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I want the real reason. You said it was because there was too much of yourself in it. Now, that is childish. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself.

The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul. Perhaps you will hardly believe it. A grasshopper German answering: Lehnend, Anlehnen, schief, lehnen. Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating, and wondered what was coming.

You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to remind the public that we are not savages. With an evening coat and a white tie, as you told me once, anybody, even a stock-broker, can gain a reputation for being civilized. Well, after I had been in the room about ten minutes, talking to huge overdressed dowagers and tedious academicians, I suddenly became conscious that some one was looking at me.

I turned half-way round and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself. I did not want any external influence in my life. You know yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then-but I don't know how to explain it to you.

Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so: I take no credit to myself for trying to escape. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. However, whatever was my motive--and it may have been pride, for I used to be very proud--I certainly struggled to the door. There, of course, I stumbled against Lady Brandon. You know her curiously shrill voice?

She brought me up to royalties, and people with stars and garters, and elderly ladies with gigantic tiaras and parrot noses. She spoke of me as her dearest friend. I had only met her once before, but she took it into her head to lionize me. I believe some picture of mine had made a great success at the time, at least had been chattered about in the penny newspapers, which is the nineteenth-century standard of immortality. Suddenly I found myself face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely stirred me.

We were quite close, almost touching. Our eyes met again. It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. Perhaps it was not so reckless, after all. It was simply inevitable. We would have spoken to each other without any introduction. I am sure of that. Dorian told me so afterwards. He, too, felt that we were destined to know each other. I remember her bringing me up to a truculent and red-faced old gentleman covered all over with orders and ribbons, and hissing into my ear, in a tragic whisper which must have been perfectly audible to everybody in the room, the most astounding details.

I like to find out people for myself. But Lady Brandon treats her guests exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods. She either explains them entirely away, or tells one everything about them except what one wants to know. You are hard on her, Harry! How could I admire her? But tell me, what did she say about Mr. Quite forget what he does--afraid he-- doesn't do anything--oh, yes, plays the piano--or is it the violin, dear Mr.

You like every one; that is to say, you are indifferent to every one. I make a great difference between people. I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good intellects. A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. I have not got one who is a fool. They are all men of some intellectual power, and consequently they all appreciate me. Is that very vain of me?

I think it is rather vain. But according to your category I must be merely an acquaintance. A sort of brother, I suppose? I don't care for brothers. My elder brother won't die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else. But I can't help detesting my relations. I suppose it comes from the fact that none of us can stand other people having the same faults as ourselves. I quite sympathize with the rage of the English democracy against what they call the vices of the upper orders.

The masses feel that drunkenness, stupidity, and immorality should be their own special property, and that if any one of us makes an ass of himself, he is poaching on their preserves. When poor Southwark got into the divorce court, their indignation was quite magnificent. And yet I don't suppose that ten per cent of the proletariat live correctly.

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Bekannte, Bekanntschaften, die Bekanntschaft, Reisebekanntschaften. Oscar Wilde 11 Lord Henry stroked his pointed brown beard and tapped the toe of his patent-leather boot with a tasselled ebony cane. That is the second time you have made that observation. If one puts forward an idea to a true Englishman--always a rash thing to do--he never dreams of considering whether the idea is right or wrong. The only thing he considers of any importance is whether one believes it oneself.

Now, the value of an idea has nothing whatsoever to do with the sincerity of the man who expresses it. Indeed, the probabilities are that the more insincere the man is, the more purely intellectual will the idea be, as in that case it will not be coloured by either his wants, his desires, or his prejudices. However, I don't propose to discuss politics, sociology, or metaphysics with you. I like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world.

Tell me more about Mr. How often do you see him? I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him every day. He is absolutely necessary to me. I thought you would never care for anything but your art. The first is the appearance of a new medium for art, and the second is the appearance of a new personality for art also. What the invention of oil-painting was to the Venetians, the face of Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, and the face of Dorian Gray will some day be to me.

It is not merely that I paint from him, draw from him, sketch from him. Of course, I have done all that. But he is much more to me than a model or a sitter. I won't tell you that I am dissatisfied with what I have done of him, or that his beauty is such that art cannot express it. There is nothing that art cannot express, and I know that the work I have done, since I met Dorian Gray, is good work, is the best work of my life. But in some curious way--I wonder will you understand me?

