Ivan Klima - The Ultimate Intimacy

Then I asked him about the date, and he replied: some time next month, but we haven't agreed on an actual day yet.

I almost envied him his easy-going, irreproachable love.

Nietzsche in chapter 42 of Antichrist: 'The type of the redeemer, the doctrine, the practice, the death, the meaning of the death, even the sequel to the death — nothing was left untouched, nothing was left bearing even the remotest resemblance to reality. Paul simply shifted the centre of gravity of that entire existence beyond this existence — in the lie of the "resurrected" Jesus. In fact he could make no use at all of the Redeemers life — he needed the death on the Cross. . ' And in chapter 43: 'If one shifts the centre of gravity of life out of life into the 'Beyond'— into nothingness — one has deprived life as such of its centre of gravity. The great lie of personal immortality destroys all rationality, all naturalness of instinct — all that is salutary, all that is life-furthering, all that holds a guarantee of the future of the instincts henceforth excites mistrust. '

Every lie destroys one's soul. If everything we believe in is a lie what happens to our soul then?

My father would have said: The soul? No such thing. All we have is a brain — a higher nervous system. And the brain is the first thing to rot after death.

Martin called me to ask if I'd heard about the death of Jaroslav Berger, the Secretary for Church Affairs in the district we were both exiled to for a time. I hadn't heard about his death. From time to time he would call me in for a ticking-off. 'Reverend Vedra, you are in breach of our laws. You're welcome to preach the Bible, but don't go addling people's brains, and particularly not our youngsters'. Do you think we don't know how

many of them come to your meetings on the first Monday of the month?' On occasions he was tipsy and once he was totally drunk. 'Reverend,' he said to me on that occasion, 'you're a fortunate man, you don't have to be afraid of death. When you die you'll go somewhere, to heaven or whatever. I, on the other hand, will die just like a dog. ' If I'd heard about his death in time, I would have gone to his funeral, in the same way he came to fitka's.

Magda has reached a beautiful age. She still retains her girlish directness and likes to giggle and play childish tricks, but at the same time she is beginning to assert her individuality. She draws well and writes wittily, and apart from that she seems to have obvious acting talent. Sometimes I catch her standing in front of the mirror making faces.

The other day I came into her bedroom and noticed a diary lying open on her bedside table.

'You're not to read it, Daddy!'

'I'm not. '

She consulted the diary herself. 'Here's a bit you can read. There's nothing in if. '

On one page there was quite a good caricature of one of her teachers, on the other, a text of some kind.

The writing was childishly uneven and didn't manage to stay on the line. Maybe her longsightedness has something to do with it.

I've just hoovered the front hall and the washing-up, Mum tidied the living room. The Partridge is completely loopy today she wrote in Zuzana's record book: You daughter was lacqering her nails and was determined to continue with this activity even in my presence. Then I did an imitation of her and made the class laugh. What makes me laugh are words like maggot or worm. .

I said: 'How many is a maggot to the fifth minus a worm to the two and a halfth?'

And she burst into merry laughter and for a moment I was happy too. Irreproachably happy, I'd even say.

An extremely odd thing happened to me. I was sitting in my office writing something. Suddenly there was a loud bang on the window and I just managed to catch sight of a bird's body dropping to the ground beyond the window pane.

I ran out in front of the house and saw a blackbird lying paralysed, as I thought, in the grass. I leaned over to pick it up and see what had happened to it, but to my surprise it revived and with some difficulty flew across the lawn and hid behind the blackcurrant bush.

The following day, almost at the same hour, there came the same bang, even louder than on the previous day.

This time it wasn't a blackbird I found in the grass, but a white dove. When I picked it up, it turned out to be dead. I've always tried not to fall prey to superstitions, but what explanation can there be for two birds of different kinds colliding with the same pane of glass on two subsequent days, when no bird had even brushed against it before that?

Various myths and fables featuring birds, and specifically doves, came to mind. Birds have always symbolized messengers between the cosmos and mankind and the souls of saints assumed the form of a white dove. And indeed wasn't the Holy Ghost portrayed as a white dove? What sort of sign was this and where precisely did it come to me from?

The damaged blackbird that flew lurchingly away and hid itself in the bushes, that's me, while the white dove that will never fly away again, that could be my soul.

A dream: I found myself before some tribunal made up entirely of Catholic dignitaries. Lots of cardinals and bishops. I was to defend myself against the charge of heresy, that I had propagated Archimedes' Principle and violated the vow of celibacy, and actually ravished women. The entire indictment was brought by one of the cardinals, a small, fat and choleric old man, who demanded that the church excommunicate me and hand me over to secular justice. I answered the charge by stating that I was not a Catholic priest and therefore could not violate the celibacy vow, but the only response to that was surly laughter.

Then some kind of bailiff came over and manacled me before

leading me from the court. I was expecting to be led to a stake where I would be burnt, but that before then I would be given the opportunity to recant, even though I was no longer sure what I was to recant and what to proclaim. The fellow didn't lead me to the stake but to some open space where two immense brewers dray horses stood. I was ordered to lie down between them so that my head was at the hindquarters of the one and my feet at the hindquarters of the other. Then they attached some kind of straps to me and harnessed them to the horses. I heard a shout and then the crack of a whip. The horses took the strain each in opposite directions — I was to be torn asunder. I could feel my muscles tautening, the tension was gradually transformed into unbearable pain.

When I awoke, I realized that I really could feel a pain somewhere between my stomach and my heart. I wasn't sure whether I was to attribute the pain to the dream or vice versa.

I raised myself slightly. My wife was sleeping peacefully at my side. Her presence calmed me and the pain seemed to recede.

It suddenly struck me: Is this still my wife?

3

Daniel announced to the elders his intention to relinquish his pastoral duties for a period of several months. The building of the diaconal centre was taking up too much of his time, in addition to which he would like to concentrate on preparing the exhibition of his carvings that was due to open at the end of spring. Neither of those reasons was the real one, but the elders received his request with understanding and accepted his proposal that Reverend Marie Hájková should stand in for him while he was on special leave.

For his farewell sermon he chose his text from Paul's letter to the Philippians:

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is at work in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. Do all things without