The Ultimate Chronicler of the Believer and the Sinner

            Author William Golding once described Graham Greene as “the ultimate chronicler of twentieth century man’s consciousness and anxiety.” You know an author has done something special when he not only has entertained you, but has managed to invigorate your life with new wisdom, when his protagonist confronts with such moving sincerity his own anxiety and inspires your faith by his example. The power of the novel is incontrovertible when a character’s consciousness and struggle transcends the boundary of the written word in a way you never before witnessed in literature. Graham Greene did just that for me with his whiskey priest in my reading of The Power and the Glory.

            Greene time and time again crafted my initial perception of a character or theme only to take hold of it, shake it repeatedly, and ultimately leave me understanding that same character or theme in a whole new way. The whiskey priest initially appears sinful in his disengagement from the teachings of the institution he represents. It is the pious woman and the lieutenant who wear their badges on their sleeves, seemingly “engaged” with the religiosity and justice they claim to espouse. But through the prison scene and his characterization of Coral Fellows, Greene highlights how “the sinful” man and the young girl with no religious affiliation ultimately have the richest, most admirable understanding of humanity.

The course is over, the man himself rests in peace, but
his lessons persist

            Greene’s protagonist isn’t saintly or glamorous, but he nonetheless serves the will of God in a way that far surpasses the pious woman pigeonholing people with premature judgments. For someone struggling with my own faith at times, Greene gives me a character who breaks down at points but then does not give way to despair and ultimately makes some of the most compassionate and heartrending observations about humanity. The man who sins is far from lost. His failure to meet the expectations of the church knocks him down, his sinfulness holds him back from God, but he keeps going, keeps wrestling with the important questions, keeps holding on to his faith despite all the failure. The whiskey priest inspired me: feeling guilt, but never letting it hold him back for too long; feeling doubt, but never relinquishing his role. I took it all as a message to keep toiling along the path, to recognize that doubt can serve me well by keeping me engaged and asking questions. The priest showed how with doubt can come humility, and then it with this humility that comes the ability to see the people of the world in a benevolent, impassioned way.

            The Power and the Glory does not make faith easy, but a life of faith oughtn’t be. It shook me out of complacency at points, challenged me to dig deeper, to go beyond that “easy” love and find the will to love the “half-castes” and the “prisoners”. While I was inspired, I was also awakened to my own faults, an awakening that can undoubtedly be unsettling. But when a novel has the power to move you in that way, to inspire you to revolutionize your values, the author is doing something special. I’ll be forever grateful for Greene’s insights on what it means to be a struggling believer and hope to hang on to his words as a continuing source of inspiration for my own faith.