Chapter 363 - 257: Suffering
"God is that than which nothing greater can be conceived. Humankind cannot know Him through reason, and therefore, logic does not apply to Him."
"I’m not particularly fond of that statement, as it feels like a lazy way of thinking. I do not believe that we are incapable of knowing God, nor do I believe we can fully comprehend Him, but I do think we can at least know Him in part.
Young man, are you familiar with Metaphysics? From what I can see, the principle you’ve mentioned would have an indescribable impact on Metaphysics. I cannot say whether it would be for the better or for the worse. I need more time to think on it. I suspect it will take me the rest of my years.
But this principle of simplicity you’ve proposed makes me look forward to your research in Metaphysics—your conception of the universe."
"I know a thing or two," Eric said.
The old man moved to Eric’s side and said in a low voice, "Are they your own ideas, or someone else’s?"
Eric paused for a moment before finally saying, "Someone else’s."
"Whose? The Arabs’? The Greeks’? The Italians’? Or perhaps the Normans’ own?" The old man pointedly avoided mentioning faith, his tone growing somewhat hurried.
"You may be disappointed. In matters of Metaphysics, I favor Democritus over Plato," Eric said.
"All matter is composed of extremely small, indivisible particles called atoms. The world is made of countless tiny, indivisible particles (atoms) in eternal motion within a void, colliding and entangling with one another to form all existing things.
I read that in the works of Diogenes Laertius when I was young. It was deeply impressive, and also incredibly daunting.
Unexpected, yet upon reflection, it does suit your Identity as a Norman, even if my impression of the Normans is rather stereotypical." The old man stroked his messy beard, his brow furrowed. "If the Church had to choose between Plato, Aristotle, and Democritus to hang, they would choose Democritus without a moment’s hesitation. And if you were to mention Epicurus, you might find yourself burned at the stake as well.
Although this land was once the home of Democritus and Epicurus, the people here now hold not a shred of fondness for them. What are your thoughts on Plato?"
"Perhaps it isn’t quite appropriate to discuss such matters on the street. Besides, I have told you a great deal, yet you don’t seem to have given me the answer I was looking for," Eric said with a smile.
The old man laughed. "Young man, you are unlike most Normans I have met. You know a great deal, and you understand a great deal. Your grasp of philosophy is beyond my expectations. Among all the people I have known, my own teacher included, few have ever provoked such thought in me.
I believe my outing today was worthwhile. Even though recent days have been bleak and my heart is filled with gloom, meeting you has brought me joy.
You are right. It is not appropriate to discuss these things on the street. We need to find another place. Come with me. I will give you what you desire."
"Instead of just inviting me, shouldn’t you introduce yourself first? The one being invited can’t be kept completely in the dark," Eric said with a shrug.
"If this were three years ago, I would state my name without hesitation, for it represented honor. Now, I am just a strange old man who spouts nonsense.
In any case, you can call me Mikhail, or Proses."
"I cannot stay for long. I have other things to do."
"I know, I know. A young Norman with the build of a Warrior, appearing in Constantinople at a time like this... who else could it be for, but for the Komnenos Emperor sitting on his throne in the Imperial Palace?
Alexios Komnenos. He trusts foreigners more than he trusts Greeks. The very first thing he did upon taking the throne was to gather all the foreigners in the Empire to Constantinople, then clap them in armor. All so his ’loyal’ subjects in Constantinople might forget the ugly deeds he committed on the night he seized the city.
My residence is not far from here; you’ll be able to get back quickly. Don’t worry, he’s in no hurry to summon you. His dear Western Caesar, the Emperor of the Teutons, plans to offer some ’suggestions’ on his foreign policy."
"The Emperor of the Teutons has already arrived?"
"Yes, he arrived a week ago. And it has been nothing but endless arguments since. The Teutonic Knights destroyed a tavern and nearly burned down a Church."
Mikhail then turned and started walking in one direction, leading the way for Eric, completely ignoring the baskets behind him.
"Wait, your baskets are still here, Mikhail," Eric pointed out.
"No need. They are a new, strange kind of basket. They will return to my room by the time we reach our destination."
...
The Monastery was not far down the street. It was a small one, situated in a way that it was slightly out of the light, and very few people ever passed by.
This created a silence utterly different from the outside world, a silence tinged with a subtle sense of decay.
The Monastery’s stone walls were visibly old, the surface of the stones showing signs of weathering. It was completely out of place with the splendor of Constantinople, as if it were a prisoner trapped within the city, squeezed by the surrounding streets with no way to escape.
Mikhail led Eric into the Monastery.
Two Cultivators were sitting in the shade of a tree, arguing heatedly.
"God must suffer. Just as the scriptures say, Christ bore the Cross for the world and endured the pain of sin. And Christ is God, is He not?"
"No, God cannot suffer. God is immutable. His state of being is eternally unchanging, and He is perfect. If God were to suffer, it would mean He is changing, that He has deviated from the definition of perfection. Your idea is not only illogical but also blasphemous. What could be more illogical, more impious, than to believe the Unchanging can change?"
"But if God does not suffer, how can He love? How can He show mercy?"
Though their debate was heated, they noticed the approaching footsteps. They looked up, saw Mikhail, and immediately rose and bowed to him. "Teacher, we wish to know your opinion on the suffering of God."
They then restated their respective arguments before Mikhail.
"’Does God suffer?’" Mikhail thought for a moment, then said, "God suffers in His human nature, but not in His divine nature."
Although this answer was reasonable, it still had its flaws and did not completely convince the two Cultivators.
’Does God retain His human nature forever? In the God we worship now, what is the ratio of His humanity to His divinity?’
The topic was growing ever more complex.
Mikhail was starting to get a headache. He decided to cut the discussion short and said, "Now, Theodorus, Andreas..."
Before Mikhail could finish, Eric’s voice came from behind him.
"God suffers voluntarily and actively, Brothers. God is omnipotent, which means He also has the ability to choose to suffer. He actively chooses to suffer out of His love for mankind."
Eric’s answer left the two Cultivators in silence.
Mikhail immediately grabbed Eric and hurried him toward the library.
The library was a vast space, packed with bookshelves that were slightly shorter than Eric.
"This is the temple of knowledge in this great city! It possesses more..."
Mikhail couldn’t help but start boasting, but in the next moment, a Cultivator came in and whispered a few words in his ear.
Mikhail then told Eric that he needed to step out to receive someone. He said Eric could admire the collection of books and that he would be back shortly.
After getting an affirmative nod from Eric, Mikhail left.
The library was large and had many bookshelves, but Eric was now alone. He didn’t see a single Cultivator.
’Perhaps it’s not the designated time for borrowing books.’
Eric began to walk between the shelves, though he had little interest in the books.
Although there were many books, at least a third of them were repetitive in content. The authors of another third were hacks, their views utterly lacking in originality.
Eric had read far too many books like these during his study of the Seven Liberal Arts in Rome.
As for the final third, Eric had already read most of them or was familiar with their contents from other works.
Before long, Eric found some rather strange books: *The Merits of the Belly*, *The Proper Way to Fart*, *A Methodology of Defecation*, *The Art of Hair Removal*, *The Kingdom of Satan*...
Finally, Eric’s gaze fell upon a book with no cover—or rather, a book whose cover had been torn off.
It looked completely bare.