I go back to that "we agree too profoundly to dispute" bit that the Monsignor offered to the Mayor early on...indeed they can't dispute (really) but only speak past each other, offering running annotation or commentary to the opposing, unspooling worldview across the way. And because this is a comedy, the annotations have the feel sometimes of those bawdy illuminated manuscript doodles the internet loves so much; none more so than Sancho's notion of baptizing a breech birth in the manner which it presents, a practical absurdity derived from a theological absurdity (and following the bit of Father Jone's that Yiyun Li notes). Likewise, the homey, rather prim demeanor and discretion of the brothel is necessary so as not to spoil's Greene's stage business with the prophylactic--to use another bit of the then contemporary parlance. Maybe that's it? So far it's a book of tremendous discretion, a book about tooling through the aftermath of Franco's Spain...one so light it might almost float away...like a proscribed balloon...I'm into it.
For all of his brevity, there is I think some very serious consequences lurking beneath Sancho’s comments today as he jokes about being in prison during the civil war where, “There was always a certain tension in prison, you know. One's friends went away and never came back.” And reminiscing nostalgically about the time when he still possessed “a half-belief.” I feel now as if I’m in search of those beautiful times myself. You know things are pretty bleak when half a belief is so much better than none.
Only one Our Father and one Hail Mary as penance for a serious sin is quite lenient. The priests were not so forgiving of our petty crimes when we were marched to confession once a month as school children many moons ago.
‘There are degrees of evil, Sancho – and of good. We can try to discriminate between the living, but with the dead we can’t discriminate. They all have the same need of our prayer.’
Not to dispel the humour and satire entailed in baptizing a breech birth, at a time when birth was a fraught experience for both mother and child, the attendance of a priest in case an emergency baptism or last rights were needed was common. Still, the mental image of the priest crowding in to what would be a chaotic, horrific scene to spread a bit of holy water on to the emerging nether regions of a possibly doomed child is worthy of a chapter all by itself.
I think Sancho would argue (as a good communist and as our resident anti-Franco figure) that a great many other things were needed a great deal more...than a policy for baptizing breech births? And his bringing it up is a reminder that the church was offered (forcibly) as a substitute for all the things the mother and child needed more. Needed vs. needed, then. The debate of the book, though I think Greene here is pretty clear?
And that this is followed immediately by the chapter with the condom gag...is not a coincidence?
(After all, from an authorially self-serving point of view Greene was the kind of spiky Catholic who spent most of his life wanting a divorce that his wife would not grant, on Catholic grounds.)
I love that Mgr. Q. makes this jab about the "dignity of despair," and we have yet to witness any particular source for this wisdom, especially given the copious amounts of wine he's enjoyed these last few days. And Sancho is quick to deflate this fierceness with the question: ""Have I complete belief?" I don't think the Mgr. is accurate. But it's true! The fiercest reproach imaginable, along with those he's posed about certainty.
I wonder… has anyone counted the bottles consumed in this novel? And were bottles of wine a standard 750 ml in that day? Just curious… might make a fun drinking game.
I was enjoying this passage quite a bit, laughing as I recalled the sensation of being a teenager in the prison of one's parent(s): "The prison gives you even more chance to think than a monastery where the poor devils have to wake up at all sorts of ungodly hours to pray. […] The great thing to remember, monsignor, is that unlike an abbot, an interrogator wants to sleep at his usual hour."
“Father Quixote was still unaware of the object of their pilgrimage, but he was happy in his ignorance.” This could be why I very rarely read/listen to the news.
Yes, the Monsignor’s comment on the dignity of despair was indeed fierce with anger, or perhaps also envious, as he notes. This struck a chord with me, as I have a similarly mixed reaction to people who profess to have complete faith in something, even when that something contradicts someone else’s equally complete belief. How can anyone possibly be so sure? I found the response of Sancho about his dream of his professor (“Who knows? Without this uncertainty, how could we live?”) to be somehow comforting, as I think it is meant to be for the Monsignor. It is also interesting that this comes on the heels of the discussion of baptism in crisis situations. Without going off on the history of the Limbo tangent of Catholic theology, these rules (or “military regulations,” as Quixote refers to them in a previous chapter), had very real effects on the emotional and spiritual well-being (or not) of practicing Catholics. This book is funny, but also has an undertone that is quite serious and thought-provoking. Reiterating that I am so glad I signed up for this group read.
