I tried to at University, but it was all rather as if I had joined the fraternity where they chug-a-lugged divinity at toga parties...so I never really had a shot at it.
I mean, when I tried to be an unbeliever, I always checked back to see how His Nibs was doing, whether my unbelief had broken His heart and gone zero at the bone. I realized that after some months, I hadn't telephoned, and He might be worrying. I got His check every month, so there was no need of funds. I took it and cashed it at the Bank of Rake's Progress, just down the way.
I couldn't get away. He tasked me then, and He tasks me now.
It was all very much like I were Captain Ahab, retired from the sea, and sitting quite comfortably in the local Nantucket pub, only to be cruelly fronted by the White Whale like some ghastly cetacean Ancient Mariner...his back porcupined with spikey harpoons...reminding me my life is not over...not by a long shot!
What would the story be...told from the perspective of Moby Dick? Does he feel sorrow for those profane and blasphemous rascals pursuing him in their cannibal whaling boats - boats chased and fitted with dead whales' bones - and hearts filled with passion?
What does He feel for those who do not pursue with fire in their eyes?
I guess...
I guess He calls them Ishmael.
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4 comments:
Intriguingly thought out. I was just thinking about Moby Dick after rereading Bartleby, and comparing a life with a huge passion and goal with one with absolutely no preference to do anything at all. Now you've got me thinking about it in relation to God.
Ruth, now you've got me thinking about God and goals.
I have this Elmer Gantry-type piece in my head about it, and I'll probably write it down this week. It is all for fun, however.
Apart from this, your words are very timely in a way you cannot imagine, and I am very grateful to you for them.
Well I like that.
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