↪Ecurb
Well, I hardly said that people lust after being forgiven on request. What a peculiar thing to say! I don't envision them achieving orgasm on actually being forgiven, either. But perhaps, for reasons unclear to me, you interpreted my suggestion people would find forgiveness of sin attractive to refer to physical attraction.
Here's how confession worked, in the old days. You entered the confessional, asked the priest to bless you, for you had sinned. You advised the priest how long it had been since your last confession. You described your sins. You were told your sins would be forgiven provided you sincerely repented and said certain prayers. Ego te absolvo peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii et Spiritus Sancti/i] are the priestly words of absolution on behalf of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, rendered in Latin. That was the way of it.
In the Catholic tradition, one could obtain remission of temporal punishment for sins through prayer or good conduct. They're called indulgences.
Do you imagine that those who ask for their sins to be forgiven do so but then don't believe they've been forgiven until they've received some divine communication confirming absolution?
History is full of examples of Christians being assured their sins will be forgiven ( for example, for going on a Crusade or pilgrimage).
By the way, I'm no fellow traveler of yours. Neither an atheist nor a theist. — Ciceronianus
There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.
For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honor and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.
A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam,
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost - how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.
This world is wild as an old wives' tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.
:up: Well said, and welcome to the forum.
On the other hand, I never managed to find the insightful and brilliant in his books, because the first one I read was so dull it put me off reading any others: Musicophilia. My loss, I suppose. — Jamal
“And he took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the town; and when he had spit on his eyes, and put his hands upon him, he asked him if he saw ought And he looked up, and said, I see men as trees, walking.
After that he put his hands again upon his eyes, and made him look up: and he was restored, and saw every man clearly..”
