My mind is still exercised, as it has been over the last two blogs, by Julian Barnes' Nothing to be frightened of . Yes, I've finished it, and moved on to other reading- George Orwell's Homage to Catalonia since you ask- but I go back to his metropolitan assertions of a purposeless existence in a purposeless universe. Well, why not immediately commit suicide, or instigate and commit the most heinous mayhem, in that case; at best, why write novels at all. It matters not in the grand scheme of things- except, of course, there is no grand scheme of things, if one believes in this despairing 'rule of life'.
I cannot hold that the judeo-christian grand narrative-a narrative so bold as to be cosmic in its view, its implications, its assertions- can be a delusion. And if it were, I would rather hold to a 'delusion of hope' which has given me so much as it has unfolded and developed in my heart and mind, than embrace the emptiness and despair- elegantly phrased, wryly presented, knowledgeably written, I grant- which his view boils down to.
This grand narrative of salvation history has ways to go yet, and I look forward to being part of this stream,this river, of purpose and hope and above all constant reality for me- yes- but more importantly for the whole of the created order.
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