tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5593504887733294557.post4181479827124489731..comments2023-05-27T18:14:02.324-07:00Comments on The Bear of Little Brain: Love Me Some Maroon 5nohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05105024597059970491noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5593504887733294557.post-79528675230897014812012-09-17T11:02:00.844-07:002012-09-17T11:02:00.844-07:00Annie Dillard: Crash-Helmet Christians
Why do we ...Annie Dillard: Crash-Helmet Christians<br /><br />Why do we people in churches seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute? . . . On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so 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 out to where we can never return.<br /><br />— Annie Dillard, “An Expedition to the Pole,” in Teaching a Stone to Talk <br />JVBhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13626729280886228047noreply@blogger.com