All language subtitles for Leon.Morin.Priest.1961.DC.720p.BluRay.x264-USURY

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WINNER OF THE GRAND PRIZE
OF THE CITY OF VENICE 1961

LEON MORIN
PRIEST

It must've been around 8 in the evening.

I was coming back from a neighbouring village

when I saw a group of
strange young men in the park,

staring at the passers-by.

They were wearing funny little felt hats
topped with a tall feather.

I would've taken them for street actors...

had it not been for the stack of guns.

Our town was occupied by Italian soldiers.

The weight of that occupation
seemed light to me.

Censorship alone reminded me
of the rigours of a war grown distant.

I worked at a correspondence school
correcting French schoolwork.

Mr Edelman was an old philosophy teacher

who, like myself, had been stranded
at the school by the hazards of war.

I liked Sabine Levy,
the director's personal assistant.

The sight of her
sent me flying through time and space.

I thought that authority
must belong to beautiful beings.

I felt an intense pleasure...

when my gaze sparred with hers,

until, unable to take it any longer,

I was forced to lower my eyes,

savouring her victory.

You see,

she reminds me of
the beautiful youths in scripture,

the saints,

wielding the traveller's staff,

the fiery sword or the rod,
and who are angels.

She looks like an Amazon, like Pallas,

like a samurai.

When she leans over me as I work,

I feel like I'm in the shade
of a palm tree.

In short, you want to sleep with her.

Are you mad? How dreadful!

If Sabine fascinates me,

it's because she looks like a young man,

but blessed with a singular charm,

a subtle, feminine virility.

Everything about her charmed me.

The diversity of her intelligence,
her strange beauty.

I felt attached to her
by a bond stronger than that of mating.

The papers are saying
the Germans will occupy the town.

We'll make eyes at them
so they don't shoot us.

I'd rather be shot
than make eyes at them.

They'll be late baptisms, that's all.

Lucienne, Jenny and I decided
to baptise our children,

who were half-Jewish
or wholly of Communist descent.

Once we have the baptism certificates,
we'll just doctor the dates.

What about the godparents?

Yes, of course. That's more involved.

I've thought about it,
and this is my suggestion.

I'll be godmother to France,
your daughter.

You, Barny, will be godmother to my
daughter Jaqueline and to Jenny's son.

Emile, Jenny's husband,
will be godfather to my daughter

and to your daughter, France.

You, Barny, Jenny...

No, sorry.
I'll be godmother to Jenny's daughter.

Your children will just have
to do without a godfather.

Let's write this down
so we keep it straight.

All right...

- Hello, Barny.
- Hello.

- It's hot!
- Be quiet.

It's too hot!

Be quiet or I'll call the fur salesman!

Help me, Barny. Polish her shoes.

There isn't a brush? How about a cloth?

Never mind, take the curtain.

We shouldn't make the priest wait.
Pierre is already there with Emile.

Your slip!
Turn around, for heaven's sake!

Stop it!

You really should avoid
smashing your head in.

May as well wait
until afterwards at least.

Receive the salt of wisdom.
May it be a pledge of everlasting life.

- It's bad.
- That's war for you, mate.

May peace be with you.

Are you sure he won't ring the bells?

Emerging from the dark church
into the light

were four children baptised
by the grace of God and the Germans.

The members of the Resistance
embraced their wives and children

and then went back into the woods.

I see the believers and their priest
as a challenge.

They live off paper money.

I'm going to tell them what I think.
Know what I'm going to do?

I set my sights
on the church of Saint-Bernard.

PRIEST CONFESSION TUESDAY,
THURSDAY TO SATURDAY - BEFORE MASS

I ruled out the priest
likely to be the oldest

and most impervious to kidding around.

That left the two curates,

- ABBOT CONFESSION MONDAY,
- Philippe De Manoir...

THURSDAY TO SATURDAY - BEFORE MASS

...and Léon Morin.

I had to guess who would be more receptive
based on their names alone.

Philippe must come from
a bourgeois family.

Considering the name they gave him,
Leon's parents must be peasants.

Léon it was.
Down with Morin!

I was afraid,

but turning back was not an option.

Morin was supposed to be there
at 5:30pm.

- Religion is the opium of the people.
- Not exactly.

It's the bourgeois
who distorted it to their own benefit.

But you allowed them do it.
You're one and the same now.

The Church has lost the working class,
it's true. But we're reacting.

Taking communion will strengthen the
resolve of a righteous man on strike.

The Christian heart loathes injustice.

That's not all.

Even if religion had remained pure,
that wouldn't prove its truth to me.

Of course. It's good that you came.

How's that? I came here as an enemy.

I don't believe that.

It's been a long time
since you've been to confession.

Not since my First Communion,
but I'm not here to confess.

I know it's not fun to acknowledge
your faults in front of others.

Fun or not, it doesn't matter
because I don't believe in God.

Are you sure? Do you ever pray?

Only when I can't help it.

A leftover habit from my childhood,
a weakness.

- You're proud, aren't you?
- Yes.

Do you sometimes lie?

Yes.

- Have you ever stolen anything?
- Yes.

- What did you steal?
- Food.

- Do you ever get angry?
- Yes.

- Do you sin against purity?
- I don't know.

- Do you make sacrifices for others?
- Only for my daughter.

- Do you serve your duty of state?
- More or less.

- Are you realising your full potential?
- No.

Saint Paul said,
"The world would be better if you were."

That was a good confession.
Now ask for forgiveness.

- Ask whom?
- Ask...

Ask X.

We'll stay like this
until the end of the world.

You lack courage.

Forgive me.

- Do you want me to give you penitence?
- No.

Yes. A penitence would be good for you.

After you leave the confessional,
go and kneel.

On one of the velvet chairs?

No, on the flagstones.

They'll hurt your knees a little.
There, say a prayer of your choosing.

That pseudo-prayer could only be
a mockery since I'm not a believer.

Prayers are always a mockery.

The disproportion between them
and the Almighty is vast.

But what if the person saying them
takes them seriously, believes in them?

Who told you that the effort
is less worthy than the faith?

- I feel no remorse.
- I should hope not.

Judas felt remorse,
that's why he hanged himself.

It is repentance that is asked of us,
just the opposite of remorse.

I could repent

if I had chosen Christianity
as my line of moral conduct.

Even so,
you live in a Christianised world.

Are you always pleased with yourself
when you sin

against the collective conscience?

No.

My behaviour is determined
by heredity, agencies, circumstances.

