The Worship of Mystery Read online

  The Worship of Mystery

  A Temple of All Worlds Novel

  J.R. Mabry

  Apocryphile Press | www.apocryphilepress.com

  1700 Shattuck Ave #8, Berkeley, CA 94709

  © Copyright 2018 by J. R. Mabry

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 978-1-947826-95-3 | paper

  eISBN 978-1-947826-96-0 | epub

  Adi Granth quotation from Selections from the Sacred Writings of the Sikhs translated by Trilochan Singh, et al (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1960). Black Elk quotation from L’Oeil du Coeur by Frthjog Schuon (Paris: Gallimard, 1950). Srimad Bhagavatam quotation from Srimad Bhagavatam: The Wisdom of God translated by Swami Prabhavananda (Hollywood: Vedanta Press, 1943). Dhammapada quotation from The Dhammapada, translated by Narada Maha Thera (Colombo, Sri Lanka: Vajirarama, 1972). Rig Veda quotation from Hymns from the Vedas, edited by Abinash Chandra Bose (Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1966). Mahabharata quote from Religion and Society at Cross-roads by Shivamurthy Shivacharya Mahaswamiji (Sirigere, India: Sri Taralabalu Jagadguru Brihanmath, 1990). Hadith of Muslim quotation from Sahih Muslim translated by Abdul Hamid Siddiqi (New Delhi: Kitab Bhavan, 1977). Romans 7:23-24 (adapted) and Psalm 51:8 from the New Revised Standard Version. All other Bible quotations from the Common English Bible.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without written permission of the author and publisher, except for brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Other Fiction by J. R. Mabry

  The Oblivion Saga

  Oblivion Threshold • Oblivion Flight

  Oblivion Quest • Oblivion Gambit

  The Berkeley Blackfriars Series:

  The Kingdom • The Power • The Glory

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  The Aphorisms of Kvoch

  The TAW Creed

  Prelude

  1. Arrival

  2. Invitation

  3. Meeting

  4. Memorial

  5. Execution

  6. Field Trip

  7. Vision

  8. Krishna

  9. Grief

  10. Murder

  11. Rescue

  12. Conversion

  13. Prison

  14. The Lotus Eaters

  15. Into Mystery

  Epilogue

  For my colleagues and students at the Chaplaincy Institute.

  Reach for the stars, my friends…

  Acknowledgments

  Ideas for the Kvochit theology were mined from Alfred Schutz and Thomas Luckmann’s The Structures of the Life-World, Vol. 2 (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1989). One of Rabbi Stolarz’s quotations inspired by Shaun McCarty, ST’s article, “Spiritual Directors: Teachers and Guardians of Mystery,” published in Presence, Vol. 4, No. 1), 1998. My soundtrack for the writing of this novel was Vaughan Williams’s Sinfonia Antartica, his blustery seventh symphony (sans annoying narration).

  My grateful thanks to Suzanne Tindall for sitting with me over coffee and regaling me with tales of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE)—and letting me take notes. Thanks to my wife who eagerly awaited each scene as it emerged out of mystery. Lisa, you are my intended audience. Thanks to Jason Whited, my editor, for encouraging me. And finally, thanks to my Chaplaincy Institute students who bravely go into CPE—where even angels fear to tread.

  The Aphorisms of Kvoch

  Translation by George Tucker

  1. The world existed before us, and will continue to exist after us. None of this is seen, and all of it is Mystery.*

  2. When we close our eyes, objects do not cease to exist. When we open our eyes, they do not suddenly exist. What is in Mystery is real.

  3. There are others who are like us, yet only their flesh can be seen. What is most precious about them is Mystery.

  4. There is a wall, and there is something beyond the wall. Everything beyond the wall is Mystery.

  5. No one can retrieve yesterday, pluck the moon from the sky, or know the experience of another sentient being. What cannot be done is Mystery.

  6. Thought objects may be retrieved from Mystery. These objects are real and vitally connected to things that are in Mystery. They may be wielded skillfully or unskillfully in the seen world. These we call symbols.**

  *The word translated as “mystery” may also be translated as “unseen.” The most literal English translation is the original meaning of the word “occult,” or, more expansively, “that which is hidden from view.”

  **“Symbols” may also be translated “images” or “signs.”

  The TAW Creed

  Editor’s note: The TAW has no creed. What follows is only what is popularly referred to as “the Creed.” In fact, it is the Preamble to the Theological Statement of the Hick Accord of 2140, the most succinct statement of common faith, and the starting point of the 4,359-page Theological Reflections of the Temple of All Worlds. While there are no numbers in the original, it has become customary to number the tenets when excerpted, as below.

  1. There is One Mystery behind the Universe, which is known by many names. All religions point, imperfectly and erratically, toward this Mystery.

  2. This Mystery is a single spiritual reality that upholds and sustains all things—it is in all things, and all things are contained within it. Mystery is Transcendent, Immanent, and Incarnational.

  3. In Mystery there is both oneness and distinction—if one pursues oneness, one finds distinction; if one pursues distinction, one finds oneness.