"Looking up at the great carved gateway of the university, with the chiseled Pope, surrounded by his cardinals, the heads in medallion of all the Catholic kings, where even Venus and Hercules had been found a place, not to mention a very small frog, he muttered a prayer. The frog had been pointed out by two children who demanded payment in return." Clergy, kings, pagans, a random amphibian, and a couple local tour guides, welcome to Salamanca! What was the content of that muttered prayer, I wonder.
"Father Quixote...looked up with respect at the face of stone, the hooded eyes expressing the fierceness and the arrogance of individual thought." That's about right.
The confirmation gift from my (protestant) church was Unamuno's Tragic Sense of Life. I don't remember what I made of it at 17. . . Maybe it's time to find that volume on whatever high shelf and dust it off. Or just to thank Graham Greene for fictionalizing its philosophies for me!
“There is only one thing you will ever lack (given Sancho’s “complete belief”) – the dignity of despair.” There is something profound in recognizing the “dignity of despair.” Ahhh, to embrace the power of incertitude, which leads one to question, grapple with nuance – and yes, “despair” – before picking one’s self up, and shaping a path forward, illuminating a vision of future potential, in which “winning” is not the goal, but building a world in which unity, individuality, and continual questioning, becomes foundational to the elevation of all. Perhaps, I am “tilting at windmills?”
The whispers of wisdom, which “haunt” Sancho (bring me comfort - and dare I say – “hope”): “There is a muffled voice of uncertainty which whispers in the ears of the believer … Without this uncertainty, how could we live?”
Pairing "dignity" with "despair" was surprising to me. And made me think. Yes, compared to dogmatic belief, despair indeed has dignity. And since there is nothing we can be absolutely sure of, perhaps we must accept the role of despair in our lives.
I go back to that "we agree too profoundly to dispute" bit that the Monsignor offered to the Mayor early on...indeed they can't dispute (really) but only speak past each other, offering running annotation or commentary to the opposing, unspooling worldview across the way. And because this is a comedy, the annotations have the feel sometimes of those bawdy illuminated manuscript doodles the internet loves so much; none more so than Sancho's notion of baptizing a breech birth in the manner which it presents, a practical absurdity derived from a theological absurdity (and following the bit of Father Jone's that Yiyun Li notes). Likewise, the homey, rather prim demeanor and discretion of the brothel is necessary so as not to spoil's Greene's stage business with the prophylactic--to use another bit of the then contemporary parlance. Maybe that's it? So far it's a book of tremendous discretion, a book about tooling through the aftermath of Franco's Spain...one so light it might almost float away...like a proscribed balloon...I'm into it.
For all of his brevity, there is I think some very serious consequences lurking beneath Sancho’s comments today as he jokes about being in prison during the civil war where, “There was always a certain tension in prison, you know. One's friends went away and never came back.” And reminiscing nostalgically about the time when he still possessed “a half-belief.” I feel now as if I’m in search of those beautiful times myself. You know things are pretty bleak when half a belief is so much better than none.
Only one Our Father and one Hail Mary as penance for a serious sin is quite lenient. The priests were not so forgiving of our petty crimes when we were marched to confession once a month as school children many moons ago.
Too bad you didn't have Father Quixote... perhaps the ideal confessor, from the sinner's perspective.
‘Tonight, Sancho, I promise you that I will take up the study of Marx and Lenin if you will leave Father Jone alone.’
The Moral Theology instructions remind me of Fawlty Towers. I too might have to read it.
‘There are degrees of evil, Sancho – and of good. We can try to discriminate between the living, but with the dead we can’t discriminate. They all have the same need of our prayer.’
The dead become anonymous to MQ.
And perhaps also dignified by their despair… ;-)
Not to dispel the humour and satire entailed in baptizing a breech birth, at a time when birth was a fraught experience for both mother and child, the attendance of a priest in case an emergency baptism or last rights were needed was common. Still, the mental image of the priest crowding in to what would be a chaotic, horrific scene to spread a bit of holy water on to the emerging nether regions of a possibly doomed child is worthy of a chapter all by itself.
