I don't have a sermon in me today. I have a dog instead. A sweet rascal of a dog, who just ate my sunglasses.
But I will leave you with this beautiful thought from Paul Tillich, read aloud to me by my fiancee earlier this week when I was in the throes of it. By "it" I mean, of course, all that life pitches at us, the sinkers and down and aways, and those rarer straight-over-the-plate, just-below-the-belt freebies.
from Invocation: The Lost Dimension in Religion
Therefore, in order to describe the contemporary attitude toward religion, we must first point to the places where awareness of the predicament of Western man in our period is most sharply expressed. These places are great art, literature, and, partly at least, the philosophy of our time. It is both the subject matter and the style of these creations which show the passionate and often tragic struggle about the meaning of life in a period in which man lost the dimension of depth. This art. literature, philosophy is not religious in the narrower sense of the word; but it asks the religious question more radically and more profoundly than most directly religious expressions of our time.
It is a religious question which is asked when the novelist describes a man who tries in vain to reach the only place which could solve the problem of his life, or a man who disintegrates under the memory of a guilt which persecutes him, or a man who never had a real self and is pushed by his fate without resistance to death, or a man who experiences a profound disgust of everything he encounters.
It is religious question which is asked when the playwright shows the illusion of a life in a ridiculous symbol, or if he lets the emptiness of a life's work end in self-destruction, or if he confronts us with the inescapable bondage to mutual hate and guilt, or if he leads us into the dark cellar of lost hopes and slow disintegration.
It is the religious question which is asked when the painter breaks the visible surface into pieces, then reunites them into a great picture which has little similarity with the world at which we normally look, but which expresses our anxiety and our courage to face reality.
It is the religious question which is asked when the architect, in creating office buildings or churches, removes the trimmings taken over from past styles because they cannot be considered an honest expression of our own period. He prefers the seeming poverty of a purpose-determined stye to the deceptive richness of imitated styles of the past. He knows that he gives no final answer, but he does give an honest answer.
That last line is worth saying again to myself, as a writer, and to all my loved ones who create: She knows that she gives no final answer, but she does give an honest answer.
Amen.
But I will leave you with this beautiful thought from Paul Tillich, read aloud to me by my fiancee earlier this week when I was in the throes of it. By "it" I mean, of course, all that life pitches at us, the sinkers and down and aways, and those rarer straight-over-the-plate, just-below-the-belt freebies.
from Invocation: The Lost Dimension in Religion
Therefore, in order to describe the contemporary attitude toward religion, we must first point to the places where awareness of the predicament of Western man in our period is most sharply expressed. These places are great art, literature, and, partly at least, the philosophy of our time. It is both the subject matter and the style of these creations which show the passionate and often tragic struggle about the meaning of life in a period in which man lost the dimension of depth. This art. literature, philosophy is not religious in the narrower sense of the word; but it asks the religious question more radically and more profoundly than most directly religious expressions of our time.
It is a religious question which is asked when the novelist describes a man who tries in vain to reach the only place which could solve the problem of his life, or a man who disintegrates under the memory of a guilt which persecutes him, or a man who never had a real self and is pushed by his fate without resistance to death, or a man who experiences a profound disgust of everything he encounters.
It is religious question which is asked when the playwright shows the illusion of a life in a ridiculous symbol, or if he lets the emptiness of a life's work end in self-destruction, or if he confronts us with the inescapable bondage to mutual hate and guilt, or if he leads us into the dark cellar of lost hopes and slow disintegration.
It is the religious question which is asked when the painter breaks the visible surface into pieces, then reunites them into a great picture which has little similarity with the world at which we normally look, but which expresses our anxiety and our courage to face reality.
It is the religious question which is asked when the architect, in creating office buildings or churches, removes the trimmings taken over from past styles because they cannot be considered an honest expression of our own period. He prefers the seeming poverty of a purpose-determined stye to the deceptive richness of imitated styles of the past. He knows that he gives no final answer, but he does give an honest answer.
That last line is worth saying again to myself, as a writer, and to all my loved ones who create: She knows that she gives no final answer, but she does give an honest answer.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment