All this Magrathea business seemed totally incomprehensible to Arthur. He edged up to Trillian and asked her what was going on.
"I only know what Zaphod's told me," she whispered. "Apparently Magrathea is some kind of legend from way back which no one seriously believes in. Bit like Atlantis on Earth, except that the legends say the Magratheans used to manufacture planets."
Arthur blinked at the screens and felt he was missing something important. Suddenly he realized what it was.
"Is there any tea on this spaceship?" he asked.
More of the planet was unfolding beneath them as the heart of Gold streaked along its orbital path. The suns now stood high in the black sky, the pyrotechnics of dawn were over, and the surface of the planet appeared bleak and forbidding in the common light of day--gray, dusty and only dimly contoured., It looked dead and cold as a crypt. From time to time promising features would appear on the distant horizon--ravines, maybe mountains, maybe even cities--but as they approached the lines would soften and blur into anonymity and nothing would transpire. The planet's surface was blurred by time, by the slow movement of the thin stagnant air that had crept across it for century upon century.
Clearly, it was very very old.
A moment of doubt came to Ford as he watched the gray landscape move beneath them. The immensity of time worried him, he could feel it as a presence. He cleared his throat.
"Well, even supposing it is . . ."
"It is," said Zaphod.
Again, the debate here is between belief and doubt. It's a pretty age-old argument. Think of the Bible and the disciple Thomas. All of his friends are telling him that Jesus is alive and well. Thomas isn't having it. What does he need? He needs to put his fingers into the holes in Christ's palms, put his fist into the hole in Christ's side. Thomas is sort of a scientist. He needs hard, concrete proof.
Of course, the lesson taught by the story of doubting Thomas is summed up in Christ's words: "Thomas, because you have seen me, you believe. Blessed are they who have not seen, yet still believe."
I believe in the goodness of people. Yes, people make mistakes. They screw up, make terrible decisions. I'm living in a country right now that is suffering from a terrible decision. We elected a man to serve as President who has no business being in the Oval Office. Yet, I also believe in redemption. Everybody can correct their mistakes and make things right.
Of course, the other part of that equation is recognizing the mistake, owning it, asking forgiveness, and making amends. That's the hard part. Imagine building a house, moving in furniture, buying groceries, planning a housewarming party, and then, just as the guests are supposed to arrive, realizing that the foundation is sinking and walls are shifting. The land where you chose to build your home is unstable, swampy. As your friends and family are walking up to your front door, what do you do? You have two choices: 1) Answer the door, invite your guests in, and hope for the best, or 2) Stop them before they knock, admit your error, and tell them they need to go home.
I believe that everyone, in that situation, would go with the second option. Because that's the right thing to do. And I believe that everyone has the ability to change, become better. Even Donald Trump, believe it or not. There is always that potential for goodness, for rightness. If I thought otherwise, I would have to turn in my Christian membership card.
I have made lots of mistakes in my life. Screwed up a lot of things. I haven't always been the greatest father in the world. Or teacher. Or employee. Or poet. Or son. Or brother. Or husband. Yet, when I wake up in the morning, it's always with the hope that I can do the right thing, be a better person. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I fail. But, there's always the next morning, the next day, the next opportunity.
Last night, I was sitting in my backyard with my wife, son, daughter, daughter's boyfriend, and daughter's friend. We had a campfire. Made s'mores. Played croquet. Looking at my daughter, I had a wonderful moment of awareness: she is one of the things I have done right. Really right. She's smart, compassionate, humble, loving, beautiful, and filled with grace. And I had a small part in that.
If you are a Thomas and think that the universe is a dark and mean place, let me introduce you to my daughter some day. You might change your mind.
Saint Marty sees, and he believes.
