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Hans Kung: On Still Being a Christian 2 A Modern Day Luther?

I remember reading Kung’s On Being a Christian, while lying on a beach on Tiree the jewel of the Outer Hebrides, (along with Colonsay) and for years after, if I thumped it on my desk I could still find the odd grain of silver-white sand. My copy is the no nonsense Collins first edition, no pictures or other marketing gimmicks, just the author’s name in bold black, the title in near luminous orange, and a sombre grey background which both highlights the text and yet succeeds in being understated.
The book was both a revelation and an intellectually and theologically formative blessing to me; and for several reasons.

Ever since, I’ve been fascinated by this angular, formidably intelligent, Catholic priest-theologian’s combination of courage for truth and calm confidence in his sense of what lies at the core of the Gospel. Not for nothing did Third Way, in its earliest days, review On Being a Christian, and ask the question whether Kung was a modern day Luther. After all, Kung’s published doctoral thesis was on the theology of justification, a critically appreciative conversation on the subject as massively articulated by Karl Barth. Another book set a tiger loose in the Vatican pigeon lofts. It was entitled Infallible?, the question mark in the title being the most important typing character in the entire book. His book The Church was deeply informed by his previous thought on reforming the church and the ministry, by his experiences at Vatican II, it was rooted in the biblical text, and demonstrated thorough control of historical and critical questions within the tradition. No wonder the Vatican moved from defensive uneasiness to a more assertive and then offensive collision course. (The reasons why that collision was all but inevitable I’ll deal with in a later post.)

But second, On Being a Christian was, and remains, one of the most intellectually forceful yet readable expositions of what it means to be Christian in the modern world. Theological snobs might want to suggest that it was too hard, erudite, long, multi-disciplinary, to be accessible to the theologically untrained. Tell that to the publishers who revelled in a volume of serious and engaged theological scholarship up there on the bestseller lists. I remember remaindered copies of the British Fontana Paperback Edition being sold off some years later at a Baptist Assembly for £1, encouraged by the then General Secretary Rev Dr Andrew MacRae!

And again. Brought up in Lanarkshire and converted into West of Scotland Baptist Evangelicalism of a pronounced 1960’s Protestant flavour, my limited knowledge of Roman Catholic theology, popular piety and official teaching didn’t prepare me for such a book as this, written by a Catholic for whom the word Roman was historically conditioned, while the word Catholic was of the essence of the Church. He seriously qualified papal authority, he held strongly to the doctrine of justification, he took seriously the contemporary search for transcendence and meaning within and beyond the church in the 1970’s (and since), his starting point was the biblical witness to Jesus crucified and risen, he was deeply suspicious of exaggerated claims for Mary, in particular the dogmatic pronouncements about immaculate conception and assumption. In other words this was a different kind of Catholicism.

Oh there was much then, and there remains much in Kung’s faith as a Roman Catholic on which he and I starkly differ; and his conclusions drawn from an uncritical use of historical criticism are at times way to the left of my own positions. But his commitment to the Gospel of Jesus, his search for ways of expressing faith in Jesus in a way that is liveable, accessible and faithful, is everywhere evident. His courage in taking on imposed dogmatic and ecclesial pronouncements, and his sheer intellectual grasp of the contemporary nexus of history, culture, theology and philosophy, make him, for me at least, essential reading if I am to understand better, the globalised world, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Church as witnessing community, and these three in their conversations and collisions.

17 July 2008
Hans Kung: On Still Being a Christian 1 A life of expanding concentric circles

Hans Kung, Disputed Truth. Memoirs II, (Continuum: New York, 2008)

This is the first of several posts on a volume that reads like a novel. It has characterisation, plot, the tension of narrative development, delayed resolution, and the reader drawn in to care about the outcome, how the story ends. In fact the Australian ex Jesuit novelist Morris West, at the climax of Kung’s conflict with the Vatican in 1979-80, visited Kung and offered to write a novel about his story; and as the author of The Shoes of the Fisherman he could have done an intriguingly good job. Indeed at the height of the Cold War Star Wars tensions in the mid 1980’s, West did write The Clowns of God, about a charismatic Pope, and a Tubingen theologian whose thought and character do resemble Hans Kung. But this volume latest volume of Memoirs is undiluted Kung – lucidly critical theologian, historical analyst of his own tradition, self-apologist, and on my reading relentlessly loyal Catholic priest, so long as his loyalty is to be given to the Church as the people of God, rather than the Church as the hierarchical power structures of an ecclesial institution which in his view is teflon coated against necessary reform.

