jouets dans le grenier
l'ameublement idéologique pour l'esprit sans foyer
As an 80-year old retiree consigned to section 8 housing in downtown Tampa, I have over the last several years confined my pursuit of the religious life to its Episcopal representation – apparently but not practically discarding any similar opportunity with the nearby Catholic, Presbyterian, or Methodist establishments.
That would not have been an easy choice if I had continued to condition my selection criteria principally on organizational or confessional considerations, as you might easily conclude from my subsequent reflections on the Episcopal situation. But I must confess that intellectual excitement for me as a Christian comes from what certain theologians tell me, and less from what I experience in Andrew’s (or any other) pews. Possessed thru these alternate sources of a spiritual outlook I believe exceeds but does not fail to appreciate that of my friends in this community, I’m especially glad I continued to enjoy some of their good company when my lack of actual membership might have fatally distracted them.
Although I have come to share in the Eucharist at Saint Andrew’s, following the custom of most other denominations I will not kneel to receive it. I do this nonetheless out of a love and affection for this particular Christian community as reciprocated, thought to be preliminary to any reception of the Spirit thru them. I may differ from most in my conviction that while Scripture embodies truth, it is not in all respects history. I believe, as perhaps the Russian Orthodox do, that knowledge of the early Church Fathers’ contribution and motivation is essential to a proper understanding of our Faith. These and similar considerations will continue to rule my appreciation of our Trinitarian God - found (in order of importance): at Tillich’s ST, Ratzinger’s Introduction to Christianity, Wright’s Evil & the Justice of God, and Macquarrie's 20th Century Religious Thought. Attending these, and included among them, are the following.
My larger text is now titled “Speak, Memory,” after Nabokov’s recollection of his youthful years. Paraphrasing remarks from the dust cover of his published work, I also hope my memories may present a “moving and nostalgic account of a vanished world.” My first edition is also written when no archives, family papers, or old friends are available to confirm an incident or correct or deny another, or to bring further scenes to mind. Therefore I too have been gently checking facts, collecting additional material and tracking down family photographs in order to present a fuller background from which I sprang.
The text itself is more than just a catalogue of my life’s adventures: it is an intimate record of what, in my mind, constitutes me as a person. It is all that I know about myself – it is where I must go to find out what I am to do with myself next. In order to facilitate page loading, I have tentatively broken this account into three chronologically-determined sections. My first 20 years are described in Part I: successive parts are slowly being developed.
Last update on 7-August-2018 at 12:47 PM.