. While receiving their presents, Gabriel lowly whispered with white lips: “I cannot believe this is happening.” Tilda was silent. Not even “ach was.” Ayaan was smiling.

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above B1 headquarters in Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 4 November 2019, 14:52

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

Same setting.

BG

(hurriedly):

Quick! We need to re-establish communication between Saints and Arts: This time, connect DHL to St. Luke. Say that this is an emergency case for inter-evangelist cooperation!

Crackle when St. Luke the evangelist, who is also nicknamed the medical doctor, connects with the conference call.

TA

(urgently but with a disapproving glance at BG for neglecting Objective One):

Morning, sir. Sorry for any inconvenience. We need the integral-medicine approach down there for a woman called Tilda. Can you please intervene?

The Proverbial Meaning of Terribly Unfair

The gift of snakes silenced the room. You could hear the angels whistling. The silence became a little oppressive. Then Gabriel took charge, thanking Ayaan profusely. “This is a great present. Thank you for bringing over two of them, so that Tilda and I could each have one. The snake is an interesting cultural symbol for India. In our culture, it has an ambivalent meaning in religion and culture: negative as temptation, but also positive in that Moses lifted the serpent in the wilderness as sign of God’s salvation. We are well aware of the lovely snake charmers entertaining us and of the many drugs that alternative medicine is deriving from snakes, which are poisonous on one level but have healing effects at the right dose,” Gabriel opined, trying to save the situation. “Well, I am deep into Indian medicine,” Ayaan nodded delightedly. “This is one of my favourite research topics as an anthropologist.” “Is it?” Gabriel asked politely, happy to have found some ground to continue conversation with their project partner from India. “Please tell us more!”

He leant back, feeling ready to be back in command. “My most valuable contact at home in Chennai is a doctor who is healing the most difficult and sophisticated bone issues without any surgery. He is a specialist in foot and hand fractures. He has a holistic approach and is very famous and successful. And you, my girl, should not have any surgery on your foot!” Ayaan said, turning directly to Tilda, who looked at him as if the snakes had come out of his mouth. “Come to India. I urgently recommend that you first check with my contact. You might eventually change your mind about surgery if my friend can help you!” Ayaan exclaimed. Tilda was embarrassed to have this discussion in front of the B1 team, but she was still able to answer. Turning her wooden snake in her hand, she said, “I won’t be going to India. I’m not on the B1 roster for that trip.” Ayaan looked quite upset.

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above B1 headquarters at Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 4 November 2019, 15:03

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

Same setting.

BG

(still on the phone with St. Luke from the Saints Section):

Luke, my boy. Thanks for your help. It would be very kind if you could stay for the Ayurveda applications as well and help DHL with the oil if possible. DHL: third sex item, please!

GA

(weakly and with very feeble voice for a Gabrielite):

Oh no, not the oil massage. Spare them the oil massage.

One can hear a whiz when DHL splashes a whole fountain of body oil on the people below.

BG

(satisfied): Excellent, thanks. That will do.

Ayurveda for all

Ayaan was trying hard to convince Tilda that it would be in her best interest to join up for the India trip—all the more so when he heard that Tilda was now the project leader. He presented all the best sightseeing options that he would organise for her. Seeing that the medical information obviously had the deepest impact, Ayaan said to Tilda and Gabriel: “The two of you should definitely enjoy a nice oil massage together. I can give you the address for the best in the world at this, in Chennai!” Gabriel did not know whether there was any potential left to be shocked. He felt like he was being treated with a grater. There was no feeling left. He was done. Ayaan happily chatted away: “This is another close friend at Chennai who is a leading expert in the field of Ayurveda oil massages. People come from all over the world for his services!” With an inviting smile, he told Tilda and Gabriel—both rigid with horror—that he would definitely organise an oil massage for the two of them during their stay in India.

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above B1 headquarters at Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 4 November 2019, 15:17

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

Same setting.

BG

(perfectly at ease with the results below, in a happy voice):

Finished! Thank you all for your excellent cooperation. DHL, that was invaluable. Angels, you have been a big help.

Both angels accusingly and ungraciously look up while trying to animate Gabriel and Tilda, who are totally dumbfounded, their emotional controls wildly blinking red on the angels’ communication consoles.

The blazing red lights of the consoles match the flaming-red Indian tika on Ayaan’s forehead below, who is still happily chatting away about the wisdom of Eastern integral medicine, the foolishness and arrogance of Western so-called evidence-based medicine and the useful cultural comparison of global knowledge systems, especially the sexual rites of the woods people in India.

Outrageous

Gabriel was surprised when Tilda said she would accompany him to drop off Ayaan at the train station in the early evening. He had thought she would need a lot longer to recover from the shock from the snakes. Instead, she was open and friendly. He enjoyed walking with Tilda through the city centre with the illuminated Christmas decorations already out. “What do you make of all of this, Mr David?” Tilda asked Gabriel. He had expected that question. “I’m still working on making sense of the overall framework—that is, how our project and our individual lives are intersecting with this,” he confessed, “but I am pretty sure about our role in this now.”

Tilda looked at him curiously. “It has to do with fighting these dualities that Pater Bede sees as responsible for the world’s misery,” he said. “What dualities?” Tilda asked. “Men and women, rational and intuitive, passive and active, powerful and powerless, old and young, white and nonwhite, rich and poor, educated and uneducated and so on,” he replied. “Our usual binary classifications that separate one human being from the other. The way machines do it. The way AI does it in assessing who will get social services. Beneficiaries and nonbeneficiaries, legal recipients and fraudulent recipients, acceptable and unacceptable, needy and not needy, ego and alter, me and the others, friends and enemies. Do you get the idea, Mrs Toelz?”

“And what about it?” Tilda asked. “What can we do against this?” “Overcome it!” he exclaimed quickly. “This is what we’re supposed to do.” “How?” Tilda asked, amazed. “Bridging the gulf between dualities, starting with bridging the gulf between us,” he said. “Therefore, I cannot do without you. Mrs Toelz, do you understand?” Gabriel asked her. “As much as I would like—and believe me, I would rather do it on my own if this were possible—you are not here by chance or due to some random event. You are here because this call applies to you as well. We have seen all these things together. We are here for a purpose. You are in this with me. It is not just our story; I am convinced of that. It is for everybody. We are in this to prove a point. This goes beyond our two little selves, as interesting as they are.” She shook her head in disbelief. Gabriel sighed. “If you can’t see the overall picture, I don’t blame you. You are the happy one that can go your way and decide against the whole plan. For me, it’s too late. I would commit treason against everything I believe in. No way but this for me. But I respect your interpretation and position.” “And what about today, Mr David?” Tilda asked in a voice that sounded small. He looked at her. “Let me be clear, Mrs Toelz: I think that the ‘heavenly department’ was terribly unfair to you when they toyed with the operation on your foot, of all things. The guys in that department seem to be too eager to push us into this project together. Of course, I can only comment on the whole thing from my perspective. What I feel is a mixture of indignation and concern on your behalf. I’m very sorry for you.” “But, Mr David, you did everything to implement it!” Tilda objected. “Now that you know the results,” he said, laughing, “you have a different reading of what happened, and now you don’t want to do it.” “But what about today?” Tilda asked again. He only sighed. “The snakes were outrageously insolent. Someone must have thought this terribly funny,” Tilda complained. “The talk about the Chennai oil massages was just as unbearable—and as painful as the sex talk about the forest rituals, don’t you think, Mr David? And then, last but not least, the matter of alternative Indian medicine, for bone fractures: Ayaan’s friend who can heal them without surgery. The tirades against science-based medicine and its use of surgery. The sensationalised successes of alternative therapy. In addition, Ayaan’s attempts to persuade me to join the India trip after all.” Tilda shook her head. Gabriel had to agree. He was truly sorry for Tilda, who obviously felt deeply troubled.

