What's the opposite of nostalgia? When you go digging into a past you've run far and hard from, with the wary caution of post-apocalyptic scavengers looking through the ruins in a Stephen Vincent Benet story? (Aside: goodness gracious, By The Waters of Babylon is from the Thirties?! Well, so was The Black Flame. Sigh. We were given to understand in
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I coined the terms "Fearing Believers" (and also "mirantists") to describe what I saw around me in the movement, the endless relentless sophistry of apologetics, the backpatting claims of signs and wonders that PROVED beyond a SHADOW OF A DOUBT that we were RIGHT, dammit! which I came to eventually believe were intended not, actually, as we stated, to convert *others*, but to convince ourselves mostly and above all.
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A lot of them were celibate priests and nuns--they hoped it was true. Even worse, had been pressured into a celibacy they weren't suited to, and probably were writing it out of spite: if they weren't allowed a decent sex life they were going to mess with someone else's. Since the Church told them they were damned by their sexuality, it didn't matter that it was a sin, they were damned anyway.
Damn!
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