I loved all men that night, even the fellow in melodramatic
laboring-man costume, who appeared after two hours to drive us animals
up stairs into one corner of the chapel, where a dozen of our kind had
already assembled from somewhere.
On the far side of that chapel sat the money-fed. The aisle was a
great gulf between them and us. I smiled across the gulf indulgently,
imagining by what exhortations to “Come and help us in our problem”
those uncomfortable persons had been assembled. An unmitigated
clergyman rose to read a text.
I presume this clergyman imagined Christ wore a white tie and was on a
salary promptly paid by some of our oldest families. But I share with
the followers of St. Francis the vision of Christ as a man of the open
road, improvident as the sparrow. I share with the followers of Tolstoi
the opinion that when Christ proclaimed those uncomfortable social
doctrines, he meant what he said.
The clergyman read: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven.”
“Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”