You're a robot, then? Lower your head
so I can give you absolution.

It's easy to get me to play along,
isn't it?

Relatively.

I...

absolve you of your sins.

In the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Spirit.

May the passion of Jesus Christ,
our Lord,

the merits of the blessed Virgin Mary
and of all the saints,

everything good you have done,

and everything you have had to suffer,
aid you in the remittance of your sins,

the acquisition of grace,
and the conquest of everlasting life.

Amen.

- Shall I lend you some books?
- Yes.

The presbytery is opposite the cinema.
When can you come?

Only in the evenings.

Can you come Wednesday at 20:30?
Third floor.

Father Morin. You won't forget?

You may go now.

I remembered the pain
that had been inflicted on me.

I walked happily,
light, precious, fragile.

I didn't know
if I should attribute my joy

to the complete freedom of my thoughts
or to the absolution I'd been given.

Wednesday night I walked through town,
paused in front of shop windows,

took shortcuts, made detours,

and reached, at the agreed time,

the alley that separated
the church from the presbytery.

NIGHT BELL FOR SACRAMENTS

Hello.

Hello.

How have you been since the other day?

- Were the streets of St-Bernard kind?
- Yes... No.

Anyhow, I'll never enter a church again,
except as a tourist.

- We're all tourists in a way.
- It's not the same.

Some people aren't scandalised
by gilding.

It scandalises me as much as it does
you. All that junk should be burned.

- You're a priest and you say that?
- Yes.

You think priests
like religious trinkets?

- They allow them to exist.
- Not all of them.

We fight. It's hard,
but there is already a bit of progress.

For example, there is no longer
a class system for our burials.

Sometimes it would take three priests
to put a man in the ground. For what?

Burial is not a sacrament.
It's secondary.

We're not undertakers,
we're here for the living.

If that's your accomplishment, reducing
the number of priests at a burial...

We also did away with collection. It's
always a question of money in church,

so the people who don't have any
don't come.

Yes, but that has to do with the
non-application of Christ's teachings.

Question number one is,
"Are Christ's teachings viable?"

What is your idea of Christ?

I read the Gospels, of course,
and Renan.

- That's all?
- And...

Oh, yes, Life of Christ
by Giovanni Papini.

Papini isn't terribly good.

Jesus Christus by Karl Adam.

Professor at the University of Tübingen,
no less.

Take this book.
Can you come back Friday evening?

The day after tomorrow?
But I won't finish it by then.

We should see each other regardless.

- Do you want to convert me?
- Only you and the Lord can do that.

Then why are you lending me books?

Wouldn't you, in my position?

I don't know.
But why do you want me to come back?

You never feel the need to exchange
ideas with your peers? You brute!

That was mostly on Monday.

I don't know what got into me.
Please forget about it.

No, no. It was rather amusing.

See you Friday.

He has the nature
and manners of a militant.

Citizen-priest, comrade-abbot.

He must be acting that way
to confuse me.

- Finished already?
- Yes.

- You read it much too quickly.
- Once I started, I couldn't stop.

From your Catholic perspective, am I
damned if I go on living as an atheist?

No, my child, you're not damned.
Even if you go on living as an atheist.

No salvation outside the Church,
though, right?

That's the invisible Church.
It surpasses the visible one by far.

- What's the invisible Church?
- It's...

the humanity of goodwill.

What a mess.
I never have the time to organise them.

People don't return books.

It's funny that I chanced upon you,
isn't it?

It's providence.

I don't know
why I'm the one choosing your books.

Come over here.
Just take the ones you fancy.

Take it.

Let's see it.

I'm not sure I'm doing you a favour
by lending you a book like that.

You're already enough
of a hair-splitter.

But if that's what you want...

- That's all you're taking?
- I have very little time.

You haven't told me
what you thought of Karl Adam.

It's strong, it's original. I think I
believed in God while I was reading it.

It's a good thing that didn't last!

How can you expect me to believe
without proof?

It doesn't matter whether there's proof
as you understand it.

Belief in God
is not a cerebral certainty,

a science, as you seem to think.

Belief in God is the consent
of every part of our being.

When you love someone,
you love that person without proof.

Faith is the same.
It's a moral certainty.

But...

Firstly,
there are loads of religious books

offering would-be proof
of God's existence.

No, they're merely guides
that help us along part of the path.

There is always a precipice
one must cross alone.

If there was proof, as you say,
everyone would believe.

Belief itself would be unnecessary.

We'd understand.
We'd know. We'd see.

It would no longer be down here,
it would be Heaven.

I'm going to do a portrait of you.

That's you.

Now I'll draw God.

The dot wants to contain the circle.
It's impossible, as you can see.

The dot's place is inside the circle.

- You can't reverse the roles.
- What is the circle waiting for?

It's up to you to move around.

If God forced devotion upon us,
we wouldn't be free.

The comparison you made just now
between God and love,

it doesn't work at all.

You love another person
without proof, yes.

But it's thanks to proof
that you know that person exists.

In short, you keep wondering
whether God exists or not.

God does not exist;
he is existence itself.

You know, Jehovah said,
"I am he who is."

It's kind of like saying, "X equals X."

After reading Jesus Christus,
I wondered

if God's existence
was a personal existence.

You think that humans
have a personality?

Yes.

Surely that personality
comes from a superior personality?

Not necessarily.

We could have progressed
from earlier, undifferentiated beings.

Where would the force
of that progress have come from?

Can a lesser being engender
a greater being on its own?

That's all scholastic.

Perhaps it's good that the lesser being
can engender the greater.

It's as though you believed
in spontaneous generation.

Of course. You're giving me all these
reasons to make me believe in God,

but an atheist would have opposing
arguments that were just as strong.

Certainly.
We should stop chattering on like this.

What good are words?

God is, above all else, an experimental,

individual reality, one that
is different for every one of us,

and is incommunicable.

Incommunicable.

- That's dreadful.
- Why?

What difference does it make to you
if there is a God or not?

What do you mean, "What difference
does it make?" That's all that matters.

I wanted to kill myself
in philosophy class because of him.

What an idea!

The conversations with Morin
one or more nights a week

were now part of my life.

I felt at home,
as I never had anywhere before,

in that parlour with its air
of a disused laundry room,

and a floor that shone like a mirror.

The Italians fought all night.

They refused to submit
to German commands.

They didn't surrender
until they'd exhausted their munitions.

We won't be seeing
the feathered street artists any more.

