A poke at Ludwig’s nonsense adumbrates an a-theology that circumvents the mortiferous belch of cassock-and-biretta evangels.
There’s an amount of life which abounds so abundantly it’s incommensurate with measurement. It amounts to the livelong life force of aliveness that explodes our skulls like an AR-15 would when we try to seize it. It’s the-world-is-everything-that-is-the-case of matter that moves. Not the source of this or that somethingness, but the very ness of it, the preposition in infinity, the suffixing titty of finite. It’s what’s between the equals sign in algebra class.
So it be nameless I name it anyway The amount with a capital T.
Occasionally I kill a few sugar ants while washing dishes. Not on purpose; it’s simply a wrong-place-wrong-time situation for them.
Sugar ants are micro-tiny. Have you seen one? Its carcass is a quasi-speck. Yet I’ve watched teams of them toil relentlessly to hoist a crumb to their lair a league distant in ant world. And when not craning or bulldozing, they haul ass like Lamborghinis.
Here’s the crux of the matter then, the ology part:
The amount beyond origin that can squirt such vitality into a creature the size of a pinhead deserves respect, does it not? Does the portion of life snuffed from the sugar ant not flow from The amount? And my portion too? Is not sister ant my brother in shared life, and I its, for The amount’s bloody sake! And does not The amount not grow less from the ant’s loss, or mine, but rather reclaim our portions and stay the same? Maybe, maybe not?
That’ll do for gospel and scripture.
(c) 2021 JMN