Naguib Mahfouz: The Seventh Heaven

2

In the midst of a sigh, Raouf found himself in a new city— brilliantly illuminated, but without a sun. The sky was a cupola of white clouds, the ground rich with greenery, with endless orchards of flowering fruit trees. Stretching into the distance were rows of white roses. Throngs of people met and broke up with the fleetness of birds. In an empty spot, he felt the loneliness of the first-time arrival. At that moment, there arose before him a man enshrouded in a white mist.

“Welcome, Raouf,” the man said, smiling, “to the First Heaven.”

“Is this Paradise?” Raouf asked, shouting with joy.

“I said, ‘the First Heaven,’ not ‘Paradise,’” the stranger admonished.

“Then where is Paradise?”

“Between it and you, the path is very, very long,” the man answered. “The fortunate person will spend hundreds of thousands of enlightened years traversing it!”

A sound like a groan escaped Raouf. “Permit me first to introduce myself,” said the man. “I am your interlocutor, Abu, formerly High Priest at Hundred-Gated Thebes.”

“I’m honored to meet you, Your Reverence. What a happy coincidence that I’m Egyptian myself!”

“That is of no importance,” replied Abu. “I lost all nationality thousands of years ago. Now I am the defense counsel appointed by the courts for the new arrivals.”

“But there can be no charge against me — I’m a victim….”

“Patience,” Abu said, cutting him off. “Let me tell you about your new surroundings. This heaven receives the new arrivals. They are tried in court, where I serve as their advocate. The verdicts are either for acquittal or for condemnation. In case of acquittal, the defendant spends one year here spiritually preparing for his ascent to the Second Heaven.”

Raouf interrupted him, “But what then does ‘condemnation’ mean?”

“That the condemned must be reborn on earth to practice living once again; perhaps they would be more successful the next time,” said Abu. “As for verdicts that fall between acquittal and condemnation, in such cases the accused is usually put to work as a guide to one or more souls on earth. Depending on their luck, they may ascend to the Second Heaven, or the length of their probationary period might be extended, et cetera.”

“At any rate, I’m definitely innocent,” Raouf blurted confidently. “I lived a good life and died a martyr.”

“Do not be so hasty,” Abu counseled him. “Let us open the discussion of your case. Identify yourself, please.”

“Raouf Abd-Rabbuh, eighteen years of age, a university student of history. My father died, leaving my mother a widow who lives on a charitable trust from the Ministry of Religious Endowments.”

“Why are you so satisfied with yourself, Raouf?” queried Abu.

“Well, despite my intense poverty, I’m a hard-working student who loves knowledge, for which my thirst is never quenched.”

“That is beautiful, as a matter of principle,” remarked Abu, “yet you received most of your information from others, rather than through your own thinking.”

“Thought is enriched through age and experience,” said Raouf. “And regardless, would that count as a charge against me?”

“Here a person is held accountable for everything,” rejoined Abu. “I observe that you were dazzled by new ideas.”

“The new has its own enchantment, Your Reverence Abu,” said Raouf.

“First of all, do not call me, ‘Your Reverence,’” Abu rebuked him. “Second, we do not judge a thought itself even when it is false. Rather, we denounce submission to any idea, even if it is true.”

“Such a cruel trial! Justice on earth is far more merciful.”

“We will come to justice,” Abu reassured him. “How did you find your alley?”

“Horrible,” spat Raouf. “Most of the people there are poor beggars. They are controlled by a man who monopolizes all the food — and who has bought the loyalty of the shaykh of the hara. He kills, steals, and lives securely above the law.”

“That is an accurate description,” Abu said. “What was your position toward all this?”

“Rejection, rebellion, and a genuine desire to change everything.”

“Thank you. What did you do to achieve that?”

“It wasn’t in my power to do anything!”

“Do you want to rise to the Second Heaven?”

“Why shouldn’t I rise?” Raouf shot back. “My heart and mind both rejected what was happening.”

“And your tongue?”

“Just one rebellious word would get it cut out.”

“Yet even speech by itself would not satisfy our sacred tribunal,” warned Abu.

“What kind of proceeding is this!” Raouf asked, his frustration growing. “What was I, after all, but a single individual?”

“Our alley here is full of unfortunates,” rebutted Abu.

“My first duty was to acquire knowledge!”

“There is no dividing one’s trust — and no excuse for evading it.”

“Wouldn’t one expect that would lead to violence?”

“Virtues do not interest us,” said Abu dismissively. “What concerns us is truth.”

“Doesn’t it help my case that I was murdered over love?”

“Even that has an aspect which is not in your favor,” said Abu.

Astonished, Raouf asked, “And what aspect is that?”

“That you put your faith in Anous Qadri — when he is the very image of his tyrannical father.”

“I never dreamed I was so guilty.”

“Though you have some mitigating circumstances, my brief in defending you will not be easy,” worried Abu.

“Ridiculous to think anyone has ever succeeded in being declared innocent in this court.”

“Indeed, only a rare few discharge their full obligation to the world.”

“Give me some examples,” Raouf challenged Abu.

“Khalid bin Walid, and Gandhi.”

“Those are two totally contradictory cases!”

“The tribunal has another view,” said Abu. “The obligation itself is what matters.”

“There’s no hope for me now.”

“Do not despair — nor should you underestimate my long experience,” said Abu soothingly. “I will do the impossible to save you from condemnation.”

“But what could you say on my behalf?”

“I will say that you had a blameless beginning, under the most arduous conditions, and that much good was expected of you if you had only lived long enough. And that you were a loving, devoted, faithful son to your mother.”

“The best I can hope for, then, is to be made someone’s spiritual guardian?” Raouf fretted.

“This is a chance for you to recapture what had eluded you,” Abu consoled him. “In our world here, the human being only ascends according to his success on earth.”

“Then, Mighty Advocate, why don’t you send down a guide for Boss Qadri the Butcher?”

“There is no one who does not have their own guide.”

“How then,” Raouf asked in confusion, “can evil continue?”

“Do not forget that the human being has free will,” replied Abu. “In the end, everything depends upon the influence of the guide and the freedom of the individual.”

“Wouldn’t it be in the cause of good to eliminate this freedom?”

“The Will has determined that only the free may gain admission to the heavens.”

“How could He not admit into heaven the pure saint of our alley, Shaykh Ashur?” Raouf remonstrated. “He doesn’t practice free will, for all he does or says is filled with righteous inspiration.”

Abu smiled. “What is he but a creation of Qadri the Butcher? He interprets dreams in Qadri’s interests, relaying to him the private confidences from inside the houses that welcome his blessings!”

Raouf lapsed into defeated silence. He absented himself for a moment amid the ripe greenery adorned with rows of blooming roses, surrendering to the place’s sweetness and grace. Then he said, sighing, “How tragic for a person to be forced to abandon this garden!”