When the Germans occupy a place,
they carry out dramatic disinfections.

It's as though they wanted to prove

that they're different
from their allies.

The deportations began.

I was summoned to the Kommandatur
this morning because of my name.

Holdenberg. I'm Alsatian.

They asked me if I was Jewish,
and I assured them I wasn't.

But how do you really know
if you're Jewish or not?

It's when you're not baptised.

Protestants aren't baptised either.

Of course they are!
Protestants receive baptism.

Jews don't have a nationality.
They're not part of the French race.

- There is no French race.
- Damn! What more do you need?

With all our inventors, our scholars.
When France speaks, the world listens.

That evening,

I stayed behind at the office alone
to correct some exercises.

The offices are closed, sir.
If you'd like to see the director...

No, my dear colleague,
I came to see you.

I just came to say goodbye.
I'm leaving.

You're Mr Edelman.

Edelman? I don't know him any more.

No, Edelman has become Georges Mouchon.

The grey, once sad eyes
of the old philosophy professor

now gleamed with the fever of adventure.

There were more and more roundups,
so Sabine hid nearby,

but came back occasionally
to answer our questions.

My passion had waned.

I told myself that Sabine's fear

was justified, touching even.

But I could love her only
by defying death and torment.

Go home.

Curfew begins in 15 minutes.

Go home.

Go home.

We have to go home
so they can bury the bodies.

As always, the day after
these discreet burials...

This morning I heard
the Germans were shooting hostages.

Fifteen for an officer,
ten for a soldier.

Good riddance to them.

They're all Communists and Jews.

By the way, sir,
with your permission...

I never answer the doorbell.
It could be the Gestapo.

It could also be someone
who needs you.

- Should I answer, then?
- Of course.

It's strange how little trust
you have in God.

Anton, Mina, what is it?

This afternoon,

we weren't at home.

The Gestapo came to arrest us.

What will you do?

Nothing, Barny.
We'll leave.

No, Mina,
that's not what I meant.

You'll sleep here tonight.

What about you, Barny?

I'll make up a bed in the kitchen.

But I've nothing for you to eat.

We brought what we needed
for tonight.

I don't know what we'll do tomorrow.

Yes, the ration coupons
are being distributed.

We're illegal now
because we didn't apply

for a visa.

For fear of deportation,
we've lost the right to our ration book.

We can't do without it.

There may be a way...

If you do exactly as I ask,

you should be able to get our coupons.

Tell me what to do and I'll do it.

Right.

Tomorrow, go...

I would never know
why they had to flee.

But it gave me the courage I needed.

Thank you.

If this continues,
I'll start believing in God.

I never stopped believing.

That's surprising in a Communist.

Yes, I know, but there's a war on.

Here, type this.

So, apparently you're hiding people.

What? I'm not that stupid.

Life's hard enough as it is.

My concierge, hearing voices,

must have told Christine's mother,
also a concierge.

Lucienne,
your husband's in the Resistance.

You've got room here.

Please let them hide here.

To hell with them!
You can tell them that.

I'm not getting arrested for them!

I've got enough trouble with Pierre.

If anything happens to him,

how am I going to bring up
my kid on my own?

I can't keep them.
We've been spotted.

Their place is here.
You're safe in the country.

Maybe so, but they're a pain.

They should go home.

They'd be arrested.

What do I care?

Serve them right.

They should've stayed in Russia
or Poland.

I swear on my husband's grave
and my daughter's life,

if you don't take them,

I'll report you to the tribunal
I belong to.

Where did you see that, Barny?

At the cinema?

Yes,

and in reality.

Too bad.
I'm not taking them.

Requiescat in pace.

Same old Barny!

I'll take your foreigners.

I was pulling your leg.

I'll send them over.

Barny!

Bacon!

When I got home,

I found them asleep
on their suitcases.

Lucienne's expecting you.
Hurry.

You disgust me.

And yet I'd give my life for you.

I can't take it any more.
This has been going on too long.

If my husband doesn't escape,
too bad for him.

She may be a concierge,
but my mother agrees with me.

Here, take these to professor Dumas.

Yes, ma'am.
Can you please give me the address?

No. Find it yourself, damn it!

That has to go out tonight.

Did you have servants in the old days?

She has a concierge complex,
aggravated by marital deprivation.

What did you just say?

I can understand your anger,
but not this senseless cruelty.

Who says it's easier to resist cruelty
than anger?

I guess you didn't hear
about the woman in your situation.

Aryan, dead Jewish husband.

Her two children
were taken away by the Gestapo.

I'll insist
that he wasn't France's father.

I'll make up an Aryan father.

A friend of mine who looks like her
who won't deny it.

That hurt! I swear I saw stars.

That Barny.
When she puts her mind to something...

One Sunday,
I decided to leave Dimitri...

in the care of the farmer
my daughter was with.

Do you like that?

Tell me!

They're asking for papers.

They're doing what?

We'll go through the fields to see France,
it'll be much nicer.

See those trees? We'll go down
there and gather grass for the rabbits.

Help me.

Hello.

Hello, Mrs Barny.

This is Dimitri.
He'll be staying with you.

You'll have a little playmate.

Why aren't you being nice to him?

You know very well
that my friend is Titi Serpolet.

He looks after five cows.
Five!

Go on.

Why are your white shoes dyed black?

They weren't white any more,
she got them all dirty.

You should've cleaned them,
not dyed them black!

That's what she wanted.

- And why may I ask?
- Because my daddy is dead.

- Good day, Mr Lathuile.
- Good day, Mrs Barny.

What are you doing here?

There wasn't a trace of make-up
on Christine's face.

The earrings were gone from her ears.

Are you out of make-up?

- No, I took it off.
- Why?

I'm going to see my spiritual advisor.

- It's not Léon Morin, is it?
- Yes, Father Morin.

- And what are you doing here?
- I was going there, but you go ahead.

Wait, don't go!

It's funny that we ran
into each other there.

When I went to see him
for the first time, I thought,

"This is exactly what I need."

But he's not in your neighbourhood.

No, Danièle Holdenberg took me.

Yes, I remember.

Danièle told me that she went to see
a priest from time to time.

I don't know why,
but sometimes I just want to hit him.

- Are you and Danièle Catholic?
- Not in the same way.

To her,
religion's like the history of France.

And you?

It's different for me.
It runs in my family's blood.

Did he say anything to you about me?

He said you were a funny girl.

- That's all?
- I shouldn't repeat it.

