[passage from an untitled novel, written 12 August 1996]
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he Forum didn’t come cheap, Simon said to himself, marveling
at Rock’s coup. How had he managed it? The Romans were flocking to see the
great magic show, no doubt of it, and the money poured in. It wouldn’t be the
first time, he thought; you couldn’t go broke underestimating popular taste. Without
thinking twice Simon disappeared and, invisible to all but unseen spirits,
strolled through the gates unobserved and no poorer than he had been before.
The audience was boisterous and unruly; clearly they came
expecting a good time. Had word of mouth brought this response? And how many
dogs had Rock killed to get the result? How many talking fish had he suborned
for the purpose? This was child’s play; a misuse of the powers beyond for
trivial and disgusting ends. Simon wafted through the crowd like a gentle
summer breeze and soon found himself in front.
Rock stood in the center of the arena, coolly facing the
audience. He had no nerves. Simon knew that, but again he wondered at the
stolidity of the man. Rock didn’t enter into it; the man was a boulder, a
granite cliff, solid and hard and unmovable. There was strength in that, sure,
but there was also enormous weakness. When a cliff crumbled, the ruin was
great. Better to be smoke in the wind than an avalanche—the pain was less.
“Show us your god, Rock,” called out somebody behind Simon. “What
makes him so great?”
Simon laughed—he could recognize a shill when he heard one. And
as if on cue somebody else shouted again.
“Simon gave us hard proofs—let’s see yours!” The crowd roared
its approval.
Rock raised his hands and the crowd fell silent. The man was
impressive—Simon had to grant him that. “Romans!” he shouted. “You be the
judges. I am come to say that I believe in the true and living God and I bring
you evidence—hard evidence—solid and irrefutable evidence—that he and he alone
is the ruler of the universe. I ask you only to put your eyes and ears in the
service of your mind, to see and hear the evidence I am about to put before
you. I have seen it—I have heard it—I have felt it—and there are many among you
who themselves have witnessed the workings of God in this world for themselves!
“Now you’ve seen the magic tricks of Simon the imposter. These
are nothing. Where is he now? Where is he hiding? This is the man I drove out
of Judaea for his cruel and heartless tricks played on Eubola, an honest and
upright widow. So what does he do then? He looks for new victims, new sheep to
slaughter, new jewels to steal. But he is powerless, a whimpering coward who
flees the power of God like a rabbit running from an all-consuming brush-fire. He
does not dare face me—no, he hides in the darkness and confusion of his lies
and deceit, full of fear and delusion. Or why else is he not here to face me. If
I am the liar, why does he not show me up? Where is Simon?”
Simon knew an opportunity when he heard it. Stepping invisibly
into the arena he invoked a stroke of lightning, called for a thunder-clap, and
appeared in a whirlwind of colored smoke. There was a collective gasp from the
audience, a moment of stunned silence, and then a burst of applause that threatened
to bring down the Forum. Simon smiled and gave a slight bow towards Rock. “You
wanted to know where I am, Rock?” he asked politely. “I’m here, fool and
charlatan, to show you the power of God once and for all.”
Rock looked at Simon expressionlessly. “All flash and noise,
Simon,” he observed. “And nothing but a
foul stench left behind. How appropriate.”
Something was wrong. Rock was giving nothing away, but
suddenly Simon had the feeling of having walked into a well-planned trap. He
felt the quicksand sucking away at his feet, but showed nothing to his enemy. “So
tell me, Rock, how comes it that I am not afraid to cross swords with you, if I
have not the power of God behind me?”
“First tell me this, Simon the sorcerer,” said Rock, “when you
groveled at my feet in Samaria, when you begged me for the secret of the Holy
Spirit
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