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above B1 headquarters at Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Wednesday, 6 November 2019, 22:24

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

The little group had supper around the conference table. A candle is burning. GA is already asleep—its head in its arms on the table. TA and BG are keeping night watch together. Everything is quiet and cosy, inviting deep conversation.

TA

(hesitatingly):

Father, may I ask you a personal question?

BG

(companionably):

Of course, my dear. What is it?

TA

(a little reproachfully):

I cannot help but think that what we just did seems totally disrespectful to me. All these D.H. Lawrence–type interventions? How can you support all this? No, I should ask this instead: How can you condone these things?

BG

(eagerly as if he had expected these questions):

Because of India! What I discovered there.

TA

(curiously):

What I don’t get is, what were you looking for exactly? OK, you wanted to understand the religions of India, their deepest and most universal meaning, what they have in common with Christianity and how they differ from it. But could not you find that in books? Why go there? What was not good enough in good old England?

BG

(romantically):

I wanted to be at the heart of life, of being and of love. Behind all words and gestures, behind all thoughts and feelings… beyond time and change.

TA

(soberly):

And the biblical revelation and your Western monastic living? Wasn’t that any good for you anymore?

BG

(smiling in fond memory):

Oh, biblical revelation and monastic living remained the most important things for me. They continued in Shantivanam. But I sought and found the other half of my soul in India. It was an identical twin of my Western half. I had long been familiar with the mystical tradition of the West, but I felt the need for something more, something that the East alone could give; above all the sense of the presence of God in nature and the soul, a kind of natural mysticism is the basis of all Indian spirituality. I therefore felt that if a genuine meeting of East and West were to take place, it must be at the deepest level of experience, and this I thought could best come through the monastic life I led in Shantivanam.

TA

(incredulously):

How can something be a continuation and a break at the same time?

BG

(trying to explain):

As I said in The Marriage of East and West, ever since my coming to India, I have been led in a strange way to retrace the path of the Golden String. My awakening to the mystery of existence came to me through the experience of the beauty of nature, which I described in the opening chapter of The Golden String, and this experience was expressed and interpreted for me in the writings of the Romantic poets: Wordsworth, Shelley and Keats. Wordsworth taught me to find in nature the presence of a power which pervades both the universe and the mind of humankind. Shelley introduced me to the Platonic idea of an eternal world, in which the world we see is a dim reflection. Keats set before me the values of ‘the holiness of the heart’s affections’ and the truth of the ‘imagination.’ These were, for me, not merely abstract ideas but living principles, which I processed over many years and which I tried to make sense of in a reasoned philosophy of life.

TA

(triumphantly taking up the cudgels for Western thinking):

See, you read it all. It was all already there in England. Confess!

BG

(pleasantly):

In a way, yes. But when I came to India, these ideas took on new life. I discovered that what in Europe had been the inspired intuition of a few poets had been the common faith of India for countless centuries. That power that pervades the universe and the mind of humankind had been revealed with marvellous insight in the Vedas centuries before the birth of Christ. The eternal world of Plato was only a reflection in the Western mind of the profound intuition of the seers of the Upanishads.

Above all, I found that the ‘truth of the imagination,’ of which Keats had spoken, was a primordial truth, a truth that takes us back to the very roots of human experience.

TA

(frustrated):

The very roots of human experience. This is why I am not getting it!

TA wakes GA to take over night shift. GA immediately perceives the cosy atmosphere and the possibility to pose deep personal questions to BG. TA falls asleep and snores horribly.

GA

(hesitantly):

Father, may I ask one question? Why are you so keen on love?

BG

(indeed keenly):

Because it is the pattern of the universe. Haven’t you read my book The Return to the Center, dear? Love giving itself, losing itself and finding itself in love and love returning to itself and giving itself back in love—is the eternal pattern of the universe. Every creature in the depth of its being has a desire, a longing for love, and is drawn by love to give itself in love. This is its coming into being, this response to the draw of love. At the same time, it is being continually drawn to give itself in love, to surrender to the attraction of love, and so the rhythm of the universe is created.

GA

(curiously):

So you mean that love is an evolutionary driver? I always thought differentiation drives evolution. But you think it’s love?

BG

(eagerly):

Indeed. Everybody who opens their eyes can see that. The nucleus throws out its protons and electrons, and they circle round it, held by the attraction of love. The sun throws out its planets, and they circle round it, held by the same attraction. A cell divides and then again unites, building up the body in love. It is the same with sexual love. The man is drawn to give himself in love to the woman, and the woman is drawn to give herself back in love to the man. There is a continual dance of love, a continual going and returning. Ultimately, it is the one Love giving itself continually so as to create this form and that form, building up the universe of stars and atoms and living cells and then drawing everything back to itself.

GA

(sceptically):

But if that is true, why are humans so horrible to each other? There is so much egoism, anger and hatred in people!

BG

(understandingly):

Every human being has in their heart this desire to love and to be loved. It is the very structure of their being. It is built into the cells of their body and is the deepest instinct in their soul. A child lives and grows with love. This is why a child who is deprived of love in their infancy suffers an irremediable loss. Fear and sorrow, anger and hatred, are only expressions of frustrated love. But the trouble is that there is always something selfish in human love.

GA

(eagerly):

That’s sin, right?

BG

(approvingly):

Yes, you are right. The desire to be loved, to possess love for oneself is too strong, and the will to give to others is too weak. This is the effect of sin. Sin is always the refusal to love—or, rather, the rejection of the rhythm of love, the desire to get and not to give. The mother wants to possess the child’s love and not just to take it as it comes. The child wants to possess the mother’s love and to not respond to a love that would draw it out of itself. It is the same in sexual love: The man wants to possess the woman; the woman wants to possess the man. We all keep falling back on self-love. But real love is always a response to the love of another, a self-giving with no thought of return. We can receive only in so far as we are willing to give. Ultimately, it is always the love of God which is drawing us through every human love, drawing us towards giving ourselves back in return for the love we have received. That is why all love is holy, from the love of atoms or of insects to the love of humans. It is always a reflection of the love of God.

GA

(questioningly):

But what’s the problem? Where does the temptation lie? There’s always temptation when there’s sin!

BG

(nodding):

Right. Our temptation is to rely on our own dignity, to centre on ourselves and refuse that movement of return, of self-surrender. Sin is a failure of love, a failure to respond to the movement of grace, which is ever drawing us out of ourselves into the divine life. When we refuse to respond to or fail to acknowledge our nothingness and need, then we close in on ourselves. We become separated from God and eternal life and see ourselves as isolated selves, each shut up in our own existence and in conflict with others, alienated from our real self, living in a world of illusion.