One of the Free Church of Scotland’s greatest preachers and writers, Alexander Whyte, 100 years and entire Christian traditions removed from Kung, once urged students to get themselves ‘into a relation of indebtedness with some of the great thinkers of the past and present’, as a way of guarding against spiritual and theological tunnel vision, as a commitment to pastoral and theological breadth of understanding, and as an exercise in intellectual humility which guards against any of us setting ourselves up as our own pope!. He was criticised by some in his own communion who never quite understood the ecumenical and catholic spirit of ‘the hospitable hearted evangelical’. He had a meeting with John Henry Newman, his Appreciation of Santa Teresa was read in monastic communities at lectio divina at lunch, he read speculative mystics, doctrinal puritans, deep-dyed Scottish Calvinists, and tasted from most of the other tributaries that flow from distant Christian foothills into the broad stream of Christian tradition. Years ago I took his advice – and amongst those with whom I have a relation of indebtedness is Hans Kung – along with a bunch of others just about as varied as Whyte.

So having read the first volume of the Kung’s memoirs last year, (My Struggle for Freedom) I have been anticipating the next volume, and like many others, wondering what he would write about his relationship to Pope Benedict, formerly Cardinal Ratzinger, along with John Paul II, easily the single most ecclesially powerful theological opponent Kung has encountered. Ratzinger’s role as the Vatican’s doctrinal enforcer was always going to make Kung’s memoir potentially explosive. In fact Kung is so meticulous about context, perspective, exposition of issues and standpoints, that this volume only comes up to 1980, which clearly omits some of the most significant developments in the Catholic Church and in the life and mature thought of Kung himself. So a third volume is to come, God willing; as Kung reminds us he is now in his ninth decade – can he really be? I must be getting on myself!

Having started on this book, I think little else will get in the way till it’s finished. As his own Apologia Pro Vita Sua, Kung confesses:

As a Catholic Christian and theologian with an evangelical disposition I wanted to put myself at the service of men and women inside and outside the catholic Church and…by human confusion and divine providence – was liberated and impelled to engage intensively in the increasingly important issues of world society. Without ever giving up my roots in the Christian faith, I embarked on a life of expanding concentric circles; the unity of the churches, peace among the religions, the community of nations. (Disputed Truth, pages 1-2)

It is, as far as I can judge, a deeply Christian, humane and prophetic goal worthy of his best thought and truest devotion – to Christ and church.

16 July 2008
For the theological joy of it…

The Christian religion is identical with Jesus Christ;
if there is no accessible Christ, there is no Christianity.
It is the Church’s being to trust in Christ;
it is her vocation to bear witness to Christ;
if the shadow of uncertainty falls upon Christ,
her testimony is paralysed,
the breath of her life is withdrawn.

(James Denney, British Weekly, Nov 6, 1902)

As always, Denney saw to, and got to, the heart of things. And for him the heart of things is Christ, and Christ crucified and risen. Decided I need to read some of Denney again, this time not as research, but for the theological joy of it. Good phrase that – theological joy! Reminds me of a book by Edward Schillebeecx, I Am a Happy Theologian. I think it was Steve Holmes who pointed out the aptness of that title for any theologian serious about a vocation in theological reflection and thought. Just do it for the joy of it!

14 July 2008
The perilous territory of morality……

Headline in one of the Sunday Papers, ‘Ethics Boy’.
It’s a sarcastic comment about David Cameron’s recent comments on the disappearance of moral boundaries in much of cultural, social and personal life, and our increasing reluctance to speak honestly about those areas of life where moral responsibility and personal standards of behaviour are essential to maintain a healthy social fabric.
It was reported in different papers with the usual mixture of dismissive sneering or sympathetic scepticism from other commentators, and with the observation made more than once, that the Conservative leader had ‘entered the perilous territory of morality’.

Which prompted an obvious question for a simple soul like myself. Shouldn’t those charged with formulating law, developing social policy, upholding the proper balance of human and economic interests, maintaining and contributing to good international relations be expected to ‘enter the perilous territory of morality’? Politics without ethics is power without the values that constrain and direct its executive function towards human flourishing. Politicians with no publicly stated values, or who are reluctant to express moral judgements as they see them, may be playing safe to protect their own interests; but as public servants we are surely entitled to expect that they are people of integrity, honesty, moral candour and ethical principle. And therefore that who they are should be reflected in what they say. Not perfect people, but people who themselves know (to use David Cameron’s everyday vocabulary), – the difference between right and wrong, good and evil, and that actions have consequences beyond the personal act itself for which the agent is in meaningful ways responsible and accountable.

