December 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015
God gives you a needle, a feather, and a rope. The rope was a mistake. When you mistook the feather for a metaphor, you were embarrassed. My child, God said to you, be content. God gives you a swastika divorced from history. He gives you data inconsistent with the observed. God gives you a song, and your entire life you spend revising it. At its core, God says to you, it has not changed. No longer immutable, God gives you forgiveness. No longer God, he flirts and buys you a round. You take the round and load it into a rifle. God, you ask, can’t I go back to the needle and the metaphor? He insists you not romanticize the past. God gives you bloodstream, bones, and loneliness. He extracts impurities lingering in the soul. I am first and foremost a scientist, God explains to you, heavy-hearted, and with primitive tools.
While we have you...
...we need your help. You might have noticed the absence of paywalls at Boston Review. We are committed to staying free for all our readers. Now we are going one step further to become completely ad-free. This means you will always be able to read us without roadblocks or barriers to entry. It also means that we count on you, our readers, for support. If you like what you read here, help us keep it free for everyone by making a donation. No amount is too small. You will be helping us cultivate a public sphere that honors pluralism of thought for a diverse and discerning public.
December 09, 2015