GA

(incredulously):

But people are praying so much. They say they love God. They make sacrifices. They work hard for their individual salvation.

BG

(firmly):

There is no such thing as individual salvation. We are saved as members of a Body, of an organic whole, of humankind and the universe. Each of us has to work out their salvation within the pattern of the whole. No one sins in isolation, no one suffers in isolation, no one is redeemed in isolation, no one is glorified in isolation. Hell is the state of a being without love. The world was created by love and for love. After all, love is selfcommunication. We can choose to love, to give ourselves to others and finally to Love itself, which draws us towards itself. But we can also reject this movement of love; we can turn our love, the driving force of our nature, on ourselves and become centres not of love but of strife. Self-love is the root of all sin, and it is deep in us all.

Sex with Machines

Sometimes, mostly over meals or while going together to the metro station, Gabriel and Tilda talked about their lovers. Gabriel could hardly imagine Tilda to have one. For him, she was like a prickly, thorny stick: stiff and absurdly shy about her body. She would be the one sitting with a sombre attitude at the bar drinking water and listening to indie pop music while he was busy on the dancefloor. Furthermore, their attitudes towards morals and sexual fidelity could not be more diverse. Tilda was very strict in that respect, constraining the exclusivity of sexual relationships to just one person with heavy resistance against everybody else. For her, a breach of sexual loyalty was similar to ending the relationship altogether. For him, the world was different. “A sexual relationship should be spiritually in line with a love relationship between consenting adults. That is all as far as rules are concerned!” Gabriel proclaimed. “Of course it’s not exclusive, because it is everywhere. This is not about control, possession or the fear of not having enough of a scarce resource. It is about sharing the universe of love.” Tilda looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t you think it’s absurd to promote adultery, promiscuity and the breach of sexual fidelity as a superior moral action for world unity, Mr David?” she asked him sternly. “If you had asked me this question two years ago, I would have considered it as monstrous and totally absurd,” Gabriel agreed. “Today I think differently. Today I think it’s the opposite of adultery. Your thinking is trapped in our old ways, Mrs Toelz; that’s all. But as long as you feel a guilty conscience about changing your attitude, you should not try to do so.” “I won’t, Mr David, believe me,” Tilda replied, laughing. “That’s OK. It’s not so important.” And he meant it. “I want a relationship to be special,” Tilda insisted. “It has something to do with superior consciousness. Transparency and honesty have special meaning for me. I want to really know a person. Through and through. I want to know his heart. Feel what he feels, see what he sees. And this should be mutual. It’s a special capacity. Only then does sex make sense.” “What does this requirement of a perfect read of the other person mean for your relationship, Mrs Toelz?” Gabriel asked curiously. “First, my boyfriend must be totally honest with me. Ken and I have an agreement that we will always tell each other the truth: no lies, no hiding. Second, he must tell me about all his little perceptions and interpretations. No secrets. We talk a lot, especially him because he’s quite addicted to me being interested every little detail about him. In fact, we’re in constant communication on our mobiles. I want to have regular updates on even the tiniest of his emotions and impulses. And third, he must be—in the best sense of the word—uncomplicated. Without too much depth to hide in. I do not need any complex personality traits; in fact, they would even interfere with my goals. I want to reach a new level of relationship—a new level of communication between people, a new consciousness. This is the special relationship I have with my boyfriend, and I am quite proud of it, Mr David. It is exclusive. He will never cheat on me. It is our private world that nobody has access to but him and me.”

“Have you read the new short story by Emma Braslavsky, titled ‘I’m Your Man,’ Mrs Toelz?” Gabriel asked, laughing. “You sound exactly like Alma.” “Like who?” Tilda asked gruffy. “The story is about a young scientist named Alma who is supposed to evaluate a robot man who is programmed as her personalized lover. First, Alma thinks this is preposterous and refuses to live with a machine for a few weeks to test him out. But then she starts to think differently because he adapts by using his artificial intelligence learning algorithms to optimally anticipate and react to her emotions. He even quarrels with her and issues his own opinions according to the needs she has in a relationship. He is her perfect machine. And even the sex is the best she’s ever had because he also learns how to customize that, of course.”

“And what about it, Mr David?” Tilda aggressively asked. “How does the story end?” Gabriel answered: “Alma negatively evaluates the AI machine just because it’s only a robot. She even warns her employers that a certain addiction stems from the perfect customization, one that endangers humankind. However, she stays in the relationship with the robot man because he is the perfect match for her needs. She bends the truth about the machine’s identity following a completely self-centred scene. She likes to be in total control. She has ‘made him’—letting him learn on her data. Now he is her creation, and she continues to live in a relationship where there is no ‘other’ anymore.” “Unity, I call it,” said Tilda. “Perversion, I call it,” said Gabriel.

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above B1 headquarters at Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Thursday, 7 November 2019, 03:14

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

Same setting. TA is fast asleep. BG is still awake and keeps GA company. Deep conversation continues.

GA

(anxiously):

Father, what is with this sex? It sounds abominable. It is not allowed. They are both in committed relationships. This is totally against the rules. And he doesn’t even like her physically. Isn’t it good that he thinks her prickly?

BG

(sternly):

That does not matter. Sexual love is never entirely on the physical plane anyway—it has to pass beyond, to the psychic and the spiritual, to penetrate the “three worlds.” The union of bodies is a sign, or a sacrament, of the union of souls: It has no meaning unless it leads to psychic—that is, emotional and imaginative—fulfilment. But psychic fulfilment in turn is a sign and expression of a deeper spiritual fulfilment. At the end, a sexual experience engages the depth of the soul, it opens up to the divine, it unites humankind—that is, man and woman in one—with God.

GA

(puzzled):

I do not know what to say. Neither Gabriel nor Tilda has such a relationship with their partner. Are they even allowed to have sex with them? They have sex—legitimate and perfectly in line with the rules of the world—but for completely different reasons. Out of habit and convention. To confirm their relationships, to make up when they have quarrelled, out of mere physical attraction and lust. For what have you. But I am pretty sure that they never did it or do it for spiritual fulfilment or unity with God. They are doing it for profane reasons.

BG

(very short):

Then they should stop it.

GA

(incredulously):

What? Aren’t you a little radical?

BG

(decisively):

I mean it. This is why love is so demanding and can be so tragic. If it turns back from the divine and tries to satisfy itself with the psychic or the physical, it becomes frustrated. To confine love to the psychic or physical plane is to vulgarize it: It casts love “outside the temple.”

GA

(embarrassedly):

So they are all doing it outside the temple.

BG

(shaking his head in dismay):

Of course, it is fatally easy to miss its transcendent character, to make it “profane,” and then it becomes demonic. This is a repetition of original sin, a refusal to surrender to the divine in love and so achieve a sacramental union. It turns back instead on the self and makes it a means of self-gratification, and it thus becomes a slave of the demon, the demonic power which is love separated from God.

GA

(pleadingly):

Yes, but can’t we do without this sex? It is just weird!

