33
There is a strange feeling that goes beyond the
measure of the definite fields I have explored so far. This is not easy, I shall
say. To proceed to drive my mechanical instrument (the so-called car) through
these streets unwilling to stop, as hard as it is to admit my past wrongdoing
and look at it without despising who I was.
But then it is highly - pretty much so –
possible that not knowing stands for a basis for faith, which timidly
enlightens the darkness today. As Paul Tillich once wrote, “courage is
self-affirmation ‘in spite of’, that is in spite of that which tends to prevent
the self from affirming itself”. Maybe faith is an act of courage and humility,
such like the “believing in what is not seen” from Hebrew 11. That which I
cannot see – not only with these very eyes that shall be consumed by death
someday, but also in respect to comprehending and perceiving – I cannot know.
As it suits the moment, I shall quote something
that assumed the forms of a remembrance, and I shall do that not only because
it is Christmas, but because where I have failed so far in achieving
gracefully, the idea expressed by it enhances the ways I see my future steps
and tells me not to be afraid. That Jesus was an individual by himself, an
“individualist” in a way that was not ruled by what was established as truth by
others in order to be himself, was what Mr. Oscar Wilde said. On Earth, it is
proclaimed that at some point people look for role models, other people to look
up to and inspire them to be who they are or who they long to be. I have been
willing to be more like Jesus Christ. I become attached to role models daily, I
identify with them, live in a system chock-full of them, but I like to elect a
substantially bigger model, the God of the biblical stories, the boy Jesus.
From sister to sister, I like to be able to be
on equal terms with thee. To know that, stubborn to stubborn, what I do and
what thou do about knowledge – and here, well, I present myself considerably
Sartrean – that is what indeed matters.