finishing with Muggeridge

One of your arguments – or not really an argument since you don’t argue, but rather a theme in your writing – is that ego is a dirty word. Buddhism, if you were born into a different culture, might’ve appealed to you, except that you’re far too egotistical to be able to get over making high-handed pronouncements on the behaviour of others, which makes you, I suppose, an interesting mixture of interfering busybody and unworldly mystic. Neither side much appeals to me, because I consider myself a realist first and foremost, prepared to take the actual measure of my ego and that of others, to realise both its value and its problematical nature, and to try to steer an Aristotelian mean course between rejection and celebration.

Your own unremittingly negative remarks about the ego are a product of your idealistic absolutism. Clearly for you the ego is the problem, one that you tend to exaggerate in order to promote the solution to it (giving the self up to god), just as you tend to exaggerate sensual urges in order to promote the virtue of restraint. Again, this ideal of ego-denial is one of the few themes in your writing which might have a modern appeal, as it resembles much so-called Eastern mysticism, yet it seems that for all your fulminations against the ego and the worldliness of religious leaders, you’re very much engaged, if not in contemporary politics, at least in opinion-making about and scrutinising of your peers and of contemporary events and trends. This inability to keep from sticking your oar in is what you refer to as your restlessness, and no doubt it derives from your strong bond with your father the socialist preacher. All of this is mildly interesting from a psychological perspective, but though it helps me to understand where you’re coming from, it doesn’t make your attitudes any more palatable to me. I tend to steer clear of idealists.

A had intended to do a closer reading of your essays, but on second thoughts I don’t think it would be worth the energy. I feel sufficiently satisfied that your arguments, such as they are, don’t hold up to much scrutiny. I don’t even find these essays adequate as a profession of faith, they’re too lacking in real self-awareness, it seems to me.

Now to take a break from the religious stuff. There’s drama all around me, from Fiona temporarily stealing my car to the importunings of two older women seeking my help in their conflict with their housing co-op, which is specifically for older women. With Fiona, of course it’s drug-related, and I’m trying to arrange a sit-down session with her, but I suspect she’ll find it too threatening. For now I want to focus on the co-op conflict, as I’ve agreed to act as advocate for Anna (not her real name - she’s Polish, and not confident in her English, quite apart from being stressed to the max), in her appeal before the SACHA appeals panel later this month. It’s pretty well a legal role I have to take on, so to clarify it in my own head I’ll present at least some of the case here.