BG

(compassionately but firmly):

Sex is the sacrament of love. It is the means which nature has contrived for the expression of love, first in the plant and animal world, then in humankind. It is the outward and visible sign of the mystery of love, which lies at the heart of the universe. But it belongs essentially to this world of signs and appearances; it is the shadow of love and therefore always has to be transcended. Not only the physical expression of love but also the psychic division of humankind into male and female are stages in the evolution of humankind, through which we have to pass before we can realize the mystery of love.

GA

(curiously):

Last question. Can’t people just be friends? This would rule out sex by definition.

BG

(now extremely firmly):

This is a misunderstanding of the concept of friendship. Please read my biographical letter collection, a volume titled On Spiritual Friendship. At the back of the book, you can find my treatise “On Homosexual Love.” The title is actually misleading. It is about love and friendship in general. Friendship is not a relationship minus the mystery of love and minus sexual elements. Who thinks that has no idea about friendship. True friendship is spiritual and is a loving relationship. And of course, all friendship has an erotic component. It is holistic, in the best sense. If I reject my so-called friend intellectually, emotionally, sexually or spiritually, I should better think twice about this relationship and be done with it.

GA

(resignedly looking at the wildly snoring TA):

Blimey.

Antipasti

Gabriel had agreed to meet Tilda at a little Italian bistro she had suggested. “Mr David, we need to talk. I’m inviting you for dinner,” she had said. They took a little wooden table for two in the middle of the small restaurant before ordering some antipasti. “How important is going to India for you?” Tilda asked when they were seated. “How do you feel about me not coming?” Gabriel looked at her. “You really need to ask this, Mrs Toelz? The project is a huge task. We worked on an enormous agenda over the past year. And we were just two people doing what could’ve required an army to accomplish. And now you want to reduce troop size by fifty per cent. Can’t you imagine how I feel? Now, it is only me left—and a handful of Camaldolense hermits!”

“Can’t you leave this ‘saving the world’ stuff to science, Mr David?” Tilda asked. “I’m sure some clever computer scientists and engineers are out there improving algorithms to introduce more fairness into AI-based social assessment right now. Technology for more social justice. Brilliant. There will be a technical solution. There are always technical solutions to everything. Science and technology will do the trick. No need for us to get involved or go to India!”

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above an Italian restaurant close to B1 in Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 11 November 2019, 19:52

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

The cloud looks like an original Italian pizzeria. There is a big high-tech oven where TA is standing in front of big vegetarian pizzas being turned with a wooden spatula. The angel is, as always, half naked and is heavily sweating, but it wears an impeccable white apron and a huge white hat. It is on duty to serve the others at the table tonight. GA and BG are sitting at the candlelit conference table with expectant eyes—knives and forks in their hands. GA whistles “La donna è mobile.”

GA

(sipping its Aperol Spritzz but looking impatiently at TA, who has halfway disappeared into the oven as it tries to reach the third pizza):

Hurry up, spaghetti angel! I’m hungry.

BG

(leaning comfortably back, fully at ease):

Hush, my dear. There is no need to rush. It’s showtime tonight. Gabriel will interpret the Script. We have the whole evening. Let’s share some antipasti as starters and see how he’s doing. It will be about Western science and its meeting with the East. Fascinating!

They order antipasti with olive oil and a litre of chianti. TA groans with indignation but puts the pizzas back into the oven and starts to prepare aromatic herbs Tuscany style.

GA

(complacently):

Father, say again, what is wrong with Western science?

TA

(a little impolite):

Yes, say what is wrong with it. It created this oven I am cooking your pizza with.

BG

(weighing his head):

It is not so black and white, indeed. As I said in The Marriage of East and West, the ideas of Western science and democracy have penetrated every part of the world. The ideals of Western science, of the accurate observation of phenomena, of rational analysis, free from all partiality or emotional bias, of the discovery of the “laws” of nature (that is, regular patterns of events) and of their application for the benefit of mankind—these ideals still have value.

So also do the principles of democracy, of the value of the individual person, of the “rights” of humankind—that is, the right of each individual to life and growth and health and education, above all the right of self-government in whatever political structure it may be expressed—and, it need hardly be said, the equality of women and men. These are marks of the growth of humanity to greater maturity, to a greater realization of what it means to be human.

TA

(getting more interested):

Hear! Hear!

BG

(continuing):

But the limitations of Western science and democracy have become more and more evident. The disastrous effects of Western industrialism, physical, social and psychological, polluting the world and threatening to destroy it, are only too evident. But this is not an “accident” due to the misuse of science and technology; it is due to a fundamental defect in Western thought. The dominant, aggressive, masculine, rationalist mind of the West took charge, such that Europe remains today in a permanent state of imbalance.

GA

(expectantly):

And now comes the East…

BG

(again continuing):

The balance can be restored only when a meeting takes place between East and West. This meeting must take place at the deepest level of the human consciousness. It is an encounter ultimately between the two fundamental dimensions of human nature: the male and the female—the masculine, rational, active, dominating power of the mind and the feminine, intuitive, passive and receptive power of the mind. Of course, these two dimensions exist in every human being and in every people. But for the past two thousand years, coming to a climax in the present century, the masculine rational mind has gradually come to dominate Western Europe and has now spread its influence all over the world. The Western world—and with it the rest of the world, which has succumbed to its influence—now has to rediscover the power of the feminine, intuitive mind, which has largely shaped the cultures of Asia and Africa and of other peoples. This is a problem not only in the world as a whole but also in religion.

TA

(shaking its head in dismay while expertly handling the hot pizza):

And Tilda and Gabriel are supposed to solve this problem. I can’t believe my ears! No wonder why Tilda doesn’t want to do it.

BG

(only half agreeing):

Why, you might be saying that it is Tilda’s duty to accompany Gabriel because it is indeed too much work for one person alone. And it might be too dangerous as well. India is a dangerous country where two are better than one to survive as a foreigner. That is practical reasoning.

TA

(aggressively):

And if she is not going?

BG

(astonished):

It will not surprise you that I am concerned about whether the surgery will go well. This surgery is risky. Tilda should give the gentle, noninvasive approach another chance and get a second opinion.

TA

(matter-of-factly):

This is emotional blackmail! Using the surgery as a reason to convince her to go to India shows that you will use every means necessary to hound her. And this is coming to her as a miracle story from Ayaan. Tsk, tsk.

BG

(mischievously):

Yes, an offer she can’t resist.

TA shakes its head in dismay as it collects the remains of the antipasti.

BG

(convinced):

It is not that we are usually sitting in a world without God and his interventions, and only every now and again—but very rarely—a miracle such as the sunset of Sussex or the like happens, which we recognise as an extraordinary event and an exception from the norm.

It is that we are too blind to see the real world. Imagine that the world of so-called miracles—that is, the world of God and his doings in the history of humankind—is the real world, which we are just failing to see in full. Most of the time, we are just seeing little sparks of it. And then, we think something big has happened. But in fact, it is just a tiny piece of the bigger picture. Imagine how frustrated God must be with us because we do not admire the full picture but endlessly fixate on the individual pixels. And he is really trying!

Our problem is that we do not believe, or, at least, that our faith is weak. We are walking in God’s world. We should just open our eyes to see it. You know that’s what all these miracle stories in the Bible tell us.