I for one have no difficulty with politicians ‘entering the perilous territory of morality’; it’s preferable to the more lethally dangerous terrain of amorality. The difference between compassion and cruelty, love and hatred, kindness and callousness, generosity and greed, truth and deceit, faithfulness and betrayal, courtesy and in yer face ignorance – is a difference worth trying to maintain in any society that is to have a future that isn’t bleak and increasingly inhuman. Civil virtue, civic responsibility, respect for persons, community spirit, – all high sounding, even a bit boringly abstract. But a society that has no way of nurturing such inner resources of humanity and civility is going to become a comfortless collection of the selfish who are under siege to their own fears.

I don’t share the political principles of Conservatism; I struggle to share even some of the political principles and actions of the Labour government; I can find points of contact too with the Lib Dems, and believe in the Scottish nation without signing up to an SNP agenda for independence. But what I expect from politicians of whatever party, is a willingness to be found in ‘the perilous territory of morality’, and an unembarassed openness about the place of ethical values in the way we live our civic and social lives in this country. What makes David Cameron’s comments newsworthy, is the assumed political risk he has taken by raising the issue of our national morality; which simply highlights how little we expect moral comment from politicians who represent us, and how urgently we need to require it.

As a young friend often says at the end of a conversation, ‘Anyway, that’s what I think.!

13 July 2008
FIFA = Foolish Ignorance Fosters Arrogance?
1. The trafficking of young women and children across borders and even across the globe for the sex trade in Western democracies or in Eastern nation states
2. The use of child labour to produce cheap fashion clothes, or designer label clothes for affluent Western markets
3. The trade tarriffs and barriers, and the economic clout of multi-national business corporations
4. Forced labour in oppressive regimes where human rights legislation has no moral purchase
These are examples of modern slavery.

So when Sepp Blatter, the President of the Federation of International Football Associations (FIFA) refers to the Christiano Ronaldo transfer saga and describes the lot of modern professional footballers as examples of ‘modern slavery’, I can only conclude that the person who utters such crass nonsense suffers from ethical myopia and may even be morally blind, and in need of urgent corrective surgery to the conscience.

Christiano Ronaldo last year signed a five year contract with Manchester United, his current employer, worth £30 million pounds. He was not compelled to sign. The amount is obscene but that’s the way of professional European football. A contract has both a legal and a moral function – it enables a relationship of trust and purchased loyalty, based on agreed cost and reward. Hard to define this as slavery. But let’s see.

How many hours would a child in India have to work sewing on buttons for Western high street clothing manufacturers, to earn one millionth of Ronaldo’s £6 million a year basic? £6 = 600 pennies; according to a recent Panorama programme some of those who hire out the children receive at best 10 to 20 pence per day? At twenty pence a day, that’s a pound a week – though if they work 7 days a week it could be £1.40. OK so in any case it would take thirty days to earn £6. £72 per year with no days off. Which means if the child works without any break, it would take 83,333 years to earn Ronaldo’s basic annual pay. That, Mr Blatter, is modern slavery.

What would that same £30 million over 5 years do to buy the freedom of women trafficked into the sex trade? Or what would it mean for coffee growers, banana growers, all those families whose goods are hoovered up by the consumer greed that has become epidemic? Go do some google searching – get the figures – do the math as they say in USA.

The Bible says some hard things about slavery, oppression of the poor, causing the little ones to stumble.

“He has shown you humanity what is good. And what does the Lord require of you but to act justly, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God”.

The Bible also says some pertinent things about impertinent foolishness such as that of Sepp Blatter

“A fool takes no pleasure in understanding,
but only in expressing his opinion.” (Proverbs 18.2)

Oh, and a wise man once remarked, “He who mocks the poor insults his Maker”. (Proverbs 17.5)

A wise elderly saint once said she could find a verse in the book of Proverbs for most every kind of foolishness – me too!
12 July 2008
The inclusiveness of being chosen

Kathleen Norris is a writer who manages to write about herself without that subtle egotism that sometimes turns personal and spiritual reflection into exhibitionism disguised as candour. As a Benedictine Oblate she has thought long and hard on the Rule of St Benedict, and tries to live out the discipline of that Rule in the various contexts that make up her life – her marriage and family, her vocation as poet, and her service to her church and community.

