PAPHNUTIUS. I grieve over an injury to my Creator.
DISCIPLES. What injury?
PAPHNUTIUS. The injury His own creatures made in His very image inflict on Him.
DISCIPLES. Oh, father, your words fill us with fear! How can such things be?
PAPHNUTIUS. It is true that the impassible Majesty cannot be hurt by injuries. Nevertheless, speaking in metaphor, and as if God were weak with our weakness, what greater injury can we conceive than this—that while the greater world is obedient, and subject to His rule, the lesser world resists His guidance?
DISCIPLES. What do you mean by the lesser world?
PAPHNUTIUS. Man.
DISCIPLES. Man?
PAPHNUTIUS. Yes.
DISCIPLES. What man?