Sunday, April 20, 2008

"The whole world is like one big parable"

This, we can say, is the indicator of our faith's truth, its authenticity or lack thereof: if the faith is truly in the foreground, or if in the foreground there is another kind of concern; if we truly expect everything from the fact of Christ, or if we expect from the fact of Christ what we decide to expect, ultimately making Him a starting point and a support for our projects and programs...
The world is a great ambiguity for the unclear spirit. The spirit of man is tempted by ambiguity above every other thing... The whole world is like one big parable: it demonstrates God, as a parable demonstrates the value it wants to teach, and "those who have ears to hear, listen." Listening to the parables, the secret thoughts of the heart are revealed. What man loves come to the surface in the face of the problems, questions, and difficulties...faced with an obstacle, what you want comes to the surface. If living communion, if living community, if working morning, noon, and night for the community, you wanted Christ, you were after Christ, or after yourself, this is seen in the moment in which the difficulty, the obstacle comes to the surface and would insinuate, "forget about it," or would insinuate, "What've they been telling me all this time? They tricked me!" or, "They don't understand me; they don't value me." It is precisely and only in front of objections and during our trials that we see if the attitude of our spirit is wheat or chaff, to use St. Paul's expression. (Father Giussani, "The Long March to Maturity")


Oh, I have so much to say about this passage! And I will say it, soon, I promise!

2 comments:

Freder1ck said...

Yes. I've been reading this article too. You ought to post this at Cahiers also...

clairity said...

I've been reading and rereading this text too. There is a great key to life here.

Dumbstruck by the Mystery

...our temptation is always to impose our prejudices or our measure on reality -- except when we are faced with a fact that leaves us dumbstruck, and instead of dominating the fact ourselves, we are dominated, overcome by it. If there were no moments of this kind, the Mystery could do anything, but in the end, we would reduce everything to the usual explanation. But not even a Nobel Prize winner can stop himself from being dumbstruck before an absolutely gratuitous gesture. If there were not these moments, we would find answers, explanations, and interpretations to avoid being struck by anything. It is good that some things happen that we cannot dominate, then we have to take them seriously, and this is the great question of philosophy. If the conditions for the possibility of knowledge (see Kant) impose themselves on reality or if there is something that is so powerfully disproportionate that it does not let itself be "grasped" by the conditions of possibility, then the horizon opens. If this were not the case, then we could dominate everything and be in peace, or at least without drama. Instead, not even the intelligence of a Nobel Prize winner could prevent him from coming face-to-face with a fact that made him dumbstruck -- instead of dominating, it was he who was dominated. Here begins the drama, because I am called to answer. It is the drama that unfolds between us and the Mystery, through certain facts, certain moments, in which the Mystery imposes itself with this evidence. These are facts that we cannot put in our pocket, which we cannot reduce to antecedent factors.
-- Julian Carron in "Friends, that is, Witnesses."