I see things differently, I think of them differently. I can now recreate life in a way that was German cane: I forget; but it is what Dorian Gray has been to me. The merely visible presence of this lad--for he seems to me little more than a lad, though he is really over twenty-- his merely visible presence--ah! I wonder can you realize all that that means?

Unconsciously he defines for me the lines of a fresh school, a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek. The harmony of soul and body-- how much that is! We in our madness have separated the two, and have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is void. You remember that landscape of mine, for which Agnew offered me such a huge price but which I would not part with? It is one of the best things I have ever done. And why is it so?

Because, while I was painting it, Dorian Gray sat beside me. Some subtle influence passed from him to me, and for the first time in my life I saw in the plain woodland the wonder I had always looked for and always missed. I must see Dorian Gray. After some time he came back. You might see nothing in him. I see everything in him. He is never more present in my work than when no image of him is there.

He is a suggestion, as I have said, of a new manner. I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours. He knows nothing about it. He shall never know anything about it. But the world might guess it, and I will not bare my soul to their shallow prying eyes.

My heart shall never be put under their microscope. There is too much of myself in the thing, Harry--too much of myself! They know how useful passion is for publication. Nowadays a broken heart will run to many editions. Harmonie, Eintracht, Die Harmonie, Wohlklang. Oscar Wilde 13 "I hate them for it," cried Hallward. We live in an age when men treat art as if it were meant to be a form of autobiography. We have lost the abstract sense of beauty. Some day I will show the world what it is; and for that reason the world shall never see my portrait of Dorian Gray.

It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue. Tell me, is Dorian Gray very fond of you? Of course I flatter him dreadfully. I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said. As a rule, he is charming to me, and we sit in the studio and talk of a thousand things. Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughtless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain.

Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to some one who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer's day. It is a sad thing to think of, but there is no doubt that genius lasts longer than beauty. That accounts for the fact that we all take such pains to over-educate ourselves. In the wild struggle for existence, we want to have something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and facts, in the silly hope of keeping our place. The thoroughly well-informed man-that is the modern ideal.

And the mind of the thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above its proper value. I think you will tire first, all the same. Some day you will look at your friend, and he will seem to you to be a little out of drawing, or you won't like his tone of colour, or something. You will bitterly reproach him in your own heart, and seriously think that he has behaved very badly to you.

The next time he calls, you will be perfectly cold and indifferent. It will be a great pity, for it will alter you. What you have told me is quite a romance, a romance of art one might call it, and the worst of having a romance of any kind is that it leaves one so unromantic. As long as I live, the personality of Dorian Gray will dominate me. You can't feel what I feel. You change too often. Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: There was a rustle of chirruping sparrows in the green lacquer leaves of the ivy, and the blue cloud-shadows chased themselves across the grass like swallows.

How pleasant it was in the garden! And how delightful other people's emotions were! One's own soul, and the passions of one's friends--those were the fascinating things in life. He pictured to himself with silent amusement the tedious luncheon that he had missed by staying so long with Basil Hallward.

Had he gone to his aunt's, he would have been sure to have met Lord Goodbody there, and the whole conversation would have been about the feeding of the poor and the necessity for model lodging-houses. Each class would have preached the importance of those virtues, for whose exercise there was no necessity in their own lives. The rich would have spoken on the value of thrift, and the idle grown eloquent over the dignity of labour.

It was charming to have escaped all that! As he thought of his aunt, an idea seemed to strike him. He turned to Hallward and said, "My dear fellow, I have just remembered. It was at my aunt, Lady Agatha's. She told me she had discovered a wonderful young man who was going to help her in the East End, and that his name was Dorian Gray. I am bound to state that she never told me he was good-looking. Women have no appreciation of good looks; at least, good women have not. She said that he was very earnest and had a beautiful nature.

I at once pictured to myself a creature with spectacles and lank German chased: Zierlich, delikat, lecker, fein, gelinde, zart. Lack, Lackieren, Firnis, Firnissen, Lacken. Oscar Wilde 15 hair, horribly freckled, and tramping about on huge feet. I wish I had known it was your friend. Dorian Gray is in the studio, sir," said the butler, coming into the garden. The painter turned to his servant, who stood blinking in the sunlight. Gray to wait, Parker: I shall be in in a few moments. Then he looked at Lord Henry. Your aunt was quite right in what she said of him.

