The Eighth Day of Creation

FORWARD

The Bible is not just words, but also a poem with a melody. It is God's libretto, we are His choir. We perform in His choral symphony. In speech we often argue. In song we seek harmony. Music is the language of the soul, through it we enter the unity of the Divine. The Bible is God's song. We are its singers. Harmonize this melody with me:

Dov Silverman

CHAPTER 1

-

Vinegar Joe

82nd Police Precinct Brooklyn:

Captain, the desk Sergeant asked, Is this slob coming up the steps, him?

Vinegar Joe and none other.

He sure as hell ain't my image of a Washington whiz kid.

Don’t let the crew cut; rumpled clothes and dead cigar fool you. He’s the best interrogator America has for this kind of case.

What can Reverend Smith know that interests Washington?

Whatever it is, Vinegar Joe will find out.

Are you sitting in for the interrogation room?

He works alone. I’ll meet him in my office. Put out the bottle of Dewar’s. He drinks like a fish.

FBI advisor Joseph Jobynski PhD. entered Captain Jim Moran’s office without knocking. He took a chair without asking and moved the stub of his dead cigar from the left to the right side of his mouth without using his hands saying, Give me the facts. He said.

And good afternoon to you. Captain Moran said.

We've worked together before. Jobynski said.

Jim Moran took a silver cylinder from his uniform pocket and offered it across the desk to Vinegar Joe saying, Pure hand rolled Havana

Jobynski waved off the cigar and pulled the chewed plug of tobacco from his mouth saying, I don’t smoke ‘em. I chew these guinea stinkers.

Looks like an old turd.

Clue me in. Jobynski said.

At nine this morning, Congressman, Michael Murphy arrived at 72 Linden Street, Brooklyn, with a TV camera crew to interview Reverend Paul Smith and members of the Church of God. Murphy was asked to leave. He refused. Smith sent gunmen. They killed Murphy, an NBC correspondent, his cameraman, a Daily News photographer and an onlooker. Reverend Smith disappeared into the building; there was some wailing, hymn singing, then quiet.

Did the congressman and his entourage have a police escort?

I had a special undercover unit in a van across the street with legal court order for wire taps and listening device surveillance.

Anything.

We recorded the bastard ordering the killing of Murphy.

The bastard you mean is Paul Smith?

Right.

Did the Reverend order his congregants killed?

Yes, Moran said. Smith is on tape giving the command for them to commit suicide or be killed.

Are you being pressured?

You’re here, Moran said. Every politician in the tri-state area has called. But I got this bastard nailed. It’s a slam/dunk. Why did they send you?

Ignoring the question Jobynski asked. Where's most of the political pressure coming from?

Smith’s godmother, Charlene Ringle

What do you know about Smith?

A self-proclaimed minister from a small town in the Midwest. He set up shop in San Francisco. They ran him out for fraud, theft, statutory rape and assault. He moved his people and church to Brooklyn.

Why here?

He found Congresswoman Charlene Ringle. She's his good fairy godmother.

That takes money.

Smith has it. He gets donations by mail and from fraudulent Social Security checks of his parishioners.

How many in his congregation?

With wings or without?

What?

He has two hundred angels from the Cypress Hills Cemetery.

He collects Social Security on them?

Every month. His living congregants give 40% percent of their salaries to the church. Most sign over their real-estate. He’s planning to enter the television ministry. Another David Koresh from whacko Texas.

You mean Waco.

"These stump-jumping preachers are all whackos.

He’s more like Jim Jones.

You mean the American in Guyana where 900 killed themselves.

Most were murdered.

I never heard that?

Too many politicians, involved, Jobynski said. I found ten million dollars In Switzerland, another ten million in Panama with links to Washington.

This Smith is smart.

Is he crazy?

Like a fox. He talks like Jesus Christ when he’s Paul Smith, but only makes sense when he’s God.

Aren’t they one and the same?

The captain shrugged. He’s trying for an insanity plea. Moran pushed the bottle of scotch and a glass toward Jobynski. Pour your own.