The Cloister Walk is just the kind of book for holiday reading. No long chapters; more a collection of reflections and essays about monastic living adjusted to the daily routines of faithful living.

A number of books have been written about amazing grace (a no longer very original superlative) – including her own volume, Amazing Grace. The subtitle is A Vocabulary of Faith, and it too is a mixed collection of essays, biblical reflections, theological and literary ruminations about experiences, her own and those she knows, all written around Christian theological terminology. She writes with a poet’s sharpness of sight, and insight. Her Christianity is warm, unjudgemental, regulated by her vows of vocational commitment, yet open to change and difference in a way that resonates with my own reluctance to have everything pinned down. You can’t be wide eyed and happily bewildered by amazing grace, and at the same time insist that such grace can be domesticated, organised, turned into the religious routines of theological defensive play, with no risks, creative surges repressed, nothing unprecedented or unpredictable looked for or wanted.

After preaching she was accosted by a recently ordained Lutheran deacon who said to her, ‘I feel sorry for you because you do not know the Lord Jesus Christ’. All because she didn’t press the right verbal buttons; tick the spiritually programmed boxes; click her way through the how to get saved menu. Reflecting on such encounters she wrote

In the suspicious atmospehere of the contemporary Christian church, it is good to know one’s ground. When others label me and try to exclude me, as too conservative or too liberal, as too feminist or not feminist enough, as too intellectual or not intellectually rigorous, as too Catholic to be a Presbyterian or too Presbyterian to be a Catholic, I refuse to be shaken from the fold. It’s my God too, my Bible, my church, my faith; it chose me. But it does not make me “chosen” in a way that would exclude others. I hope it makes me eager to recognise the good, and the holy, wherever I encounter it. (Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace, 143)

Amen to that!

On the same theme of Gospel inclusion, she tells of an old Benedictine Sister who was comforting her mother as she was dying and said, “In heaven everyone we love is there”.
The older woman corrected her daughter, “No, in heaven I will love everyone who is there.”

Amen to that as well!

11 July 2008
Contemplative Theology

Contemplation far from being opposed to theology, is in fact the normal perfection of theology. We must not separate intellectual study of divinely revealed truth and contemplative experience of that truth as if they could never have anything to do with one another. On the contrary, they are simply two aspects of the same thing. Dogmatic and mystical theology – or theology and “spirituality”, are not to be set apart in mutually exclusive categories, as if mysticism were for saintly women and theological study were for practical, but alas, unsaintly men. This fallacious division perhaps explains much that is actually lacking both in theology and spirituality. But the two belong together. Unless they are unitied there is no fervour, no life and sporitual value in theology, no substance, no meaning and no sure orientation in the contemplative life.(T. Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 244-5)

This is Thomas Merton at his opinionated best. Making allowances for gender stereotypes, his take on theology and spirituality says the important things. Theology rooted in divinely revealed truth as experienced in personal encounter with the Divine, and spirituality as experience of God with substance, meaning and ‘sure orientation’. These are the guiding principles of one who was novice master for over a decade, charged with the formation of heart and mind towards study, work and devotion to God.

Again and again I have found Merton to be an honest, humane director of souls; his heightened awareness of his own needs, his habit of being too hard on himself, his struggle to be humble, his unmistakable love for God and desire for an authentic life of holiness and love, his instinct for the Presence of God discerned in the world, in other people, in the vacillations of his own heart – all of these are qualities of saintliness, the more attractive because he would have laughed at the idea of Merton the saint.

And rightly – for sanctity is not a destination now, but that to which we journey, in union with Christ; holiness is that which we seek, but it is grace and demand, free gift and grateful response, buth intoxicating invasion of joy and the lived out disciplined love for God and others in a life both cruciform and oriented by resurrection. Even then, we love because he first loved us, we are forgiven sinners learning to forgive, reconciled enemies learning the ways of peace, rescued runaways who have found our way home – or been found and brought home- only to be sent out to find others and bring them home too, new creatures in Christ living out of and towards the new creation.

10 July 2008
Welsh Baptists, Blackwell’s Oxford and Plum Tatin

My time with the English Speaking wing of the Baptist Union of
Wales at their annual Assembly was a great experience of cross fertilisation.
Ideas, new visions, evolving strategy, long perduring problems (why do we
insist on calling problems ‘challenges’, as if that made them easier to
solve!), tough decisions, balanced realism along with equally balanced
imaginative and hopeful faith – all these and many conversations with
ministers, church leaders and delegates.