He said, "She is closer to God
than my parishioners."

Did Mrs Sangredin tell you?

About your antics? Yes, she did.

Unsure if he meant the slap
or the caress on the stairs,

I needed to know.

I love a young woman.

Barely spoken,
this dead truth came back to life.

I was gripped by the thought of Sabine.

Of course.
All the men your age have left.

You're a man my age.

It's not the same.
That's something else.

- A young girl. At your workplace?
- Yes.

She's beautiful, intelligent.
She runs everything.

She is like a beam of black light.

Her name is Sabine.

Why don't you bring her here?

She'd never come.
I'm her subordinate.

Plus... I don't love her
the way I used to.

You never did love her.
You don't know what love is.

You've withdrawn into yourself.

I can't help it.
Hearing that fills me with joy.

Without even knowing what it is,
without hoping it's the Resistance.

I know that lots of people
are dying a tragic death,

yet the more I think about it,
the happier it makes me.

When sparks fly,
I want to be there, too.

Simply for the pleasure of it.

I'm exactly the same way.
We're all a pathetic bunch.

We like destruction, fighting.

Human nature is corrupt,
but we shouldn't accept it.

This war has changed our way of life.

There are always people in my room.

- They sleep in my bed.
- Who are they?

Jews, of course.
You take one in, and others come.

I almost need a machine
to issue all the baptism certificates.

I'm in trouble with the diocese.

Mrs Lathuile couldn't keep France,
so I decided to take her back

until I found another family for her.

She went to school with them.

She came home beaming one day.

Mummy, today I did everything right,
I understood all of it.

- All of what?
- You know who did it?

- Who?
- God.

- Who told you that?
- The man!

- What man?
- The priest.

- Where?
- At catechism.

- Where did you go to catechism?
- In the church.

You were in a church?

It wasn't me.
Lucinda Trivoli took me there.

They gave me a little book.

At your age, they give you
a little bread without a ration card.

Now I know God.

You didn't see him.

I can't see him, he doesn't have a body.
But it doesn't matter.

Lucienne Bernhardt introduced me
to Renne and Aimée Plantain,

two old maids living in the country
who wanted to take in a child.

When I was young, someone told me
I had beautiful hair.

A pity for a worker's daughter
to have such pretty hair.

My boyfriend's mother didn't let us get
married because of class differences.

He died of Spanish influenza,
and then she couldn't have him, either.

Aimée!

- Can you take that off?
- Why?

I need to look people in the eye.
I hate all barriers.

Like the pillars in the church
that prevent the faithful

from seeing the altar.

And the darkness, too. It's awful.

We should have huge, modern churches
flooded with sunlight.

Religious skyscrapers.

No, but an all-glass cathedral
would be good.

Someone's mistaking the presbytery
for a bedsit.

Just put it on the billiard table.

Who is it?

I don't know them.

What does the priest say
of your Vichyism?

He says he'll help me if they stand me
against a wall after the liberation.

- What did you do with your hair?
- It's him.

He threatened to stop giving
me absolution if I kept dying my hair.

He knows exactly how much it costs.
He must have a penitent hairdresser.

He recommended that I imitate
the simplicity of Communist women.

I understood right away.
By Communist women, he meant you.

You've completely Sovietised him.
And you did a good job, too.

No, he's the one who Communised me.

I told him that my mother
reproaches young Communists

for committing before maturity.

He replied, "They're right. They attain
maturity through commitment."

A meadow stretched out
before the Plantain sisters' home.

Every morning, new German recruits
would do their training there.

Have you been good?

Yes.

Long have I loved you

Never will I forget you

Are you staying here?

No, we're being relieved.
We're going to Russia.

I really wanted you to stay this time.

She's not too much trouble?

No, she's a very good little girl,
and intelligent, too.

Does she work hard in school at least?

Yes. The teacher died,
but they replaced her with someone else.

When you die, what do you want me
to put on your gravestone?

Nothing expensive, because
I need money to raise my children.

What's that?
Who gave you that bracelet?

My friend Günther.

Your friend Günther?

Yes, a very nice German boy
that I love.

Summer came.

The Germans decreed an 8pm curfew
for an indefinite period.

I couldn't go to Morin
and I had books to return.

I took a chance and went over there
one Saturday morning.

Will there be holy sacrament
this evening?

Here's the key, I'll join you upstairs.

I was shocked by the way
he acted in front of strangers.

I 'd never seen anyone so careless
of what people might say.

Here, I kept this for you.

You won't accept anything from others?

Yes, haven't I been accepting
the gift of your time?

The gift? That's right,
I've been giving you my time.

- Now eat this pear.
- No, thank you, Father.

That's pride.

You're more bourgeois
than the bourgeois you despise.

- Do you want it?
- Yes.

- Take it.
- No, thank you, Father.

Fine. I'll give it to someone less
foolish. You have to be simple in life.

- Are you simple?
- I don't know.

Do I give you the impression
that I'm simple?

You don't give me any impression.

- And you, Father, are you simple?
- Yes.

Yes, I think so.

- What do you think of me?
- Nothing.

What do you mean "nothing"?
That's not possible.

If I don't judge you, no one
will ask me how worthy you are.

Oh, come on.

When I stand before you like this,
what effect do I have on you?

You have the effect of an embryo.

You accuse me of pride.

- What's wrong with being proud?
- It's a lack of self-respect.

On the contrary, it's a great deal
of respect for oneself.

It's lying to oneself.

Lying? How so?

By assuming more importance
than you have.

The angelus rang. He'd have to enact
a scene from a Millet painting

or not answer the call of the church.

Appear ridiculous or inadequate.

Do you know the angelus?

The Angel declared to Mary
that she would become the mother of God.

And she conceived of the Holy Spirit.

And the Word was made Flesh.

And dwelt among us.
Holy mother of God, pray for us.

And if you were not above
such things, you would reply,

"That we may be made worthy
of the promises of Christ."

You should paint your toenails.

- You need a husband.
- Yes, well,

I make love with a piece of wood.

- You could hurt yourself.
- I don't injure easily.

When there are gaps in the conversation,

are you giving the Holy Spirit
time to whisper a reply?

My poor girl, you really like
to string words together.

You haven't answered my question,
Father.

Are your silences
really asides with the Holy Spirit?

When I talked through my hat
as a child, I was told,

"Go to the hayloft.
You can talk to the walls."

Why do I behave so poorly with you?

It's how you are. It'll pass.

I'm leaving.

