Self-reliance

 ​ The Sin of Self-reliance  

“How reliable a narrator do you think you are?” Uncle Albert asked.

     “I don’t pretend to be reliable,” I said.

     “You pretend to be honest,” he said.

     “I suppose. I try to be. And I don’t think I claim any more than that, that I try to be honest.”

     “Hmmm,” Uncle Albert said.

     “Unlike your guy Rousseau, who tried to pawn the Confessions off as a completely true account, candor being the ‘prime directive.’”

     “Why is Rousseau my guy?”

     “French,” I said.”

     “What about your guy, Augustine, then?”

     “Same question: Why is Augustine my guy? – Don’t say, ‘Latin,’” I said just as he said, “Latin.” “Anyway,” I went on, “he doesn’t pretend he isn’t, well, fallen. He might contend, as I do – this is what I’m saying – that he is trying to tell the truth, but he is a sinner. He knows that better than anyone; he knows he cannot. He can’t tell the truth. He can only try.”

     “Hmmm,” said Uncle Albert.

Here’s the thing about original sin, what makes it still a useful concept, whether you like it or not, dear reader. It acknowledges that we only ever see – as long as we can hold a pen or tap on a keyboard – we only ever see in a glass darkly. Even when we are being honest as we can be we – in Rousseau’s case from what I know, not very honest at all – he was a noted liar, not to mention a self-promoting jackass. In my case, a “convicted” and “incarcerated” lunatic as well as a former presbyterian so a self-righteous jackass by training, still I’m not trying to deceive.

     But I do, I know it. Selah.

 

03.01.21

_______________
  * Illustration “Through Dark Glasses” (Il giovane Alberto ed Eva) by Masolino da Panicale. Original on Wikimedia, see here.