Naguib Mahfouz: The Seventh Heaven

“Be warned — it is sinful to wish to evade your duty!” Abu scolded.

“When shall I appear before the court?” Raouf asked.

“The trial is finished,” announced Abu.

Raouf stared at him in stupefaction.

“The examination has been completed,” said Abu calmly. “The defense was raised during the discourse between you and me. The verdict has come down: you are to be commissioned as a spiritual guide. Congratulations!”

3

The court determined to hold Raouf Abd-Rabbuh in the First Heaven for a short time in order to cleanse him of any stains, in preparation for his mission. Abu stayed at his side till he had finished his training and acclimation, receiving returning guides at the same time.

“I’d like to see Adolf Hitler,” said Raouf. “Will he be coming now?”

“He was condemned, and has since been reborn in your very own alley. You saw him regularly.”

“Hitler?”

“He is Boss Qadri the Butcher.”

Dumbfounded, Raouf became quiet, then asked, “So who would the shaykh of the hara, Shakir al-Durzi, be?”

“Lord Balfour.”

“And Shaykh Ashur, the false friend of God?”

“He is Khunfus, betrayor of Urabi’s Revolution.”

“I don’t see them changing or learning from their repeated experience.”

“That is not always the case. Do you know who your mother was?”

“Abu, she was an angel, surely!”

“She was Rayya, the infamous serial killer; yet look how she has progressed!”

Shaken, Raouf fell silent again. Just then Abu received the first of the incoming arrivals.

The one who just arrived said, “I am trying as hard as I can.”

“I am aware of that,” Abu answered, “but you must redouble your efforts, for the time has come for you to go up.”

“I’m sure I know who that is,” Raouf said, when the man had disappeared. “Isn’t he Akhenaten?”

“Indeed he is. He is not very fortunate, however, for his probation has stretched on now for thousands of years.”

“But he was the first to bring the news that God is one!”

“Verily, but he imposed the One God on the people by coercion, rather than by persuasion and rational argument. Hence, he made it easier for his enemies to later remove God from people’s hearts the same way — by force. If it were not for his clear conscience, he would have been condemned.”

“Why has his period here been so prolonged?”

“He did not succeed with any of those he was chosen to guide, such as Pharaoh-in-the-time-of-Moses, al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah, and Abbas I.”

“Who is his man now?”

“Camille Chamoun.”

The next arrival approached; he delivered a written report, uttered some stirring words, then vanished completely. “That was President Wilson!” Raouf exclaimed.

“You are correct.”

“I’d assumed he was one of the happy few who’d risen to the Second Heaven.”

“You are no doubt referring to his sacred principles,” observed Abu. “But you forget that he neglected to use America’s power to implement them — and that he recognized the protectorate over Egypt.”

“And who’s his man?”

“The eminent littérateur, Tawfiq al-Hakim.”

When the third arrival had gone, Raouf declared, “That was Lenin — no doubt about it.”

“Correct again,” affirmed Abu.

“I’d have thought he’d be condemned on account of his atheism,” Raouf gasped. “What did you say in his defense?”

“I said that in the stream of intellectual prattle, he changed the names — but not the essence — of things. Perishable matter he termed divine, assigning it some of the qualities of God — timelessness, creation, and control over the fate of the universe. He called the prophets scientists, the angels workers, and the devils the bourgeoisie. He also promised a paradise on earth, which exists in time and space. I extolled the power of his belief and his bravery, as well as his service to the laboring classes through sacrifice and self-denial. I added that what really mattered to God Almighty was whether good or bad befell humankind. As for He Himself — His majesty be praised— He has no need of human beings. Not all their faith can increase Him, nor their disbelief diminish Him. Hence, Lenin’s sentence was reduced — and he was appointed as a spiritual guide!”

“Who did he get?” Raouf asked breathlessly.

“The well-known writer, Mustafa Mahmud.”

“And was Stalin, too, appointed anyone’s guide?”

“Certainly not. Stalin was condemned for having murdered millions of workers, rather than teaching and training them for a better life.”

“Maybe he’s living now in our alley,” Raouf pondered.

“No, he is toiling in one of the pit mines of India,” said Abu.

After receiving Lenin, Abu was done with his scheduled appointments, so he accompanied Raouf on a tour through the First Heaven. No sooner had the idea occurred to them than they were already on their way, in response to their inner wish, without needing even to use their feet. They soared like birds, intoxicated with an integral ecstasy that sprang from their magical powers to make any desired movement with ease and delight. They sluiced through the silvery air over the land embroidered with green below, the sky overhead illuminated with glowing white clouds. They passed by countless faces of multifarious races and colors, each absorbed in their lofty enterprise: to help the people of earth achieve progress and victory. In so doing, they seek to repent and purify themselves in order to resume their own rise through the levels of spiritual creativity, to be nearer to the Great Truth itself. They labor relentlessly, driven by warm, eternal passions toward perfection, right, and immortality.

“It seems to me,” Raouf said, “there is no less suffering here than in its counterpart on earth.”

A smiling Abu replied, “They are two sorts of suffering which join into one. The only difference is that here people experience it with a purer heart, a smarter brain, and a clearer goal.”

“Please spell that out for me, Abu.”

“You on the earth dream of a world containing the virtuous city, founded on individual freedom, social justice, scientific progress, and overwhelming power over the forces of nature. For the sake of all this, you wage war and make peace, and challenge the Opposing Power that — in your own terminology — you call reactionism. That is all fine and beautiful, but it is not the final objective, as you imagine it to be. Rather, it is but the first real step in a long road to spiritual elevation, which seems even to those who dwell in our First Heaven to be without end.”

Raouf was immersed in contemplation until Abu asked him, “Of what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking how much dreadful, daily crime is perpetrated by the Opposing Power.”

“That is crime in which the good take part by passively abstaining in the fight for the right,” said Abu. “They fear death — and death is what you see here!”

“What a life!” said Raouf.

“It is a battlefield — nothing more, and nothing less.”

Raouf thought until the very thinking wore him out, then returned to his previous passion for learning the destinies of people who interested him. “I’d like to know what’s become of my country’s leaders,” he told Abu.

“You could wait until you see them — or ask me now about whomever you like,” the ex-High Priest replied.

“What about al-Sayyid Umar Makram?”

“He is the guide to Anis Mansur,” said Abu.

“And Ahmad Urabi?” Raouf asked.

“He is working with Lewis Awad.”

“And Mustafa Kamil?”

“He is helping Fathi Radwan.”

“Muhammad Farid?”