A Proselytizer Apologizes
The distance between what I say to persuade you is close to arriving completely, to making of one word two words: education—right care of opinion, and (no longer hiding behind it) the word I’m enslaved to: dominion; it comes as the thunder comes, out of our power to find it. The better division of what I intended could yet come to light through my bitter and riotous torrent of jabs, arguments, and pedantic self-preenings; the words I have actually spoken could, if they were tendered new meanings, yet cirrously warrant the Truth that I meant to betoken. In other words, Truth is a change in the weather; we meet it as something that happens without our permission. We cannot appeal what its strength rearranges of our ignorant expectation, regardless of whether the change is a seal of perdition, or opens a way to salvation. If hope still shows anything green in my barren campaign, though nuclear drift from the central explosion has blasted all growth, I might dare to see coming the heavenly vine’s intervention, outferrying Charon, becoming the bane of corrosion, the conquest of evil intention; if not, then it wasn’t my business to open my lips to proclaim what no spirit inspired me to sputter— whoever is given a task is, for one thing, invested with what his investor sees reason to hope in, as Hrunting, that pierced Grendel’s mother, was handed betimes to her bester; for two, his successes reflect his employer’s best interests; therefore, whatever succeeds in impairing (which is to say, adding no thread to the weave of) the webbing of grace is the devil’s work, building Hell’s fires’ achieve of disaster, preparing the world for perverse, joyless revels. But let Truth discern, that can choose with indifference, how distant my words are, for all their advances, how distant reality is from the way I designed it. Let Truth not endure the enclosure where vanity’s stiff fence confined it, but lead by insistent prods me to new fields with its crosier. Our work now will be to recover the patience wherein we began to envision between us sure guidance. That something still waits to be said is no question, but how is uncertain, and whether and when revelation’s suggestion will no more divide us, but grant us to keep it together. "A Proselytizer Apologize" by Amos J. Hunt is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License
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