Don't try to influence him. Your influence would be bad.

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The world is wide, and has many marvellous people in it. Don't take away from me the one person who gives to my art whatever charm it possesses: Mind, Harry, I trust you. Hausdiener, Herrenknecht, Kammerdiener, Butler. He was seated at the piano, with his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumann's "Forest Scenes. They are perfectly charming. When he caught sight of Lord Henry, a faint blush coloured his cheeks for a moment, and he started up.

I have just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and now you have spoiled everything. Gray," said Lord Henry, stepping forward and extending his hand. You are one of her favourites, and, I am afraid, one of her victims also. We were to have played a duet together- German beg: Verzeihung, Begnadigung, Vergebung, verzeihen, entschuldigen, amnestieren, Entschuldigung. Oscar Wilde 17 -three duets, I believe. I don't know what she will say to me.

I am far too frightened to call. She is quite devoted to you. And I don't think it really matters about your not being there. The audience probably thought it was a duet. When Aunt Agatha sits down to the piano, she makes quite enough noise for two people. Yes, he was certainly wonderfully handsome, with his finely curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp gold hair.

There was something in his face that made one trust him at once. All the candour of youth was there, as well as all youth's passionate purity. One felt that he had kept himself unspotted from the world. No wonder Basil Hallward worshipped him. The painter had been busy mixing his colours and getting his brushes ready. He was looking worried, and when he heard Lord Henry's last remark, he glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Harry, I want to finish this picture to-day.

Would you think it awfully rude of me if I asked you to go away? I see that Basil is in one of his sulky moods, and I can't bear him when he sulks.

Besides, I want you to tell me why I should not go in for philanthropy. It is so tedious a subject that one would have to talk seriously about it. But I certainly shall not run away, now German answered: Aufrichtigkeit, Wahrheitssinn, Ehrlichkeit, Gerechtigkeit. Klavier, Piano, das Klavier. You don't really mind, Basil, do you? You have often told me that you liked your sitters to have some one to chat to.

Dorian's whims are laws to everybody, except himself. I have promised to meet a man at the Orleans. Come and see me some afternoon in Curzon Street. I am nearly always at home at five o'clock. Write to me when you are coming. I should be sorry to miss you. You never open your lips while you are painting, and it is horribly dull standing on a platform and trying to look pleasant. Ask him to stay.

I insist upon it. I beg you to stay. Sit down again, Harry. And now, Dorian, get up on the platform, and don't move about too much, or pay any attention to what Lord Henry says. He has a very bad influence over all his friends, with the single exception of myself. He was so unlike Basil. They made a delightful contrast. And he had such a beautiful voice. After a few moments he said to him, "Have you really a very bad influence, Lord Henry?

As bad as Basil says? All influence is immoral--immoral from the scientific point of view. Oscar Wilde 19 "Because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed.

He becomes an echo of some one else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly--that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one's self. Of course, they are charitable. They feed the hungry and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of religion--these are the two things that govern us.

And yet--" "Just turn your head a little more to the right, Dorian, like a good boy," said the painter, deep in his work and conscious only that a look had come into the lad's face that he had never seen there before. But the bravest man amongst us is afraid of himself. The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us.

The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful.

It has been said that the great events of the world take place in the brain. It is in the German beggar: Gray, you yourself, with your rose-red youth and your rose-white boyhood, you have had passions that have made you afraid, thoughts that have filled you with terror, day-dreams and sleeping dreams whose mere memory might stain your cheek with shame--" "Stop! I don't know what to say. There is some answer to you, but I cannot find it. Or, rather, let me try not to think. He was dimly conscious that entirely fresh influences were at work within him.

Yet they seemed to him to have come really from himself. The few words that Basil's friend had said to him--words spoken by chance, no doubt, and with wilful paradox in them-- had touched some secret chord that had never been touched before, but that he felt was now vibrating and throbbing to curious pulses.

Music had troubled him many times. But music was not articulate. It was not a new world, but rather another chaos, that it created in us. How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Was there anything so real as words?

