Third Letter to Fr. Pastells
Dapitan, January 9, 1893
My Most Reverend Father:
With great pleasure I have read your esteemed and profound the letter of December 8th. I am most grateful to you for your continued interest in me.
For some time now I have been examining my beliefs and the foundations on which they rest. I have reviewed what little is left of what my dear professor, Father Sanchez has aptly called "shipwreck of faith," or the solid bases that have withstood so many storms. In the definition and exposition of my ideas I should like to be a sincere and accurate as possible as I value Your Reverence so much only for what you are, or for what you were to me in my adolescent years, the recollection of which is always dear and sacred to me, but also for your being still one of the few persons who, far from forgetting me in my adversity, have so benevolently lent me a helping hand.
Gladly, therefore, I shall answer your questions in all candor so that you may see for yourself whether all is lost or there is yet something left which may be made use of.
More than by faith, I firmly believe by reasoning and by necessity that a Creator exists. Who is He? What human sounds, what words of any language, can enclose or envelop such Being whose wonders stagger the imagination that pictures them? Who can give Him an adequate name when a petty human being here on earth with an ephemeral power has two or three names, three or four surnames, and the many titles?
Dios we call Him in Spanish, but that merely recalls the Latin deus and the Greek Zeus. What is He? If fear of my ignorance did not deter me, I should ascribe to Him to an infinite degree all the beautiful and holy qualities that my mind can conceive. Somebody has said that each man makes his God in his own image. If I remember right, Anacreon said that if the bull could imagine a god, it would imagine him to be like itself –– with horns and a superlative bellowing power.
Nevertheless, I believe God to be infinitely wise, perfect, and good. But then, my idea of the infinite is imperfect and confused, considering the wonders of His works; the order that governs them, their overwhelming magnificence and extent, and the goodness that shines through all of them. The lucubrations of a poor worm, the least of all creatures on this tiny ball of earth, can never offend His inconceivable majesty however crazy they may be. The very thought of Him overpowers me, makes my mind reel, and every time my reason tries to lift up its eyes to that Being, it falls dazzled, bewildered , overwhelmed. Fear seizes me and I resolve to keep silent rather than be like Anacreon’s bull.
With this vague but irresistible feeling pervading whole being before the inconceivable, the superhuman, the infinite, I leave its study to clearer minds . In suspense I listen to what the different religions say, and unable to pass judgment on what lies beyond my comprehension, I content myself with studying Him through His creatures, my fellow-beings. In my mysterious voice I hear within me, the purity of which I endeavor to preserve above all things so as to enable me to act in accordance with it, I try to read, to guess, His will in all that surrounds me.
Many religions claim to have that written in condensed form in their books and dogmas, but apart from the numerous contradictions, the varied interpretations of words, the many obscure points . . ."
