How we cite our quotes: (Part.Chapter.Paragraph.)
Quote #1
"But can't you," she said logically, "just give yourself up?"
He had answers as plain and understandable as her questions. He said, "There's the pain. To choose pain like that—it's not possible. And it's my duty not to be caught. You see, my bishop is no longer here." Curious pedantries moved him. "This is my parish." (1.3.120-1)
Now that he's the only one left in the state, the priest's sense of responsibility has only heightened. No one can take his place or share the burden. There's no Justice League here, folks. It's all on him.
Quote #2
"Oh, let them come. Let them all come," the priest cried angrily. "I am your servant." He put his hand over his eyes and began to weep. (1.3.196)
Just because the priest has a strong sense of duty doesn't mean he likes it. In this case, though, his frustration is understandable. He's exhausted to the point of tears, but the faithful want their confessions. Well, one of them does, and he's rather insistent. Jeez dude, get a clue.
Quote #3
She felt no resentment at all at being there, looking after things: the word "play" had no meaning to her at all—the whole of life was adult. (1.4.70)
Coral Fellows has grown up much too quickly. Adulthood for her has more to do with taking on responsibilities than it does with the number of years since her birth. You'll often see this theme in coming-of-age stories: the passage from childhood to adulthood runs through responsibility, like an Olympic torch of stress and obligation that nobody is too excited to carry.
Quote #4
Had it become his duty then to run away? He had tried to escape several times, but he had always been prevented … now they wanted him to go. Nobody would stop him, saying a woman was ill or a man dying. He was a sickness now. (2.1.46)
The priest's primary duty isn't clear to him. Should he stay and minister or flee for the safety of his parishioners? Now that the people want him to go, is he more duty-bound to do what they want? Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.
Quote #5
If he left them, they would be safe, and they would be free from his example. He was the only priest the children could remember: it was from him that they would take their ideas of the faith. But it was from him too they took God—in their mouths. When he was gone it would be as if God in all this space between the sea and the mountains ceased to exist. Wasn't it his duty to stay, even if they despised him, even if they were murdered for his sake? Even if they were corrupted by his example? He was shaken with the enormity of the problem. (2.1.51)
The problem would be less enormous if the priest was a good man, but then we'd have a very different story. With his bad manners and penchant for drinking, the whisky priest perverts the very faith he preaches, but he is the only connection to the church these people have. What's a priest to do?
Quote #6
"I could easily find out, couldn't I?" the half-caste said. "I'd just have to say—father, hear my confession. You couldn't refuse a man in mortal sin." (2.1.291)
A good villain knows how to use people's responsibilities against them. An old Hitchcock movie called I Confess had a villain who used the seal of the confessional to place blame on a priest. In more recent movie fare, think the Joker in The Dark Knight, who plays with people's sense of duty, right, and wrong.
Quote #7
He tried to gather up his venom into spittle and shot it feebly at the other's face: it didn't even reach, but fell impotently through the air. He said, "Go and die quickly. That's your job," and slammed the door to. (2.2.222)
We'll say this much for Padré Jose: he isn't subtle. He's speaking to the priest here, but we have to wonder if his words are also directed towards himself. It wasn't his job to renounce the faith, but to preach it. As a priest, Padré Jose is symbolically married to the Church, meaning that he owes it his devotion till death do them part. His decision to leave Mexico is in many ways a death in itself. The death of his faith, his duty, and his strength. No wonder he's thinking of dying quickly—it might be what he desires most.
Quote #8
He thought: I shouldn't have left her alone like that. God forgive me. I have no sense of responsibility: what can you expect of a whisky priest? and he struggled to his feet and began to climb back towards the plateau. He was tormented by ideas; it wasn't only the woman: he was responsible for the American as well … (2.4.52)
Concerned with his own needs, and not unjustly, the priest left a woman and her dead son alone in the wild. Now he feels guilty. To be priest is to have responsibility for everyone—they call him Father for a reason, after all.
Quote #9
He thought of the deserted banana station where something had happened and the Indian child lay dead on the maize: there was no question at all that he was needed. A man with all that on his soul … The oddest thing of all was that he felt quite cheerful; he had never really believed in this peace. (3.1.192)
This is as close as the priest gets to the saintly Juan, the character from the religious storybook the mother reads to her children. The cheerfulness won't last, but in this moment—the moment of his choice to give himself over—he's earned a little happiness.
Quote #10
"I never believed that you would return." "Oh well, lieutenant, you know how it is. Even a coward has a sense of duty." (3.3.8-9)
Ironically, the priest speaks of duty here as a minimal expectation for good behavior, when his return to danger, while done because it was his duty, was arguably heroic. We'd say so, even if the priest won't.