Sunday, March 30, 2014
I Interview A Non-Existent Man
This was supposed to be a Sunday Sermon but I didn't start early enough. I dillydallied and reflected on the time --35 years ago-- I had to climb a flight of steps to the high pulpit of the First Baptist Church and read a poem at a dear friend's wedding. This experience combined glossophobia (stage fright) with acrophobia (fear of heights) and, although I managed the assignment, I discovered a third disinclination, kamia-kathari-kirygma-phobia (fear of preaching without a net). So now I'm resigned to sitting solidly on a steel chair and interviewing the person I never became, who is sitting in the other one.
I: So, what do you believe is the main difference between us?
He: Beyond the fact that you exist and I don't?
I: Yes, since you are...what is the polite term?
He: Commentitious. But since we are, in broad terms, each other I would not be offended if you called me imaginary.
I: And yet, we share a great deal of early background.
He: Yes! In fact, if you were as crazy as your siblings and childhood friends said you were, you would have led a more interesting life.
I: But they were wrong, or at least pleasantly incorrect...mainly.
He: Well of course, but you see most people are. Consider the reception and distortion of this quote from the candidate's debate some time back:
I: I see, a fellow makes a perfectly coherent statement and it is coined into absurdity. Does that happen to you?
He: No, because one might with some effort imagine an absurdity. I am imaginary, therefore already an assembly of all possibilities. I cannot be undone by public misconstruction. We did not vote for Romney. You, however, did not become a minister because of Andre Malreaux, who wrote: "Neither the believer nor the atheist is completely satisfied with appearances."
I: True, I found myself incapable of the leap of faith required in either direction. But as I gain in years, I admit there would be some comfort in life after death.
He: I know, I know. I am, after all, you. So forgive me my philosophical reminder that if there is life after death, we have not adequately defined either state.
I: A classifiable enigma, then.
He: Indeed. However, as your commentitious self, your imaginary self, I have made great successes in the clergy, in arts and sciences, in all human endeavors and can reduce our discussion to this: what did you become, Geo.?
I: That's simple. I became a gardener, like I always do.
He: Me too, Geo. Me too.