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that post for some reason put me in mind of 'Once Upon a Time in the West', both the opulent carriage and the feeling of an entire era of social relations (constrained by distance) coming to an end

Heh, thanks. And thanks for being such an active commenter. :)

Not sure, where, specifically, my brain pulled that image from, I haven't watched Once Upon a Time in the West, its been somewhere back in my netflix queue forever. :p It's a reasonably common western theme however.

The Mexican wild west is also particularly interesting, partly because its less well known and studied, partly because in some ways it was so short lived. Which is why AAR's like this one exist, I suppose. :p

Next update probably tomorrow.
 
I like the direction this AAR is going, and look forward to where you'll take it. Nations going from zeros to a power to be reckoned with, and the way you've integrated a narrative with the events of the game, is something I like a lot. I would like to see where your characters go. I was nominated Character Writer of Week, and I will pass that along to you. Congratulations.
 
Bottoms Up

It was all the more impressive because it had started from scratch.

True, there had been a brewing industry, but it had been a small thing. Local brewers who sold their product in one city. Nothing of significance. On a national level, Mexico had not really been known for anything.

Now there was this.

TopExportedGoods.jpg


Carlos smiled as he saw the ship leave the harbor, stocked with bottles upon bottles of beer.

Everywhere in Mexico, the workers going into the ever growing factories, factories often owned by himself, were taking some of the wages he paid them to buy his drink.

It required alot of grain. He could only really make it work because he was able to ship immense amounts of grain via the new railroads.

The golden liquid was also an innovation. The British has refined a new process for fermentation, it lead to a beer that was a lighter rich golden color, as opposed to the dark brown color that beer had been since ever. He had managed to import some of the techniques in question, which were still in the process of refinement, but the new golden beer was quite popular for its crisper, cleaner taste.

He had tasted one of the first batches himself and been quite happy: even the richer classes would need feel no shame in drinking this in the place of wine, although divorcing them from wine drinking was unlikely.

He had paid a few artists to paint murals on bars in various cities, using as a model the paintaing he had paid for as a sort of experiment in making the beer he sold a sort of known quantity.

EarlyBeerAd.jpg


He especially liked the nationalistic touch at the top with the suggestion of the flag. It made the woman a sort of secular Virgen de Guadalupe, holding forth the Eucharist of the modern age. He was determined that this woman would be the face of his new beer, which would be a model of the new kind of age he was bringing into Mexico.

He turned back from his view of the harbor through the window of his office and turned back to contemplating a map of Mexico he had requisitioned recently.

The railroads were there, certainly, but he thought they could expand more, especially in the far north, California and the like. Texas. Hmmmm...the possibilities of a truly national rail network were worthwhile, he should see about throwing money into it, it was likely some of the other small groups of new money men like him were thinking the same thing. Beyond that, well, the possibilities were endless, as far as he could see. So many products, and the people producing them were often the buyers, one way or another. It sometimes seemed to him as though factories allowed him to break some fundamental law of nature.

He shook his head and decided to take the rest of the day off, perhaps have one of his beers, and see where his thoughts would take him.

The golden liquid, poured into the factory made glass, fizzed pleasantly. As he titled his head back to drink, his eyes reached up to the ceiling. Briefly, he entertained the thought that the world had turned upside down, that he was now sitting on the ceiling, look down at the floor, after having cheated God through making some money, what was a natural law such as gravity in comparison to that?
 
The Difficulties of a Free Market

The trip back to the capital took longer than he was comfortable with. Things outside were always moving, moving, and the capital despite having more people and being the nominal center of Mexico, felt staid now, in an odd way. It was like riding by carriage after becoming accustomed to the train, both literally and figuratively.

He was on his way to meet the new Economic minister. His last round of projects had finished building and he was hoping to get more funding for the next round of project he had in mind. He could find business partners, he supposed, but it was much easier to convince one person in the form of the government rather than dozens of competitors whom he would have to buy out or some similar maneuver. True, it caused some hassle to his business dealings in the form of government inference, but he had gotten rather good at navigating the still weak bureaucracy at the capital to his own advantage.

The carriage finally arrived, and he stepped out, entering the building where he was supposed to meet the gentleman.

They exchanged pleasant greetings and did the usual empty chit chat for a few minutes before Carlos felt it was reasonably polite to cut to the chase.

