“Because I’m interested. If there’s something to this religion thing, why would I want to miss it?”
“You seem to have missed it so far,” she said.
“Never too late. Isn’t that what they say? I was brought up in an atheistic society, so that’s what I was trained to believe. Well, perhaps I’m midway through my life. Or perhaps someone will shoot me tomorrow. Arguably, I could become ‘born again,’ no? Like your Jimmy Carter.”
“I suppose, over the course of human history, stranger things have happened. Look,” she said, “in my society we have a choice of whether we want to believe or not. This is what I believe.”
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “But I could also say it’s all nonsense,” he said. “And it enhances your life in no meaningful way. Religion is irrational. Not just yours, but Islam, Judaism, Buddhism. All of them.”
“Is that what you think or are you engaging me in a debate?”
“Maybe both.”
“Then I can easily prove belief in God as rational,” she answered.
“Let me hear you do it. In any language you wish.”
She stayed in English. “Have you ever heard of ‘Pascal’s Wager’?” she asked.
“No.”
“Pascal’s Wager is one of the most famous arguments in the philosophy of religion,” she said. “It was first devised by Blaise Pascal, the seventeenth-century French philosopher, in his book Pensées. He suggested that rational people should believe in God even if it is impossible to prove whether he exists, simply because it is a better bet.”
“A better bet?” Federov laughed. “A fixed horserace is a good bet.”
“Suppose you believe in God, but God doesn’t exist. Then there’s nothing to lose. But assume He does exist. The prize for a believer could be as high as eternal life in paradise. Nonbelievers, on the other hand, might roast in hell.”
“Like I probably will?” Federov said.
“Weigh the gain or loss in wagering that God exists,” Alex said. “Pascal theorized that if you gain, you gain all. If you lose, you lose nothing that you already had. Wager then, without hesitation that God exists and live your life accordingly. You would be irrational not to.”
Federov blinked. In the kitchen, Lucy had turned on a television. Distantly, Alex heard some sort of inane quiz show, this time in French. At the same time, not that Alex was ready for surprises, two more surprises sauntered by-a pair of majestic Abyssinian cats whom Federov introduced as Lara and Tonya.
“Zhivago?”
“Thank you,” he said. “Most people miss that.” He laughed. “When I lived in Odessa I had a dog named Zhivago. A wolfhound.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said.
“And Pascal,” he said, moving the discussion backward, “I’ll bet this Pascal was a Jew.”
“For the record, Pascal was a French Christian. He offered his wager to persuade nonbelievers to believe.”
“Apparently it didn’t work,” he said with a laugh. “The French are endlessly godless people.”
“And you’re not?”
“I am too. You are right. Tell me something else,” he said.
“Like what?”
“I’m a retired man. I am not an educated man, but I have begun to do a lot of reading. And thinking. I believe I have a soul, so I’m looking for salvation for my soul perhaps. None of us lives forever, and I’ve done terrible things in my life, just as terrible things have been done to me. Tell me about forgiveness.”
“I’m not a theologian,” she said. “I’m merely a churchgoer, and honestly I don’t go as often as I should or might like. If you’re really interested, maybe you should go to a church or two and see what suits you. They’ll be glad to have you once they get over the shock of seeing you there.”
“I like the way you insult me,” he said. “I don’t let very many people get away with it.”
“And I don’t allow very many people to abduct me.”
“Do you practice forgiveness yourself?”
“I try to. That’s what Jesus taught.”
“Then you should forgive me for abducting you and for changing your clothes.”
She had never underestimated the retired gangster’s intelligence, if in fact he was retired, which she wondered about. But in doing so much reading, his articulation had improved. In a way, she wondered how he could be the same thug who had murdered people in Ukraine and New York and had beaten prostitutes that had worked for him. Then again, her own faith said much on the subject of spiritual redemption. All sinners were invited into heaven’s open door through faith. With such peace with God also came the inner peace of the certainty of salvation. This was not the first time that Federov had expressed a fascination with her faith. Was it a sham or some sort of test?
“All right,” she said. “How’s this? You’re forgiven by me for yesterday.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“Perhaps I won’t.”
She began a counterattack in her argument.
“But of course I can only forgive you on a personal level. Only God can forgive sins completely, and you don’t believe in God, so there’s no way you can pray for forgiveness.”
“Perhaps I will change. Perhaps if you stay with me, if we spend time together, you will sway me with your example.”
“I’ll tell you this much,” Alex said. “Man receives forgiveness through a sincere expression of repentance to God, and Jesus taught that He completes this in the act of forgiving others. Forgiveness is about healing, and through forgiveness, Christians embody their mission to live as a people who are reconciled to God.”
“All because Jesus forgave those who executed Him?” Federov asked.
“Think of that act as a rock dropped into the middle of a pond. An example by which all other acts can be judged. The means for humans to forgive other humans is the same means as God’s forgiveness of mankind, the death and resurrection of Jesus. When Jesus said, ‘Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us,’ He was giving clear instructions on that relationship.”
“Curious,” he said. “How do you know all this?”
“Bible study. Whether you want to believe in it or not, it’s literature, it’s history, it’s the culture of much of the world. So it’s worthy of study and discussion.”
“Then keep talking.”
“Why are you leading me through all this?” she demanded, almost angry.
“Because I am intrigued. And I’ve never met anyone who was so well-versed in your Christian philosophy. Please. Do me these favors, and I will owe you several.”
“The disciple Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times-or seventy times seven,’ I forget which.”
“So tell me. Those people who attacked your president in Kiev and had your future husband killed. In your heart, have you forgiven them?”
“That’s a nasty, difficult question.”
“We agreed to exchange questions and answers. So that is my question, and I want my answer.”
She barely needed to think about it. “No,” she said. “I haven’t forgiven them. Not yet.”
“So you who wear the stone of praying hands around your neck, you are not Christian, either. You’re no better than I.”
“There are differences.”
“Such as?”
“I’m trying.”
He nodded. “Point,” he said, leaning back from the table. “Nor do I think I’ll ever be there.”
Lucy appeared with a breakfast tray. She set the eggs and toast before Alex as Federov fell silent. Tea was in an antique teapot. She opened two fresh jars of preserves and set them within arm’s reach. Then Lucy quietly vanished back into the kitchen.
“It’s time for me to ask you a question,” Alex said.