Have you never wondered about the wording that Jesus uses at the end of most miracle stories, such as the healing of the sick? He says, “Your faith has helped you.” He does not say, “I have performed a miracle on you.” He had just opened the eyes of the person, helping them to see the miracle in front of them. “Your faith has helped you” is not a strange comment. It simply describes an ordinary fact.

TA

(disapprovingly):

I prefer facts. I am intelligent.

Initial Conditions

“I don’t get it,” Tilda said helplessly. “What are we supposed to do in India, in your opinion, Mr David, and what is my role in this?” Gabriel looked at her apprehensively before replying: “OK, let’s walk to the main train station together. I will tell you what I think the big theory is behind all this.” “I’m curious,” Tilda murmured. They paid separately and left the Italian restaurant. Outside, the stars glimmered in a silent but welcoming night sky. It was late. They were all alone in the street when they started their walk. “So, please, tell me the theory,” Tilda requested. “What are the two of us supposed to achieve together? We form an unequal pair. That doesn’t work for me.” Gabriel laughed before replying: “You put it well, Mrs Toelz. The start of it is that we are a nearly perfect duality. The differences are mostly at face value. You are young; I am old. We could be successfully cast as Harold and Maude, for God’s sake. You are female; I am male.” “Wait a minute, Mr David,” Tilda protested. “We both work at B1.” “Yes, but I am your boss; you are my employee. I decide what we do, and you have to follow. I have a single office; you share yours. I’m responsible for a big team; you have nobody under your command. You are at the beginning of your professional career; I am nearly finished. I am the well-known one; nobody knows you. I have experience; you lack experience. I earn five times as much money as you. Shall I continue, Mrs Toelz? And that is only the B1 stuff, which you see as our commonality.”

“Do you want to tell me I’m a nobody, Mr David? You could have done worse,” Tilda replied furiously. “I’m not homeless living under a bridge.” “No, you are not, but our project has certain requirements that a homeless person living under a bridge would not be able to match. You are, so to speak, the best compromise. I won’t start on the internal differences concerning our approaches to life, our inner makeups, our preferences, our emotions, our beliefs or opinions. This is what we have meticulously chiselled out over the past two years. You can’t easily find another duality that perfectly laid out.” “Yeah, maybe,” Tilda finally agreed, “but what about it? What shall we do? Quarrel for dominion? Until you convince me of your way of life? Until I convince you of mine? That will never happen, and you know it. We will fight endlessly. We’re trapped in perfect duality.”

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above Berlin Fasanenstrasse. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 11 November 2019, 22:47

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

The pizza is gone, as is the Italian atmosphere. The cloud is back to normal working mode. Both angels look tired. Only Bede Griffiths looks bright, fresh and highly dynamic. He encouragingly waves while holding the Script.

BG

(cheerily):

We are not yet done here. TA, thanks for cleaning up. We now need the conference facilities for a lesson.

Both angels inwardly groan but obediently prepare the workspace for a night session. The only audible sigh comes from GA when it watches BG elegantly mount the conference table and sit down cross-legged in the middle of it, inviting both angels to do the same at his sides.

TA

(warily):

Why can’t we properly sit on the chairs? They are ergonomic and recommended by the occupational health department!

BG

(determined):

No chairs.

Both angels join him on the table cross-legged, looking expectantly at him.

BG:

You have read Hegel, Adorno and the like, and you are familiar with dialectics, right?

TA

(uncertain):

So-so.

BG

(encouragingly):

OK. We will be playing with mud. When you were little, you played in a sandbox…

GA

(softly reminding):

Harrumph, we are angels…

TA

(adding helpfully):

But very intelligent. We can imagine it.

BG

(impishly):

Have you never been young?

Both angels look at each other, puzzled.

TA

(helplessly):

Don’t know.

BG

(with a grand gesture):

OK, then this is your first sandbox. Have fun!

A sandbox full of mud, sand, pebbles, water, debris and slime is apparating in front of them on the table. GA grimaces in disgust at the content; TA suspiciously sniffs for bad odours.

GA

(cautiously):

What shall we do with it?

BG

(invitingly):

Play! Dig in!

Both angels look aghast at him.

First-level Dialectics in a Sandbox

Gabriel and Tilda were passing a street construction site that had been left very untidy by the crew. At least it was secured by heaps of red-white barrier tape to warn passersby. Gabriel lifted the barrier tape and invited Tilda in. Shaking her head in quiet disbelief, she joined him. He sat down where he was, in the middle of a pile of sand. Tilda stared at him. “What are you doing, Mr David? You will catch cold.” “Bear with me and sit down,” he begged. Carefully, she spread out her scarf before joining him on the cold and dirty pavement of the construction site. “Mrs Toelz, let me explain life to you,” Gabriel said. She winced. He grinned.

First, he fetched two handfuls of brownish goop and mud from the wet grass and slathered it in front of surprised Tilda. “See, this is the first level of dialectics: ‘nonconscious unity.’ It is the primordial slime—Pandora’s box, where everything springs from. However, it is yet unshaped. It does not know anything of itself. Everything is possible; nothing is there. It is the infinite manifoldness of being in complete togetherness. ‘Nonconscious unity.’ Please bear this in mind.”

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 11 November 2019, 23:01

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

TA is wildly stirring in the mud of the sandbox to find out what’s inside.

TA

(doubtingly and secretly disgusted):

And this is what upper management made the world from?

BG

(apologetically):

Errr, yes, kind of. The mud in the sandbox is just an illustration. It has a lot of potential. The One without Second. Which was before there was anything. It is hard to explain. Try to think of nothing.

TA

(innocently):

I think of nothing.

GA

(mockingly):

And do so to perfection, as always.

TA

(slightly insulted):

And what are we supposed to do now?

BG

(with an enticing smile):

Now you may do… things!

He distributes little sand toys. The angels start working and warm up to their task. Having a lot of fun being watched by Bede Griffiths, they compete to build several objects. Very soon the table is covered by little sand figures of various sizes and shapes.

Second-level Dialectics in a Sandbox

Then Gabriel selected a big area for the next level and cleaned it provisionally. “What will come in here?” asked Tilda. “Objects, Mrs Toelz, objects,” he said. “Please help me collect stones of various shapes and sizes.”

The construction site proved to be a bountiful source for stones. What they found was miraculous. After only five minutes, they had to stop because the space chosen for piling up their findings was full. They sat down again. Their little stone garden looked complex and intricate. “What’s this, Mr David?” asked Tilda curiously. “Let me introduce the world as we know it,” Gabriel replied, smiling. “This is the second level of dialectics, the individuation. The objects manifest themselves separate from each other, out of the slime. The genesis and diversity of species, functional differentiation—call it what you like, Mrs Toelz.”

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 11 November 2019, 23:09

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

TA destroys nearly all GA’s little sand figures with its toy shovel.

GA

(wildly complaining):

I haven’t done anything! I smashed TA’s sandcastle by chance. It was not on purpose! See what the stupid git has done to my sand doll house in revenge (pointing miserably at the little piles of sand that remained after TA’s attack)

TA

(quarrelsome):

Not on purpose does not mean no damage. My sand knights are all homeless now, and it’s your fault!

BG

(soothingly):

Tut, tut. See, and that is what happens at this stage. It does not matter whether you are angels or humans. You start to fight.