"So, Mr. Nunez, I was wondering if you had read the contents of my letter sent this last month about the Tejas railroad project."

"I did, Mr. Sandoval."

"And? Your thoughts?"

"It sounds like quite a worthwhile investment. I wish you luck with it"

"Yes, of course. But I was wondering if the government had any interest in..."

"No."

He stared at the man. It had been awhile since he had heard that word. He had become unaccustomed to it.

"Why?"

"It is the opinion of the government, and my instructions are very clear on this point, that our past interference in the natural order of business was counter-productive. The best thing we can do is get out of the way of men of action such as yourself, let you keep the majority of your profits, and let the market do what it will. It is clearly what voters expect from us. "

And that had been that.

Never mind that the new money men that were supposed to unleash the market were a tiny group. Carlos knew: no matter how rich he might be, him and a few hundred other men such as him could only do so much. Very well, so things were going to slow down from the fast days after the end of the war. He would prepare, and who knows, maybe he would have something to say about the lack of a good " business partner.

CapitalistsNumbers.jpg


--

The competition was beginning to take a toll.

Back a few years ago, the market has been constantly, rapidly expanding. Now everything had to be won through the sweat and money he had alone. Without the government, every investment was slower, riskier, and took longer to pay off. Before, the pie had gotten big enough to support them all, now, they were driving each other out of business.

Carlos had known it would be hard, but he had not, in all truth, predicted it would be quite this different. Railroads had popped up and the beginnings of a national network had been formed in less less than half a decade. Now, one or two railroads were finished a year, if that.

He had to become bigger, and he fully intended to be one of the ones left standing by the time the current..slow down.. ended. Two factories had already closed due to the sudden lack of subsidies, taking some of the other new money men..but not him, no.

He would buy them out, consolidate, and be in an even better position to expand when the next phase came, as he was sure it would. And if it didn't? Well, he could build a damn railroad, he was pretty sure he could push the winds of politics to a direction more favorable to himself...
 
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Sorry about the delay and briefness of the update, last week was rather busy, and I was traveling this last weekend. But this week should be lighter, so expect another update by Wednesday.
 
Conservation of Momentum

Carlos was ready.

He had been preparing for this moment for four long years. Slow years, during which everything had been slow, and difficult. After the initial metaphorical bloodbath of the economic slow down caused by the change in policies, he and the others had been careful with each other. One needed business partners, after all, and the government was no longer any such thing.

The problem with eliminating competition is that it also eliminated cooperation. And corporation, for that matter.

But the writing had been on the wall: the policies would change. And today was the day. He smiled hungrily. There would be another bloodbath, different than the last, but no less deadly.

Some of the others had, foolishly, not seen as he had, and not kept their contacts with those who held the purse strings. They did not wish to find themselves unexpectedly on their own again.

Carlos knew now that the government might change on him unexpectedly, but he also knew he could adapt to it doing so. He must always be changing, adapting. Yesterday, the man who could convince other men such as himself to enter into ventures succeeded and survived. Today, it would be the man who could convince a bureaucrat that his project would benefit the nation as a whole.

It might even true.

One way or another, adapt, adapt. If captains had to know the winds and the currents to successful make their voyage, his own travels were at least as requiring of being able to sense the change in the current and adjust his course properly.

He headed into the government office, ready to embrace the chaos of this new stage.

NewInvestments.jpg


----

NorthernRR.jpg


The Texas railroad project had started, as had the connection between the Gulf Coast Line and the Pacific, which would eventually lead to California. Before, hints of a national network were there. Soon, the reality. The man across from him did not understand, in fact, he looked like he was in shock.

"What do you mean?"

"I think I made myself very clear."

"But...I started this company. It's..mine."

"Not anymore, Señor. You asked for investors, which meant selling shares of the company. I bought a controlling interest last week."

He shook his head, as though to wake himself from a dream.

"Have you considered retiring?"

He looked up, startled. "What do you mean?"

"I could divest you of your shares, as you know. But I prefer to do business honorably. Ours is sometimes a cruel sort profession, and I prefer to sleep with an easy conscience and with fewer sins to confess. I will buy your remaining interest in the company."

He gulped. "What's your offer?"

"Your interest in both the Chihuahua Railroad company, and the Pacific Railroad company, all for the equivalent of four thousand British Pounds...in pesos."

