then to divert the
conversation into less difficult channels, she added:--
"As to what you may think of my beliefs, I have no fear; they need not
be discussed and they cannot be attacked."
"You are an Episcopalian," he suggested hesitatingly. "I do not wish to
be rude, but--your church has its dogmas."
"There is not a dogma of my church that I have ever thought of for a
moment: or of any other church," she replied instantly and clearly.
In those simple words she had uttered unaware a long historic truth:
that religion, not theology, forms the spiritual life of women. In the
whole history of the world's opinions, no dogma of any weight has ever
originated with a woman; wherein, as in many other ways, she shows
points of superiority in her intellect. It is a man who tries to
apprehend God through his logic and psychology; a woman understands Him
better through emotions and deeds. It is the men who are concerned
about the cubits, the cedar wood, the Urim and Thummim of the
Tabernacle; woman walks straight into the Holy of Holies. Men
constructed the Cross; women wept for the Crucified. It was a man--a
Jew defending his faith in his own supernatural revelation--who tried
to ram a sponge of vinegar into the mouth of Christ, dying; it was
women who gathered at the sepulchre of Resurrection. If Christ could
have had a few women among his Apostles, there might have been more of
His religion in the world and fewer creeds barnacled on the World's
Ship of Souls.
"How can you remain in your church without either believing or
disbelieving its dogmas?" asked David, squarely.
"My church is the altar of Christ and the house of God," replied
Gabriella, simply. "And so is any other church." That was all the logic
she had and all the faith she needed; beyond that limit she did not
even think.
"And you believe in THEM ALL?" he asked with wondering admiration.
"I believe in them all."
"Once I did also," observed David, reverently and with new reverence
for her.
"What I regret is that you should have thrown away your religion on
account of your difficulties with theology. Nothing more awful could
have befallen you than that."
"It was the churches that made the difficulties," said David, "I did
not. But there is more than theology in it. You do not know what I
think about religions--revelations--inspirations--man's place in
nature."
"What DO you think?" she asked eagerly. "I suppose now I shall hear
something abou
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