Yes; there had been things in his boyhood that he had not understood. He understood them now. Life suddenly became fiery-coloured to him. It seemed to him that he had been walking in fire. Why had he not known it? With his subtle smile, Lord Henry watched him. He knew the precise psychological moment when to say nothing. He felt intensely interested. He was amazed at the sudden impression that his words had produced, and, remembering a book that he had read when he was sixteen, a book which had revealed to him much that he had not known before, he wondered whether German amazed: Fleck, beflecken, flecken, Beize, beizen, Klecks, einflecken, beschmutzen, leicht schmutzig werden, sudeln.

Oscar Wilde 21 Dorian Gray was passing through a similar experience. He had merely shot an arrow into the air. Had it hit the mark? How fascinating the lad was! Hallward painted away with that marvellous bold touch of his, that had the true refinement and perfect delicacy that in art, at any rate comes only from strength. He was unconscious of the silence. The air is stifling here. When I am painting, I can't think of anything else.

But you never sat better. You were perfectly still. And I have caught the effect I wanted-- the half-parted lips and the bright look in the eyes. I don't know what Harry has been saying to you, but he has certainly made you have the most wonderful expression. I suppose he has been paying you compliments. You mustn't believe a word that he says. Perhaps that is the reason that I don't believe anything he has told me.

It is horribly hot in the studio. Basil, let us have something iced to drink, something with strawberries in it. Just touch the bell, and when Parker comes I will tell him what you want. I have got to work up this background, so I will join you later on. Don't keep Dorian too long. I have never been in better form for painting than I am to-day.

This is going to be my masterpiece. It is my masterpiece as it stands. He came close to him and put his hand upon his shoulder. Heilung, heilen, kurieren, genesen, Heilmittel, Kur, behandeln, wiederherstellen, gesunden. He was bareheaded, and the leaves had tossed his rebellious curls and tangled all their gilded threads. There was a look of fear in his eyes, such as people have when they are suddenly awakened. His finely chiselled nostrils quivered, and some hidden nerve shook the scarlet of his lips and left them trembling. You are a wonderful creation.

You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know. He could not help liking the tall, graceful young man who was standing by him. His romantic, olivecoloured face and worn expression interested him. There was something in his low languid voice that was absolutely fascinating. His cool, white, flowerlike hands, even, had a curious charm. They moved, as he spoke, like music, and seemed to have a language of their own. But he felt afraid of him, and ashamed of being afraid.

Why had it been left for a stranger to reveal him to himself? He had known Basil Hallward for months, but the friendship between them had never altered him. Suddenly there had come some one across his life who seemed to have disclosed to him life's mystery. And, yet, what was there to be afraid of? He was not a schoolboy or a girl. It was absurd to be frightened. You really must not allow yourself to become sunburnt.

It would be unbecoming. Oscar Wilde 23 "I don't feel that, Lord Henry. Now, wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it always be so? You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. And beauty is a form of genius-- is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. It is of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or spring-time, or the reflection in dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon.

It cannot be questioned. More actions PayPal accepted. Feedback from clients and colleagues on Willingness to Work Again 17 positive reviews 1 unidentified. Two literatures in two centuries General field: Es autor de narrativa y ensayo.


La displicencia de Groussac fue conocida por todos y se pone de manifiesto en sus libros. La figura de Groussac viene a mostrar temprano zonas largamente sensibles para la literatura argentina: Pero lo interesante de este texto es algo que no dice: Creo que Wald y Gadda pueden ejemplificar este otro paradigma, en tanto estos textos carecieron en su momento de estatuto literario y es la mirada de hoy la que los interroga desde la literatura.

Es una literatura que hace trabajar al lector. Argentina ha pasado por tiempos mejores y peores en este aspecto. Y de eso se trata, de producir nuevos sentidos que descoloquen y reconfiguren a los vigentes. Para resumir, los escritores argentinos de hoy transcurren en un proceso doble.

No digo que no esconda claves, digo que por ahora y durante un lapso ignorado han dejado de importar como antes. Translation - German Besonders argentinisch: Der daraus resultierende forcierte Charakter ist zusammen mit anderen Elementen, wie z. Jahrhunderts bisweilen wie eine extravagante, artifizielle und isolierte Textsammlung wirkt. Die argentinische Literatur ist ein vielstimmiger Diskurs, der sich in diesem Raum einen Weg bahnt und bald in die eine, bald in die andere Richtung tendiert. Heimlich, wie es der Psychologie des Scheiterns entspricht, thematisierte er dies als einer der Ersten.

