Fortified, not that Brown necessarily needs it but he supposes Zan does, the Englishman says, “The flaw with your lecture, of course. . ” He pauses to see how this beginning registers; Zan raises an eyebrow and Brown continues, “. . the flaw is that it presumes there’s a history at all, doesn’t it? I mean the whole original business, Jesus and God and all that. Hardly the stuff of history, is it?”
“How do we know?” says Zan.
“But you don’t mean you believe in God?” says Brown.
Zan makes a show of pondering this as though he never has before. “Fifty-one days out of a hundred.”
“What kind of faith is that?”
“The best I can manage. Whether anyone calls it faith or not, I don’t much care.”
“But why bother to believe at all?”
“Because it’s not a matter of whether I can be bothered, it’s a matter of what I do. Believe, I mean.”
“Are you certain?” Brown says. “I mean, people who believe do so because they rather want or need to, don’t they?”
“Well, a lot do. Maybe most. But no more so than those who don’t believe.”
“How’s that?”
“Not believing because you need not to, no less so than the person who does.”