| quinta-feira, maio 31, 2007 |
| Prelúdio |
Antes de me dedicar a rebater o Nuno como prometido com todo o ardor que a sua argumentação merece (e não me esqueço que tal promessa remonta à questão dos santos), confesso que ando ultimamente pouco atreito a discussões doutrinais. Deve ser do São João da Cruz. Ou isso, ou a minha indigência intelectual é maior do que eu suspeito e não tenho a hombridade de o assumir. De qualquer forma, deixo-vos o excerto de uma carta de uma escritora católica inserida no mais protestante dos meios, o da América profunda. Cada vez me parece mais que a Verdade está mais na Literatura e pouco nas minhas tíbias apologias doutrinais, talvez pelo apelo telúrico às emoções que esta contém, e que a verdadeira religião também.
I was once, five or six years ago, taken by some friends to have dinner with Mary McCarthy and her husband, Mr. Broadwater. (She just wrote that book, "A Charmed Life.") She departed the Church at the age of 15 and is a Big Intellectual. We went at eight and at one, I hadn't opened my mouth once, there being nothing for me in such company to say. . . . Having me there was like having a dog present who had been trained to say a few words but overcome with inadequacy had forgotten them.
Well, toward morning the conversation turned on the Eucharist, which I, being the Catholic, was obviously supposed to defend. Mrs. Broadwater said when she was a child and received the host, she thought of it as the Holy Ghost, He being the most portable person of the Trinity; now she thought of it as a symbol and implied that it was a pretty good one. I then said, in a very shaky voice, Well, if it's a symbol, to hell with it.
That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now that this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable.
Flannery O'Connor
(deste fantástico blog)
Antonius Block |
posted by @ 12:00 da manhã  |
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