Monsignor Quixote on Faith.2 (Plus a Little Marx)

Monsignor Quixote: "Oh, I know what you think. You think my God is an illusion like the windmills. But He exists, I tell you, I don't just believe in Him. I touch Him."

Sancho: "Is he soft or hard?"
Father Quixote began to raise himself in wrath from the grass.

"No, no, father. I'm sorry. I didn't men to joke. I respect your belief as you respect mine. Only there's a difference. I know that Marx and Lenin existed. You only believe."

"I tell you it's not question of belief. I touch Him."



Monsignor Quixote: "I believe what I told her," he told himself as he went to find the Mayor, "I believe it of course, but how is it that when I speak of belief, I become aware always of a shadow, the shadow of disbelief haunting my belief?"

Sancho: "Perhaps we shall even conquer death with transplants."
"God forbid," Father Quixote said. "Then he would be living in a desert without end. No doubt. No faith. I would preder him to have what we call a happy death."
"What do you mean by happy death?"
"I mean the hope of something further."
"The beatific vision and all tht nonsense? Believing in some life eternal?"

"No. Not necessarily believing. We can't always believe. Just having faith. Like you have, Sancho. OSancho, Sancho, it's an awful thing not to have doubts. Suppose all Marx wrote was proved to be absolute truth, and Lenin's works too."
"I'd be glad, of course."
"I wonder."