"Do humans really have a mechanism to isolate the devil's work— as opposed to the work of an ailing brother or sister? We are pompous fools if we think that we have been thwarting the forces of Satan.

Do you, your religion, and its teachers soberly believe you can withstand a physical, much less spiritual, blow from Satan?"

— The Dogma.

It's important to note that many schools of thought believe evil is a necessary part of good. They contend that there must be black before people can discern white, dark to see light, and bad so we may arrive at good.

We must insist that God's glorious heaven is not a negative polarity of hell. We must maintain that some people are not hell-ridden merely so that other people can be heaven-bound. Recall from The Dogma, "God does not share the other side of the coin with the devil."

Let's believe that goodness doesn't have to be a bad contrast, if you will.

Otherwise, if there's no bad, what good is it? It's like the ticker marks on the side of a boat, where the higher the water mark, the deeper the boat is in the water. To be most "good"— must we sink?

While we might not agree on words and definitions, we can find and share vivid images of the devil's work. These accounts and images have a disturbing common denominator; they cause levels of anguish to humankind.

The purpose of the devil's toiling doesn't play an important role in this book, because the need to live in the light still challenges us, even if he mettles without purpose. People tend to fixate on the intent, while his slight of hand continues to humiliate us throughout the millennia.

We must caution that the devil has unimaginable powers coupled with a cruel willingness to discharge torture.

People from all parts of the world have stories of evil inclemency to tell throughout human history. While this kind of storytelling can serve as a catharsis to our incapacity and dreadful guilt, I use it, in this book, to illustrate his machinery of fear and despicable cowardice.

Storytelling hasn't helped very much, unfortunately, even though people tell more stories now, with tradition, literature, and the media. There's so much news in mailboxes, so many television shows through cables, and radio broadcasts over airwaves; the stories are only becoming more horrific and more frequent.

While we might not be the source of the anguish, we often feel a tremendous responsibility and frustration, and are compelled to help however we can. For example, people expressly give to subsidize crime-fighting efforts in communities. Some of us give quietly to support drives to end hunger. Others give to heal distant wounds in third world countries. There are those who can give only through prayers, for they too have suffering and afflictions.

Some people can barely give the promise of tomorrow, but many give to say we're united, that we will not stand watch— that hand in hand "we are the world. "

Yet the sick are still dying, the famished are still hungry, and the persecuted are still silent, while people invest increasingly more resources into resisting world disorders. One look around and we see the perils of life lurking in readiness to isolate, frustrate, disappoint, and dishearten us.

Relief efforts are now more organized and effective than ever before, but we are not stopping hunger or fending off diseases. Keep in mind, too, that the United States is not the only charitable source, if we are to understand the humanitarian investment.

Earlier, people charged that it's all a part of God's plans for the transgressions against children, between brothers and sisters, and all other human anguish escapable only in hindsight. God will ultimately claim responsibility when the dust settles, many people believed.

Now it seems that we are more content seeing the devil taking the blame. Some people are still uncomfortable about charging God then accusing the devil, so they opt for mediation to add that the devil, too, must be part of God's plan.

....