"Did you endeavor to convert your fellow-men?"
I did. I tried to convert them by persuasion, by preaching and praying
and even by force.
"What did you do?"
I put the heretics in prison, in chains. I tore out their tongues, put
out their eyes, crushed their bones, stretched them upon racks, roasted
their feet, and if they remained obdurate I flayed them alive or burned
them at the stake.
"And did you do all this for my glory?"
Yes, all for you. I wanted to save some, I wanted to protect the young
and the weak minded.
"Did you believe the Bible, the miracles--that I was God, that I was
born of a virgin and kept money in the mouth of a fish?"
Yes, I believed it all. My reason was the slave of faith.
"Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joys of thy
Lord. I was hungry and you gave me meat, naked and you clothed me.."
Another soul arises.
"What is your name?"
Giordano Bruno.
"Were you a Christian?"
At one time I was, but for many years I was a philosopher, a seeker
after truth.
"Did you seek to convert your fellow-men?"
Not to Christianity, but to the religion of reason. I tried to
develop their minds, to free them from the slavery of ignorance and
superstition. In my day the church taught the holiness of credulity--the
virtue of unquestioning obedience, and in your name tortured and
destroyed the intelligent and courageous. I did what I could to civilize
the world, to make men tolerant and merciful, to soften the hearts
of priests, and banish torture from the world. I expressed my honest
thoughts and walked in the light of reason.
"Did you believe the Bible, the miracles? Did you believe that I was
God, that I was born of a virgin and that I suffered myself to be killed
by the Jews to appease the wrath of God--that is, of myself--so that God
could save the souls of a few?"
"No, I did not. I did not believe that God was ever born into my world,
or that God learned the trade of a carpenter, or that he 'increased
in knowledge,' or that he cast devils out of men, or that his garments
could cure diseases, or that he allowed himself to be murdered, and in
the hour of death "forsook" himself. These things I did not and could
not believe. But I did all the good I could. I enlightened the ignorant,
comforted the afflicted, defended the innocent, divided even my poverty
with the poor, and did the best I could to increase the happiness of my
fellow-men. I was a soldier in the army of progress.--I was arrested,
imprisoned, tried and convicted by the church--by the 'Triumphant
Beast.' I was burned at the stake by ignorant and heartless priests and
my ashes given to the winds."
Then Christ, his face growing dark, his brows contracted with wrath,
with uplifted hands, with half averted face, cries or rather shrieks:
"Depart from me ye cursed into everlasting fire prepared for the devil
and his angels."
This is the justice of God--the mercy of the compassionate Christ.
This is the belief, the dream and hope of the orthodox theologian--"the
consummation devoutly to be wished."
Theology makes God a monster, a tyrant, a savage; makes man a servant,
a serf, a slave; promises heaven to the obedient, the meek, the
frightened, and threatens the self-reliant with the tortures of hell.
It denounces reason and appeals to the passions--to hope and fear.
It does not answer the arguments of those who attack, but resorts to
sophistry, falsehood and slander. It is incapable of advancement. It
keeps its back to the sunrise, lives on myth and miracle, and guards
with a misers care the "sacred" superstitions of the past.
In the great struggle between the supernatural and the natural, between
gods and men, we have passed midnight. All the forces of civilization,
all the facts that have been found, all the truths that have been
discovered are the allies of science--the enemies of the supernatural.
We need no myths, no miracles, no gods, no devils.