I knew a Moorish child as a kid named Faysal. That was rare in Portugal at that time being the only Moor family at least as far as Portimao. The Catholics in town basically treated him and his family as lepers but I found the differences in beliefs fascinating. I would stop by at the time of day that he would pray and watch quietly until he was done. I think it gave me a respect for other’s beliefs and allowed me to get over the fear that my neighbors had of the family’s differences. I have taken that with me in my travels and cobbled bits and pieces of other beliefs into what I think of as a religious doctrine tailored to me. That said, I was sickened by the visit to the church and I was sorry for the pain that the parish had inflicted on the area and on our Father Ryan. It was clear to me that he was suffering most from the corruption of his close held religious beliefs.