When Bad Men Do Good: Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory

Graham Greene is a name I have been familiar with for a long time, but until now, I have not read any of his books. One summer, on a long drive, I listened to a BBC radio play of his book Our Man in Havana, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. But The Power and The Glory is the first of his books that I have read. And according to all the little blurbs that come with my edition, it is his masterpiece.

I am not a religious man, and trials of religious people do not typically move me. There is no exception here for the unnamed priest at the center of The Power and The Glory. I can respect his struggles, and I understand his dilemma, but for the most part I was not moved by his inner religious turmoil. That said, however, I really enjoyed this book and really enjoyed the main character we follow around because even as the book is about the trials of a persecuted priest among persecuted people, it is the people and not the religion that Greene studies and discusses.

When I learned in the biographical sketch at the head of my edition that Greene converted to Catholicism when he was 26, I was very wary about what I was about to read. That knowledge acted like a lens, affecting the way I started into the book, the symbols and lessons I looked around for. That lens fell away as I got a quarter of the way into the book and simply enjoyed the story and the writing. Greene creates crisp, clear, and evocative sentences. He seemingly effortlessly creates a scene with deft description and characters come to life through their dialogue and interaction. I never found myself wanting the scenes to move faster or for the plot to develop quicker, nor did I wish to linger longer. It all moved so perfectly. And then, as I neared the end, as the whiskey priest neared the end of his journey, I suspiciously picked that lens back up and read on expecting one of two things. Either the priest was going to get his absolution and become an appropriate martyr, or he would be denied confession and die ingloriously.

Greene did something I didn't expect and he did it with great skill. The whiskey priest does indeed die without confession, without repenting of his own scenes AND he becomes a proper martyr, believably. There is nothing superhuman in the priest's fate. He does not find God's strength to face his execution. He does not transcend to some higher spiritual level in meeting his death, but it is that incredible humanity that makes his death meaningful. Unlike Christ, the priest is a man steeped in sin, but like Christ, he dies with the sins and confessions of everyone who called on him. He gave his life to hear the last confession, and he did it without seeming ridiculously pious. And his last word, overheard by the dentist, before the firing squad let loose, was "excuse." What a great and ambiguous word! Was he making an excuse for his own behavior, pleading for a stay of execution, or speaking to God as Christ upon the cross, asking him to "excuse" their murdering him, for they know not what they do? In this conclusion, Greene allows tragedy and hope to come together in a beautiful balance. He gives us the ending that the priest becomes a martyr but without it becoming a cheesy tale of morality. Greene gives it all to us, and you cannot ask for a better ending than that.

The thing Greene explores throughout the novel and the priests travels is the difference between the man and the role he performs. The priest can be a bad man, a bad priest, and still do good. He can be the horrible example he fears he is and still bring God to people. There are no wicked characters in this book; and there are certainly no saints. But what the people are like on the inside, what motivates them and occupies their mind, are different from the effect they have on other people and the world around them. The lieutenant is a kind-hearted man who gives money to a struggling man and seeks to eliminate the church for what he sees as the good of the people, but he is ready to execute innocents to reach his goal. The fang-toothed mestizo is another great example of the person and the role being at odds.

Graham Greene is another author that I plan to return too when this experiment is over. I love his writing, his plotting, and his combination of intellect and intuition to create a riveting and rewarding story.