My own ministry was warmly appreciated, something
that no amount of experience should ever take for granted. I’ve always found
such affirmation humbling, and important in supporting ministry by necessary
encouragement. For myself I greatly enjoyed developing some themes I’ve thought
about and wanted to preach.

The new President is Peter Dewi Richards whose
Presidential address was a crucial contribution in the life of English speaking
Welsh Baptists. Peter was for 15 years General Secretary and knows the
churches, the associations and many, many of the ministers and church leaders.
In his address he touched prophetically on such issues as the importance of
ever closer collaboration between the English and Welsh speaking Baptists; the
necessity for denominational distinctives to enrich and foster wider and more
generous ecumenical co-operation in a common bearing witness to Jesus and the
Gospel; and the Gospel imperative for Christians to be in conversation with
other faiths in a dialogue aimed at deeper more sympathetic understanding of
each other, and dialogue aimed at social and moral co-operation on matters of
national and global interest. The result was an address that spoke to Welsh
Baptist Experience locally, nationally and globally – and delivered with long
earned authority, unmistakable Gospel passion, and generosity of mind and heart
that was deeply moving to witness. I’ve never heard a better address to a
denominational assembly by a President, and it was a privilege to be there.

Following the Assembly we went over to the
vicinity of Oxford to share a
brief holiday with family who were in the area. This meant a visit to the place
where all Bibliophiles eventually come – Blackwell’s. Bought only three books –
two of them on my to get list anyway, the other a spur of the moment purchase
that now seems less must-have than it did before I paid for it. I’ll read it,
and say something about it – if it’s worth it! But much of the three days was spent in family conversation, hilarity and a determined effort to sample Tea Rooms and Pubs as places of refreshment and necessary replenishment. Thus Queens Tea Room in Stow on the Wold gets first vote for a superb, delicious, light gluten free double-decker Victoria sponge for one of our party that was devoured as very manna from heaven – I had the walnut and coffee cake accompanied by Cinnamon Chai tea – in the Cotswolds. The Swan is a pub by the riverside – only recently opened after flood damage that immersed the interior in 4 feet of local river – the only time in the history of a village dating back hundreds of years. The landlord a cheerful, philosophically inclined recently retired rock musician who reckoned the flood merely hastened the refurbishing process. The food was superb – apart from Cotswold Lamb done absolutely right, may I mention the open Plum Tatin with Pecan and Maple Ice cream – the plums caramelised with the blowtorch and scorched enough to make them bitter-sweet. One of those desserts you don’t want to finish and can’t wait to eat. .

9 July 2008
Evangelicalism, the Gospel, and Hopeful Imagination in Wales

As the sidebar shows I am reading around Puritanism as a movement at once pastoral, polemical and theological. The recently published Emeregence of Evangelicalism has the subtitle, Exploring Historical Continuities. It is a collection of essays which enter into critical and appreciative conversation with David Bebbington’s contention that Evangelicalism properly understood is the movement that began in the early 18th Century Awakenings, an argument supported by evidence shaped around the accompanying defining quadrilateral. Bebbington’s thesis is that biblicism, crucicentrism, conversionism and activism, represent a cluster of defining characteristics which indicate Evangelicalism was something new in the 18th Century, related to but not continuous with such other movements as Puritanism, Reformed Scholasticism and Continental Pietism.

The question of assurance is a central and contentious theological debate, important in Bebbington’s case, where he argues that, for the 18th Century Evangelicals, the search for personal assurance of salvation came to its conclusion in the experience of conversion and regeneration which became itself evidence of salvation. The Enlightenment privileging of empirical experience as evidence rationally interpreted, can be detected in the use by Evangelicals of such words as ‘I feel’, and ‘I know’, with reference to personal spiritual encounter.

Following widespread adoption of Bebbington’s quadrilateral and its accompanying corollaries, his treatment and defintion of Evangelicalism has become a standard benchmark, broadly received by historians. But there are now other voices questioning whether the discontinuity between earlier movements and Eighteenth Century Evangelicalism are as clear cut and historically certain as Bebbington argues. Several important articles have appeared in recent years, and now this collection of essays throws the debate much more widely open. The resulting statement and restatement of continuities and discontinuities gathers a fascinating, at times persuasive, at other times frustrating chorus of voices. Part of the frustruation is that several of the essays accuse Bebbington of caricaturing earlier expressions of ‘evangelical’ faith, but come near to caricaturing the position they critique. The fascination comes from many of the essays which undoubtedly raise important questions which require at least a re-alignment of emphases, or a redrawing of the chronology of developments and features.

