Monsignor Quixote by Graham Greene

 "Perhaps we are all fictions, father, in the mind of God.'

‘Oh, I understand . . . . That old saying of your prophet Marx – ‘Religion is the opium of the people.’ But you take it out of context Sancho. Just as our heretics have twisted the words of Our Lord.’

I don’t follow you, Monsignor.’

‘ When I was a student in Madrid I was encouraged to read a little in your holy book. One must know one’s enemy. Don’t you remember how Marx defended the monastic orders in England and condemned Henry the Eighth?’

‘I certainly do not.’

“ You should look at Das Kapital again. There is no talk of opium there.’

‘All the same, he wrote it –though I forget for a moment where.’

“Yes, but he wrote it in the nineteenth century, Sancho. Opium then was not an evil drug –laudanum was a tranquilizer, nothing worse. A tranquillizer for the well-to-do, one which the poor could not afford. Religion is the Valium of the poor –that was all he meant. Better for them than a visit to the gin palace. Better for them perhaps even than this wine. Man can’t live without a tranquillizer.”

‘ Then perhaps we should kill another bottle?’

‘Say half a bottle if we are to arrive safely in Madrid. Too much opium might be dangerous.’

‘We will make a Marxist of you yet, monsignor.’

“I have packed some half bottles to fill up the corners.’

The Mayor went to the car and returned with a half bottle.’

‘I have never denied that Marx was a good man,’ Father Quixote  said. ‘He wanted to help the poor, and that want of his certainly saved him at the last.’

 

“Your glass, monsignor.’

‘I asked you not to call me monsignor.

‘Then why not call me comrade- I prefer it to Sancho.’

‘In recent history, Sancho, too many comrades  have been killed by comrades. I don’t mind calling you friend. Friends are less  apt to kill each other.’

‘Isn’t friend going a little bit far between a Catholic priest and a Marxist?’

‘You said a few hours back that we must have something in common.’

‘Perhaps what we have in common is this Manchegan wine, friend.’

They both had a sense of growing comfort as the dark deepened and they teased each other. When the lorries passed on the road the headlights gleamed narrowly for a moment on the two empty bottles and what remained in the half bottle.

‘What puzzles me, friend, is how you can believe in so many incompatible ideas. For example, the Trinity. It’s worse than higher mathematics. Can you explain the Trinity to me? It was more than they could do in Salamanca.’

‘I can try.’

‘Try then.’

‘You see these two bottles?’

 ‘Of course.’

‘Two bottles of equal size. The wine they contained was of the same substance and it was born at the same time. There you have God the Father and God the Son and there, in the half bottle, God the Holy Ghost. Same substance. Same birth, They’re inseparable. Whoever partakes one partakes all three.’

“I was never, even in Salamanca, able to see the point of the Holy Ghost. He has always seem to me a bit redundant.’

‘Were not satisfied with two bottles, were we? That half bottle gave us the extra spark of life we both needed. We wouldn’t have been happy without it. Perhaps we wouldn’t have had the courage to continue our journey . Even our friendship might have ceased without the Holy Spirit.’

‘You are very ingenious, friend. I begin at least to understand what you mean by the Trinity. Not to believe in it, mind you. That I will never do.’

Father Quixote sat in silence looking at the bottles. When the Mayor struck a match to light a cigarette he saw the bowed head of his companion. It was as though he had been deserted by the Spirit he had praised. ‘What is the matter father?’ he asked.

 

‘May God forgive me,’ Father Quixote said, ‘for I have sinned.’

‘It was only a joke, father. Surely your God can understand a joke.’

 

“I have been guilty of heresy,’ Father Quixote replied. “I think –perhaps- I am unworthy to be a priest.’

“What have you done?’

’I have given the wrong instruction. The Holy Ghost is equal in all respects to the Father and the Son, and I have represented Him by this half-bottle.’

’Is that a serious error, father?’

 

‘It is anathema. It was condemned expressly at I forgot which Council. A very early Council. Perhaps it was Nicea.’

‘Don’t worry, father. The matter is easily put right. We will throw away and forget  this half bottle and I will bring a whole bottle from the car.’

 

‘I have drunk more than I should. If I hadn’t drunk so much I would never, never made that mistake. There is no sin worse than the sin against the Holy Ghost.’

“Forget about it. We will put matter right at once.’

And so it was they drank another bottle. Father Quixote felt comforted and he was touched too by the sympathy of his companion. The Manchegan wine was light, but it seemed wiser to them both to stretch out on the grass and sleep the night away where they were, and when the sun rose Father Quixote was able to smile at the sadness he had felt. There was no sin in a little forgetfulness and an inadvertent error. The Machegan wine had been the  guilty party – it was not, after all, quite so light a wine as he had believed.

As they set off he said, ‘I was a little foolish last night, Sancho.’

‘I thought you spoke very well.’

‘I did make you understand, perhaps, a little about the Holy Trinity?’

‘Understand, yes. Believe, no.’

‘Then will you please forget the half bottle? It was a mistake I never should have made.’

‘I will remember only the three full bottles, friend.’