Affairs never just happen. When the Woman and the Man are found out, the obvious question is asked: how did it happen? A very Greek answer might be, I dont know. It was on fire when I lay down on it.
The Ecumenical Affair is a creative nonfiction retelling of the gospel and the passionate encounter of the Woman and the Greeka prominent theologian, philosopher, politician, and ecumenist. When the Woman opens a bestseller by the American author Robert Fulghum, she selects a passage three quarters through. The passage she reads compels her to turn back to the beginning. There, a juicy tidbit rivets her attention. Its about a man rescued from a fire in an upstairs bedroom. When the fire responders ask, How did it happen? he replies, I dont know. It was on fire when I lay down on it.
The Woman closes the book. Words in bold parrot green on a gold mat atop a red leafy cover stare up at her. A smile lights her face. She remembers her bold parrot-green chinos, her gold vest, the fire within her that July night in Vancouver. The Sixth Assembly of the World Council of Churches. Canberra. The Seventh Assembly. The colossal tent in the middle of a wide expanse. Five thousand worshippers. The Eucharist. The politics. That denied last supper. How the Greek and she stood far apart, back to back. The dialogue of St. Macarios and the skull. Consolation and hope.
The Ecumenical Affair is a creative nonfiction retelling of the gospel and the passionate encounter of the Woman and the Greeka prominent theologian, philosopher, politician, and ecumenist. When the Woman opens a bestseller by the American author Robert Fulghum, she selects a passage three quarters through. The passage she reads compels her to turn back to the beginning. There, a juicy tidbit rivets her attention. Its about a man rescued from a fire in an upstairs bedroom. When the fire responders ask, How did it happen? he replies, I dont know. It was on fire when I lay down on it.
The Woman closes the book. Words in bold parrot green on a gold mat atop a red leafy cover stare up at her. A smile lights her face. She remembers her bold parrot-green chinos, her gold vest, the fire within her that July night in Vancouver. The Sixth Assembly of the World Council of Churches. Canberra. The Seventh Assembly. The colossal tent in the middle of a wide expanse. Five thousand worshippers. The Eucharist. The politics. That denied last supper. How the Greek and she stood far apart, back to back. The dialogue of St. Macarios and the skull. Consolation and hope.
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