"Light was the symbol I tried to give them," Chris went on gently. "The
Cross was the symbol they adopted. The pain of self-sacrifice was
obvious to them. The subjective reward--incomprehensible. Thus they
changed it all. I told them of many mansions. They chose this mansion
or that--and scoured each other off the earth, to set one heaven in
place of the heaven of those they defeated. Holy wars! Is such a thing
conceivable to God as a holy war? Alas. The words--the images--the
effort is still uncomprehended. I said Light. I said Truth. I said
Freedom. I meant enlightenment. Yet nearly every church that uses my
name is a wall against light and a rampart against enlightenment,
using fear, not love, to chain the generations in terror and pain and
ignorance." He pointed again. "And now--this is called civilization,
and in my name, also! Enlightenment! Knowledge!" He fell silent; but at
last, smiled a little. "A few knew. A few will always know. Francis of
Assisi--he guessed. Thomas à Kempis. Most who knew were church heretics
in their day--as I was in mine. And what I say is still heresy."
He became silent again. He looked from face to face. "Colonel. You are
a soldier. You are ready by your profession to die for other men. It is
a noble readiness. Will you turn back?"
The colonel retreated a step and leaned against the riveted bulkhead.
Sweat once more broke upon his countenance, poured down; he crossed
himself again and Chris sadly shook his head.