I think Sancho would argue (as a good communist and as our resident anti-Franco figure) that a great many other things were needed a great deal more...than a policy for baptizing breech births? And his bringing it up is a reminder that the church was offered (forcibly) as a substitute for all the things the mother and child needed more. Needed vs. needed, then. The debate of the book, though I think Greene here is pretty clear?
And that this is followed immediately by the chapter with the condom gag...is not a coincidence?
(After all, from an authorially self-serving point of view Greene was the kind of spiky Catholic who spent most of his life wanting a divorce that his wife would not grant, on Catholic grounds.)
I love that Mgr. Q. makes this jab about the "dignity of despair," and we have yet to witness any particular source for this wisdom, especially given the copious amounts of wine he's enjoyed these last few days. And Sancho is quick to deflate this fierceness with the question: ""Have I complete belief?" I don't think the Mgr. is accurate. But it's true! The fiercest reproach imaginable, along with those he's posed about certainty.
I wonder… has anyone counted the bottles consumed in this novel? And were bottles of wine a standard 750 ml in that day? Just curious… might make a fun drinking game.
I was enjoying this passage quite a bit, laughing as I recalled the sensation of being a teenager in the prison of one's parent(s): "The prison gives you even more chance to think than a monastery where the poor devils have to wake up at all sorts of ungodly hours to pray. […] The great thing to remember, monsignor, is that unlike an abbot, an interrogator wants to sleep at his usual hour."
“Father Quixote was still unaware of the object of their pilgrimage, but he was happy in his ignorance.” This could be why I very rarely read/listen to the news.
Yes, the Monsignor’s comment on the dignity of despair was indeed fierce with anger, or perhaps also envious, as he notes. This struck a chord with me, as I have a similarly mixed reaction to people who profess to have complete faith in something, even when that something contradicts someone else’s equally complete belief. How can anyone possibly be so sure? I found the response of Sancho about his dream of his professor (“Who knows? Without this uncertainty, how could we live?”) to be somehow comforting, as I think it is meant to be for the Monsignor. It is also interesting that this comes on the heels of the discussion of baptism in crisis situations. Without going off on the history of the Limbo tangent of Catholic theology, these rules (or “military regulations,” as Quixote refers to them in a previous chapter), had very real effects on the emotional and spiritual well-being (or not) of practicing Catholics. This book is funny, but also has an undertone that is quite serious and thought-provoking. Reiterating that I am so glad I signed up for this group read.
"We aren't in business as shopkeepers." Father Heribert Jone begs to differ.
"Looking up at the great carved gateway of the university, with the chiseled Pope, surrounded by his cardinals, the heads in medallion of all the Catholic kings, where even Venus and Hercules had been found a place, not to mention a very small frog, he muttered a prayer. The frog had been pointed out by two children who demanded payment in return." Clergy, kings, pagans, a random amphibian, and a couple local tour guides, welcome to Salamanca! What was the content of that muttered prayer, I wonder.
"Father Quixote...looked up with respect at the face of stone, the hooded eyes expressing the fierceness and the arrogance of individual thought." That's about right.
The confirmation gift from my (protestant) church was Unamuno's Tragic Sense of Life. I don't remember what I made of it at 17. . . Maybe it's time to find that volume on whatever high shelf and dust it off. Or just to thank Graham Greene for fictionalizing its philosophies for me!
“There is only one thing you will ever lack (given Sancho’s “complete belief”) – the dignity of despair.” There is something profound in recognizing the “dignity of despair.” Ahhh, to embrace the power of incertitude, which leads one to question, grapple with nuance – and yes, “despair” – before picking one’s self up, and shaping a path forward, illuminating a vision of future potential, in which “winning” is not the goal, but building a world in which unity, individuality, and continual questioning, becomes foundational to the elevation of all. Perhaps, I am “tilting at windmills?”
The whispers of wisdom, which “haunt” Sancho (bring me comfort - and dare I say – “hope”): “There is a muffled voice of uncertainty which whispers in the ears of the believer … Without this uncertainty, how could we live?”
Pairing "dignity" with "despair" was surprising to me. And made me think. Yes, compared to dogmatic belief, despair indeed has dignity. And since there is nothing we can be absolutely sure of, perhaps we must accept the role of despair in our lives.