You're not taking a book today?

No hard feelings?

What's wrong, Sabine?
What's happened?

My mother wrote that my brother's
been arrested by the Gestapo.

She received a letter saying
he'd be taken to Germany,

ending with the words,
"Long live France."

They heard nothing more of him.

Sabine ran the offices as usual.

Her face became hollow,
and lost almost all its beauty.

Type up three copies of this
and have the director sign them.

Within a few weeks
she had aged several years.

Excuse me.

Please come in, ma'am.

So what's going on,
my little swamp frog?

I think that

what repulses me about Christianity
is its self-interested character.

You force yourself to do this,

deprive yourself of doing that,
just to go to Heaven.

When you sow seeds,
don't you want them to grow?

That's what Heaven is, the grain rising.

Do you remember when our Lord
spoke of this?

- Your Lord.
- He's just as much yours as he is mine.

Not if I refuse to accept him.

You can refuse to accept that
the world turns. It won't change much.

I've been unhappier than ever

since I came to talk to you
about what interests me.

I can't help but read
the books you lend me,

yet I can see that they're not good
for me. They're killing me.

I'm tormented, hounded, persecuted.

I feel like I should never
come back here,

but I can't pass up the chance to come.

We call that the work of grace.

At night I pondered.

Belief in God scales the universe
down to a satisfactory level,

but my discussions with Morin
are disconcerting.

I charge like a ram,
only to find the obstacle gone.

Swept away by momentum,
I fall and don't know where I am.

I lose myself for want of an adversary.
Morin is flawless in my eyes.

A part of my attic
was cluttered with junk.

I decided to spend Whit Monday
cleaning it.

That's when disaster struck.

Father, I want to tell you something.

- I'm done for.
- You're done for?

Yes, I converted. I'm at your command.

What happened to you?

Nothing.

I want to become Catholic. Again.

- Why?
- I'm cornered, I surrender.

You're tired.
You've been undernourished lately.

No, I'm not tired.
And we just got potatoes.

Why do you want to convert?

I don't want to, I have to.

What does a conversion mean to you?

- Following Christ's precepts.
- Which ones?

To always be poor,

love others,

do one's utmost for them.

Renounce oneself, one's interests,

pray to God, receive the sacraments.

To be received within the Church.

You should think about it

before making a decision
that affects your entire life.

It's not a decision.
I don't have a choice.

It seems like you don't have a choice.
You're a little tense, excited.

No, I was very calm up in the attic,
all by myself.

What happened in the attic?

Nothing at all. Quite the opposite.
Everything was finished.

How's that?

Like the way the armoury blew up.

This girl has lost her mind.

I'm converting against my will.

If you're possessed,
we'll have to exorcise you.

Father, you've tried,
in every respect, to Christianise me,

yet now you discourage me
from following your Lord.

Why do you want to follow him?

Because I'm not so sure
that what he said was false.

You'll poison your existence.
You'll ruin your life!

Yes, it's true. You're saying
that to test me, obviously.

And I know that nothing worse has
happened, or ever will happen, to me.

You never considered
becoming Protestant?

They're often wonderful people.

Why are you mocking me right now?

I'm not mocking you, just being frank.
All right, what's next?

I need to confess
so I can take communion.

Do I have to go to the church
in my parish?

No, you can come to Saint-Bernard.

Will you be the one who...

That'd be best
since we know each other.

I hold confession Monday, Wednesday,
Friday and Saturday...

starting at 5:30pm,
until 7:30pm or 8:00pm.

And in the morning before mass.

I'll come tomorrow evening.

If you want.
And if not, that's fine, too.

Now I've seen it all.

- Good day, Barny.
- No.

- Why are you so overawed?
- Vanity.

That'll pass, you'll see.
It's nothing at all. Repeat after me.

Lord, illuminate my conscience,

that I may see all my trespasses
against you

and atone for them
through humble confession,

true contrition and sincere penitence.

Lord, illuminate my conscience,
that I may see all my trespasses against you.

And atone for them
through humble confession.

Do I absolutely have to repeat that?

Yes, but take your time.
There's no rush.

- And atone for them...
- Through humble confession.

Through humble confession,
sincere contrition and true penitence.

Thy spirit is good,
lead me into the land of uprightness.

Thy spirit is good,
lead me into the land of uprightness.

Revive me in your fairness.

Revive me in your fairness.

Your hands are still pure, right?

No.

No, Father.

Your body is the temple
of the Holy Spirit.

You should have more respect for it.

Don't you find
the human organism marvellous?

Yes.

Then you should not tarnish it.

- You'll no longer be sinful.
- No.

Are you nice at work?

The others hate me because I converted.

- And do you like them?
- I can't.

I love God, if he exists, because he is
perfect and omnipotent. But them...

"if a man say, I love God,
and hateth his brother, he is a liar."

It's in Saint John.

Anything else wrong?

- Yes.
- What is it?

The first time I came here, I lied
to myself when I said it was a mockery.

I feel like I've been acting for months,
that I've been hiding, that I ran away.

That's called resistance to grace.

- Is that all?
- Yes.

For those sins, simply say this once,

"Lord, let me love my neighbour
as myself, out of love for you."

I was devastated
by the tightness of that penitence.

You should start going to catechism.

I've been going for a long time.

- What? Why didn't you tell me?
- You wouldn't have liked it.

- Why didn't the Plantains tell me?
- They don't know.

- When do you go?
- After school.

- Don't they worry when you're late?
- I tell them I was held back.

I'm so glad you're back.
I'm suffering terribly.

Why?

Imagine a snail torn from its shell,
still alive.

Covered with wounds that it drags
through the dirt and the pebbles.

The sun will dry the wounds.

How could you, who are capable
of true friendship, be a collaborator?

It's the only way France
will pull through.

Even if that was true,

even if the Resistance
was doomed to failure,

even if collaboration
was France's only means of survival,

you would not, as a Christian,
have the right to accept those means.

And why not?

Because France is better off dead
than living in a state of mortal sin.

France is not in mortal sin because it
accepts collaboration as a lesser evil.

Yes, because it accepts the deportation
and killing of innocent people.

Like Sabine's brother, for example.
And thousands of others.

The Resistance draws retaliation,
nothing more!

In other words, you, a Catholic,

consent to my daughter being deported
so that yours can have her milk.

You think we should sacrifice
our own people for nothing?

Deportees are your people, too.

The Yids, you mean?

Exactly.

- Our Lord is a Yid.
- Yes.

