I was born in 1936 in Beauce, a beautiful and industrious region of the future country of Québec, which to this day is part of Canada. In 1962, I was ordained as a priest in the Société des Missions Étrangères de Québec and later pursued pastoral studies in Colombia and Belgium. During my 30 years of missionary work in Honduras, Argentina, and China, I discovered that God spoke through the mouths of the nobodies. Their language was that of human rights, the indigenous cultures to be rescued, the ancestral lands to be reclaimed, the love for Mother Earth, the liberation of women, the horrendous scandal of poverty, and the crime against humanity of forced disappearances, etc. It was the language of the gospel, the language of a God-made-people. But for a long time, there has been another god who claimed to be the one and only true God. In reality, he was nothing but a fallacy invented by those seeking to take over the world. He had fearsome enforcers and did not speak the language of the poor like Jesus. He waged war against us and won. The God-made-people did not have much luck; we were crushed by the God-of-the-Armies. Back in my native Canada, with a health that is not so bad as to die and not so good as to be useful, I live swinging between permanent indignation and the serene hope that the old god, enemy of justice and freedom, will burst before the end of the world, and that one does not have to leave the Church to try to be somewhat coherent with the gospel.