‘I pray.’
‘How can you?’
‘I reach out to Christ.’
‘To Christ? He died long ago.’
‘Not mine. We know nobody as well as we know Jesus. A mystical being.’
‘Of your own invention.’
‘No - not invented - not like other inventions - really - just somehow there. That’s it in a way.’
‘It?’
‘Our problem now, the problem of our age, our interregnum, our interim, our time of the angels — ’
‘Why angels?’
‘Spirit without God.’
‘So you expect a new revelation?’
‘No, just to hang on.’
‘Until?’
‘Until religion can change itself into something we can believe in.’
‘Surely you don’t credit these historical dramas?’ said John Robert. ‘History is fictitious. To want, however modestly, salvation by history is to live a lie. All prophets are devils, vile peddlers of illusions.’
‘I was only hoping — ’
‘Anyway, when it comes to it, what do you want to save?’
‘Oh - I don’t know - certain images - certain rites - certain spiritual situations - the conception of sacraments - certain words even.’
‘Why call it religion?’
‘It certainly isn’t morality.’
‘True. But this mystical Christ of yours, do you talk to him, ask him things?’
‘I come to him. I live him and breathe him.’
‘Are you a mystic?’
‘No, that would be to claim merit.’
‘Never mind merit, are you a mystic?’
‘I believe in a spiritual world as if it were very close to this world, as if it were - well, I believe that it is - this world - exactly the same and yet absolutely different.’
‘You have an experience?’
‘Not like a vision. More like a vibration.’
‘Isn’t that sex?’
‘Well, isn’t sex everywhere? Is it not an image of spirit, is it not spirit itself? Can spirit, our spirit and there is no other, ever rise so high that it leaves sex behind?’
‘Death excludes sex. Its proximity kills desire. Wisdom is the practice of dying.’
‘Surely sex as spirit embraces death too.’
‘That old romantic stuff! I am surprised at you. Your spiritual sex is about suffering. Christianity is a cult of suffering.’
‘Not if Christ didn’t rise it isn’t. And it is essential that he did not rise. If he be risen then is our faith vain.’
‘That is good. Only don’t deny that it is the suffering that attracts you. If there is any absolute it condemns our evil to death, not to purgation.’
‘What about redemptive suffering?’
‘Is there such a thing?’
‘Of course there is, we are surrounded by it — when someone loves another person and suffers for him, with him — this releases spiritual energy — like an electric charge.’
John Robert reflected. ‘Well — silent fruitless love there’s plenty of, and we would need a God to give any point to that. I don’t believe in your redemptive suffering. A delightful idea, like your mystic Christ — a lie. It’s self-flattery, illusion, like almost anything that pleases. Are you a homosexual?’
‘Yes, but I live chastely. I don’t mind what other people do.’
‘So you are a narcissist?’
‘Certainly, narcissists can look after others because they are content with themselves. They are creative, imaginative, humorous, sympathetic. Those who lack narcissism are resentful envious husks. It is they who try to give it a bad name.’
John Robert laughed, then frowned.
At that moment they were walking, at the modest pace imposed by the priest, along the road called Forum Way which bordered the end of the Belmont garden. Behind the wall could be seen the tall dramatic gawky form of the ginkgo tree, and the shallow green roof of the Slipper House shining from the recent rain. There was a glossy black-painted wooden gate in the wall. John Robert cast a glance towards the Slipper House, then at the gate.
‘You’re a Jew?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does that worry you?’
‘Should it?’
‘Being a Christian, isn’t that treason, doesn’t it feel like a betrayal?’
‘No! I am a religious man. That at least my religion does for me.’
‘Frees you from guilt.’
‘From irrational guilt.’
‘But does it change you at all, does your Christ do anything for you?’
‘He stops me from doing things.’
‘That was what Socrates’s daemon did.’
‘But - it’s not difficult — ’
‘You mean you don’t make sacrifices?’
‘No.’
‘So there’s not much at stake for you then, with your Christ.’
‘At stake? Everything’s at stake.’
‘If you don’t really have to raise a finger, everything is not at stake.’
‘I mean - it’s a totally different world.’
‘The world of faith, of your faith?’
‘I know … that there is always … more quietness, more silence … more space … into which I can move … on … and be made … better, somehow … It’s not a drama, not sort of exciting, or violent, like things being at stake.’
‘I like your picture. Morality makes mincemeat of metaphysics by the simplicity of its claims. And that fool Ivor Sefton thinks that metaphysical imagery is paranoiac! We are all image-makers. So a quiet life and no guilt? What do you do in your parish work?’
‘I enact rites. I wait for people to summon me.’
‘A fireman priest! Not a fisher of men.’
‘I am a fish not a fisher, a fish in search of a net.’
‘I will make you fishers of men if you follow me. There was a little sect who used to sing that, in Burkestown, when I was a child.’
‘They’re still there, down beside the railway.’
‘Simple faith. They think they are saved.’
‘Faith means - at least, not having to count your sins.’
‘But if there is no God you must count your sins, since no one else will, or do you believe that virtue is a harmony of good and evil?’
Father Bernard was horrified. ‘I am not a Gnostic! A most detestable heresy! That really is magic!’
‘Heresy! Are you not up to your neck in it? But why magic?’
‘The desire to know can degenerate into mere trickery. Our natural love for evil makes us think we understand it. Then we read good into it, like turning lead into gold. But it’s not like that - the difference between good and evil is absolute - the two poles are not in view - we are not gods.’
‘You believe in this absolute difference, this - distance?’
‘I think we experience it at every moment. Yes, I believe in it - don’t you?’
Rozanov said after a moment, ‘Why are we so sure about this? Is it the sort of thing we can be sure about? What would be a test? What does seem clear is that the spiritual world is full of ambiguities, full of these “readings”, full of the magic you are so afraid of. If you appeal to experience, well we experience that all right. What about your mystic Christ. Isn’t he an ambiguous magical figure? For instance, you are in love with him, aren’t you?’
Father Bernard had begun to feel upset, annoyed with Rozanov, and even more with himself for having so crudely spoken about things which were, when unspoken, so clear and pure. He said, ‘I shouldn’t have spoken of him.’
‘Ah, I understand, I understand. We’ll leave him alone. But isn’t religion bound to descend into consolation? You don’t want to change, or to sacrifice anything, but because of some vague experience you regard yourself as excused, as innocent, simul iustus et peccator?’
They were now quite close to the Common, walking through Druidsdale, and the priest noticed that Rozanov, who had hitherto allowed his companion to determine the route, had taken a sharp right-hand turn in order to avoid going along the road where George McCaffrey lived.
Father Bernard did not answer directly, but said, ‘You were right to mention love. Isn’t that somehow the proof that good and evil exclude each other?’