TA

(sulking):

Not my fault.

TA and GA scowl at each other. BG looks pensively and compassionately at both.

Tilda liked the picture until Gabriel got up to start stealing. “Mr David, what the hell are you doing?” she hissed. He had fetched some barrier tape, dismantling it from the fences of the construction site. Tilda looked unhappy. She disliked going against the law. However, she stayed silent while he tore the tape into little pieces and distributed them as separation lines between the stones in their little stone garden. Afterwards, he kicked the stones around until everything looked a mess.

“Behold,” Gabriel said, “the cost of individuation is separation and particularisation. The step of separation can lead to alienation, antinomies, conflict and destruction. This is the state of the world we are in.” “Ugly. Now let’s get out of here!” Tilda exclaimed while looking at the untidy picture full of separating barrier tape. “Though, Mr David, dialectics means that there are two steps, and I can see only one.”

Third-level Dialectics in a Sandbox

Gabriel removed the little strips of barrier tape and started to build a mosaic with the stones they found. “The third level of dialectics is the coming-home level of reflexive unity,” Gabriel said. “Particularities are not levelled but integrated into a conscious whole that is able to reflect and appreciate all individuals that come home from their second level to their common ground.” “So, the third level is the kingdom of God?” Tilda mocked but helped him to create a fantastic mosaic from their materials. “If you like, Mrs Toelz,” he agreed, “but you can also call it the world’s spirit coming to itself, as Hegel did, or the ‘good society.’ It is the level where the fight against dualities is won.” Tilda looked pensively at the emerging picture.

“And now?” she asked. “Mrs Toelz, you know the story. Following Adorno, dialectics has got stuck at the second stage. The second stage constantly produces new dualities and deepens old ones. It is just finishing with the rest of our world. It is time to put a final stop to this. Do you agree so far?” Tilda nodded and took a picture of the arrangement with her mobile.

The Individual, Interactive and Systems Level

Gabriel said, “You know, Mrs Toelz—the second level of dialectics is not bad in itself. It is about identity. It is about being someone and knowing it. The problem is reconciliation. The dualities are everywhere. We must resolve them—again on three levels: the individual, the interactive and the system levels.” Tilda looked at him, confused. “Fighting dualities on the individual level, Mr David? How?”

He asked her, “Mrs Toelz, who do you think shall be the first to make advances in starting relationship? Who makes the first step? The man or the woman?” “Why, the man, of course!” Tilda answered, looking at him aghast and a little suspicious. He had to smile. “Don’t you think, you are a bit, errr, traditional for an alternative person from Berlin?” “Not at all, Mr David,” she said heatedly. “Do you know how a so-called modern man reacts when a woman makes the first move? Not that you see her necessarily as a slut; this is a problem from history. What I mean is a problem of nature. You men look at such a woman like a cat that has got milk instead of cream. She has killed half the fun for you. A man is a born conqueror and a hero. He needs to plan, strategise, take action and win. The woman is his favourite prey and will be carried away on a white horse. She has to be receptive, passive, patient, inviting and adoring. Otherwise, it is not the real thing for you. I have seen this thousands of times. If the procedure is not correctly followed, this will backfire sooner or later.” “And what about the man inside you, Mrs Toelz? Don’t you want to conquer and be a hero sometimes?” Gabriel asked her curiously. “Of course! I’m in martial arts. Don’t forget that, Mr David!” Tilda responded. “And to tell you a secret, I think I’m better at most typically masculine stuff than most men are. Think of logic. Men are so illogical!” She sounded so desperate that he laughed out loud. “But then there must be a constant fight in you, Mrs Toelz,” he said. “Your male and female components struggle for superiority.” Tilda nodded and shuddered: “I can feel that fight constantly. It sometimes tears me apart.”

“Me too, but the other way round,” Gabriel said, “these are the dualities that Bede Griffiths speaks of that divide our personalities. The male/female divide is the biggest, according to him. He recommends meditation to integrate our interpersonal dualities, by the way. This is the individual level that we need to deal with. According to Griffiths, the divide is also mirrored on the system level: He talks of male and female societies around the globe. Western societies are male and Eastern societies are female, to put it roughly. The divide tears the world apart, producing all sorts of inequalities, injustices and conflicts.” “But we are already addressing the system level at B1, Mr David,” said Tilda. “That’s our job.” “Yes,” Gabriel agreed, “the new project will be about reconciling the male/female divide in various societies.” Tilda sighed and looked at him a little hopelessly. “What do you think is more difficult: reconciliation within a person via meditation while not a spiritual specialist or integrating the Global North and the Global South via a work-related project? They both sound impossible.” “You are right, Mrs Toelz,” Gabriel simply said, “and this is now why we are sitting here.” “Mr David, it’s starting to get really cold,” Tilda complained. “I can warm you,” he replied, grinning. She quickly moved away and asked, “What can the two of us do to make reconciling these stark dualities easier anyway?”

“Can’t you see, Mrs Toelz?” Gabriel asked. “It’s all about the unification of the male and the female, right? Look at us. What do you see?” “A man and a woman,” Tilda slowly said. “And what can a man and a woman do with each other for unification?” Gabriel continued his line of questioning. Tilda looked bewildered. “No worries, Mrs Toelz,” he laughed. “We do not need to overstress this. Mind you, male and female are just placeholders for dualities separating people. What I mean also applies to gay people and queer people. It applies to relationships in general. We are sitting here as representations of archetypes.” “I do not want to be an archetype, Mr David,” Tilda said. “Call it an interface. This is the interactive level that sits between the individual level and the system level,” he said. “You will agree that the two of us can at least do something directly for unity: We can talk, we can help each other, we can cooperate, we can become friends. This is not abstract, Mrs Toelz. This does not require specific expertise. This is not too big. It’s on the just right level to be doable!” “You say that if we find a way to integrate the male and female between the two of us on the interactive level, dualities can be integrated within us on the individual level and on the system level of societies as well, because the same duality exists everywhere? If we figure it out for us on the interactive level, Mr David, then it will work for the two other levels the same way?” “You said it,” Gabriel answered, satisfied. “And how do men and women unite and become one, Mrs Toelz?” He nudged her in her side with his elbow and laughed. “Don’t make fun of it, Mr David,” she said sternly. “I don’t,” he protested. “I do not mean to be rude. Relationship is the answer. It can dismantle all dualities. This is what we have to achieve. This is what we have to prove, Mrs Toelz.” “We will need a sound approach with reliable methods to work this out,” Tilda said. “Only think of all these case studies in all these countries. And all these people in there. So far, we have only heard single voices of especially vulnerable people in these countries. Think about the usual mix of people. Think of politicians, industry and NGOs. Think of all these clashing interests. Think of how difficult it will be to bring them together to codesign mutually agreed-on solutions if just the two of us can hardly agree on anything, Mr David.” Gabriel nodded. “Yes, but there are innovative and very effective participatory methods in social science to help with this.”

“Do you think this approach can solve other problems than social justice issues around AI-based social service provision?” she asked thoughtfully. “Yes, Mrs Toelz, I think it is highly likely that other complex societal issues can be resolved in the same way. This is what I hope we can utilize the new project for.” “The rollout of a new methodology,” Tilda said only half mockingly. She looked a little impressed. “Yes, I would say so,” he responded. “It is the use of Bede Griffiths in cultural studies that Thomas Matus suggested, if you remember, but also his use of social theory and social practice. It was not too difficult to figure this out.”

