"Without the Creator, the creature vanishes." (GS 36)
Comment exhaustively, or, if on holiday with small children, exhaustedly.
Friends, I thought through my issues with privacy, and I wondered why it would bother me, if, in fact, someone other than yourselves read my posts and managed to connect the internet handle with the person. It's a fear of being known, I guess, and being declared, definitively, a hypocrite. "Wha-a-? She wrote that? Pfft, anyone would think she was a saint."
Internet anonymity: it's the Tarnkappe of today, the cloak of invisibility that lets you get what you want without the cost. I want to vanish, but at the same time, I'd quite like it if my posts were recognized as genius. Just - don't watch me over here, yelling at my children: swearing, quite possibly. [Betty, I think you wrote something along these lines, lately. If I'm plagiarizing, I apologize.]
Fortunately for me, God isn't going to allow me the vanishing option. He sees me in my sinful skin. He sees me "naked and ashamed", and the worst thing about that is, I'm not even ashamed for the right reasons: I'm ashamed that I can't make myself perfect, all by myself, and snaffle the credit. Yet He still holds me in existence with His gaze.
If He blinks, I'm gone.
[Something about this connects with "Till We Have Faces": did Peter Kreeft quote this piece of the catechism in his considerable lecture?]
The Great War: Vol 1, Chapter 3-2
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