“I know it is right!” he exclaimed, forgetting that he was talking to a child. “Evil, which includes sickness and death, is only a false idea of good. It is a misinterpretation, made in the thought-activity which constitutes what we call the human consciousness. And that is the opposite––the suppositional opposite––of the mind that is God. Evil, then, becomes a supposition and a lie. Just what Jesus said it was!”
“But, Padre––I don’t see why you don’t act as if you really believed all that!”
“Fear––only fear! It has not yet been eradicated from my thought,” he answered slowly.
“But, Padre, what will drive it out?”
“Love, child––love only, for ‘perfect love casteth out fear.’”
“Oh, then, Padre dear, I will just love it all out of you, every bit!” she exclaimed, clasping her arms about him again and burying her face in his shoulder.
“Ah, little one,” he said sadly, “I must love more. I must love my fellow-men and good more than myself and evil. If I didn’t love myself so much, I would have no fear. If I loved God as you do, dearest child, I would never come under fear’s heavy shadow.”
“You do love everybody––you have got to, for you are God’s child. And now,” she added, getting down and drawing him toward the door, “let us go out of this smelly old church. I want you to come home. We’ve got to have our lessons, you know.”
“But––child, the people will not let me come near them––nor you either, now,” he said, holding back. “They think we may give them the disease.”