Rojas, Lugones und einige andere wollten jeder auf seine Weise die bis zu diesem Zeitpunkt eher unstete und wenig gefestigte argentinische Literatur nationalisieren d. Die Tendenz Unterschiede zu integrieren auf der einen und Katholizismus und Nationalismus auf der anderen Seite. Rojas und Lugones verbindet mit vielen ihrer Zeitgenossen der ersten Jahrzehnte des Es wurden fast alle bedeutenden Texte nur dann in den Schulkanon des Auch wenn im Eine Art Tagebuch in dem sich verschiedene Darstellungsformen und Szenarien vermischen.

Das Bemerkenswerteste an diesem Text ist jedoch das, was er verschweigt. Jahrhunderts die Literatur der Gegenwart und der heutigen Sichtweise formte. Argentinien hat in dieser Hinsicht gute und schlechte Zeiten erlebt. Ich beziehe mich damit auf das Konzept von Literatur als wechselhafter Diskurs, der mal von einer geschichtlichen, politischen, subjektiven oder sozialen Perspektive her argumentiert, mal gar keinen Standpunkt bezieht und dann wieder mehrere gleichzeitig. Die Frage nach dem Publikum geht einher mit der Frage nach dem Sinn der eigenen Stimme, selbst dann, wenn man zu keinem entscheidenden Schluss kommt.

Zum Beispiel die grundlegende Nationalisierung von nicht-spanischen Texten: Die englischen der Chronisten des Es entstanden auch wunderbar hybride Texte; in Spanisch verfasste Romane, die Elemente der Einwanderersprachen Portugiesisch oder archaisches Spanisch integrierten.

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Darum geht es aber, um die Produktion von Bedeutungen, die Bestehendes entwurzeln und neu formen. Doch die problematische Beziehung zum Publikum gibt unserer Literatur noch etwas anderes: In anderen Worten, Kunst hat heute an Bedeutung verloren. Argentinische Autoren der Gegenwart durchlaufen einen doppelten Prozess. Auf der einen Seite sind sie Teil einer komplexen Tradition, die mit sich selbst spricht und sich bewusst wahrnimmt, vielleicht wie keine andere im spanischsprachigen Raum.

Argentinische Schriftsteller des Extract from Conscious Business General field: I am conscious, therefore I am. Greatness … is a matter of conscious choice. At the start of my career I did great working with molecules, but now I work with people. He is an intellectual wonder and a management disaster. Technical excellence propelled him into management, exposing his social incompetence. Wo ist das spezifisch Katholische? Das soziale Engagement war schon immer Bestandteil der kirchlichen Arbeit. Nur - wer vor Jahren profane Hilfe der Kirche annahm, der bekam dazu noch 'ne Dosis Religion verabreicht, damit klar war, von wem die Hilfe kam.

Was, bitte, Herr Bahr, fehlt denn da? Ich habe, und nicht nur dort, Menschen beigestanden, geholfen - einfach aus meiner inneren Einstellung. Und niemand hat mich jemals gefragt, ob ich denn Christ oder gar Katholik sei! MITmensch sein - ohne Hokuspokus. Entschuldigung, aber das ist….

Entschuldigung, aber das ist Unsinn. T wurde vor Christus. Physik Neuer Himmel und neue Erde-Offenb. Und der Ausschluss der Frauen vom Priesteramt wird immer weniger wichtig. Jesus war kein Theologe, der mit metaphysischen Hirngespinsten zu den Menschen sprach. Die Zeit der Magie muss ein Ende haben. Du bist Petrus und auf diesen Felsen werde ich meine Kirche bauen Ja, Christus hat nicht metaphorisch gesprochen, z. Sie irritieren mich, Herr Ropers,. Die Veranstaltung Gefahr von Rechts"? AfD und Rechtskatholizismus am Die kroatisch-katholische Gemeinde kann noch als katholisch gelten.

Wer es mit dem Glauben ernst nimmt, kann getrost aus der Kirche austreten. Es taugt zu nichts mehr, als hinausgeworfen und von den Menschen zertreten zu werden. Ihr seid das Licht der Welt; eine Stadt, die oben auf einem Berg liegt, kann nicht verborgen sein. Mir stellt sich die Frage,…. Mir stellt sich die Frage, was unter Rechtskatholizismus oder Linkskatholizismus eigentlich zu verstehen ist? Diese Wiederkehr steht allerdings bis heute aus. Mein Versuch einer Antwort, Frau Walden: Dazu braucht es Werbung! Mich widert so etwas nur noch an. AfD und rechtskatholizismus im Haus am Dom - Kalendereintrag.