The response chapter written by David Bebbington is characteristically gracious, and acknowledges the validity of some criticisms, agrees certain emphases need restating, but overall holds to the general proposal that Evangelicalism was something new in the 1730’s, but with strong historical continuities with Puritanism and Pietism, that it was strongly influenced by Enlightenment categories, and that it has a remarkable capacity for reflecting and adapting to, the cultural moods of the age, whether the age of Reason, Romanticism or Modernity – and now post-modernity?. In any case, Evangelical historiography is alive and well, and is an essential source of inspiration and education for contemporary Evangelicalism which is in danger of losing continuity with its own historical precedents and values.

This weekend I’m looking forward to being with the Baptist Union of Wales at their Annual Assembly in Carmarthen. I have the great privilege of being invited to be the keynote speaker for the Assembly on the theme ‘Hopeful Imagination’. Readers of this blog will recognise the name of a blog hosted by Andy Goodliff; the phrase is from one of Walter Brueggemann’s earlier books on the exilic prophets. There he introduces hopeful imagination as the faith stance of those who, with ‘the God who makes all things new’ on their cognitive horizons, imagine a different world into being, by giving themselves to serve the new actions and purposes of God in their generation. Here are his words from 1985:

These new actions of God were discernable and spoken precisely by these persons with their enormous prophetic imagination. These poets not only discerned the new actions of God that others did not discern, but they wrought the new actions of God by the power of their imagination, their tongues their words. New poetic imagination evoked new realities in the community.

It may be that preaching today (is it nearly a quarter of a century later?) requires this kind of proclamatory conversation, enabling the community of Christ to discern the new actions of God, and with prophetic imagination, to enter into the new work of God as agents of His kingdom, as witnesses of the Gospel of Christ and as those who confront the growing pessimism and cynicism of a culture afraid of its own dissolution. Hopeful imagination is bold enough to conceive of a different future.

2 July 2008
Antoine de Saint Exupery, The Little Prince, and living responsibly

I still remember doing Higher French at night school, following an early exit from secondary education, being relieved at passing it and hoping I’d never have to do French language again. But the Scottish MA requires a modern language component, so I did French Studies, which opened up a world I still explore off and on thirty-odd years on. The course included

French History from the Revolution to the present including the troubled history of the Republics, Algerian independence, failed policies in Indo China, De Gaulle and the early days of the Common Market

French Literature, in French and English translation- this was where I first read Camus – in French but cheated by reading The Plague (La Peste) also in English, because I wanted the story quicker than I could read French

French Current Affairs accessed through Le Monde on the contents of which we had several memorably embarrassing tutorials as we were asked to translate in front of les autres

We also spent time with French 20th century philosophy (mainly Existentialism) including Sartre, Camus and the writer I go back to again and again, Saint Exupery.

I still remember the first time I read Saint Exupery on flying, the desert, and the way that the courage and discipline of risk-taking is an important element of what it means to be a human being fully alive. Wind, Sand and Stars is a beautiful prose poem of human behaviour observed by one for whom the role of spectator was impossible – few writers understood and celebrated the human imperatives of action and engagement with the physical elements of existence with the passionate perception of this pilot who wrote sublime prose.

But the Saint Exupery book that I’ve read most often is Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince). This fable, tale, parable, story – it defies pinning down definitions – can be read slowly in half an evening, and it opens the mind and heart every time, for me. Some of the clearest observations about the meaning of life, what’s important, what is foolish, and what is absurdly grown-up, are contained in the dialogues between the Little Prince and the pilot stranded in the desert.

“What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere underneath there is a well.”

“One sees only with the heart, the essential is invisible to the eye.”

And from The Wisdom of the Sands, “Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward in the same direction.”

Not sure how many copies of the Little Prince I’ve bought. My first copy cost £1.25. My current aging one £2.50. The smaller one bought yesterday for a friend who will appreciate the wisdom and vision of the book cost £5.99. More than most, this is a work of art, and if French Studies had given me nothing more than an introduction to this clear-sighted French existentialist reconnaissance pilot who was able to offer a philosophy of human existence rooted in responsibility to and for the other, then it was worth all those hours and hours, working with that French dictionary, and the Larousse Illustre, and those hilarious tutorials reading Le Monde with a French tutor whose sense of humour enabled her to survive spoken French mangled by a raw and unrefined Lanarkshire accent!

1 July 2008