Patrimony

We deny to claim "any Superiority to ourself
to defyne, decyde, or determyn any Article or Poynt
of the Christian Fayth and Relligion,
or to chang any Ancient Ceremony of the Church
from the Forme before received and observed
by the Catholick and Apostolick Church."

Norman Simplicity

Norman Simplicity
Click image for original | © Vitrearum (Allan Barton)

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Jewel in the Crown

Often the posts found here "trope" on the prior (or, sometimes, a long previous) post. "The party's over" was an instance of such, continuing and deforming the thoughts and topics of "Comprehension." The opposite of "comprehensiveness" is (somewhat artificially) dis-integration. Of which there is, at present, a bit too much. (In all this, Britain is, for my purposes, a mere figure.)

The quite frankly "erotic" work of the past is being undone in the "deathly" coming-apart of our milieu. It was earthly love but love all the same it was to be. And yet in moments of coming-apartness there are opportunities for new forms of being-together. I take it that Anglicanism itself is a fairly sordid example of this truth.

I revel in the unsightly history of Anglicanism, seeking to turn vice into virtue. We can't look at our own history through sentimental mists: our founders were men, pure and simple. Many tried to do the best they could, given the circumstances. Sometimes there were successes, other times abject failures. But at least we do not suffer from those uniquely post-modern delusions. All would do well, I fear, to return to an early form of imagination:

The Dalrymplean moralism was more in the mode of an afterthought. The core, however, is to be affirmed: a firm rejection of people as they are. But, of course, in my perverted perspective becoming a human being is an arduous accomplishment, which requires the work of many. It is an end never to be presumed, and not often attained.

Why can't you let her be and have some pity on her for bein' what she is?
No. No pity. I won't have it.

She ate with a spoon. Herself. And she folded her napkin.

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