We Didn't Make It After All

Chapter Four

Nana murmured a prayer before sitting on one of the wooden benches cascading down the room. I sat next to her as people streamed in through the entryway—Sol, Anderson, Mateo and Isabella—accompanied by their families, until the sermon finally began. The sermon itself passed like most uneventful things do, leaving you with the dread that comes with wasted time. When it was finally time for Nana and I to gather our belongings to leave, the head abbot approached us with an innocuous smile that distinctly resembled Ezra's. "Good morning, Sofia. How are you?"

"Great, thank you, Edem. This is Narnie, my granddaughter."

His eyes wandered to mine. "I thought I identified a new face."

"Pleasure to meet you, Edem."

"The pleasure is all mine, Narnie. You're enjoying Holden so far, I reckon?"

I bit my lip, my thoughts wandering to Ezra.

"I take that as a yes."

"It's lovely," I said. "The people, at least."

"She's met a boy," Nana said sheepishly.

"Nana," I groaned.

Edem chuckled, the gesture meeting his eyes. "How exciting."

"Exciting, but also nerve wracking. You know how young girls are. Is there anything else, Edem? I'm a bit behind on some errands..."

"Actually, Nana, you go," I told her. I looked around the hall at the artifacts. I wanted to explore this place more, to take some pictures outside of the beautiful mountaintops. "I have a question for Edem before heading out."

Her eyes brightened at my sudden interest in the abbot. "Would you mind giving her a lift to town, Edem?"

A small smile graced his chiseled face. He must have been young—in his mid thirties at the latest—and I wondered when he had made the decision to devote his life to a higher power. "Of course, Sof."

Nana kissed my cheek before taking her leave.

I faced Edem as she walked away. "How do you know, Edem?"

"Know?"

"How do you know that your faith is not fiction?"

He recoiled, pleased with my question despite its abrasiveness. "A curious one, aren't you?" When I said nothing, he turned towards the sculptures. "Modern science is good at what it does, Narnie, but it is not enough. It does not account for the immaterial. If you will follow me?"

He led me to a room full of paintings beside the congregation hall, stopping before one in particular. His fingers gently caressed its exquisite frame. According to an inscription, it was carved by Nikolas Oerding, a sixteenth century carpenter with a penchant for metalwork. I examined the painting contained within it, painted by a certain Joannes Parker, its intricate caricatures and colorful violence.

"When you look at this," he began, "tell me, what do you see?"

I looked at it again, taking in the mystical blue of the main subject. A figure resembling a human stood beside him, an axe in hand and in the process of lifting it to kill him.

"I see a person trying to chop off the head of another."

"Can you guess who that figure might be? The one in blue?"

"I'm not sure..."

"It's supposed to represent God."

My eyes hastened toward Edem's. His face was austere as he examined the painting himself. "It's all symbolic, of course. Our belief is that if we wish to achieve any degree of divine awareness, we must first destroy all ideas we have of who God may be. Because you know, if God does exist, they are beyond what we can fathom, as our conception will always be constrained within the finite boundaries of our imagination. So to answer your question, Narnie, this faith is not a fiction because it does not pretend to have answers. It encourages uncertainty—revels in it, even."