"Matron let out an exasperated sigh. "Did you think they were all fire worshippers? Tree worshippers? Mr. Harris, they are Christians. They are no more in need of redemption than you are in need of a hair straightening cream."
"But I feel it's not true Christianity. It's a pagan sort of...," he said, and patted his forehead.
"Pagan! Mr. Harris, when our pagan ancestors back in Yorkshire and Saxony were using their enemies' skulls as a plate to serve food, these Christians here were singing the psalms. They believe they have the Ark of the Covenant locked up in a church in Axum. Not a saint's finger or a pope's toe, but the Ark! Ethiopian believers put on the shirts of men who had just died of the plague. They saw in the plague a sure and God-sent means of winning eternal life, of finding salvation. That, " she said, tapping the table "is how much they thirsted for the next life." She couldn't help what she said next. "Tell me, in Dallas, do your parishioners hunger like that for salvation?"...
"God will judge us, Mr. Harris, by"-her voice broke as she thought of Sister Mary Joseph Praise-" by what we did to relieve the suffering of our fellow human beings. I don't think God cares what doctrine we embrace." - Abraham Verghese, Cutting for Stone, p. 154
Life in a small town with a large family. Trying to put God on display.
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