the basic technical skills to change the oil and brake pads on those bikes will raise the technology level of this whole region. Other people will be able to get motorcycles because basic maintenance will be available.”
Dree nodded. “There are gas stations about every five villages or so. Gasoline shouldn’t be a problem.” Maxence’s strong arm was right beside hers. He’d taken off his black leather motorcycle jacket when they’d sat down for supper, and his coat was hanging over the end of the booth. His biceps and triceps curved around his arm, and his lower arm bulged with muscle. His ripped arm looked like an illustration from her anatomy textbook or maybe one of the models from the life drawing class she’d taken.
Maxence said, “Greater access to transportation means more trade. It means that villages that are close to Chandannath will have more opportunities for employment there, which means more money in those villages. Then, villages that are close enough to those places will have more opportunities for trade, employment, and wealth. This is a project with positive ripple effects.”
Batsa nodded. “When I was a child, I often visited my extended family’s village. We filled our suitcases with anything and everything we could find for them. A few motorcycles in nearby villages would have raised access to things they needed, from iodized salt to more diverse food in the winter.”
Maxence said to Isaak, “This is the kind of planning that charities need. We don’t need billionaires to exploit impoverished people for tax write-offs or to make money off of charity projects.”
Maxence dropped his hands casually at his side while he spoke, but his fingers crossed the small space between his thigh and Dree’s and laced with hers.
She could scarcely breathe, and she held on.
Isaak nodded. “Even I, whose family fled the Communists and used capitalism to build factories to produce alcohol, must agree with you. Creating a product to sell to people who have money and want it is right and proper. Indeed, my family has become very wealthy doing it.” He smiled at Dree, and she was confused. “Sucking a profit out of a charity and exploiting people’s children is grotesque.”
Batsa said, “Exploiting poor people should be a grievous sin, right, Deacon Father Maxence?”
Deacon Father Maxence.
Dree loosened her grip on Max’s fingers, but he didn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go, even when she made her hand go limp. He held on, and if anything, tightened his grip.
It was easy to forget the vows he’d made to the Church when his arms were around her.
Too easy.
Maxence nodded. “As Dree mentioned a month ago, in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter twenty-five, Jesus Christ himself said it was a mortal sin.”
What on Earth was he talking about? He couldn’t have known that she was thinking about mortal sins and his hands, his body, his lips on her neck.
Right?
“I didn’t say anything,” she mumbled.
“Oh, yes, I remember,” Isaak said to her. “It was around the campfire when Father Booker got nervous about the personal responsibility mandate. I was listening to you.”
Maxence continued, “Matthew is the first book of the Gospels for a reason. That entire chapter is the key to understanding Christ. The key to all three parables, but especially the Sheep and the Goats, is right at the end. Christ talks about the people who were hungry or thirsty, or the strangers and the prisoners, and he says, ‘I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me. And what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ He points to the people who let the poor and prisoners die and says, ‘And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.’ Letting poor people die and doing nothing about it is a mortal sin, straight from Christ’s mouth.”
Batsa nodded. “And thus, we have a personal responsibility, according to the Church.”
Maxence shook his head and squeezed Dree’s fingers. “But Christ doesn’t gather people in that chapter. He gathers ‘the nations.’ The nations. We have more than personal responsibility. We have a mandate from Christ as a society, as a civilization, to not let the poor be lost, to protect those who are in danger, to feed those who are hungry, to bring justice to the world, and to not stop until we do. Most religions believe this. It’s not unique to Christianity. That baby girl whom we transported to