Thursday, May 14, 2009

Frankly

When will we have the courage to admit that the main reason we believe all these things is because we read it in a book, or an essay, or a blog that was written by someone who shares in the same prejudices and loves as ourselves? When will we confess that the appeal of our favorite writing, be it poetry or prose, is that it reinforces these same prejudices and loves - our deepest insecurities - that it affirms us in all our weaknesses? When will we be forthright about the fact that the vast majority of our "certainties" are masked images of our own selves, reflecting less the glory of the Divine, and much more the shallow echoes of our own voice - idols?

4 comments:

Greg said...

Wow, that's some good stuff...what brought this on?

Scott Schultz said...

Frustration.

Greg said...

Just in general? I guess I assumed it was more than a vague notion of frustration, but maybe this isn't the venue for it...

Scott Schultz said...

Yeh, it's not really the venue for it. But to be concise: frustration with myself and others.