Sehr geehrter Herr Kaunzner! Was Sie hier behaupten, ist schlicht falsch. Hitler geschlossenen Reichskonkordat Hauptsache das "geld klingt im Kasten"! Leser Michael Bahr benutzt in seinem Kommentar in bezug auf die evangelische Kirche das Wort "entchristianisiert". Die Oberschicht auch finanziell der katholischen Kirche ist heute genauso entchristianisiert - vielleicht eher noch mehr! DIE konnte "man" aufbringen!!! Sehr genial und treffend zusammengefasst. Die seien doch etwas eigen Etwa den oben genannten Gott? Diesen unsichtbaren Freund von Herrn Kissler? Hier ging es nicht um Kinder, sondern Studenten.

Die Sanierung des in den er nicht o. Es solle ein Wohnhaus errichtet werden. Ein Nachtrag zu 2. Priesterlose Gemeinden- viel trauriger geht es eigentlich nicht. Sie meinen, ich sollte auf ihn zugehen? Frust auf beiden Seiten! Was glauben Sie ist eine Religion? Wissen Sie Toleranz ist ein hohes Gut, doch Ignoranz Wir bleiben als Homo sapiens Tiere und vergessen es immer wieder Die Hoffnung stirbt zu letzt Nach einem halben Jahr Lehrzeit sind die besser als der Papst.

Glauben ohne tiefes Geheimnis. Meiner Meinung nach wird der Glaube ohne das Geheimnisvolle, das"Fascinosum", entkernt. Hier stimme ich Herrn Bahr und anderen, die sich aehnlich geaeussert haben, ausdruecklich zu. Natuerlich ist "Heilsein die Loesung", wie Herr Ropers schreibt.

Doch dieses Heil liegt eindeutig jenseits dessen, was unser irdisches Verstehen erfassen kann. Dies hat Jesus ganz klar gemacht. Das "Heil" bleibt ein grosses, wunderbares Geheimnis, von dem der Mensch auf Erden nur ein wenig erahnen kann.

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  • D i e s muss sich ausdruecken in einer herausgehobenen Position derer, die das Geheimnis hueten, also der Priester. Diese sollen sich immer intensiver in die Wahrheit des christlichen Glaubens vertiefen, und das koennen sie nicht, wenn sie auf einer Stufe stehen mit den Laien. Eine aehnliche Entwicklung wie bei den Priestern hat sich laengst bei den Lehrern vollzogen. Ihre Autoritaet als Hueter des Wissens wurde zerstoert. N i c h t s hat sich dadurch verbessert. Wenn Menschen dieses Geheimnis brauchen, um mit ihren Schwierigkeiten besser fertig zu werden - bitte sehr.

    Hallo, so sagt es die Bibel. Das stimmt aber nicht. Ich meine mich zuerinnern, dass er den Vers eines Psamls gebetet hat. Eher verlassen Menschen Gott nicht mit Kirche gleich zu setzen. Ging es dem Autor darum neue Wege aufzuzuzeigen oder gegen die vielhescholtene Amtskirche schreiben? Wir wollen nicht den selben Fehler machen.

    Ich stehe als Priester zu und in meiner Kirche. Frau Rasenberger, Sie favorisieren eine Kirche des Eine "Freiheit" des Glaubens oder Nicht-Glaubens gab es nicht.

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    Wer eine solche Kirche propagiert, hat allem Anschein nach nichts verstanden. Es gibt keinen gesunden Wahnsinn. Wahnsinn, dachte ich beim Lesen dieses hervorrageden Artikels immer wieder. Und nochmal - Wahnsinn. Und was tut sie? Ich will euch erquicken. Sehr geehrte Frau Schramm, Sie widersprechen sich selber. Einerseits wollen Sie die Kirche nicht zu einem "zu einem sozialen Institut verkommen" lassen, andererseits fordern Sie aber genau das: Kirche solle Stellung nehmen gegen "Globalisierung, Raubtierkapitalismus und Krieg".