by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
After he filled Joe in, Adam went in search of David. He found him in the lobby, playing chess against another guest of the hotel.
Adam smiled—he knew that chess provided David with a way to shut out the rest of the world and all its problems.
He watched the game from a respectful distance. David’s opponent was clearly outmatched. But David had the decency to wait a bit before he moved in for the kill. That allowed his opponent to leave with a shred of self-respect.
Adam took the fellow’s seat after he vacated it. “Are you all right?” he asked David softly.
He shrugged in response as he put the chess pieces back in their starting positions. “It’s not my brother. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” he assured him. “Joe—Joe just seems to think that this is a temporary madness on my part.”
David cocked his head at him. “Is it?”
“I don’t know,” Adam answered honestly. “I just know that I don’t want it to end any time soon.”
That brought a small smile to David’s face. “Well, I suppose I can live with that. Tell me something: are you a Christian?”
That question took Adam by surprise. He narrowed his eyes at David. “Why are you asking?”
David grinned. “Sorry—that seemed a bit disconnected, didn’t it?”
“A bit,” Adam owned, returning the grin. “What brought it to mind?”
“You’re not going to answer me first? I know that you were raised Protestant, but do you believe in your native faith?”
Adam shrugged. “I’ve never gone out of my way to deny it—but I don’t fit neatly into any religious tradition. I tend to appreciate them all from the outside.”
“Ah. No wonder you’re so open to different beliefs,” David commented.
Adam cocked his head at him. “Now will you tell me what brought this up?”
He nodded. “For the longest time, I didn’t understand Christianity,” he began. “I’ve had Christians ask me why Jews don’t believe in Jesus as the Messiah—and all I got out of those conversations was that Christians mean something quite different by ‘Messiah’ than Jews do.”
Adam grinned. “I’ve noticed that. It’s almost a pointless conversation—unless each side takes the trouble to define his terms at the outset.”
“Right,” David agreed. “Well, I didn’t understand why Christians define ‘Messiah’ the way they do. And I didn’t understand why they're so focused on the idea of vicarious sacrifice. I mean, I’m sorry that the Romans crucified a nice Jewish boy—especially if the high priest of the day did, in fact, collaborate in his death. But I didn’t understand why Christians believe that one martyred rabbi somehow atones for their sins.”
He paused, but Adam didn’t interrupt him. He let David collect his thoughts.
“But then someone finally explained the concept of original sin to me,” David continued. “No one had told me about that before. I didn’t know that Christians believe that ever since the Garden of Eden humans have been born corrupt. And it doesn’t matter if the story of Adam and Eve is literally true or a great myth that points to a truth—I’m getting at the same point either way.”
“I know,” Adam assured him. “Well, most Christians believe in original sin. St. Paul’s letters suggest it and then Augustine fleshed it out. But certain sects dispute it.”
David shrugged. “All right—the majority of Christians, then. At any event, once I understood original sin, the rest of Christianity made sense. People are born so corrupt that there’s no way for them to become morally perfect as they are. They have to undergo a spiritual death and resurrection—they die with Christ in baptism and are reborn with him. That’s why the cross matters so much.”
Adam nodded as he absently fingered one of the chess pieces. “That’s an accurate description of the central dogma. Most Christians would agree with it.”
“I can respect that dogma,” David continued, looking Adam in the eye, “even if I don’t agree with it. Judaism says the opposite, you know—we believe in, ah, ‘original goodness,’ I suppose you’d call it. Everyone is born sinless. There’s nothing ultimately corrupt about human nature—we’re in the habit of sinning, perhaps, but it’s a habit that can be broken.”
“It’s a fundamental difference between the two faiths,” Adam agreed, smiling a little. “Judaism and Christianity are very close in some respects but miles apart in others.”
David sighed. “I believe that God created us good and that whatever happened in the Garden of Eden didn’t change humanity’s fundamental nature. We’re still born sinless—we’re born with a clean slate.”
He paused and gave Adam a wry smile. “But that leaves me with a problem. If God creates us all good, then why did He create some of us with tendencies—tendencies that the Torah calls ‘toevot’? Abominations, I mean."
He paused again, still struggling with his thoughts. "Why create us with such feelings and desires and then expressly forbid us to act on them?" he continued. "When I try to wrap my head around that, sometimes I think that the Christians have a point—maybe we are all born corrupt.”
Adam grinned. “Somehow, though, I don’t think you’re going to run to the nearest church and convert.”
David laughed. “No—that whole cross episode is too close to human sacrifice for my comfort. I could never be a Christian. But that doesn’t stop me from admiring their theology.”
Adam smiled again, but then his face grew serious. “I’ve never struggled with questions like this. I’ve always made my peace with the Almighty and my own conscience without worrying about what any particular religious text has to say.”
David looked down at the chess pieces. “I envy you that,” he said quietly.
But Adam shook his head as he leaned forward. “No, you don’t. Or at least you shouldn’t. I might not have to wrestle with the Torah, but I’ll never belong to a particular people the way you belong to the people Israel.” He paused, looking for the right words. “I’ll never experience the fellowship that people of the same faith share.”
David glanced back up at him. “Thank you for that. Now tell me, where do you stand on the ‘original goodness’ versus ‘original sin’ question?”
Adam grinned. “I think Judaism and Christianity both have a point. And who knows? Maybe they balance each other out.”
“Maybe,” David agreed. “Shall we go see your brother?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Just don’t expect Joe to be too friendly toward you.”
LINK TO FIFTY-THREE
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