I’d feel more secure if you join me, Jobynski said,

I don’t drink on duty.

I do and don’t want to be hassled about it.

Take the bottle, Moran waved. Why did they send you for a clown like Smith?

Jobynski poured the amber liquid into a water glass. He held it up to the light, then swallowed it in one gulp and said, You don’t need to know.

This is my ball park. Moran said.

No longer, Vinegar Joe opened his briefcase and handed over an official document. He tapped the signatures at the bottom saying, The Attorney General of the United States and the Governor of New York. State, he said.

That means it’s a political mess, Moran said.

"Where’s this mess-siah at?"

Doctor Jobynski, Captain Moran pointed to the door, God awaits you in the Interrogation Room.

CHAPTER 2

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Vinegar Joe and God

Vinegar Joe approached the large balding, unshaven, man in the wheelchair. Why do you want to talk with me? Jobynski asked.

You're scheduled to speak on prime time television this evening. Reverend Paul Smith said. His voice was deep and resonant, his bloodshot blue eyes soft and inquiring.

What 's that to do with the charges against you? Jobynski asked.

Everything concerns me. I'm God. Smith grinned You’re a former priest who…

How do you know? Joe interrupted.

I’m God."

Do I call you Jesus?

God will do.

"Why did you use Congresswoman Ringle to get me down here?

"You’re qualified.

How?

As a priest you were the Vatican’s expert on the Old Testament…

I was defrocked.

For honorable reasons.

What else?

You have a PhD. In criminology and Professorship teaching quantum physics and the Big Bang Theory of Creation at Harvard. Your IQ is 180.

I have a doctorate. And I’m married.

They just awarded you a professorship and chair endowed by George Sorros. Your wife is ill, the rest of your family dead and you hold me, Paul Smith tapped his chest, responsible.

Paul you are so full of shit your eyes are turning brown.

Now you’re speaking to God. If you wish to question Paul Smith I’ll call him up.

You went to a lot of trouble to find out about me, Jobynski said.

I planned it.

Did you order the deaths of 613 people in the Church of God just to meet me?

Ask Paul Smith.

I thought God knows everything?

You don’t believe I am who I say. You believe I'm a murderer seeking an insanity plea. Or possibly I am suffering a complete disintegration of thinking and emotional processes.

Moral dissolution too! Jobynski fired back.

My description of schizophrenia included the emotional process.

Touché! Jobynski said, But I’m an agnostic?

Your problem is religion not Me. You prayed and begged to come before Me and vent your anger at the injustices suffered by you, your family and mankind. Here I am.

Vinegar Joe needed all his self-discipline to continue. He patted a diary in his jacket pocket. "For years I’ve been preparing my case against God, but you sure as shit ain’t Him.

You’re scheduled to speak tonight on TV proving God is dead.

Now I get it. You’re going to change my mind?

You have freedom of choice.

Listen to me, Paul Smith, God or whoever the hell you think you are. Give me five minutes with God, I'll tear Him a new asshole, Jobynski sat back saying, How you found out about that is beyond me.

Of course it is.

"Did all those people have to die for you to meet me?

Ask Paul Smith. the man in the wheelchair said, You want me to justify why your daughter died in such a terrible senseless way. Why your wife is in a mental institution and her father was killed and her mother a suicide after your son died of leukemia.

You’re a smart bastard. Vinegar Joe pointed to the big unshaven man in the large leather upholstered, electric wheelchair. You did a hell of a lot of research but I’ll get the truth.

That’s another reason I chose you, Paul Smith said. You’re a truth seeker."

How could you be certain I’d come?

Paul Smith smirked, tilted his balding head, his unshaven cheeks bunched up under smiling blue eyes. Fifty percent of the answer is found in a good question.

Yeah! Yeah! You’re God.

Correct.

I’d like to speak with Reverend Smith.

Be my guest.

