The documents in this book are a testimony to the near intractability of a particularly tangled web of human problems. At the center of the web is our own inability—or unwillingness—to understand ourselves and our own belief systems. It seems that the very last thing we wish to do is awaken from the anesthetic of our own religious tradition and accurately understand a point of view wholly external to our own. We hesitate to gaze into the mirror on the wall unless we have some assurance that what we shall see is what we wish to see: the image of a creature that is the fairest of them all. A few years ago, I was asked to give a guest lecture to a group of writing students. The write-up of that lecture, based on a tape recording of the class meeting, is presented first below. The students listening to the presentation were to write up their responses in the form of critical essays. The texts of those essays, all thirteen of them, are reproduced here, anonymously. Following those is the text of a memo I recently sent a faculty member at the Downtown Campus. I asked her for her critical assessment of the worth of the lecture. Though we were personally unacquainted with each other, she promptly provided a number of remarks, which I recount for the reader. I, in turn, responded with a detailed review of her comments, including a request for permission to use her name when I quoted her remarks—for the purpose of scholarly review—in this publication. Her response was a one-sentence, curt, categorical refusal: “You do not have my permission or consent to quote me or to mention my name with regard to your project and or [sic] publication.” I shall withhold her name, since the issues, not names, are what concern me. But I shall indeed print her remarks, and for several reasons. First, they are worthy of careful consideration. Second, she mailed them to me with no such request for anonymity—the denial of permission coming only after she read my critique of them. Third, as she walked past me on January 11, 1991, just after the break-up of a departmental faculty meeting, I asked her if we could talk for just a few moments. She held out her hand to stop me and said, “No. I have a prior luncheon engagement.” With that, she wheeled on her heels and hurried out the door. What exactly is going on here? Why should it be that adult human beings, whose lives are ostensibly devoted to learning and teaching and the exploration and exchange of ideas, sometimes refuse to continue the dialogue—at precisely the instant when a revelation could be at hand? The seeds of the explanation are contained, I think, in the talk I gave to those students back on December 5, 1988. The full explanation is contained, I believe, in the book mentioned by Mr. Grajewski in his introductory remarks below. The book, unpublished, is titled, Nights at the Round Table: Questing for the Essence of Christianity. One of my two great hopes is that at least some of my readers will want to continue the dialogue. The other of my hopes will have to wait for another day to find its expression. Joseph Richard February 28, 1991
| Gtin | 09798313800677 |
| Age_group | ADULT |
| Condition | NEW |
| Gender | UNISEX |
| Product_category | Gl_book |
| Google_product_category | Media > Books |
| Product_type | Books > Subjects > Religion & Spirituality > Creation |