Chapter XVII
He got up and I followed him back into the church. He threaded his way through the pilgrims and came to a halt beside a statue of a woman holding a baby. On the head of the statue was a beautiful crown made of gold from which hung diamonds and other jewels. Brother Hildebrandt reached up and unhooked one of the diamonds. He looked over his shoulder at me and grinned.
"It's only glass, and I'm sure that Our Lady won't mind me borrowing it."
Holding the bauble between his fingers, Brother Hildebrandt led the way over to a patch of sunlight that was streaming through one of the windows and falling on the floor.
"Now," he said, pointing to the square of light on the floor, "what colour is that light?"
"It's - well - it's brown," I told him.
"No," Brother Hildebrandt shook his head, "that's the colour of the floor. What colour is the light."
I thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose it's white, like the sun."
"Can you see any other colours in the light?" Brother Hildebrandt asked.
I stared at the light, put my hand into the beam and turned it this way and that, then shook my head. "No, there's only one colour."
"Good, now watch."
Brother Hildebrandt extended his hand and held the diamond in the light. On the floor I could see the shadow of his arm and then, as he turned his hand, a sparkle of many colours, like a rainbow, appeared between his shadow fingers.
"There, look at that. How many colours are there in the light?"
I peered more closely, then held my hand above and below his. Above the diamond the light was white; below it there was this mysterious rainbow.
"This is magic!" I breathed.
"No, not magic." Brother Hildebrandt chuckled and started to walk back towards the image of the lady. He hooked the diamond back into place on the crown and then beckoned me to follow him out into the garden again.
"You see, the light appears to be just one colour, but when you use the glass it enables you to see that within the light there are many colours - yet the unity of the light remains. There is only one colour in the light, and yet there are also many colours; both statements are true.
"In the same way, to Muslims and to Jews God appears as one. That is true and Christians believe this also. But when we look at Jesus - whom you call the Prophet Isa - then we are able to see that things are different: that God is made up of more than one person, just as the light is made up of more than one colour."
"But how can Allah be One and yet be many?" I protested. "These are different things!"
"How can light be one colour and yet many colours?" Brother Hildebrandt asked. "Are these not also different things?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. It's a mystery."
"And with God it is the same thing. God is a mystery - and why not? Why should we human beings think that we can understand God? Do you expect a pot to understand the potter?"
I laughed. "A pot is made of earth. It isn't alive. How could it understand a human being?"
"And does not the Qur'an Sharif say that Allah made man out of a clod?" Brother Hildebrandt demanded. "We also are made of earth, and I have no doubt that compared to God, we are not really alive. We are like slaves trying to understand a sultan - or better, like ants trying to understand an angel."
"I don't know," I mumbled. "I have never thought like this before."
"You see, the Muslims and the Jews have a very simple picture of God," Brother Hildebrandt explained. "You make Him a little like a big, powerful man. Please excuse me and do not be offended, but it is a picture that a child could understand - and that is its purpose. We Christians have been given a greater picture of God. We understand that He is more complicated, more wonderful, more mysterious than any human being."
"No," I protested. "It is we Muslims who make God more wonderful than a man. You Nasranis say that the Prophet Isa is the Son of God. How can God have a Son? Who is His mother? Would Allah sleep with a human woman?"
"Ah!" Brother Hildebrandt's face remained calm. "But the word 'son' can mean many things. Let me give you an illustration: do you know the bird that you call Abu **** - the Father of the Slipper? Now, what does this name mean? Do you Arabs truly believe that this bird gives birth to slippers?"
"No," I laughed. "We call it that because its beak looks like a slipper."
"So the word 'father' does not literally mean 'father'. Or take another illustration: sometimes when one man wishes to honour another, he says, 'You are my father' or even 'I am your son'. Now does he really mean that this other man slept with his mother?"
I laughed again. "No, of course not. He means that there will be friendship between them and that he will act as a son to the other man."
"So in this case the word 'son' expresses a relationship rather than a literal descent."
Brother Hildebrandt paused until I nodded.
"Good. Now this is what we Christians believe about the Prophet Isa: He is, we believe, God, just as Allah is God and just as the Spirit of God is also God. Yet while He was on this earth, Jesus accepted a different relationship to Allah, a relationship that can best be expressed by the term 'son'."
"But you believe that Sitt Miriam was the mother of the Prophet Isa, on whom be peace," I exclaimed.
"Oh, yes. But we do not believe that Allah lay with her as a man might lie with a woman. Rather, by His power God caused her to become pregnant and to give birth to Jesus' human body. God could have created Jesus' human body, just as He created the body for Adam, the first man, but that would have made the Prophet Isa different to other men. God's purpose was that the Prophet Isa should be exactly the same as all other men."
"Why?" I demanded, but before Brother Hildebrandt could answer me the bells of the church began to ring, a deafening clanging that drowned out our words.
"Hah! Mid-day." Brother Hildebrandt said when the bells were silent.
"Is it?" I scrambled to my feet. "I must meet es-Sitt by the door at mid-day."
Brother Hildebrandt rose also and accompanied me to the door. To my relief there was no sign of es-Sitt Ermintrude, so we stood there for a while talking as friends. I asked him about the idols on the walls and he told me that they were not there for worship, they were merely pictures to make the place look beautiful, then he interpreted them for me. One picture showed the Persian wise men coming with gifts to the Prophet Isa, on whom be peace, when he was born, while others showed bands of angels or processions of holy men.
At last es-Sitt emerged from the throng and came towards us. She seemed to know Brother Hildebrandt and greeted him cheerfully, though I noticed that she did not offer to kiss him. They said many things in their own language, but though I listened carefully I only understood one or two words. At last they seemed to say farewell and Brother Hildebrandt turned to me.
"Lady Ermintrude has invited me to visit her in Jerusalem, so perhaps I shall see you in the home of Guy d'Orleans, Fuad. Until then, go in peace."
"And peace be with you also," I said, putting my hand on my breast and bowing to him.
