The Fool Hath Said [antikvár]

CHAPTER I THIS LITTLE UNIVERSE i I want you to regard the first part of this book as a treasure hunt rather than as a theological essay. Not that I have anything against theological essays. Indeed, many of them are wildly exciting. They are like celestial jig-saw puzzles in which slowly, piece by piece, the pattern comes into view — till you put the last fragment in, when the whole design turns to gold. And you wonder why you have taken so long over such a simple design, such a very ordinary design. A common cross. The treasure we are seeking is Faith. Before that confession makes you throw this book away may I very hastily, tugging at your sleeve, make three brief observations: Firstly, I do not see why such a treasure hunt should deprive us of our sense of humour. Christ was, after all, by far the greatest wit that the world has ever known. Most men's epigrams are like sparks — they fly up into contemporary skies, light up a tiny fragment of landscape, put out an eye, and then they are as ashes. But Christ's epigrams are like stars. And like the stars, they are as near to eternity as we could want. Consider, for example, that extremely startling statement (which was not saved up for a dinner table, but was casually thrown off in a conversation with some fishermen) — For he that 13