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Monday, 11 November 2019, 23:59

Players:

The two angels as before and Bede Griffiths.

Setting:

Same setting.

BG

(getting up and starting to collect his few belongings from the cloud, mostly books):

Guys, I’m off for a while. That was all there was to see anyway. They’re on track now.

GA

(suspiciously):

Father, where are you going? When will we see you again? What will you be doing in the meantime?

BG

(smiling):

I will prepare for India. That is where Gabriel and Tilda will be going now. And this country will teach them more than any of the others they’ve visited so far. They will have the same culture shock that I got in my time when I first arrived there.

TA

(with s dismissive gesture):

Cannot be as bad as you think. They are experienced professionals in multi-cultural contexts. They have done a lot of travelling lately and have seen a lot of local folklore.

BG

(now laughing):

Yes, but they have not been to India before! If you are a Westerner and want to know what difference cultural context can make to everything—and I mean everything—go there. That’s my advice.

GA

(reprovingly):

We will go there alright. We’re in charge of Gabriel and Tilda. Anything we should know?

BG

(pleasantly):

As Thomas Matus said, it is the introduction of my approach to cultural studies. And don’t think cultural studies are easy to understand. Prepare for a lengthy period of learning.

GA (cautiously):

Let me summarise what I’ve learned so far: They are thrown together to go through all three levels. All these monasteries and hermitages in their way are there to facilitate the first level of contemplation and meditation so that they can work on on integration on the individual level. I still find the relationship level offensive. Travelling through Essential Writings while trying to climb every mountain and bridge, every valley that got in the way, is the most problematic. And then, third, they will work on the world dualities with their new project, to remediate social exclusion and injustice on a global level. Right?

BG

(laughing):

Of course—but this is just the way for amateurs. There is another way. If you had read more of my books, you would know by now. It is the way of the monk, of the sannyasi. It is my way. But they do not want to go there.

TA

(questioningly):

Maybe there are more ways than even you have considered, Father? Maybe, this whole context is evolving as everything else around, including human consciousness? Maybe, even you still think within narrow confines, happily rearranging the old dualities between men and women, monks and amateurs, priests and flocks?

GA looks very worried because it sounds as if TA questions BG’s approach.

BG

(thoughtfully and unprovoked):

Maybe. I’ve always wondered. My main objective is unity, the end of categorical dualities, inclusion instead of exclusion, the bridge overcoming human segregation, the marriage of binaries, right? But still I developed a stage model of life where immanence and ignorance are at the bottom and, on a hierarchy with steps like a ladder, transcendence and wisdom are at the top.

And then, there is even unique access to this transcendence stage at the top. Now that I think about it, I am just mimicking human hierarchy and calling it the basic pattern of society, where people are what they are: men and women, of course, but also merchants and nonmerchants, farmers and nonfarmers, rulers and nonrulers, workers and priests. You get the idea. And I have not even thought of mobility or fluidity between categories. How foolish of me!

TA

(very proud that he obviously got a point):

And the priest, with the crown of creation, “keeps the link with the transcendent, with the ultimate meaning of life,” as you say. In my opinion, this presents an enormous duality between the priest, with access to the transcendent, and everybody else, because they’re excluded from this access.

GA

(accusingly, defending BG):

You sound like Martin Luther railing against the hubris of religious men.

BG

(very just):

No, TA is right. My stage model is theoretically questionable, empirically obsolete and normatively objectionable. It is wedded to ideas of charismatic leadership, the natural stratification of society and the bureaucratic organization of roles in a division-of-labour concept concerning human differentiation. Research in the social sciences has taught us about the lack of validity in and limitations on the applicability of these ideas.

GA

(sceptically facing all this self-criticism):

You sound a little ambivalent here. But can every person reach the highest level like a monk, a sannyasi or a priest? Can such reconciliation and integration happen in us, like a marriage to God within?

BG

(musingly):

Isn’t that what the theological concepts of Vaticanum II, such as “priesthood of all believers,” point us to? Wouldn’t that even support the idea of priesthood for women, for example, that I found so objectionable in my lifetime?

TA

(getting scared):

Female priests? Start praying.

BG

(developing his thoughts further):

And on the interaction level? Can’t we simply express our love and longing for unity the way we feel it as long as it’s authentic and mutual? And related to the first level: If the priest level is open to everybody, should not the level of human love be open to any monk, to the sannyasi and to the priest as well? Wouldn’t that release the monk from isolation and renunciation, get rid of all exclusivity and arrogance and provide access to further levels of godlike experience, of marriage to God?

TA

(horrified):

A priest in unrestricted love with another human. Start praying.

BG

(complacently):

Will do!

With this, he evaporates, leaving two long-faced angels behind that both inwardly try to calculate the number of overtime hours and night shifts they’ll have over the weeks to come.

Risks

Tilda got up from the pavement and stretched her legs. “Can’t you see the risk, Mr David? The ‘dualities’ rule the world, for goodness’s sake. The project is dangerous.” “Are you afraid, Mrs Toelz?” Gabriel asked mischievously. “It’s clear that people will assume that we are mad,” she answered evasively. “They will push us to the margins—see what happened to Rupert Sheldrake.” Seeing Gabriel’s sad face, she quickly added, “At least, it is the most elaborate scheme I could hope for to convince me to have an affair with you!” His face did not brighten up, because she was clearly making jokes about the whole thing. She hastily said, “Even on the level of mediating on the conflicts between world systems, I do not need to tell you, Mr David, how objectionable these ideas are to those in power, the existing economic and political elites that benefit from the current separations.”

Gabriel nodded. “You probably have about eighty per cent of the world population against you with these ideas, Mrs Toelz, conservatively counted.” Tilda agreed. “And, again, if I look into my own heart, I’m a Westerner, and I have a hidden sympathy with traditionalists. Can I really integrate with belief systems that worship an elephant god? Start praying,” Gabriel added, grinning. She shook her head angrily, and then pensively looked at their picture of pebbles on the pavement. “In my humble opinion, Mr David, I think people should be able to choose on which level or on how many levels they want to contribute. Some people will feel more competent and comfortable with one level than with another. However, some people might be able to work on two or three levels.” “It’s like the parable of the wise and foolish virgins from the Bible, i.e. whether the oil in the lamps will suffice for the job, Mrs Toelz,” Gabriel said, smiling again. “Stop being so Western and Christian by citing the New Testament all the time, Mr David,” Tilda scowled. “Can’t you be more inclusive?”

Early the next morning, Gabriel received an email from Tilda. She told him she would come with him to India and sent a picture of her little green elephant to him as proof.

An Auto-ethnographic Promotion Course

Angels’ Play

Location:

Heaven above Berlin. Shared-Office Cloud.

Time:

Real-time GMT, Sunday, 29 December 2019, 19:22

Players:

The two angels as before.

Setting:

Both angels have been home for Christmas. Now they are back to work but are enjoying a last free evening.

