They descended into hell and some rose again from the dead. Who am I to ask them any questions? Do I have the right?
Craig was a housemate of mine in undergraduate days. When he was 18 he ran away from a troubled home and joined the Marine Corps. He ended up in Vietnam. One day I asked him what it was like. Distraught, he ran from the room. Later he told me the story. His platoon entered a village. After the fire fight, he alone was unscathed. Everyone else was either killed or badly wounded. Craig told me that as he walked toward what he thought would be certain death, he was overcome with a feeling of deep love for everybody and everything. In that Grenzsituation, that boundary or limit situation, my friend perhaps glimpsed the world's ultimate depth dimension, a peace surpassing all understanding in the eye of the storm of war.
To encroach with curiosity upon the liminality of such experiences shows a lack of respect. So now I ask no questions.
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