“Now, Monsignor, having scolded you well,” the girl continued, smiling as she sat down again, “I will apologize. But you needed the scolding––you know you did! And nearly all who profess the name of Christ need the same. Monsignor, I love you all, and every one, whether Catholic or Protestant, or whatever his creed. But that does not blind my eyes to your great need, and to your obstinate refusal to make any effort to meet that need.”
A cynical look came into the man’s face. “May I ask, Miss Carmen, if you consider yourself a true follower and believer?” he said coolly.
“Monsignor,” she quickly replied, rising and facing him, “you hope by that adroit question to confound me. You mean, do I heal the sick? Listen: when I was a child my purity of thought was such that I knew no evil. I could not see it anywhere. I could not see sickness or death as anything more than unreal shadows. And that wonderful clearness of vision and purity of thought made me a channel for the operation of the Christ-principle, God himself. And thereby the sick were healed in my little home town. Then, little by little, after my beloved teacher, Josè, came to me, I lost ground in my struggle to keep the vision clear. They did not mean to, but he and my dearest padre Rosendo and others held their beliefs of evil as 159 a reality so constantly before me that the vision became obscured, and the spirituality alloyed. The unreal forces of evil seemed to concentrate upon me. I know why now, for the greatest good always stirs up the greatest amount of evil––the highest truth always has the lowest lie as its opposite and opponent. I see now, as never before, the unreality of evil. I see now, as never before, the marvelous truth which Jesus tried, oh, so hard, to impress upon the dull minds of his people, the truth which you refuse to see. And ceaselessly I am now striving to acquire ‘that mind,’ that spiritual consciousness, which was in him. My vision is becoming daily clearer. I have been wonderfully shielded, led, and cared for. And I shall heal, some day, as he did. I shall regain my former spirituality, for it has never really been lost. But, Monsignor, do not ask me to come into your Church and allow my brightening vision to become blurred by your very inadequate concept of God––a God who is moved by the petitions of Saints and Virgin and mortal men. No! no! Unless,” she added, brightening, “you will let me teach your Church what I know. Will you agree to that?”
Lafelle did not answer. Then Carmen shook her head. “You see,” she said, “your Church requires absolute submission to its age-worn authority. According to you, I have nothing to give. Very well, if your Church can receive nothing from me, and yet can give me nothing more than its impossible beliefs, undemonstrable this side of the grave, at least––then we must consider that a gulf is fixed between us.
“Oh, Monsignor,” she pleaded, after a moment’s silence, “you see, do you not? When Jesus said that he gave his disciples power over all evil, did he not mean likewise over all physical action, and over every physical condition? But did he mean that they alone should have such power? What a limiting of infinite Love! No, he meant that every one who followed him and strove ceaselessly for spirituality of thought should acquire that spirituality, and thereby cleanse himself of false beliefs, and make room for the Christ-principle to operate, even to the healing of the sick, to the raising of those mesmerized by the belief of death as a power and reality, and to the dematerializing of the whole material concept of the heavens and earth. Can’t you, a churchman, see it? And can’t you see how shallow your views are? Don’t you know that even the physical body is but a part of the human, material concept, and therefore a part of the ‘one lie’ about God, who is Spirit?”
Lafelle had listened patiently. But now his time had come to speak in rebuttal. And yet, he would make no attempt to assail her convictions. He knew well that she would not yield––at least, to-day. He therefore played another card.
“Miss Carmen,” he said gently, “the Church is ever doing beneficent deeds which do not come to light, and for which she receives no praise from men. Your own and Mrs. Hawley-Crowles’s elevation to social leadership came through her. There is also a rumor that the Church afforded you an asylum on your first night in this city, when, if ever, you needed aid. The Church shielded and cared for you even in Simití. Indeed, what has she not done for you? And do you now, alas! turn and rend her?”
“Monsignor,” replied Carmen, “I am not unmindful of the care always bestowed upon me. And I am not ungrateful. But my gratitude is to my God, who has worked through many channels to bless me. My account is with Him. Leave it there, and fear not that I shall prove ungrateful to Him, to whom my every thought is consecrated.”
Lafelle bit his lip. Then he spoke low and earnestly, while he held his gaze fixed upon the girl’s bright eyes. “Miss Carmen, if you knew that the Church now afforded you the only refuge from the dangers that threaten, you would turn to her as a frightened child to its mother.”