What I want is to get married.

I'm making a trousseau
with buttoned shirts for breastfeeding.

The worst part is, I'm always
being followed by boys in the street.

Arlette, I'd like to introduce you
to someone who may be able to help.

A priest with a particular interest
in young people.

- Is he young?
- Yes.

- How old is he?
- The same age as me.

- When can we go?
- How about tomorrow?

Hello. Please come in.

He's handsome.

After Arlette said it,

I realised that Morin
was indeed handsome.

I asked myself, shadowed by worry,

if it was a sin to delight in
the appearance of my confessor.

No, I assured myself,
what harm could there be in that?

We learn in the Gospel
that Jesus was handsome.

Beauty is a gift of God.

Thank you, Lord, for making your
servant, Morin, a work of perfection.

...my brothers and me.

Arlette already seemed less flighty.

Morin had the ability to make all
those that he welcomed more like him.

I would like to illuminate it.

I don't take communion often.
It brings me no joy.

You think it brings me joy?
You ask too much of communion.

I...

I have errands to run. Excuse me.

Did you see?
The hotel Clarmont was blown up.

Didn't you see it?
I thought it was on your way.

Yes, it is on my way.

You walked through the rubble
without noticing it was gone?

No, I didn't notice.

Well, that's not good at all.

- I've always been absent-minded.
- Yes, but this is going too far.

What does it matter?
Why are you worrying about it?

Failing to notice that the Clarmont
was blown up is not a sin.

Your head's too high up in the clouds.

On my way back, I crossed the square
where the Clarmont had been.

My recent blindness troubled me.

I'm going to see Morin again
next Saturday.

He lent me a book
and asked me to summarise it for him.

When we parted, he said,
"Goodbye, little butterfly!"

What book?

It's really hard to read!
I don't understand a word of it.

It's called The Beautiful Risk
of Faith. I'll never finish it.

I can't possibly go back unless I do.

Father, a friend of mine is divorcing
and I think she needs you.

How's that?

She's giving moral support
to five lovers.

Two in the Milice,
one in the Resistance,

one in the black market
and one in Germany.

She works at the bank
and has very little time to serve

the Resistance, Vichy
and Germany all at the same time.

She's having trouble
managing her appointments,

and is trafficking gold, too.

I'd like to meet this interesting person.

Hello. I'd like you to meet my friend
Marion Lamirale.

Come in.

You're missing an earring.

Yes, I forgot to put it back on
after being on the telephone.

- How old are you?
- Twenty-six too.

I thought so.
We were in the same class.

So what do you do in life?

Lots of things.

Such as?

A divorce, for starters.

And why, may I ask?

He doesn't want me any more.
There are good reasons for that.

The priest went to see
Marion's husband.

- What for?
- To ask him to take her back.

- Did he say yes?
- What do you think?

The priest was lucky
to get a civil welcome.

One thing is certain, Marion has a crush
on the priest. Says he'll be hers.

Can you understand such a thing?

I can't.
It wouldn't even cross my mind.

I couldn't overlook the fact
that a priest is a consecrated man.

But sacrilege doesn't bother Marion.

To her, he's a man and she wants him.

Does she really think she can have him?

She's sure of it. She said
she's never failed in that department.

You should become a country priest.

I'd be your maid.

There's an idea, except that priests'
maids are supposed to be old and ugly.

Perhaps a few years from now.

I want to look at you with loving eyes.

Your eyes will never be loving to me.

- Because they're not allowed to be?
- No.

No of fence,
but your eyes aren't that pretty.

Not enough mascara?
I'll use more next time.

What will it be like
when you've put enough on?

You poor bird-brain.

Perhaps you'll have it
sorted out by next time.

My dear child, Christ loves you madly.

You're among his favourites.

And I think Heaven was made
especially for you.

Beloved God,

let me pray like Marion

and with Marion.

Marion of the gold, Marion of the five
lovers, entered the confessional.

I saw Marion in Saint-Bernard.
She confessed.

Yes, but it ends there.
Never get your hopes up with her.

She left town yesterday
with a new protector.

Do you mind hurrying up a bit?

Forgotten how to walk?

Last night someone in the bell tower
shot at the hotel across the street.

It's a hotel that's been requisitioned
by the militiamen.

They live inside with their families,
on the verge of war.

Around 1am, someone shouted
from the street, "Hey, priest!

"For crying out loud,
come down here fast!"

I took my time getting down there.
The bell tower was lit up.

We opened the church,
climbed up there...

And the men shooting?

Vanished.

Father, I don't understand

how Jesus could have died
forsaken by God.

What did you say?

He says before dying,
"My God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Not at all.

Jesus was a Jew and he died a Jew,
reciting Psalm 22, a Jewish prayer.

Here.

"My God, my God,
why hast thou forsaken me?"

"Why art thou so far from helping me,
and from the words of my roaring?"

And it ends with an homage to God.

"For dominion belongs to Jehovah
and he rules over the nations."

Jehovah, the God of Jews
and Christians.

Of course.

It's absurd that I have to remind myself
that Jehovah is God the Father.

You're not the only one. Jesus
didn't choose Psalm 22 by accident.

He chose it
because it applies to him in particular.

He also said,

"They have pierced my hands
and my feet.

"They divide my garments among them
and cast lots for my clothing."

Don't forget that the Old Testament
is the book of the Jews.

The one the Messiah lived by.

Jehovah chose Christ of flesh
and blood for his earthly life,

thus giving himself youth.

He chose to die
in the prime of his life.

God will never age because
he is protected by that blood of youth.

I think that my irritation
with old ladies

who repeat their Our Fathers mindlessly,

and with all the old men
who stop the Church's progress

is a specifically Christian irritation.

Goodbye!

- Gilberte, how are you?
- Fine.

- And Mrs Lathuile?
- OK.

- Going to town?
- Yes.

- Want to go together?
- Let's go.

Going to see France on Sundays,

I would often meet Gilberte Lathuile
going into town and we'd chat.

I met Gilberte Lathuile again.

What she does with the Germans
is her business,

but now we have proof
she's feeding them information.

Come the next raid, she'll be shot.

- Are you sure?
- Yes. Pierre told me.

The next Sunday,

I found meeting Gilberte hard.

Hello, Gilberte.

I was afraid she could read
her death in my eyes.

It was a nice day.

Yes. It was a nice day.

And you haven't many left.
Poor soul.

I'm anxious all the time.

One word from me
would save that girl's life.

