Page 43 - Unlikely Stories 3

Left in Limbo

Ockham paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “By
process of elimination, we are left with only three possibilities—unless
you can imagine others. First, we are exactly where we are supposed to
be: God has weighed our virtues against our sins, and finding us worthy
of neither heaven nor hell, has deposited our souls for an indefinite
period in this ungraceful position. Second, according to my own
reductionist principle, I am forced to consider that God either does not
exist or has no interest in our fate; in this event, hope consists only in
the expectation that we shall ultimately crumble or dissolve like any
other material entity. Third, and finally, this may all be an illusion, a bad
dream from which I shall presently awaken.”
“As to the latter view,” Wittgenstein replied ruefully, “we could
never agree: of necessity, solipsism is a solace enjoyed in the privacy of
one’s own mind, not a fit topic for public enquiry. Nevertheless, it
must remain as the default explanation if nothing else is found. For my
own part, I am overcoming a certain distaste for the mysterious by
carrying on this discussion. You see, the distinction I most carefully
made in life was between two categories of confusion; that is, between
what cannot be known empirically and everything else, which cannot
be logically described. If limbo is unknowable, a metaphysical or truly
theological entity, then we cannot say anything about it at all; on the
other hand, if our attenuated senses are able to form any opinion of it,
that impression is likely to be the victim of our sloppy and inaccurate
language, leaving nothing but the blind men’s description of an
elephant.”
Ockham rejoined: “Then philosophy hasn’t advanced very far
since my days. I, too, sought to order the chaos of mental constructs
into mutually exclusive areas: temporal authority versus the church,
matters of faith against those of science. Limbo is precisely the sort of
thing that needs resolution in these terms: it seems like a fuzzy gray
area, refusing to fall into one category or the other.”
“Yes, that may be its essence. In which case, for a philosopher, this
isn’t limbo: it’s hell.”
At just that instant, a gust of uncommonly hyperborean ferocity
abruptly terminated the dialogue, blowing the discussants apart for an
incalculable interval.

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