And none of those present, from the inspector down to Maslova,
seemed conscious of the fact that this Jesus, whose name the
priest repeated such a great number of times, and whom he praised
with all these curious expressions, had forbidden the very things
that were being done there; that He had prohibited not only this
meaningless much-speaking and the blasphemous incantation over
the bread and wine, but had also, in the clearest words,
forbidden men to call other men their master, and to pray in
temples; and had ordered that every one should pray in solitude,
had forbidden to erect temples, saying that He had come to
destroy them, and that one should worship, not in a temple, but
in spirit and in truth; and, above all, that He had forbidden not
only to judge, to imprison, to torment, to execute men, as was
being done here, but had prohibited any kind of violence, saying
that He had come to give freedom to the captives.
No one present seemed conscious that all that was going on here
was the greatest blasphemy and a supreme mockery of that same
Christ in whose name it was being done. No one seemed to realise
that the gilt cross with the enamel medallions at the ends, which
the priest held out to the people to be kissed, was nothing but
the emblem of that gallows on which Christ had been executed for
denouncing just what was going on here. That these priests, who
imagined they were eating and drinking the body and blood of
Christ in the form of bread and wine, did in reality eat and
drink His flesh and His blood, but not as wine and bits of bread,
but by ensnaring "these little ones" with whom He identified
Himself, by depriving them of the greatest blessings and
submitting them to most cruel torments, and by hiding from men
the tidings of great joy which He had brought. That thought did
not enter into the mind of any one present.
The priest did his part with a quiet conscience, because he was
brought up from childhood to consider that the only true faith
was the faith which had been held by all the holy men of olden
times and was still held by the Church, and demanded by the State
authorities. He did not believe that the bread turned into flesh,
that it was useful for the soul to repeat so many words, or that
he had actually swallowed a bit of God. No one could believe
this, but he believed that one ought to hold this faith. What
strengthened him most in this faith was the fact that, for
fulfilling the demands of this faith, he had for the last 15
years been able to draw an income, which enabled him to keep his
family, send his son to a gymnasium and his daughter to a school
for the daughters of the clergy. The deacon believed in the same
manner, and even more firmly than the priest, for he had
forgotten the substance of the dogmas of this faith, and knew
only that the prayers for the dead, the masses, with and without
the acathistus, all had a definite price, which real Christians
readily paid, and, therefore, he called out his "have mercy, have
mercy," very willingly, and read and said what was appointed,
with the same quiet certainty of its being necessary to do so
with which other men sell faggots, flour, or potatoes. The prison
inspector and the warders, though they had never understood or
gone into the meaning of these dogmas and of all that went on in
church, believed that they must believe, because the higher
authorities and the Tsar himself believed in it. Besides, though
faintly (and themselves unable to explain why), they felt that
this faith defended their cruel occupations. If this faith did
not exist it would have been more difficult, perhaps impossible,
for them to use all their powers to torment people, as they were
now doing, with a quiet conscience. The inspector was such a
kind-hearted man that he could not have lived as he was now
living unsupported by his faith. Therefore, he stood motionless,
bowed and crossed himself zealously, tried to feel touched when
the song about the cherubims was being sung, and when the
children received communion he lifted one of them, and held him
up to the priest with his own hands.