Reading authors like Tolkien or Rowling can be a kind of for taking up Wright’s tomes.
It’s entirely unsurprising that someone like my recently college-graduated self would arrive, via Gondor and Godric’s Hollow, at Wright’s doorstep and conclude, “I’ve come to the right place.” book, I find myself wondering how I’ll react ten years from now when I pick up the book again.
And certainly not long enough to bring home to meet her aging parents.
While friends marry, mortgage and multiply, she dines alone on Triscuits in a Brooklyn rental and buys Piddle Pads for friends’ babies online, wondering if it will ever be her turn.
(Käsemann was a pupil of Rudolf Bultmann and died in 1998.) In his day, Käsemann resolutely opposed the kind of narrative intepretation that Wright has advocated so powerfully.
In a lecture delivered in various venues around the United States in 1965–66, Käsemann fiercely criticized an emerging trend in Pauline interpretation that, he judged, had “lost its past revolutionary fire and [was] now planting conservatively laidout gardens on the petrified lava.” What worried Käsemann was a reading of Paul that treated the apostle’s theology of salvation history as if it were a narrative of , always onward and upward, like a bumpy but discernibly ascending stock chart.
At every stage of “salvation history,” and not just at the time of primordial chaos in Genesis 1, the plan of God advanced only by way of apparent retreat.
perpetually single Sarah realizes something alarming: it's her ninth consecutive birthday without a boyfriend.