查班上常思考的，神是？ 彷一奇客，不在你眼前，人的自以是，人的自私婪，人在後的天的控，整空，上演的是信仰的扎，回後得作家於１９９３年部本的心路程，更值得一。
《奇客》故事介
1938年，德粹侵地利也，太人加以迫害。太裔精神分析家佛洛伊德（Sigmund Freud）仍然，拒妥出自我。四月的一傍晚，秘密警察佛洛伊德的女安娜走，剩下佛洛伊德自惆。一身穿服、佻古怪的陌生人忽然窗而入，世嫉俗出人，令佛洛伊德莫名奇妙。
一莽撞的奇客，是神，是人，是，是佛洛伊德精神失常?
佛洛伊德 德粹
1938年3月11日，德粹吞地利，佛洛伊德及其家人禁。佛洛伊德必署一份文件，明他意粹的待，才能地利。真史，佛洛伊德在年6月4日地利，先巴黎，才到敦定居。然，粹吞地利，到佛洛伊德地利其所生的事稽考。只知道他的署了一份文件。
以下是演可的本翻
我，字人，佛洛伊德教授，德意志帝合地利之後，本人受德局尊重，特是世太保，更由於在科界的，本人的生活和工作完全自由，仍然可以按照本人意活，在境完全可以得到每一人的支持，本人任何不的理由。
再者，本人意向任何人推世太保。
附言可看出佛洛伊德的幽默感。《奇客》故事，便是段不能被的史，加上作者艾力克．伊曼里．史密特富的幻想力延伸。
料源：站
When I finished writing The Visitor, I read it, as I usually do, to my family and friends. Two of them told me it was brilliant but the third one said he hadn't been in the least interested. Naturally, he was the one whose advice I followed. I buried the play at the back of a drawer without even putting a dried flower on it. Several months later, thanks to the persistence of my two friends, thanks to the curiosity of a stage director and to the enthusiasm of a producer, The Visitor was at last put on.
We rehearsed in August 1993 and the performance happened by chance (we were replacing another show), because Franois Chantenay, the producer, had rented the theatre and had to produce something in it at all costs.The whole company believed in the play. Gérard Vergez directed with rare passion and demanding actors: Maurice Garrel, Thierry Fortineau and Josiane Stoléru. Every time there was a break, they kept telling me how much they responded to the text and assuring me of their faith in the great stir it was going to create. I kept silent, apparently out of modesty, but really because I was cowardly and overcautious. I was sure they were all mistaken, that the play would be a flop and that in less than two months they would cross the street to avoid me.
When The Visitor opened on September 21 1993, my fears proved right. Only two people in the audience had paid for their seats: my parents, who had insisted on not being invited. The press attaché had not succeeded in getting any articles in the newspapers in advance and not a single critic had agreed to come for the previews. They were only interested in writing about the shows everyone wanted to see. Only one solution was left: to invite people. To begin with, it was hard to get an audience and then, when people learnt it was free, the house started to fill up. Flattering comments began to be passed around by word of mouth. Theatre professionals were carried away by the play. Drawn by the increasing rumours, journalists came and wrote wonderful reviews. Finally, it was the turn of the TV and radio people. I was their guest in their best programmes. After two months, the house was full every night. We had become 'the' show everyone had to see in town. I had become the sensation of the year and I was awarded three Molières (French theatrical awards and the equivalent of the Tony Awards).
The play is still a success in every theatre where it is on. So many different productions, so many different actors; the text holds the record for being the bestseller in contemporary theatre (more than 40,000 copies have been sold up to now) and this is just the beginning. I was the first to be surprised. And I still am, although I have joined the ranks of those who adore The Visitor. I wrote the play in total solitude, in answer to some private need, and I thought it so intimate, so personal that I could not think it would ever be appreciated by anyone other than my most obliging friends. How can we believe in God today? How can we still believe in God in a world where horror goes hand in hand with abomination, where bombs kill and where racial discrimination is more rife than ever before? A world in which different sorts of camps are created, some to re-educate, others to exterminate. In short, how can we believe in God at the end of the 20th century during which so many slaughters have been so methodically arranged? How can we believe in God in the face of Evil? In philosophy, we call this 'theodicy' (to put God on trial), and we do it every day: faced with a suffering child; when illness takes someone we love away from us; when we are confronted with the fanaticism of those who kill in the name of their God; watching the telly that brings us cries and pain from all over the world.
One evening, I started weeping while I was watching the news. It was no worse than the previous evening. It was the daily procession of crimes and injustice, but thatevening, I wasn't merely trying to listen and to understand the news, I was feeling it, bleeding with my body with the whole world. All this violence was like ear-splitting noises. I felt so depressed being a man. I told myself: "How broken-spirited God must be if he watches the 8 o'clock news!" I even felt some compassion for this God whose existence I feel so uncertain about. I kept thinking: "If God is having a bad fit of depression, what can He do? What can the remedy be? Whom can He go to?" And immediately, I had the picture right in my mind: God lying on Freud's couch. Then, came another one: Freud on God's couch. The intellectual stimulus soon made me dry my tears and I began to exult. How many things God and Freud must have to say to each other given that they agree on nothing! Not an easy dialogue, since neither of the two believes in the other. The idea started to grow in me and I lived with it for several years. It finally left me when I started writing the play. Triumph was a lesson in humility. What I had presumptuously thought would only interest me, interested thousands of people. Going deep inside myself, I found, not myself, but humanity. Sincerity is a form of humanism. To doubt, to change your mind, to pass from hope to despair, not to know is no weakness: it is to be human. I learnt that everyone recognizes themselves in the twists and turns of The Visitor. The Jews see the play as a Hassidic meditation; the Christians see it as some Pascalian play about a hidden God; atheists recognize their cry of despair. It also means that everyone listens to opinions that are not theirs. Whoever you are, when you see the play, you are faced with otherness.And for me, that is what matters most.
Who is this visitor? God or a madman? One of Freud's dreams? Is the play merely the internal reflections of an old man? Everyone is at liberty to choose. My answer is no better than any other. But you can find it if you read the text very carefully. The play clears the ground for faith but doesn't go any further. If you do, it means that you believe. You are free to do so. But you cannot share this experience.
If I went beyond that threshold, The Visitor would stop being a philosophical play. It would become a propaganda play, which is what I hate most. It would miss its aim, which is to offer something to think about as well as to feel. And, as for the friend who advised me not to publish the play, he is still close to me, even closer. Sometimes we've talked and laughed about the death he wished on The Visitor. He doesn't say, but I know through other people, that today, he knows the greatest speeches of the play by heart.
Grenada, Spain, January 16th2000
Eric-Emmanuel-Schmitt
website: http://www.eric-emmanuel-schmitt.com/en
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