“Both of your premises are wholly incorrect,” returned the girl gently. “He does not exist, excepting in human, mortal thought. He is a product of only such thought. He and his material universe are seen and dealt with only in such thought. And such thought is the direct antithesis of God’s thought. And it is therefore unreal. It is the supposition, the lie, the mist that went up and darkened the earth.”
“But––the human man––?”
“Is just what you have said, a hue of a man, a dark hue, the shadowy opposite which seems to counterfeit the real, spiritual man and claim all his attributes. He is not a compound of mind and matter, for we have seen that all things are mental, even matter itself. He is a sort of mentality, a counterfeit of real mind. His body and his universe are in himself. And, like all that is unreal, he is transient, passing, ephemeral, mortal.”
“Yet, God made him!”
“No, for he does not exist, excepting in supposition. Does a supposition really exist? If so, then not even truth can destroy it. But supposition passes out before truth. No, the human mind is the ‘old man’ of Paul. He is to be put off by knowing his nothingness, and by knowing the unreality of his supposed material environment and universe. As he goes out of consciousness, the real man, the idea of God, perfect, harmonious, and eternal, comes in.”
“And there,” said Father Waite impressively, “you have the whole scheme of salvation, as enunciated by the man Jesus.”
“There is no doubt of it,” added Hitt. “And, oh, my friends! how futile, how base, how worse than childish now appear the whole theological fabric of the churches, their foolish man-made dogmas, their insensate beliefs in a fiery hell and a golden heaven. Oh, how belittling now appear their concepts of God––a God who can damn unbaptised infants, who can predestine his children to eternal sorrow, who creates and then curses his handiwork! Do you wonder that sin, sorrow, and death remain among us while such awful beliefs hold sway over the human mind? God help us, and the world!”
Haynerd, who had been sitting quietly for some moments, deep in thought, rose and held out his hands, as if in entreaty. “Don’t––don’t!” he exclaimed. “I can’t hear any more. I want to think it all over. It seems––it seems as if a curtain had been raised suddenly. And what I see beyond is––”
Carmen went swiftly to the man and slipped an arm about 71 him. “That infinite creative Mind, so misunderstood and misinterpreted by human beings, is back of you,” she whispered. “And it is Love.”
Haynerd turned and grasped her hands. “I believe it,” he murmured. “But had I not seen the proof in you, no amount of reasoning would have convinced me.” And, bowing to the little group, he went out.