----

The end was in sight. There were still a few places here and there, especially in the odd corners of the country, where his trains did not reach, but as soon as the last kilometers of track were finished, he would own the Gulf Coast Line running from Veracruz to the American border with Tejas, the Chihuahua line running west from Matamoros to the Guayamas, and the Pacific Line which would stretch from there south to Acapulco. He would, in short, be the man with a controlling interest in three separate railroad companies which, together, connected the vast majority of the country. A truly national network, the dream whose first hints had been visible four years ago, would now be complete.

RRNetwork.jpg


He had fewer competitors, but each of them were more dangerous, they were men like himself who had planned and adjusted and adapted as the sudden flood of government investment had made business faster, if, in an odd way, just as brutal as the immediate after effects of the slowdown. Before, the moneyed class had been a large village. Now, it was a small one. A fourth of their number had been eliminated after the slowdown. Another fourth of the original number, now a third of the total, were ruined a few years after business picked up again. Even as the pie expanded, the voracious appetites and competitive drive of the others had bought them out, ruined them, or otherwise left them in the lurch.

Carlos worried that if the government policy changed again, the result of the slowdown would be ever worse.

Very well, then. He would make as damned sure as he could that it didn't change. He had helped to change it back, now that he had an eye on it, he would keep it where it was.

The government, he realized, was just another one of his investments: it needed watching to make sure it kept operating to his own advantage and, if possible, to the disadvantage of others.

CapitalistsNumbers2.jpg
 
I've not commented much but I very much like the updates - excellent device for explaining the occasionally dry subject of railway building.
 
The Undiscovered Country...

The railroad game was still important, and always would be, but the action was, for the moment, moving elsewhere.

Carlos made it a point to travel at least once a year to get some perspective. This year's visit had been particularly instructive.

It was easy to forget sometimes, that Mexico was really only a fledgling economy compared to some. Oh sure, it was more modern than the other Spanish colonies, or the various corners of Africa or China. But these were as nothing to the British Empire.

Any time he needed to gain some perspective, he visited England, where the industrial production of some states dwarfed what Mexico had put together. It was really awe inspiring. How could they ever expand to that degree? Mexico was huge, and despite the growing population and boatloads of immigrants, people on the ground outside the capital were scarce.

PopDensity.jpg


Sure, sure, there was serious growth on the outskirts, but it was a *relative* not an absolute thing.

The lack of density was itself a problem: it meant more miles of track had needed to be built before the full effects of the railroad network had kicked in. It meant the customers were further away from where the products were produced. It meant tolls, fees, bribes, and other assorted indignities that his businesses had to pay to grease the skids and keep his goods moving and his products selling.

He hated the worthless vultures that followed in the wake of the money he was making, but he individually could not be anywhere, and so the best way to proceed had been to simply accept it as the cost of doing business. He had not merely left it at that: he had pushed and pulled and thrown his money around to change things, and perhaps now there was finally going to be some progress.

FreedomofTrade.jpg


Still, it had taken quite awhile to establish a set of affairs in Mexico which, in most of Europe, was taken as a matter of course. It was done, at least. His goods could now travel free of interfering internal tolls and other such foolishness: there was still the taxes, of course, and while he did not like the taxes the government took from him, the alternative, as he had found out, was to have to pay for every single damn thing himself. He made far more money from the completed projects funded by the government than he paid as taxes: most of it, in fact, was paid by his workers, as well as the sundry farmers and laborers that provided him with raw goods to feed his growing factories.

The total amount of raw goods available had been helped by the overall relaxation of internal trade barriers, which was an unanticipated side benifit to the whole business which he should have foreseen but didn't.

The trip to Britain had been productive for another reason. Mexico was a decent produced or iron, and he was certain that with the right expertise it could become a truly world class producer. And iron meant steel.

MechanizedMining.jpg


He was still making a mint of his cement factories, and steel struck him as a similar investment. Lots of things were going to need tougher material to be built with, and steel was the answer. If they managed to expand and further the basic national rail network they had now established, it would also require lots of steel.

Everything feed into everything else.

It was hard to believe that he had only left his father to strike out on his own some 15 years ago. He was now a middle aged man. He realized that in between his various business ventures and travels, he had never gotten around to getting married or having children. Well, the future must be planned for, one way or another. It would be a shame to pass on what he had built onto the hands of some unworthy stranger. Much better to find an intelligent woman from a good family, and set about making sure that he did not suffer the fate of Alexander the Great.

