The silly custom was at that time
prevalent for boys to wear silk hats for the occasion, idiotic though
they made them look. With these on their heads, they went, after
examination, up the steps to a balustrade where a priest awaited,
whispered a few affecting words in their ear about their parents or
grandparents, and laid his hand in blessing upon the tall hat. When
called upon to make my confession of faith with the others, I certainly
joined my first "yes," this touching a belief in a God, to theirs, but
remained silent at the question as to whether I believed that God had
revealed Himself to Moses and spoken by His prophets. I did not believe
it.
I was, for that matter, in a wavering frame of mind unable to arrive at
any clear understanding. What confused me was the unveracious manner in
which historical instruction, which was wholly theological, was given.
The History masters, for instance, told us that when Julian the Apostate
wanted to rebuild the Temple at Jerusalem, flames had shot out of the
earth, but they interpreted this as a miracle, expressing the Divine
will. If this were true--and I was unable to refute it then--God had
expressly taken part against Judaism and the Jews as a nation. The
nation, in that case, seemed to be really cursed by Him. Still,
Christianity fundamentally repelled me by its legends, its dogmatism,
and its church rites.
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