The man in the wheel chair gripped the armrest and the knuckles of his large hands turned white. He leaned forward, his shoulders broadened and he appeared to fill the room. His eyes lost their compassion, his pleasant face became a smiling mask. His blue eyes turned gunmetal grey and darted around the room. He focused on Vinegar Joe Jobynski. Well, hello there! Paul Smith boomed. I’ve been waiting to ask why they call you Vinegar Joe?

Because of my pleasant personality. And I ask the questions. Why did you request me?

Your track record with multiple suicides in Jonestown and Waco, Texas and that other guy and his people waiting for a space ship.

I found all three of them responsible for the deaths of their congregants.

Charlene Ringle said you were fair, truthful and took every aspect into consideration. If you’re honest, you’ll find me innocent.

You’ve got to be kidding?

Not at all, Smith said.

Don’t you have strict rules of conduct for the worshippers in the Church of God?

Yes,

Didn’t you write those rules?

I did?

And during the indoctrination period of new parishioners…?

Mr. Jobynski, I thought you were a fair man. The word indoctrination sounds like some Commie militant organization.

Do you know God?

Of course.

What does he look like?

Come now. No man can see God and live. I talk to Jesus. He is my Father.

You mean your father in heaven?

That too. I was born again as the son of Jesus Christ.

"You’re the son of Jesus Christ?

Yes!

Who was your mother?

Sarcasm is not fitting.

You claim to be the Savior everyone’s waiting for?

Yes.

Are you saying that you're the messiah?

Paul Smith’s mask of pleasantness hardened, his face turned grim and his voice sharp as flint. That’s the reason you’re here, he said. You’re going on TV to prove God is dead. And I will prove He’s alive and well.

And you are Him?

I’m his son.

Paul, Jobynski sighed, let’s get real. You're claiming that as the messiah you ordered the deaths of hundreds of people to prove me wrong?

Don't twist my words. My congregants, bless them, voluntarily gave up their lives to save humanity.

At your command.

No! Paul Smith glared at Jobynski.

You used those poor souls to get publicity for your message. Jobynski snapped.

Paul Smith eased his large frame back into the wheelchair pointed at the two way glass at the end of the interrogation room. You have cameras and microphones on?

Of course, Jobynski said. Captain Moran and the desk sergeant are behind the glass to witness that my questioning is proper.

Proper! Ha! Don’t you call this the interrogation room not the questioning room? Shouldn’t you read me my rights under the Miranda Law?

Only when and if I charge you.

Can I leave?

You can leave but God must stay.

What are you talking about?

"A minute ago you said you were God. You, or God and I had a conversation. God took responsibility for everything.

You’re acting as weird as you look, Paul Smith said.

And you’re acting like a half-ass schizophrenic, Jobynski snapped First you say you talk to Jesus and you are his son. I say you're a bastard who doesn’t know his mother and fakes knowing God.

Paul Smith’s face darkened, his lips curled displaying tobacco stained teeth. He growled, If you’re trying to prove me sane you’re doing a bad job. You sound unbalanced. I know God through prayer.

Were you ever diagnosed or treated for schizophrenia? Jobynski asked.

No.

Other mental illnesses?

Never!

I thought the son of God would tell the truth?

Paul Smith came up, out of his wheelchair and stood to his full height of six feet three inches 290 pounds glaring down at Vinegar Joe.

I could squash you like a piss-ant.

But the son of Jesus wouldn’t resort to violence.

Be thankful, Paul sat down.

Why use a wheel chair when you can walk?

Football injuries. Both knees were replaced twice.

Can’t you heal yourself? You don’t remember speaking to me as God?

You switch subjects quickly.

And you deflect my questions giving you time to think.

Touché! I’ve been interrogated before.

In San Francisco.

I thought you'd get to that. Even the cops there are gay.

They ran you out of town.

I backed the wrong political party. Homosexuality is rampant in that corrupt city. Queers and dykes control it as they did in Sodom and Gomorrah. You can’t walk down the street without someone patting your ass. Paul Smith immediately looked up for the cameras. Would it be too much to ask if you deleted that curse word?