  4. No religion is entirely correct, and yet they are all correct in some respects. Religions are symbol sets—constellations of interrelated symbol, ritual, and myth that point beyond themselves toward a greater Mystery.

  5. To regard the symbols of a given religion metaphorically is devotion; to regard them literally is idolatry.

  6. Mythology is the vehicle of truth, but it is not a chronicle of history. In religious life, myth is more important than history.

  7. To seek connection with Mystery is worship, to seek unity with Mystery is mysticism, to desire what Mystery desires is justice, and to uphold others in their seeking and desire is spiritual community.

  8. Community may be found both within religions and between them. It is desirable for religions to be in community with other religions. Religions that refuse community and connection with other religions are sectarian and antiestablishment. They are to be tolerated but discouraged.

  9. Tolerance is superior to violence, understanding is superior to tolerance, love is superior to understanding, and unity is superior to love.

  10. There is an unknowable infinite good that is the end of all sentient life, toward which all of our eschatological mythology points.

  Prelude

  Disappointment is the shove

  that Allah gives to us

  when we are not facing Mecca.

  —Sufi poet Najat Ozkaya (14th c.),

  from A Soul of Beaten Felt

  “Your reign of terror is at an end, Mr. Frun-Jheez. I am finished. Free. Retired.” Arjun Battacharya tossed a datapad to the Eppet.

  “What the fuck is this?” The Eppet caught it and squinted at the pad, awkwardly balancing it on his forepaws.

  “It is my formal retirement request. I thought I would make it in person.”

  The room was dim and had a slightly red cast—adjusted for optimum comfort for the Eppet. Posters and a few crooked pictures were hung on the walls at about thigh height. The desk was a whirlwind of disorder.

  “I suspected something was up, Reverend. I haven’t smelled you or your mangy mutt in years.”

  Jun smiled with patient triumph, leaning on his cane as if it were a fashion accessory. A middle-aged yellow corgi lay sprawled on one of his feet, panting loudly.

  Frun-Jheez tossed the pad aside and refluffed the pillow on the stool that just barely situated him at a functional level at the desk. He did this with all four paws, his tail making grandiose loops in the air. He sat down again heavily and smoothed the fur around his mouth with the back of his paw. “There’s just one problem with that.”

  “Don’t you fuck with me, Frun-Jheez!” Jun pointed his cane at him. “This is not a joke. I have put in my time and then some.”

  “This just came in. Check your mail.”

  Jun looked up and to the left, accessing his datalynk communications. It was dated five minutes ago. He cursed himself. He had seen the blinking light indicating a new message, but that kind of thing happened all the time. He usually just ignored it until he had time to tend to the messages. With a couple of quick blinks, he opened the message and read.

  It was a field evaluation from his last job. “This is bullshit. The governor of Nugegoda Colony has already filed her evaluation. I received ten points, which puts me over the top. I now have enough for full retirement.”

  “Just. But this is a dissenting opinion from the colony’s medical administrator. Looks like you made some enemies.”

  Jun’s eyes scanned the empty air in front of him as he read the report. His fist clenched around the handle of his cane. He wanted to punch someone. Frun-Jheez was a handy choice, but it wasn’t a fair fight—Eppets were much smaller than humans, and had a delicate bone structure that didn’t take kindly to Earth-standard gravity. Jun secretly suspected that was why Frun-Jheez was such a pain in the ass. He liked seeing his cha
rges riled, and knew that there was nothing most of them could do about it.

  “We butted heads a few times. There is nothing damning in this report.”

  “No, but under the new regs, dissenting opinions from senior staff are averaged into your ranking. This Dr. Ibrahim gave you four points, which brings down your average to seven—two points shy of your retirement threshold.” The Eppet leaned back and put his forepaws behind his head in an infuriating display of smugness.

  “This is bullshit,” Jun repeated.

  “Yeah, you said that already. Take it up with someone who cares. Oh, I know—why don’t you pray about it?” His lips parted, revealing all of his fangs—part grin, part grimace. The effect was far more menacing than jolly. “God loves you, or so I hear.”

  “I already had twelve points over—”

  “And you lost them.”

  “My parents died, Frun-Jheez. I had to take the time off. I had responsibilities.”

  “And you got ’em here, too. Look, if you really want out now, say so. You could have retired at three-quarters pay anytime in the last five years. You still can. Walk out of here today, go to Bumfuck, Illinois, or wherever it is you want to go.”

  “That is not going to happen.”

  “Then I’ve got a sweet assignment for you. Play your cards right, keep your nose clean, and you’ll be ready to hit the cornfields with your geriatric mutt in six months.”

  “I plan to appeal this,” Jun said, pounding his cane on the floor.

  “Knock yourself out. In the meantime, pack your bags. There’s a transport leaving at 1400.”

  “For where?” Jun asked through gritted teeth.

  “A mining colony near Epsilon Eri. You’re gonna love the name—Skagway.”

  “Skagway?”

  “Yeah, sounds like a certain kind of doe I used to hang out with in college, you know what I mean?” Frun-Jheez wiggled an eyebrow. It was repulsive. Jun scowled.

