The Divine Committee of San Miguel el Grande MP3
Read by Clive Greenwood
Clouds drifted across the sky, and somewhere out in the scrub a coyote howled into the night. In the town of San Miguel el Grande though, everything was still and silent - until a figure detached itself from the shadows, and desperately urged an old donkey towards the open gate. And so it was that on the seventh day after his arrival, God left town.
The Almighty Father had ridden in late one afternoon in August. He arrived unannounced, guiding his mount into the town square and heading straight for the Church of Santa Maria, where he came across the old parish priest, Father Ignacio.
‘Good day, padre.’
‘Good day to you, friend. What brings you to San Miguel?’
‘I thought it was time I paid another visit. It’s been quite a while.’
‘Have you come from far?’
‘Oh, quite some distance.’ God smiled a little to himself at that.
‘Praise be to God for this fine weather, Padre.’
The priest straightened up then, glanced briefly at the clear blue sky and the shimmer of heat that lay over the square, and turned his tired eyes to the stranger above him.
‘I think if God wanted to be praised for the weather he would send a little rain once in a while.’ This was an entirely unexpected response, and God was caught off-guard.
‘But … but surely you cannot expect the Creator to manage the day-to-day weather? Look around you at the unfathomable majesty of his Creation, is that not enough?’
‘All I see are crops that won’t grow. How could they, when the land is so parched?’
God was lost for words, and fleetingly believed that perhaps this man before him was a heretic, maybe in the stolen robes of a true believer. He felt then a seed of doubt; a small but persistent thought that perhaps after so many eons of unheeded prayers, he no longer knew anything about these mortals.
A stranger in San Miguel el Grande was an uncommon and therefore highly valued spectacle, and one who rode into town only to start trouble with the famously strong-willed priest was sure to draw a crowd. As the Heavenly Father and his earthly representative discussed the finer points of the duties and responsibilities of a creator towards his creation in increasingly raised voices, a small but growing multitude gathered around them.
God was shocked, confused and more than a little hurt. He became increasingly flustered, whilst Father Ignacio’s calm and well-reasoned arguments were growing ever harder to refute. The people of this parish had grown used to the weary cynicism of their priest, and were enjoying the show. God grew more and more self-conscious, aware that sitting up on his old donkey above the heads of the onlookers only made him look more foolish, and in a moment of embarrassed desperation he forgot his vow of anonymity, and loudly declared that, ‘I know what is written in the heart of God, old man, for I am God, the Almighty Creator of the Heavens and the Earth, the Beginning and the End of All Things.’
Having finished this pronouncement God fell silent, inwardly chastising himself for breaking his vow not to reveal himself, while outwardly turning a bright shade of red. A surprised and awkward hush hung over the square, until an old man at the back of the crowd started wheezing to himself, and like wildfire the laughter spread until God was surrounded by mocking jeers. Mere mortals… laughing at Him, the Supreme Being!
It could all have ended there, but his pride was wounded too deeply. A bright white light suddenly shone from within him, spreading out and washing over the crowd like the cool waters of the Rio Laja, in which most of the townspeople had been baptised, and a voice rang out over the broad valley, a voice like the sound of the trumpets that would herald the End of Days, and though the words were lost on the people who heard it, the awesome majesty of his voice at once proclaimed to everyone present that this was indeed the Almighty God…
…whose face now burned the deep crimson of shame, and who could not bring himself to meet the gaze of anyone present. He stared about at the buildings that ringed the square, furious with himself and dismayed at how quickly it was all unravelling. He cleared his throat in embarrassment.
‘Is, uh… are there any rooms available for temporary lodgings?’
The innkeeper, an overweight man with a dirty cloth slung over one shoulder, nodded, his mouth hanging open like the other stunned villagers around him. God, still astride his mount, picked his way through the silent crowd, his eyes fixed pointedly ahead. He spent the remainder of the evening pacing up and down the small room he had taken at the inn. He hadn’t had a plan as such, and was now somewhat regretting this impromptu visit.
Meanwhile, in the church, a hastily assembled town meeting was underway. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind now that their visitor truly was the Almighty. But there was uncertainty about what to do about it. The more devoted among them, who prayed daily in the chapel and attended every sermon Father Ignacio remembered to give, were vocally calling for a celebration to be arranged, to properly welcome the Lord Almighty. However, these people were few in number and were largely ignored.
The farmers and their families, whose crops were failing for the third year in a row, and whose livestock were malnourished and greatly reduced in number, would not have been able to provide for a feast, even if they’d had a mind to. Another summer without rain and they doubted they would even be able to provide enough to keep the town alive. Several families in the parish had already suffered the loss of infants over the last few years, and it was felt amongst the men who toiled on the land that God should be made to answer for his neglect.