I understand. Joe said and turned to the two way window and said, Delete, as Reverend Smith requested.

In the observation room captain Moran ordered, Sergeant, don’t touch those controls. We’re forbidden to edit.

But Jobynski said…

Vinegar Joe knows the rules. He’s playing that big asshole. Captain Moran picked up the microphone and said, Dr. Jobynski, we've done as you directed.

Jobynski nodded and Paul Smith said, Thank you.

We’re all human. Jobynski said.

But not equal. Paul Smith said. You see it may be difficult for you to understand, but I’ve been chosen to bring redemption to mankind.

Who chose you?

Jesus, our beloved savior. He suffered and died on the cross for our sins. He gave humanity a clean slate and we've dirtied it. Paul Smith’s voice rose and fell as if speaking from the pulpit. His eyes focused on a distant place as he said, This time mankind will suffer. Only those who heed the word of the Lord will be spared.

But why did the 613 people have to die?

They were privileged to sacrifice themselves so millions of others would learn of the redemption and be saved. Those who join the Church of God will be spared.

Is that what you taught them?

"Exactly as Jesus taught me.

Did you give your people the privilege of choice or did you order them to die?

My congregants sacrificed themselves knowingly so that humanity would be saved!

You admit to ordering them to commit suicide?

Never!

Is the number 613 significant?

Congresswoman Ringle said you were an Old Testament scholar. You tell me. Paul Smith said.

Six hundred and thirteen represents the number of commandments in the Old Testament.

Paul Smith’s face relaxed, his smile was genuine, Three hundred and sixty-five negative commandments, two hundred and forty-eight positive ones. He said.

I’m impressed. Jobynski said. But as the Son of Christ you know that your father canceled the Old Testament in favor of the new one.

Now you’re beginning to earn your nickname, Vinegar Joe. Sarcasm suits you. Isn’t Jobynski a Polish name? Were your parents from Europe?

I didn’t know my parents, Jobynski said. Were yours religious?

Mine were first class sinners, Smith said. Drugs, alcohol, you name the laws of God and my Mom and Dad broke them all. They even invented some new sins.

Where are they now?

In hell, I hope.

How did you get religion?

You grew up as an orphan? Smith said. That’s sad.

I got over it.

Did you ever get over being born in a coffin?

Jobynski rocked back in his chair as if struck. He was losing control of the interrogation and said, How did you come to Christ?

On my knees, Paul Smith answered. In front of a television set. Billy Graham was preaching. He opened my heart to Jesus.

What were you doing at the time? Jobynski asked.

Running a whorehouse and selling drugs.

What happened?

I chased the Johns out of the house, burned the drugs and tried to convert the whores.

Were you successful?

No, the girls got pissed off. They kicked the shit out of me. They took over the whorehouse and I spent two months in a Baltimore hospital.

Vinegar Joe rubbed his forehead and pressed his bristly hair back with both hands. He turned to the large two way glass and said. I’ve got to take a whiz.

What’s a whiz? Paul asked.

A piss call. If you need to go, I’ll have an officer…

No thank you

+++

CHAPTER 3

-

Revelations

Vinegar Joe entered the observation room and the Sergeant said, The toilets at the other end of the hall.

No need. I had to break it off. He got to me.

Were you really born in a coffin? Captain Moran asked.

Jobynski snatched the bottle of Dewar’s and poured half a water glass. Yeah, he said. They were burying my mother in Pauper’s Field when they heard me crying inside the box.

Holy shit! The sergeant said.

Is that why you were raised in a monastery? Moran asked.

The Bishop thought it was some kind of miracle.

And you went on to be a priest. The sergeant said.

No. I ran away. I got religion as a Marine in Viet Nam. On discharge, the regimental Chaplin recommended I enter the priesthood.

Why did the Vatican send you to study criminology? Captain Moran asked.

Priests in confessionals often hear of illegal acts or ones about to be committed. My assignment was to write a guide on how priests should question and answer in such cases.

Sounds positive.

"I made the mistake practicing the questions on priests in the confessional. That’s