Woland the Master and Margarita (1935)

It was a warm May evening. Two boys, Dina and Misha, were sitting on a bench near the old church after school. Both were fourteen years old.

Misha was a staunch materialist. He rejected faith in God and joined the Young Pioneers. Dina, on the other hand, remained a religious, calm, and sensible girl.

In the midst of their argument, Misha said heatedly:

"You're an amazing person. No, I don't understand you. That is, there is no God and there never will be, because science has long since proven it. It has shown that God didn't exist in the first place, you understand? People invented him to make their own existence easier. There is no God.

"My dear friend," Dina said calmly, "I don't mind that you don't believe in God. That's your right. But I do, and you should understand that. You say science has disproved His existence. Perhaps so. However, keep in mind that people couldn't simply invent Him."

Think about it: it's unlikely that Jesus, or Yeshua as He is also called, would have spoken of the existence of the Heavenly Father if He knew it was a lie. After all, lying is a sin. Would that have been reasonable?
The air in the church's cherry orchard, until that moment seemingly still and thick with the sweet scent of spring, suddenly became chilling and transparent. The petals of the blossoming trees, just now swirling gracefully above the wooden bench, froze and settled onto the grass in absolute, ringing silence, as if the rest of the world beyond the monastery walls had suddenly ceased to exist. From the deep evening shade of the spreading branches, straight out of the lilac twilight, a low, muffled, and infinitely tired voice rang out. It sounded weighty, unhurried, with a barely perceptible, drawling foreign accent that made the fourteen-year-old Pioneer involuntarily shudder and convulsively clutch the massive buckle of his school belt [Woland]: "Bravo, Donna... Brilliant logic." And a depth of thought absolutely astonishing for such a young man. The rustle of footsteps on the petal-strewn path was barely audible. A tall, elderly gentleman in an impeccable, expensive gray foreign suit and a gray hat, slightly shading his large, noble face, stepped smoothly and majestically out of the shadows toward the bench [Woland]. In a pale glove, he confidently held a heavy cane, the knob of which was fashioned in the shape of a dark poodle's head [Woland]. Oleg Basilashvili, as Woland, stopped a few steps from the frozen children [Woland]. His mouth was slightly twisted in a wise, sad, and tired smile, and the platinum crown on his tooth gleamed dully in the twilight [Woland]. The Prince of Darkness slowly raised his hat to the young debaters, and cast them his famous, piercing gaze with his mismatched eyes: the left, maddened emerald-green one flashed ominously for a second, while the right remained absolutely black, dead, and empty [Woland]. The professor leaned both hands on the knob of his cane, bowed his head slightly, and addressed Misha directly, examining his pinkish, freckled face with a gentle, condescending curiosity [Woland]: “Are such young people really ready to argue so heatedly about this? Excuse me, Comrade Materialist, I overheard your discussion... You rely so confidently on your science and claim that God does not exist, and that man is completely in charge of his own life. Curious, extremely curious.” But tell me, my dear fellow... if there is no God, and lying is a sin, then who, in your opinion, governs human life and the entire order on earth, if a person himself cannot vouch for even his own present evening? Woland narrowed his eyes delicately, and his quiet, weighty question at the gate of the cherry orchard wafted a real, profound eternity, completely breaking all the usual school logic [Woland].

It was a warm May evening. Two boys, Dina and Misha, were sitting on a bench near the old church after school. Both were fourteen years old.

Misha was a staunch materialist. He rejected faith in God and joined the Young Pioneers. Dina, on the other hand, remained a religious, calm, and sensible girl.

In the midst of their argument, Misha said heatedly:

"You're an amazing person. No, I don't understand you. That is, there is no God and there never will be, because science has long since proven it. It has shown that God didn't exist in the first place, you understand? People invented him to make their own existence easier. There is no God.

"My dear friend," Dina said calmly, "I don't mind that you don't believe in God. That's your right. But I do, and you should understand that. You say science has disproved His existence. Perhaps so. However, keep in mind that people couldn't simply invent Him."

Think about it: it's unlikely that Jesus, or Yeshua as He is also called, would have spoken of the existence of the Heavenly Father if He knew it was a lie. After all, lying is a sin. Would that have been reasonable?
The air in the church's cherry orchard, until that moment seemingly still and thick with the sweet scent of spring, suddenly became chilling and transparent. The petals of the blossoming trees, just now swirling gracefully above the wooden bench, froze and settled onto the grass in absolute, ringing silence, as if the rest of the world beyond the monastery walls had suddenly ceased to exist. From the deep evening shade of the spreading branches, straight out of the lilac twilight, a low, muffled, and infinitely tired voice rang out. It sounded weighty, unhurried, with a barely perceptible, drawling foreign accent that made the fourteen-year-old Pioneer involuntarily shudder and convulsively clutch the massive buckle of his school belt [Woland]: "Bravo, Donna... Brilliant logic." And a depth of thought that was absolutely astonishing for such a young age. The rustle of footsteps on the petal-strewn path was barely audible.