The oldest inhabitants of the town felt a similar sense of anger and betrayal. They remembered the war with Spain that had claimed the lives of so many of their friends and brothers and sweethearts, and the famine that had followed and claimed so many more. They, too, would have God made to account for himself.
As they voiced their frustration, others brought up their own personal grievances and tales of suffering: the young schoolteacher, Miss Dolores, recounted how she had been hounded out of every parish from here to Mexico City for being a Protestant in a Catholic land; the shopkeeper Jorge revealed that he had suffered terribly at the hands of the priests of his seminary school, and had abandoned his studies to escape them; the most learned man in the district, Dr Morales, told with trembling voice of how he had time and again seen his patients wither and die, as they declined his medicines and put their salvation in the hands of a supposedly benevolent God; and old Father Ignacio spoke bitterly of the hypocrisy he had witnessed of the wealthy landowners who piously prayed for the souls of the poor on a Sunday, only to prey relentlessly on them all the rest of the week.
Their voices rose as they all clamoured to share their frustrations. They were angry at the God who had so clearly abandoned them, and they believed that now at last someone would listen to them, though as everyone present at the meeting spoke all at once there was, of course, no one left to listen. A few gentle souls tried to defend the Almighty, claiming that he worked in mysterious ways and that his will ought not to be questioned, but they went unheeded. In the end it was the town mayor who finally restored order to proceedings.
‘Well, seems to me there’s only one way to deal with this. We need a committee, of townsfolk held in high esteem by us all, to discuss this delicate situation and to decide what’s to be done. And this committee needs to decide if God is no longer capable of performing his Divine duties. If he is, in fact, not the omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent being he has made himself out to be.’
There were nods and shouts of approval, though from only half of those assembled.
‘Or if he’s simply a cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch who wouldn’t give two pesos to save his own flesh and blood!’
The other half of the packed crowd voiced their approval. In the end, a committee of a dozen people was selected including, of course, the Mayor, acting in this instance as Chair. Once the twelve jurors had been chosen, a sizeable group escorted the bewildered God from his room to the single jail cell in the court house. Satisfied that soon justice would be done, and with night drawing in, the townspeople dispersed. After a while, peace once more settled over San Miguel el Grande.
*
The Committee met each day that week and discussed matters until long after sunset. They were evenly split between those who believed God to be incapable and those who believed him to be negligent. Father Ignacio, however, maintained that God should be made to bring the rains. If he was not able to do so, then the townspeople had far more pressing matters than a trial to attend to. And so it fell to the priest to present the plea bargain.
‘We have a deal for you. Are you interested?’
God was wary of this unexpected turn of events, but he was desperate for a way out of this mess.
‘Go on’, he said. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Make it rain. You’ve seen how barren our fields are, how nothing will grow. Give us forty days of rain and the land will be as fertile as it once was, and we will not starve to death in our beds. And in return we will overlook any past neglect.’
‘‘Past neglect’?! Who are you to question the ways of your creator?’
‘Will you accept the deal?’
‘I shall not. ‘How blessed are they who have not seen but yet believe.’’
‘Despite what you seem to think, we need more than the words that come from the mouth of God to survive. Tomorrow we will put you on trial for causing death through neglect. A lot of people have died because of this drought, Lord, so it’s not looking good for you. I suggest you reconsider this deal.’
And with that the Committee members shuffled out of the jail cell, leaving God alone with the realisation that things were rather more serious than he had believed.
When the villagers awoke the next day, and discovered that the Almighty Father had absconded during the night, having worked the bars loose from the window of his adobe cell, they were incensed that they were to be denied their chance to sit in judgement. But after the last search parties returned, tired and dusty and empty-handed, and the fury of the townspeople had ebbed away a little, it was agreed by common consensus that no more time should be wasted on God. On the following Sabbath, the last ever service was held in the chapel – the Almighty was tried in absentia and found guilty on all counts of neglect and incompetence, and then life continued in San Miguel el Grande much as it had always done.
(c) Benjamin Verran, 2016
Benjamin Verran has been making up stories since he was a child, but only started writing them down in adulthood. He is unpublished, and this story is the first thing he has ever submitted anywhere, ever.
Clive Greenwood recently toured in Up Pompeii, playing Frankie Howerd's role of Lurcio, and appears in two upcoming features, Mob Handed and Alice on Mars. He co-wrote Goodbye: The (after)life of Cook and Moore, which ran at the Gilded Balloon & Leicester Square Theatres and the Museum of Comedy. [email protected] / www.spotlight.com/9094-6721-0711
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