Threats would make her break off
all relations with the Germans.

I take communion every morning
and I'm an accomplice to a crime.

To the murder of a young girl.

Why did your friend tell you
what had been decided?

Because she couldn't keep quiet.

Did her husband need to tell her?

No.

- It isn't your concern.
- But I could save a life.

- You want to make yourself important.
- It's not that.

Well, maybe just a little.

But mostly it's the idea
of murder by omission.

Even if you warned her,
she probably couldn't escape.

She could leave the village.

It may have unknown consequences.

So I should continue playacting?

Keeping a confidence isn't playacting.

I must say nothing, do nothing?

It's hard, I know.

But I think that's your role
in this story.

Sadly, there are many such stories
right now.

The next Sunday,
passing the Lathuiles' house,

I saw the shutters were closed

and had red writing on them.

A TRAITOR WHO SOLD HERSELF
TO THE KRAUTS WAS SHOT HERE

- Do you know what happened?
- No.

Everyone pretended not to know
what had happened.

All I knew was that
Gilberte's parents had fled.

You are not allowed to cross!

I didn't see it!

And suddenly,
the atmosphere changed.

- What is this little boy doing here?
- Leave me alone!

Not nice, not nice at all.

The shoes will return
when the town is free

FREELY AVAILABLE

And one morning, the town woke up free.

The Germans left in the night.

The Iron Army did a moonlight flit.

- They'll shoot for sure.
- Maybe not.

Have a seat.

We came to ask you
to take your daughter back at once.

She's a destructive child
and she's wearing us out.

You didn't have to come to town
just for that. You should've told me.

I wanted to fetch her anyway.

We came to see the shorn women paraded,
make the most of the day.

My bike was stolen,
so I went to get France on foot.

I tried to cry,
thinking he might be moved.

Does he want to kill you?

- My doll's broken!
- No, no.

Are they Germans, too?

I can't come any more
because my daughter is with me now.

I can't leave her alone.

- So we won't see each other any more?
- No.

- What if I came to your home?
- Thank you.

I can't say when exactly,
but it'll be one of these evenings.

You little devil.
Now settle down and go to sleep.

Good evening.

You're good at gymnastics.

Yes, we learn things at the seminary,
even boxing.

Go on to bed now.
You could catch cold.

I had never spoken to my daughter
about him, nor about his likely visit.

I was very surprised to see France
acting that way.

- The First Steps Toward Jesus.
- Thank you.

If you were my daughter...

I'd like to be your daughter.
Here, look.

I don't know if it's because
of that book you brought,

but she's become unbearable.

When I discipline her, she says,
"You see my mote and not your beam."

When I threatened her with Hell,
she said,

"Children don't go to Hell,
only big people."

I gave her a good spanking.

You're right to teach your daughter
how to behave,

but don't go too far.

I received more than my share
of thrashings as a child.

Half the time I went to bed
without supper.

Why was your father so harsh?

Why was your father so strict?

It wasn't my father.
He never touched me.

Who, then?

My mother.

Why did she hit you?

She'd hit me with a branch
when I came home late from school.

On my calf, you know.
I would grit my teeth.

- It wasn't your fault you were late.
- Yes, it was.

We would scrap
the whole way home from school.

All six kilometres.

She hit you for that?

I lied, too. I told a lot of lies.

Because you were afraid of her.

Did she also hit your sisters?

No, my sisters
kept to the straight and narrow.

- Your mother was too harsh.
- She meant well.

You didn't have a happy childhood,
did you?

Of course I did.
No need to make that face.

I didn't get thrashed every day
or anything. What did you think?

What made your childhood
a happy one?

The atmosphere. It was nice at home.

How was it at home?

We woke up at 6, we left at 7.

On Sundays my father went to look after
the goats, taking newspapers with him.

My mother told me about the time my
father saw a hare on his way to church.

He said, "I'm going back to the house
to get my gun."

And then, "No, I might be late
for mass if I do that."

When he walked by on his way back
from church, the hare was still there.

He got his gun, shot it and it was his.

You don't resent your mother?

I used to resent her, yes.

Did you continue to resent her
at the seminary?

I resented her
until it didn't sting any more.

How old were you
when you entered the seminary?

I joined the junior seminary
when I was 12.

How is it that such a bad boy
wanted to become a priest?

What does that have to do with it?

You become a priest
so you can save souls, that's all.

Even a naughty boy
can have an idea like that.

Your mother was harsher than most.

But you were a child like any other.

No, I was among the worst.

Once, I broke a cow's leg
trying to get it to jump a fence.

I don't need to tell you that the owner
took great care in tanning my hide.

It didn't cure you. You're still trying
to get cattle to fly.

That's what I'm here for.

You're going to break another leg.

As long as it jumps.

Brethren,
is it the cold that is making you numb?

I hope the sun will revive you a little.

There are those who pray
the rosary during mass,

but it's not the time do so.

There are those who want to perform
their devotion by a statue,

yet the holy sacrament is here,

amongst you,
expecting you to be present and alive.

What's more,
everyone leaves before the last Gospel.

Are you in that much of a hurry to leave
your God, you Sunday Christians?

Brethren,
let us not be like those disciples

who, by pressing around our Lord,

almost stifled him
and prevented others from seeing,

or even approaching, him.

If you are merely Christian in name,
you keep the hesitant at bay.

You strip them of their desire to come.

Each one of you must be an apostle
in his own circle.

I also wanted to say,
let us sing mass with more enthusiasm,

without faltering at the end.

In the name of the Father, the Son
and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I am absolutely certain of two facts,

and they happen to be contradictory.

The priest is the most spiritually
elevated man I've ever known.

And on Sunday,
there isn't a shadow of a doubt

that he passed by me on purpose,

brushing his sleeve against me.

Can you imagine
what state that put me in?

Yes, I've noticed.
He does things like that sometimes.

No wonder he gets an earful
at the diocese.

You think he does that to be a tease?
That he's just playing around?

That must be what they call
the glorious freedom of God's children.

"Love and do what you will."
But it destroys me.

He does it to stimulate us.
But it's dangerous.

He's not afraid,
no more so than he is of anything else.

It was night time.

Forgive me, Lord.

Govern my dreams.

Do not let me trespass,
even in sleep.

Good evening.

This is for you,
for when the power goes out.

It's a funeral candle.

- What were you doing?
- Chopping wood.

- I'll chop some for you.
- No, you don't have to.

Give me that. Watch out.

There.

Nice swing.

