Lion's Tale

Mansfield Slaughter was a Shakespearean actor who had risen to the top of the acting profession by virtue of his impassioned performances of lead characters who raged and vented about God and other subjects. He didn't really believe in God much, though he was an excellent actor, and on this particular stint in London, in which he played a character who harangued God, night after night, it began to wear on him and he found himself almost wondering why he was stuck in this role, at this moment, night after night haranguing God as if he really believed.

But he got a welcome break, and returned to New York where his wife and young son Adam lived, and his elderly mother, who lived way out on the edge of the Bronx, in a neighborhood that was slowly decaying. While visiting his mother he found himself in her local church, accompanying her to a service, where the smell of perfume was strong and the pastor, a woman, was, in Mansfield's mind, treating him as if he were the only person in the audience. In fact there were about thirty people there; they were interested in the sermon, but also interested in the social community that they had and shared; all knew Mansfield's mother quite well, and by extension, knew who he was also. He squirmed in his seat as his palms sweated and he felt as if he were on stage, but with no lines, nothing prepared, not quite knowing what to say, though in fact he didn't have to say much, only smile and be polite.

The sermon, however, was about Abraham taking his young son up to the mountain, to be sacrificed, upon order of God himself, who demanded that Abraham not only obey, but also surrender, entirely, to God. The pastor's first and main point was that these were quite different, and that we, in our daily lives, might think that obeying was enough. But imagine the plight of Abraham, and what he might think, upon being asked to serve up his son as a sacrifice? And where was Sarah, his wife, when he decided to do as God had commanded? Mansfield was also impressed that, as Isaac, his son asked him where was the animal which they were to sacrifice on the mountain, Abraham told him that God himself would provide it; in other words, he lied to Isaac. For a moment Mansfield was lost in thought, comparing idly the suspension of disbelief practiced by this audience of thirty, to that of his vast audiences in London, listening to him and his harangues, his acting performances, so well and carefully rehearsed. Did people expect these stories to be actually true?

Mansfield had to actually contain himself, act as if he were calm and unaffected, when in actuality, he was somewhat angry. What kind of story was this? He knew that it was one of the classic stories of the Bible, yet he could scarcely believe that any group of thirty people, including his mother, could listen and not become angry- that God would demand that someone sacrifice his son? That God would instruct him where to go and how to do it? Silently he harangued God, only this time sincerely: what's up with this? Is this real?

It occurred to him, later, that God never answered him, at least not directly, not in a voice that he could hear or understand. Again this time, he was met with silence, or rather, the usual noises of life around him: the over-friendly pastor, wishing him well and wishing him save travels; his mother, quietly and slowly being led back to her apartment; the subway, past Yankee Stadium and into Manhattan; the welcoming embrace of his own son, and his wife, waiting for him back in the city.

The answer, if he could call it that, if it was even related, came about a week later, and happened quite quickly, though he replayed it in his mind the rest of his life, sometimes many times in a given day. He had taken his young son to the zoo, and was at the lion area, where a lion had actually come quite close to the fence separating the people, being only about twenty feet down some rocks, and about twenty feet back toward a kind of moat area which the lion had somehow crossed. The lion sat, impassively looking at the crowds of people who surely stood at this very fence day after day, watching him. A fierce, regal animal, golden hair surrounding his face, the lion had no expression, no expression at all.

Distracted for a moment, thinking about his own acting again, Mansfield looked back in horror to notice that his young son had slipped through or over the fence, and was now on the rocks on the other side of the fence, and, as he watched, actually tumbled down the rocks, all twenty feet, hitting himself repeatedly, and yelling out. In horror the people around shouted out, and called 911 and the zoo officials. The boy had landed twenty feet down, not mortally injured, but within easy reach of the lion, who still had not moved, hadn't budged an inch, but was still, apparently, watching impassively. In moments Mansfield himself had jumped the fence and was struggling on the rocks, trying to get down to the boy without falling.

But, unfortunately, his own concentration was not up to the task, and he himself slipped and tumbled down to the landing now shared by the boy and the lion. His own momentum was such that just as he landed, he hit the boy, who then fell another ten or fifteen feet, down toward the moat, this time falling not quite as far but injuring himself much worse. Rather than catch or save the boy, or even protect him from the lion, as he had intended, he actually pushed him, accidentally, into more harm. And still, throughout this incident, the lion remained unmoving, impassive, as if it were no concern of his or hers whatever.

The boy ended up in a coma, and survived, though injured and permanently impaired. Mansfield's marriage, however, along with his career, did not survive. He was a broken man; he had lost everything. His wife actually forgave him; there were many hours and days at the boy's bedside, waiting, talking to him; but Mansfield could never forgive himself. He also, deeply, bitterly, blamed God: unable to give him orders, to tell him to sacrifice his son, God had merely tricked him, got him to do it himself, without even being told. Was that the trick? Was God actually the lion, watching impassively as he struck his son and pushed him to his fate?

Again, the sounds of the city were the only reply he was to get.