If it is all about and only about "books", then most of us aren't really interested. If it gets to be about people, better. About people close and personal, it reels us in.
Radio interview today, with the author of "When the Danube Ran Red", a Holocaust story. At first, arms' length, honestly. Except for September's experience: three brass squares in a Regensburg, Germany sidewalk, marking the house where three generations of Jews were taken out to the camps.
And even that remains a bit distant, were it not for a personal experience almost 40 years ago. I was a port chaplain, visiting an ocean-going tug that was the most amazing piece of machinery I'd ever seen. It had come to tow a semi-submersible drilling rig to the North Sea.
As we went into the machine shop on board, I just asked the Captain: "What's your story?"
He said nothing, just reached over and pulled up his left sleeve, to the elbow, revealing a crudely done black set of numbers: Auschwitz numbers. Eyes met. Quiet moment. Real story. The aura of one of the toughest men I ever met. A man who could walk the tough streets, and cause a street gang to back away with a look.
As history becomes more bookish for new generations, it's normal for "deniers" to arise, for whatever purpose. But for those who connect in personal ways, personal relationships, personal realizations, there is no denial that actually persuades. Real life wins the debate.
2000 years ago, the Word became flesh. It's denied. Book knowledge won't cut it. Personal experience validates the book knowledge (theologians and poets say it better) and there you have the abundant life. It never has been anything less, and there is nothing in the world better.
Christmas is coming. Forget the tinsel and bows. Get credible with the Man.
Blessings. B
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