At those times great patience was
needed, for at the least sign of resistance on my part I should have
been attacked by the whole village in one mass. The policeman on the
street has looked expectantly on, eager to see me do this, and on one
occasion he escorted me to the station for snatching a bottle from
the hand of a boy who was in the act of throwing it at my head.
Arriving there I was most severely reprimanded, although,
fortunately, not imprisoned.
Women have crossed themselves and run from me in terror to seek the
holy water bottle blessed by the father. Doors have been shut in my
face, and angry voices bade me begone, at the instigation of this
black-robed believer in the Virgin. Congregations of worshippers in
the dark-aisled church have listened to a fabulous description of my
mission and character, until the barber would not cut my hair or the
butcher sell me his meat! Many a mother has hurriedly called her
children in and precipitately shut the door, that my shadow in
passing might not enter and pollute her home. Perhaps a senorita,
more venturesome, with her black hair hanging in two long plaits
behind each shoulder, has run to her iron-barred window to smile at
me, and then penitently fallen before her patron saint imploring
forgiveness, or hurried to confess her sin to the wily padre. If
the confession was accompanied by a gift, she has been absolved by
him; if she were poor, her tear-stained face, perhaps resembling that
of the suffering Madonna over the confessional, has moved his heart
to tenderness, for well he knows that
"Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair."
The punishment imposed has only been that she repeat fifty or a
hundred Ave Marias or Paternosters. Poor deluded creature! Her
sin only consisted in permitting her black eyes to gaze on me as I
passed down the street.
"These poor creatures often go to confession, not to be forgiven the
wretched past, but to get a new license to commit sin. One woman, to
whom we offered a tract, refused it, and, showing us an indulgence of
three hundred days, said: 'These are the papers I like.'"
A young university man in the capital confessed that he had never
read the New Testament and never would read it, because he knew it
was against the Church of Rome. The mass of the people have not the
slightest notion of goodness, as we count piety, and lying is not
considered wrong. A native will often entreat the help of his
favorite saint to commit a theft.
"To the Protestant the idea of religion without morals is
inconceivable; but in South America Romanism divorces morals and
religion. It is quite possible to break every command of the
Decalogue and yet be a devoted, faithful Romanist." [Footnote: Rev.
J. H. La Fetra, in "Protestant Missions in South America"]
I can only describe Roman Catholicism on the South American continent
as a species of heathenism. The Church, to gain proselytes, accepted
the old gods of the Indians as saints, and we find idolatrous
superstition and Catholic display blended together. The most ignorant
are invariably the most pious. The more civilized the Criollo
becomes, the less he believes in the Church, and the priest in return
condemns him to eternal perdition.
"It is not necessary to detail the multitude of pagan superstitions
with which the religion of South America is encumbered. It is enough
to point out that it does not preach Christ crucified and risen
again. It preaches Mary, whom it proclaims from the lips of thousands
of lecherous priests to be of perpetual virginity. And it is by its
deliberate falsehood and deceit, as well as by its misrepresentation,
that the Roman Catholic Church in South America has not only not
taught Christianity, but has directly fostered deception and untruth
of character." [Footnote: Missions in South America. Robert E.
Speer.]
When I desired respectfully to enter a church with bared head and
deferential mien, they have followed me to see that I did not steal
the trinkets from the saints or desecrate the altar. If I have
touched the font of holy water, instead of it purifying me, I have
defiled it for their use; and when I have looked at the images of the
saints the people have seen them frown at me. After my exit the
priest would sprinkle holy water on the spots where I had stood, to
drive away "the evil influence."
In those churches one may see an image, with inscription beneath,
stating that those who kiss it receive an indulgence for sin and a
promise of heaven. When preaching in Parana I inadvertently dropped a
word in disparagement of the worship of the Virgin, when, quick as
thought, a man dashed towards me with gleaming steel. The Criollo's
knife never errs, and one sharp lunge too well completes his task;
but an old Paraguayan friend then with me sprang upon him and dashed
the knife to the ground, thus leaving my heart's blood warm within
me, and not on the pavement. I admired my antagonist for the strength
of his convictions - true loyalty he displayed for his goddess, who,
however, does not, I am sure, teach her devotees to assassinate those
who prefer to put their faith rather in her Divine Son. Had I been
killed the priest would on no account have buried me, and would most
willingly have absolved the assassin and kept him from the "arm of
justice." That arm in those places is very short indeed, for I have
myself met dozens of murderers rejoicing in their freedom.
