What
is life if it is not given a reason for praise? What good is it to praise the cosmos
when it cannot acknowledge it? Should I
stand this morning in front of the sun and praise it for shining as if it could
choose not to shine if I didn’t?
Or
should I uphold any man for praise who might at any minute prove unworthy of it?
Or
an institution, which is soulless just as the tax adjustment it seems to always
make in its favor?
Or
the narcissistic confusion I would have if I were to begin to praise myself?
The
fact that I can smell my coffee and that my mind is able to construct a reality
of joy for the offering of it to my mouth and body and to the enhancement of my
morning is proof enough that Whoever thought smell up and connected it to my
mind and heart is worthy of all manner of praise. He is worthy.
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| St. Nicholas Cathedral In St. Petersburg |
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