And, if he went about it the right way, married the right young woman from the right family, there might even be some profit in it.

The possibilities turned in his mind, and he smiled, his eyes lost in thought, as he sipped his coffee appreciating the cool feel of the china on his hands in contrast to the hot liquid and considered the future, stretching out before him, unseen and unknown.
 
@loki You deserve sme sort of award for awesome commenter. Your continued willingness to throw an encouraging word my way is really, really appreciated.

@prawnstar This part of the game was reasonably quiet, yes. :) Of course, Mexico being Mexico, if things are super exciting it usually means you are at war, which means that odds are that something is about to go horribly wrong.

--

That last update I just posted concludes the second chapter of our tale. We may/probably will revisit Carlos and his doings later in another chapter, but this particular yarn has wound it way through a few posts and I don't want to get to far into the future before I jump back and tell the story of some of the other things that have been happening. :)

Next chapter while go back in time and represent another shift in tone and content and focus. My current goal is to post the start of that on Wednesday. :)
 
another really engaging update ... I like this sort of close focus on industrialisation and development.

In more game terms, presume you need to build up an economy fast enough so when the US reaches your border (in the sense of with its own rails etc), you are powerful enough to stand up to them?
 
another really engaging update ... I like this sort of close focus on industrialisation and development.

In more game terms, presume you need to build up an economy fast enough so when the US reaches your border (in the sense of with its own rails etc), you are powerful enough to stand up to them?

Exactly, although my primary focus tech wise has not yet been industrialization, but rather culture techs. Industrialization has come a close second, however. :)

The entire early game of Mexico is pretty much hurriedly making yourself powerful enough so that when the US comes knocking, you have a chance. Thank god that the historical start date for the Mexican American war never comes to be, because there's just no way to be prepared by that point.
 
Ch. 3: The Word and the World

The scene was one that could be found throughout the country. The inside of a small church, the various accouterments of the Catholic faith displayed throughout it. The church was in the by now traditional Gothic style, all light and air, facing towards the rising sun, everything in threes. The saints depicted at eye level led the eye upward, towards the Almighty.

The faces in the pews seemed out of place: all earth in a place made of air.

The Priest at the front held the only book, and he read to them in Spanish. Read would be generous of the act being performed.

The exercise being performed was as follows. The Priest would say a letter. The students were expected to repeat the letter back, with special emphasis on the pronunciation of the letter. Occasionally, he would pass around a paper and have them practice how to write the letter properly.

The Church had always been, and remained, the primary instrument of education in Mexico, especially among the Native American population that still represented some forty five percent of the country. It can recruited and to a certain degree made the existing upper class among the Native Americans part of the new power structure as the work of converting and educating the natives took its root.

Nonetheless, while pragmatic consideration made it so that certain allowances were made, the goal of the Priesthood was to, first, convert the population to the One True Catholic and Apostolic Faith, and second, to turn them into Mexicans, that is to say, Spanish speakers.

The irony of people related to the Mexica whom had given the name to the country of Mexico being found un-Mexican through virtue of not speaking spanish was not recognized.

Even more ironically, the Nahualt people, of which the frustrated faced of the students made the largest number, had borrowed the latin Alphabet early: written texts in Nahualt were being created as far back as two centuries ago.

In this church, which at the moment functioned as a school, there were no Nahualt texts. There was a Spanish text, singular, held by the Priest.

SchoolStrike.jpg


Suddenly, the anger that has always been there begins to boil over.

The government is very clear: no accommodation can be given. The country must be unified, and that means learning Spanish. How could one learn spanish without understanding vowel forms? How could one decode the meaning of a text without being able to understand the precise place and meaning of each letter? Was this not self-evident?

------

MalthusianThought.jpg


"Yet in all societies, even those that are most vicious, the tendency to a virtuous attachment is so strong that there is a constant effort towards an increase of population. This constant effort as constantly tends to subject the lower classes of the society to distress and to prevent any great permanent amelioration of their condition". —Malthus T.R. 1798. An essay on the principle of population. Chapter II"

Perhaps, as the writings now being disseminated and explored by the community of Priests that made the back bone of the effort to educate the "poor ignorant illiterate masses" of natives, the problem lied not with them, but with human nature itself. A better, more rational point of view might allow them to better educate them, permit them to read and write.

