Beautiful Truth


Dear Eugene,

Rowan Williams quoted Annie Dillard when he spoke about the last book of the Bible, Revelation:

"Why do people in church seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute? … Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we blithely invoke?  Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it?  The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning.  It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets.  Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.  For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us to where we can never return."

But we are all growing, aren't we, growing differently and at different pace?  There needs to be grace and understanding, time and space, to allow the variance, inconsistency, even incongruity, straw hats in war zone, chemistry sets to concoct morning breakfast, coffee at least drinkable in this day of Nespresso, Tassimo and Verismo.  How many of us would know exactly what the last three names in my last sentence mean but have not "the foggiest idea" why they should mean anything in a faithless world where nothing is trustworthy?

Pilate said to (Jesus), "What is truth?" After he had said this, he went back outside...  We go to church, and then we go back outside, to our own ways.  It takes time, we say to ourselves.  Heaven can wait.

This past Monday while waiting for my car to be serviced I walked in a mall.  It really is the most comforting place on a rainy day.  I walked into a big Nespresso shop, new just in time for the holiday, new to me anyway, not because I needed a coffee--in fact I didn't even expect anyone to serve me any--but because the coffee capsules, the little colorful "pods" were about the most beautiful things I've seen, like twinkling stars.

A sales lady approached, recommended hazelnut flavor for me to try, and during the very swift course of sweet concoction she managed to speak about the evolution of the company's innovation, how each capsule has a barcode to give it more than a name but also a proper role (Oh my goodness, Revelation language!), and the worry between the brows of this pour-over guy (I confessed early how I usually make my coffee), someone over-educated about and under-lived the tall ideas in his head, with respect to ethical sourcing and recycling.

The truth and nothing but the truth, with conviction she laid it on a line for me.  The way you talk you're a man of fine, discerning taste, she seemed to be saying, and you know this is good news.

I had what she served, touched a few machines, didn't dare to touch the pods and desecrate them.  Then I walked back outside, to my own ways, and I knew she knew I won't look back.  She did a great job evangelizing me.  The coffee was not bad.  I trusted her.

But her truth was too comforting.

Yours, Alex

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