Do you have any wire?

Would you marry me if you were
a Protestant pastor?

Of course.

No, I'm asking you seriously.

I need to know.

If you were not a priest,
would you take me as your wife?

In one single move, the hand that had
given me everything took it all away.

I didn't see him again for a long time.

I was walking along the top of the hill
one Sunday,

high above the town
with its red and pink roofs.

I couldn't take my eyes
off of a bell tower.

I thought he must be there
at that moment.

And since it was time for Vespers,
he must be singing.

Good evening.
I brought you some books for Danièle.

Christine said
you'd be going to the sanatorium.

There's one for you, too.

Traditional dogmatism
and empiriocriticism.

It's terribly complex.
I don't think I'll understand it.

Yes, you will.

You never struck me
as being a complete idiot.

Traditional dogmatism.
Do you understand that? Yes? Good.

And empiriocriticism? No?

Empiriocriticism is a critical doctrine

based on empiricism.

That is,
on the experience considered to be,

more or less,
the sole source of knowledge.

Hello?

Empiriocriticism therefore means

the limits of the experience...

It's warm.

Here, look.

God,

grant my wish one time.

Just one time.

And blessed be the eternal torment
that follows.

Come here.

You're not Miss Sabine right now.
Well done, it's better already.

Look at people when they talk to you.

If only you summoned God
the way you summon evil. That is prayer.

You won't come any more.

Of course I will. Why wouldn't I?

I'd miss discussing hypostasis with you.

- You're going to have to confess.
- No.

Say that to someone?

You'd be saying it to me,
and since I already know...

To you?

Confessing is a chore for me as well.
I still go, often even.

You go often, and yet you never sin.

You accuse yourself
of the sins of others.

Some avoid punishment.

You'll come this evening, right?

From 5:30 onwards, I'll wait for you.

My daughter, after school...

Bring her.
I'll take her confession, too.

See you later.

My soul felt like a brothel.

Keep your coat on,
we're going to confession.

- What sins did you commit?
- That's none of your business.

I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.

- Help me, Father.
- You don't need it.

I'm listening.

I almost...

I said...

I don't know what you would call
what I did.

You're the dead branch right now.

- Know what happens to dead branches?
- Yes.

- What?
- They're cut down.

- And once they're cut, what next?
- They're burned.

Yes. I'm listening.

I...

I tried to tempt...

Please finish your sentences.

I wanted to lead a priest
to break his vows.

I wanted to break
the ninth commandment.

There.

Visit Danièle tomorrow.
Try to do some good with your visit.

You'll do each other good.

As penitence, read a page
of that book I lent you every evening.

Now go wholly in peace.

I went almost in peace.

I'm going to preach the Gospel
to the nations of the Earth.

- Or rather to local villages.
- How's that?

I'm leaving Saint-Bernard
for a small village.

But since the other villages in
the region don't have a priest, either,

I'll visit them in turn.

There'll be two of us, and two young
girls to help us in another village.

It's called a mission.
France has become a mission country.

I'm not thrilled about going there.

Why not?

In the country, before you can
talk about serious matters,

you have to talk about rabbits
and pigs first.

And I like parish life,
when it's running smoothly.

It won't be smooth over there.

The villages are divided by politics.

Then again, those people have been
without a priest for so long,

they're completely de-Christianised,

so there's no deviation.
It's almost virgin territory.

But it will take generations
before we accomplish anything.

- What are you doing?
- Hey, there.

Watch out for those apples.
They might be rotten.

I wouldn't mind,
if I knew what you were saying.

What do you want to know so badly?

What did God do
before creating the world?

- Did he do nothing?
- No.

- So he was bored?
- Perhaps. I don't know.

He made the world through love.

Why don't you ask him
what he did before?

No one can know those things.

- Not even you?
- No more than anyone else.

- So we'll never know?
- We'll know when we're dead.

I want to be dead.

You can go to bed while you wait.

And if you get up again
or do something silly,

I'll be the one to box your ears.
You'll see.

- I want a prayer that doesn't exist.
- A prayer that doesn't exist?

Yes, a prayer that no one knows,

so I'm not always saying
the same thing to God. It's not nice.

We'll do that for you.

It's not exactly a prayer for
a little girl, but I'll say it anyway.

"Lord, give me what you have left.

"Give me what no one ever asks you for.

"I am not asking you for rest nor calm,

"neither of the soul nor of the body.

"Lord, you are asked for those things
so often...

"that you must not have any left.

"Lord, give me what you have left.

"Give me what people turn down.

"Give me what the others don't want.

"And give me courage
and strength as well.

"You are the only one who can give us
what we cannot obtain for ourselves."

The irony of God is admirable.

I passionately hoped that this man
would come into this room.

And here he is. Not traitorous
and complicit as I'd hoped,

but pious and beautiful.

Putting my child, his flock,
to bed with a poem.

Thank You, Lord,
for loving him more than I do.

For doing more than I ever asked of you.
Thank you for your sympathy.

The office moved back to Paris, and
I left around the same time as Morin.

He said he'd come to bid me farewell,
but the days passed and I wondered,

with feelings of anguish
mixed with acceptance,

if he hadn't already left.

The priest is leaving tomorrow.
He wants you to go and see him.

Good evening.

We're setting sail.

There it was, his only possession.

I don't have any socks.

Can I help you finish packing?

Thank you, but that's everything.

All I have to do is close up my rucksack.
Tomorrow morning.

Is the piano there already?

No, it was a rental. They picked it up.
I won't have time to play there.

That's sad.

No, I'll just put some holes in a reed.

I'll be going now.

Thank you for everything.

You don't have any questions to ask me
on the last night?

I have questions to last me a lifetime,
so I'd better keep quiet.

Wipe the chair with that cloth.
Sit down.

And now, what's the song of the day?

It's nothing, just a minor point.

I don't understand.
You said the Jansenists were heretics.

What about the miracle
of the holy thornbush?

Why wouldn't God
work miracles for heretics?

You think he loves them
any less than the others?

You're the one who led me to believe
that God was Catholic.

We call it universal Catholicism
in our temporal language.

But that doesn't stop him
from being many other things as well.

You know what our Lord said?

"In my Father's house
are many mansions."

Contradictory mansions?

Perhaps, but the contradictions
are mostly in our minds.

This time I'm leaving for real.

See you, then.

"See you."

It's a figure of speech.

Yes, we'll see each other again.

In the other world,

not this one.

God bless you.

-- English --