  “This is not fair—”

  “Don’t talk to me about fair. This isn’t some personal vendetta; it’s math. You need a certain number of units to retire. You don’t have them, so bye-bye. It’s not like you guys have to do hazard duty.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When I was in the army, were you chaplain types ever out on the front lines? No way. You were behind the lines with the doctors, cleaning up the mess.”

  “That is simply not—”

  “So stop whining. Those of us in the God business have got it good.”

  “You are not in the God business, Frun-Jheez. You’re a glorified dispatcher.”

  “Don’t deflect. My point is that you guys have no reason to complain. Some people actually have dangerous jobs. God is safe.”

  Jun set his cane and turned toward the door. “If only that were true.”

  One

  Arrival

  It was the tree of knowledge that killed.

  — TAW Rabbi Jacob Stolarz (22nd c.)

  “Welcome to the Colonial Authority Shuttle Cotillion. The countdown clock has started, folks, so please find your seats and strap in. Anyone here not travelled superluminal before?”

  Jun tripped as he stepped aboard, dropping his cane and almost falling as he tried to set his foot in a way that didn’t step on Bhima. “Sorry, boy,” he said, and grunted as he reached down to retrieve the cane. The passageway was narrow, but he managed it, although seconds later he nearly tripped again, catching hold of a strap with his free hand. He noted that if he had pulled out rather than down on the strap it would have brought a drawer full of God-knows-what raining down on his dog.

  “Watch yer step!” the same voice barked, and Jun looked up, expecting to see a drill sergeant. He was not disappointed. The cabin service director’s uniform was the familiar blue-black of the Colonial Authority Transport Corps, but his stocky frame, grizzled features, and buzz-cut short hair were stereotypically military.

  “You okay?” asked a feminine voice behind him. He shot a look over his shoulder and gave a polite nod.

  “Okay, so a couple of newbies,” the cabin service director groused. “Make sure you strap yourselves in tight, ladies and gentlemen, because when the Vacuum Drive kicks in, you’re in for a wild ride. If you’re not strapped in properly, we’ll be spooning you off the back wall of the cabin when we arrive in Skagway. Once we hit superluminal velocity, our journey will be relatively brief—we’ll spend more time strapping in than we actually do traveling. Don’t think you’ll be getting any reading done, either, cupcakes. This shuttle doesn’t have a field dampener, so you’ll be more concerned about holding onto your teeth than finishing your novel. Cabin crew, on your marks. Let’s get these civilians stowed.”

  Jun mumbled his seat number over and over, guiding Bhima to the penultimate starboard aisle, and turned left toward the prow. He counted off the seats, even though he didn’t have to—the numbers were prominently displayed. Near the front of the cabin, he found his seat. “Bhima, sit,” he said, and when Bhima did, he leaned his cane against his seat, opened the overhead bin above, and stowed his shoulder bag. He shut and fastened the bin and then turned to his dog. “You know the drill, big man.” Jun cast about for a harness. Usually, there was a bin clearly marked for domestic animal harnesses, but Jun didn’t see it. He looked up and saw the woman who had been behind him when he tripped.

  “We’re cabin mates, it seems,” she said. She glanced down at her pad and then up at the seat number. ‘That’s me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jun watched her stow her carry-ons, but he was looking for a crewmember. In a moment, he saw the cabin service director crossing his aisle about three cabins aft. He waved and was relieved to catch his eye.

  The gruff man scowled but changed course and made his way up the aisle. “Help you?” he barked.

  “Yes, please. I can’t find the bin for the domestic harnesses,” Jun said pleasantly.

  With a quick glance at the ceiling that might have been an eye roll, the cabin service director pointed at an unmarked bin at the cabin’s fore. Then he turned and stalked off down the aisle again.

  “So, he’s a people person, then,” the woman said, beginning to buckle herself in.

  Jun picked up his cane and went toward the place the sergeant had indicated. Sizing up the most likely bin, he snapped off the catches and pulled on the worn blue-black strap. Inside were about fifteen tangled harnesses of varying sizes, intended for a menagerie of species. He threw the tangle on the floor and glanced up at the countdown clock. Twenty minutes to go. He forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly and then, creakily, lowered himself to his one good knee to sort through the mess. Bhima sniffed at the straps, no doubt enjoying the olfactory balm of animals past. Eventually he separated a harness intended for a medium-sized canine that was not too frayed and grimaced briefly as he rose in triumph. “Success,” he told Bhima and returned to his seat.

  Tossing his cane to the floor, he steadied himself on the arm of his seat and lowered himself to both knees as he started to fasten the harness onto Bhima.

  “What’s his name?” the woman asked.

  “Bhima,” Jun said. He stopped what he was doing and turned his face up to her. “I’m sorry; I haven’t been kind. I’ve been so focused on him…and rushed. I’m Arjun Battacharya. Please call me Jun.” He held out his hand, and she took it, smiling warmly.

  “I figured as much. He’s your kid. You gotta make sure he’s safe.”