“And Catholic Church means the Church of All, the Universal Church?”
“Surely, son of mine.”
“Then why not let it be really catholic? Why call it catholic, when it is not only just one among many churches, but is even hostile to all the rest of the churches? Father, why not let the Catholic Church become really the universal Church?”
“It is the Universal Church of Christ, my son.”
“Why not let it be the Universal Church of Mohammet as well; since ultimately, God is One God, but the peoples speak varying languages, and each needs its own prophet to speak with its own tongue. The Universal Church of Christ, and Mohammet, and Buddha, and Quetzalcoatl, and all the others—that would be a Catholic Church, Father.”
“You speak of things beyond me,” said the Bishop, turning his ring.
“Not beyond any man,” said Don Ramón. “A Catholic Church is a church of all the religions, a home on earth for all the prophets and the Christs. A big tree under which every man who acknowledges the greater life of the soul can sit and be refreshed. Isn’t that the Catholic Church, Father?”
“Alas, my son, I know the Apostolic Church of Christ in Rome, of which I am a humble servant. I do not understand these clever things you are saying to me.”
“I am asking you for peace, Father. I am not one who hates the Church of Christ, the Roman Catholic Church. But in Mexico I think it has no place. When my heart is not bitter, I am grateful forever to Christ, the Son of God. The affair of the Judases grieves me more than it does you, and the affairs of bloodshed are far bitterer to me.”
“I am no innovator, my son, to provoke bloodshed.”