GA is happily dancing with dripping brushes in front of an easel where a big painting can be seen—nearly finished. It is a huge portrait of both angels in their cockpit area watching earth through a looking glass.

TA is lying half naked in its overalls beneath the cockpit desk chairs trying to dismantle both, with many screw drivers, little oil cans and sledgehammers of various sizes around it. The angel is swearing a lot under its breath.

GA

(proudly presenting the framed portrait to its colleague):

Here! Your Christmas present from me. In memory of our cooperation this year. How do you like it?

TA

(closely scrutinizing the oil painting):

You, with your Madonna lily, look very realistic, lovey. But I hardly ever look so well groomed.

GA

(scrutinising the half-naked, dirty figure in its overalls):

Artistic freedom. Keep your oily fingers off the gilded frame! See, it’s a Sunday in my picture, and in your Sunday robe, even you look nice. Where is it, by the way? Today is Sunday.

TA

(bending even more closely over the picture, squinting):

What do I have in my hands?

GA

(surprised):

Why, a bagful of Molotov cocktails, of course.

TA

(appreciatively):

Nice.

GA

(inwardly groaning):

What do you have for me, by the way?

TA

(proudly presenting the dismantled cockpit area and a huge cardboard box from Ikea while standing in the middle of the now-empty area):

Something practical. Will do you a world of good. Highly recommended by our personnel department for a healthy workspace. I bought one for myself immediately after I saw yours in the catalogue. Merry Christmas!

GA

(sceptically approaching the cardboard box and starting to open it):

You could have wrapped it at least. What is it?

A big metallic structure appears from the package. GA walks around it, puzzled, trying to figure out what it is.

TA

(proudly):

A standing desk, to reduce your backpain. It’s ergonomic. No more sprawling around in your cockpit chair. We will work while standing. Better for your health. Advised as a must-have for next year by TRINI-T upper management. Has something to do with their Christmas present for us.

GA

(not very successfully trying to hide its disappointment):

Where is this famous present from upper management, by the way? Let us have a look at it. Though I do not expect very much. Employer presents are always pedagogical. Like yours.

Both angels start to examine the single present on the conference table with the huge management logo on its wrapping and the two Christmas cards, one for each of them, that came with it. They simultaneously open their cards and begin reading.

TA

(delightedly grinning):

I’ve been promoted! Next salary scale.

GA

(with a long face):

Me too. But watch out for the small print. Condition for promotion is that we pass the professional training assigned to both of us first thing in the new year. We need to pass that course to support Gabriel and Tilda in India. The better we do, the better they do. Drat!

TA

(anxiously watching the face of its angelic colleague getting longer and longer while reading the small print):

What subject area? What’s wrong?

GA

(resignedly):

The topic is OK. Interreligious Dialogue and Final Unity, the course is called. The issue is the method. Upper management is deep into new learning techniques, as you know.

TA

(eagerly):

What’s the problem? What can it be? Blended learning? Problem-based learning? E-learning? Augmented learning? Come on, what could really be all that bad?

GA

(with pale lips):

Learning via autoethnography.

TA

(aghast):

No. What do we have to do with anything? I don’t want experiences. I can’t have them. I’m an angel, and I insist on fairness. Has this course been approved by the TRINI-T Union? I bet not.

GA

(reading on):

It gets worse. Autoethnography and gamification.

TA

(uncomprehendingly):

Gami- what? Are they mad?

GA

(explaining from the small print):

A new low-barrier learning technique. A complex decision issue from a nongame context is designed as a so-called serious game to train players.

TA

(relieved):

Sounds kind of fun. A computer game? World of Warcraft? I can do the highest level of that one with my closed eyes. High-performance games! Perfect learning technique for intelligent angels like me.

GA

(in a tired voice):

Do you know The Frog Prince?

TA

(now shocked):

Isn’t that this garishly colourful art printing on loose, long-sleeved garments they decorate with cartoons and stuff? Am I supposed to wear such a habit during the game? I do not want to look ridiculous. Where are these TRINI-T Union angels when we need them?

GA

(patiently):

The Frog Prince, not frock prints. It’s a fairy tale. (looking it up in Wikipedia on its console and reading it out loud) In the tale, a spoiled princess reluctantly befriends a frog whom she met after dropping a golden ball into a pond, and he retrieves it for her in exchange for her friendship. The frog is actually a handsome prince under a witch’s curse. The frog’s spell is broken when the princess kisses the frog.

TA

(defiantly):

And what is it to us?

GA

(reading again from the small print):

The Frog King’s story provides the learning environment for gamification. The gamification course is called The Marriage of East and West.

TA

(sheepishly):

Huh?

GA

(finishing reading the small print):

We take on roles. You be the frog, and I’ll be the princess. Then we get unification challenges on playing cards, one card each round. If we successfully address a challenge and befriend each other, you will turn into an angel again. I mean into a Michaelite.

TA

(cautiously):

And if not?

GA

(matter-of-factly):

You stay a frog.

TA

(rebelliously):

And if we don’t do it?

GA

(soberly):

We will not be promoted.

TA

(loud):

Fuck!

GA

(with an even more tired voice):

Don’t swear. Let’s have a look at the book of rules for the game.

After they unwrap the present, an elaborate board game appears. TA disgustedly looks at the picture on the book of rules. It depicts the faces of the princess and the frog as resembling the two angels’ faces.

TA

(complaining):

See. You look nice as always, and I look like shit, ugly. Why must I always be the frog? It’s not fair! I do not want to play Beauty and Beast all the time.

GA

(hastily):

OK, I agree, it is a bit unfair. Offer: We swap roles each round. Furthermore, we do not need to take the frog shape. We are allowed to take something more suitable to the Indian context, according to the small print, as long as we stick to one animal shape only.

TA

(sarcastically):

Oh, joy and rapture! Thank you! What will we take?

GA

(after some thinking):

How about an Indian elephant? (checking the instructions) One player is supposed to represent the West—that will be the princess—and the other is supposed to represent the East—in our case, the elephant.

TA

(starting to understand the basics of the game and warming up to it):

OK. Hopefully, the unification challenges on the playing cards are doable. One last logical question. If we can’t solve a challenge, and I stay a frog—harrumph—an elephant (gulping), what will happen in the next round?

GA

(consulting the book of rules, surprised):

Strange. I will still swap to the elephant. That round would then have two elephants. If the challenge is solved, we will both turn back into angels—harrumph—a Michaelite, errh, a princess.

TA

(suspiciously):

And if not?

GA (in a toneless voice for a Gabrielite):

Both of us remain as elephants. End of game.

TA

(incredulously):

WHAT?

GA

(apologetically):

It is a beta version. They are still working on the release.

TA

(mockingly):

Bit risky to play that, don’t you think?

GA

(defensively):

Don’t forget: It is autoethnography. We have to get fully engaged as guardian angels if we really want to help Gabriel and Tilda. And you’re supposed to be the courageous one of us two.

TA

(scratching its angelic head):

The better we do, the better they do, right? OK, let’s try it. But only if I may kiss you every time that I’m the princess and we solve a challenge!

GA

(flatly):

Wait and see. And don’t count your chickens before they hatch.

TA

(confidently):

Don’t forget: You’re in safe hands. I will keep you safe. I am intelligent!

GA groans audibly in desperation.