After all, like Malthus argued, any time plenty occurred and more people were born, it meant more mouths to feed. One mouth might come with two hands, but there was only so much farmland available, especially for poor peasants to derive a living from.

In this context, could it really be helped that the progress of literacy was slow?

Still, there were those who argued that this was not correct.

Across the ocean, the next set of ideas were about to arrive in Mexico...

Idealism.jpg
 
This is great stuff, you're painting a wonderfully believable image of Mexico and the problems it's facing. AARs where the player always wins are a dime a dozen, so it's definitely a refreshing change to see a situation where things don't always go to plan and you don't conquer huge swathes of territory!
 
The importance of the act of reading

Chilpancingo was a reasonably typical province of Mexico.

ChilpancingoStats.jpg


According to the government records, roughly 10-15% of the population was "literate" that is, could read text.

And yet, the data keeping her was not precise. The Irish immigrants were more literate, but this literacy was, presumably, in English, not Spanish.

And yet, the Tarascan ethnic group which made up the majority might very well be literate, that is, read text, in their own language, this was not known, for the government did not care.

That the capital was not overly concerned as to the particulars of the Tarascan culture could be demonstrated through its choice to group them together with the Nahualt speaking peoples.

CultureMap.jpg


The Tarascans had, in fact, been an enemy of the Aztec state which was the center of the Nahualt culture at the time of conquest, and had spoke an entirely different language, which was in no way related to the Nahualt language. In fact, the government designation of the people as "Tarascan"was a continuation of the name given to those people by the Spanish, as opposed to the name they called themselves, P'urhépecha.

The P'urhépecha had long followed a isolationist course, thus their remaining adherence to their own language over an adaptation or adoption of the Nahualt language when the Aztec empire was at its height, and that ethnic legacy of isolation had continued under Spanish, and then Mexican rule.

Despite being located just to the south of the capital of the country, Chilipancingo had remained a center for the P'urhépecha people and culture.

ChilpancingoLocation.jpg


The question remained. How could such a group of people, "illiterate" and "ignorant" farmers possibly organize something like a school strike?

The story of the incident in the schoolhouse had, obviously, spread like wildfire among the farmers of the village where the church was located. The girl who had uttered the famous words had been asked to recount the story of her defiance at the instruction she was receiving. The story was then discussed and interpreted. Connections were made between this story and other, similar stories that these farmers knew of, had heard of, or had experienced. Their memories were long, and they had experienced decades, if not centuries, of colonial rule.

When the story was told to others, it was a communal event. Those who had originally heard and understood the story retold it, but they did so as a collaborative work. One would correct the other. They would create, edit, and revise the story, perfect it from rough draft into a final form.

Somewhere along the line, someone with a printing press heard the story, and set it down onto paper. The printed sheets would be passed around, village to village. The story was read, talked about, and discussed as a community. One person, with a knowledge of how to interpret printed text, would "read" it to the others, who would discuss it. Others with knowledge, that is, literacy about the political and social dynamics of the the village and other villages, would provide that information so the community could decide what to do. Others, the elderly, with knowledge, that is, literacy, of the past and how the government might react to various actions gave their information to the community in response to the discussion.

Then another group, with knowledge, that is, literacy, of where each village was, would travel as messengers, sending information, the signs and signifiers of communication from one village to the other, so that they might be "read" and "understood."

Really, it was quite simple, for the community of Chilpancingo had many forms of knowledge, many literacies, most of which the government was not aware of.
 
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I like how illiteracy doesn't have to mean stupid or uneducated!
 
Making the strange seem familiar....

The intent was simple. The government would encourage the church, allowing it to spread its influence further than it had already. Money, land, whatever was necessary to draw more men to the cloth: it would be made available. The Church would get more power and more influence, while it would accommodate itself to the mild changes and reforms that were occurring throughout the country. The question of how the Church should be treated had been the primary division and cause for dissension between the Liberals and the Conservatives, the current policy of allowing the church more power on a local level while reforming the national system towards progress had provided a working compromise...so far.

On the ground, that meant that more young men were joining the clergy every day, the second and third sons of well to do families, young men with no prospects from poorer villages, the church claimed them all.

ClergymenNF.jpg


And it was true that the influence of the church grew, but not, perhaps as had been forseen or intended...

