Simon Birch Page #3

- It's perfect.

Just like you.

Come on.

Blessed is he

whose transgression is forgiven,

whose sin is covered.

I said I will confess

my transgressions unto the Lord...

and Thou forgave us

the inequity of my sin.

- The Word of the Lord.

- Thanks be to God.

I'd like to take a few minutes

to discuss some...

of the upcoming activities

on the church calendar.

Here we go.

- What's wrong, Simon?

- Who knows what God thinks

about current events?

- Does someone have a question?

- Uh, no, sir.

Uh, Your Honor, no...

Father, thank you.

No, sir.

It's always nice to see

new faces in the congregation.

Uh, I'd like

to invite them...

to join my wife and children

and, uh, myself...

for coffee and donuts

downstairs after the service.

- What does coffee and donuts

have to do with God?

- Simon Birch, be quiet.

Simon, is there something you'd like

to share with the rest of us?

I said, "What does coffee and donuts

have to do with God?"

They're merely refreshments

so people can socialize and, uh,

discuss the upcoming activities.

Whoever said that church needs

a continental breakfast?

- Simon!

- I doubt that God is interested

in our church activities.

- Simon!

- If God has made the church

bake sale our priority,

then I'd say we're all

in a lot of trouble.

Simon, that is enough!

Children may be excused...

to go to Sunday school.

- Simon?

- Yes, ma'am?

Don't you feel that you owe

Reverend Russell an apology?

- Simon?

- I'm thinking.

Well, you can just sit there

and think...

until you apologize

to poor Reverend Russell.

Class dismissed.

Joe, dismissed.

- See you later, alligator.

- After a while, crocodile.

- Reverend Russell.

- Go on outside, Joe.

- He didn't mean anything.

- Stop making excuses for him.

If Simon is going to be

a member of our congregation,

he has to start behaving

like a normal person.

- He is a normal person.

- Simon Birch is not a normal person.

Just go on outside, Joe.

Well...

are we, uh, ready

to apologize?

He's thinking

about it.

Simon.

What do you think you're doing

sitting in a corner?

- Thinking about God.

- In a corner?

Faith is not

in a floor plan.

- Keep him here.

- But for how long?

As long as it takes.

- Mom.

- Hi, honey. Where's Simon?

Didn't your mother

ever teach you...

how to keep quiet

during mass?

Tsk. What am I saying?

Of course she didn't.

Your parents don't go to church,

do they, Simon?

See, that's because

they don't belong here.

And neither do you.

Speaking out of turn,

disrupting the class,

telling the other children that...

that God has a special plan for you.

What kind of nonsense is this?

And what kind of nonsense is this?

- Hello, Rebecca.

- Come on, Simon.

I was just... No, wait.

I was...

- Out.

- I was teaching him a lesson.

- And what lesson is that?

Humiliation?

- Oh, man, this is so boss.

- This is all my fault.

- Hey, don't take all the credit.

She's my mom.

Telling the children that he's

some kind of hero. That he's...

- That he's God's instrument.

- And who's to say he isn't?

- Who do you think would win

in a fight?

- Good question.

Miss Leavey is meaner, but she's

a smoker. Your mom could outlast her.

We can't have him

talking that way.

It frightens

the other children.

Oh, I think it's you

it frightens, Miss Leavey.

What? Why would I be frightened

of little Simon Birch?

Because that child has more faith

than you'll ever know.

- Ahh!

- Oh, goodness gracious.

Come on, you two.

Come on, boys.

Let's go find Ben.

- My jacket!

- Oh, that's okay, Simon.

I'll get it for you.

Thank you,

Miss Wenteworth.

You know what, Simon?

Thank you.

Strike three!

You're out, batter.

October 30, 1964.

Our team was getting beaten

badly by Horseshoe Bay.

This wasn't an altogether

uncommon occurrence,

but on this particular day,

for no particular reason,

Coach Higgins decided to pack it in,

so we could all go home.

It was a decision that would haunt

the poor man for the rest of his life.

Simon!

You're up.

Come on, Simon. Come on.

Just make contact with the ball.

Oh, no.

Simon, swing away.

- What?

- You heard me. Swing the bat.

- Yes, sir.

- All right, set 'em up

and knock 'em down.

You got it, Simon.

Pitch this one home.

Ball... one.

Simon.

- Swing the bat.

- It was too high.

Come on, Simon.

You can do it.

- Send it over the fence.

- Be sure to let go of the bat,

so you don't go with it.

All right. Let's go.

- Ball... two.

- Simon.

Swing the bat. Swing.

- I'm picking my pitch.

- Ah, for Christ's sakes.

Rebecca!

Sh-She's dead.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Lord, grant that I may seek more...

to comfort, than to be comforted,

to love, than be loved.

For it is by self-forgetting

that one finds...

Hear our prayers on behalf

of Thy servant, Rebecca.

And grant her entrance

into the land of light and joy,

in the fellowship

of Thy saints.

In sure and certain hope

of the resurrection to eternal life...

through our Lord, Jesus Christ,

we commend our sister, Rebecca.

And we commit her body

to the ground.

Earth to earth,

ashes to ashes.

And dust to dust.

The Lord bless her

and keep her.

Amen.

Mind if I join ya?

Whatcha got there?

Simon's baseball cards.

He gave 'em to me.

I don't get it.

Stupid baseball cards are...

Simon's favorite thing

in the world.

Maybe that's why

he gave them to you.

I don't want 'em.

That's a good thing because

I bet you he wants 'em back.

- I still don't get it.

- Maybe it's his way of saying, "Sorry."

That he still loves you.

I mean, he's trusting you

with them, right?

- So what should I do?

- I don't know.

Give him somethin'

in return?

Somethin' that he knows

you want back.

What's this?

It's for Simon.

Make sure he gets it.

My mother found

the armadillo.

- She fainted.

- For real?

Just like in the movies.

Screamed and dropped.

- Cool.

- It was pretty boss.

Here.

You know, when I first

saw the bag, I thought that

maybe the baseball was in it.

- What? Why?

- I don't know.

You did take it,

didn't you?

Why would I want to possess

that fated baseball?

Well, somebody took

the ball.

Who else would want it?

- Maybe he was there that day.

- Who?

Your father.

Maybe he took the ball.

I'm sorry, Joe.

- It was out of my hands.

- What do you mean?

I'm God's instrument.

I wish it was someone else.

- But he wanted it to be me.

- Simon, it was an accident.

There are no accidents.

God has a plan for all of us.

There's no plan, Simon.

Don't you understand that by now?

- But God...

- There is no God.

It's like believing

in Santa Claus or the Easter bunny.

- It's all bullshit, Simon.

- Don't say that.

My mom is dead because

she got hit by a baseball,

and you're small because

you were born a sick baby.

That's it. Just stop trying

to make sense of it all. You can't.

Joe.

Simon.

Into paradise...

may the angels...

lead you.

Simon. Simon.

I hear you.

What do you want?

What do you want from me?

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