And now I was told to be angry with him because his anger had been the most huge and horrible thing in human history; because his anger had soaked the earth and smoked to the sun.

The very people who reproached Christianity with the meekness and non-resistance of the monastries were the very people who reproached it also with the violence and valour of the Crusades.

It was the fault of poor old Christianity (somehow or other) both that Edward the Confessor did not fight and that Richard Coeur de Lion did.
The Quakers (we were told) were the only characteristic Christians; and yet the massacres of Cromwell and Alva were characteristic Christian crimes.

What could it all mean?
What was this Christianity which always forbade war and always produced wars?
What could be the nature of the thing which one could abuse first because it would not fight, and second because it was always fighting?
In what world of riddles was born this monstrous murder and this monstrous meekness?
The shape of Christianity grew a queerer shape every instant.
I take a third case; the strangest of all, because it involves the one real objection to the faith.

The one real objection to the Christian religion is simply that it is one religion.