--
Religion and morals, however much they may be faith or immediate knowledge, are still on every side conditioned by the mediating process which is termed development, education, training. -Friedrich Hegel, Shorter Logic

Father Pablo Fierro knelt and felt the total silence that always accompanied prayer. Some claimed to hear the call of God, or at least his presence. Pablo had never had anything but silence from his maker, a uncertain silence which had left him to his own devices.

His face still seemed to sting after the blow he had received from that young woman. He could still see the anger filling her eyes, the sting of her words.

He shuffled back to his small room, turning away from the silence of God and hoping to find his voice elsewhere. Doubt gnawed at him, not letting him rest.

As he had the last few nights after praying, he had read a bit of the works of Hegel that had been all the rage recently among the clergy.

There was something there, certainly, some sort of answer, or at least the right question. The world seemed full of contradictions, but this was the working of the World Spirit, which was clearly, in Pablo's mind, God, working towards the greater synthesis of the seeming opposites, for the world he had created had always, and would always, be a greater whole than the parts which made up its every day self.

But was the proper function of the citizen truly to seek harmony with the state? Was the state truly the best expression of the human need and instinct towards unity? Was not, in fact, the church the best expression of this?

He turned to the Bible next, for perhaps, by combining the two, he might reach a synthesis of his own, some sort of comprehension of what had happened in that school, where he had gone wrong that the people he was supposed to be teaching had grown to hate him.

His fingers leafed through the now well worn bible, searching...searching....

He stopped at the following passage.

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me; because the LORD hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound -Isaiah: 61

He had read this passage before, many times. He almost turned the page in frustration, but he stopped to look at it again. In the present context, when he looked at it again, it seemed to have new, and urgent meaning. This is what he was supposed to be doing, what being a Priest was about. But what did it mean? Was not the text unambiguous? But, he realized, it was, it always had been. Gods words, through the printed page, must always be interpreted, understood, mediated, through his own fallible eyes. The meaning of the text was not in the text itself, but rather in his understanding of it, the meaning was in him, in the context and place of his understanding of it, of the kind of conversation he was having with himself around the text.

He had conversations before, with others, with himself, about this passage, and others as well, but never this conversation, never this context.

He tried, through a supreme act of will, to go back to that moment in the school, and put himself in the context of the young woman who had struck him.

He could not, God help him, how could he? What bridge could connect the world of a Spanish man of the cloth and a young illiterate Indian peasant? They did not even share a language, and she did not speak his and he....yes.. that was it. Before teaching..he must be taught. He must acquire her context, her understanding.

He left the Church, and set out to the village....

---

PreacherMan.jpg


Others, who did not understand yet, would say that he roused the sleeping minds of the people of Tampico, and lit a spark therein.

Nothing could be further from the truth. He had merely voiced in a different way what they already had to say. He was not God, he could not create something from nothing, he could but transmit that which he had learned, and have it be understood by a wider audience.

Letters from other men of the cloth had been coming in, fast and furious, a ongoing conversation by which the question of the day was being debated? What was the role of the new, younger generation of priests in Mexico? Was it not to help the Church be what it should always have been, a defender of freedom? Should it not push to get the heavy presence of the government off the necks of the farmers and ranchers that were this country?

Most of the clergy, he found, had, it seemed, come around to this viewpoint: that the cause of human liberty must be advanced. Well, all to the good. But he knew that for some of them, this belief was still an abstract thing, a thing of principles, held together by air. They had not yet put it in context. They were reading his words, but not yet understanding them, they were, he was sure, reading their bibles, but much like his old self, not truly understanding it either. They did not, after all, have the correct context to be able to fully understand the words, to discuss and teach the text to others who saw differently than they did, people who lacked their frame of reference. Not only did they lack the bridge between the Word and the World, they did not see that they had the lack, or the need for a bridge.

That was fine. He was sure, in time, they would learn. He put away the letter he was responding to, and headed downstairs to help the village in its discussion of today's bible passage, printed in the native language. Attendance was up, and he truly felt as though his fellow learners were making progress, why, yesterday, they had been comparing "their" bible to the Spanish bible, as well as the Latin bible, and discussing the differences they were able to see. For the first time since he had taken holy orders, he had felt the presence of God, transcendent and holy, as he had participated in that discussion.

ClergymenStats.jpg