The playlet entitled ‘The Long Silence’ says it all: At the end of time, billions of people were scattered on a great plain before God’s throne. Most shrank back from the brilliant light before them. But some groups near the front talked heatedly – not with cringing shame, but with belligerence. ‘Can God judge us? How can he know about suffering?’ snapped a pert young brunette. She ripped open a sleeve to reveal a tattooed number from a Nazi concentration camp.‘We endured terror...beatings...torture...death!’ In another group a Negro boy lowered his collar. ‘What about this?’ he
