Every once in a while, I'll read a descriptive passage which gives me a fit of the giggles, and I got them while reading a brief scene about eating by G. K. Chesterton. 

Chesterton is describing an incident at a luncheon he had with friends. The learned fellows are discussing a "most ultimate and terrible [idea]...whether man can be certain about anything." 

The thing that got me was picturing a fellow sitting at a table laden with delicious delicacies munching way, but never realizing his fork is empty.   

On second thought, perhaps it isn't so funny, because a lack of certainty truly leaves that fellow in a state of starvation. 

Comments

[Barry Wallace]

I've always loved that remark by Chesterton. In fact, I used it in a blog post recently

[LeeQuod]

The article contained this: "My best friends are all either bottomless sceptics or quite uncontrollable believers, so our discussion at luncheon turned upon the most ultimate and terrible ideas."

And this: "[Editor's Note - From other writings of Chesterton, we know that the "open-minded" friend referred to here is H.G. Wells. Also, we learn from the paragraph to follow that Hilaire Belloc was another of those present at this Soho meeting. And it is quite possible, even probable, that George Bernard Shaw was also in the party.]"

I try to imagine a Chuck Colson commentary that would describe Christopher Hitchens or Richard Dawkins as best friends of Chuck's, and regular lunch partners - perhaps along with Ravi Zacharias or James Dobson...

There is something for which I will be forever grateful to Gina and the rest of The Point staff, both past and present, and that is that this site has permitted me to not only meet but become friends with Andy, Brian, FriarThom, Benjamin Ady, and a host of others including a most irascible teddy bear. Clearly this is from God, because there is the perfect mixture of joy (at meeting) and sorrow (at parting) which is the clear picture of the Christian life, and which accounts in part for Chesterton's joviality. Add to this list a host of likeminded conservative believers, and I am truly blessed far beyond what I deserve. "Thank you to The Point" is clearly inadequate, but will need to do for now.

[Jason Taylor]

Are you going somewhere Lee?

[LeeQuod]

And now I have a word for you who brashly announce, "Today—at the latest, tomorrow—we're off to such and such a city for the year. We're going to start a business and make a lot of money." You don't know the first thing about tomorrow. You're nothing but a wisp of fog, catching a brief bit of sun before disappearing. Instead, make it a habit to say, "If the Master wills it and we're still alive, we'll do this or that." -- James 4:13-15, MSG

I.e., Jason my dear brother, I haven't the, uh, foggiest idea...

[jason taylor]

Well are you planning on going somewhere Lee?

[LeeQuod]

Jason, I have no plans to stop commenting at The Point anytime soon. (Sighs of relief from some quarters; groans of despair from others.) I just firmly believe that it's good and proper to let The Point staff know, every once in a while, that their efforts are having an impact on at least *my* life. And that the impact isn't small.

Plus, who knows but what maybe Andy isn't still lurking? Wish I'd had a chance to say goodbye. Or maybe sometime in the future he'll come back, and see that he mattered to me. The same goes for Brian and the rest, including Benjamin Ady (on whom I've been rather tough, of late; I'd buy him lunch and a latte if I could, and tell him I hope he sticks around for a long time). And great friends like Dr. Steve and Chris Clukey and so many others; I'd write more but I have something in my eyes...

[Kim Moreland]

LeeQuod, we would be crushed if you were not a part of this fine exchange of ideas. Please do not start a panic.

[Rolley Haggard]

That's right, Barnabas -- a/k/a LeeQuod.

:)

[LeeQuod]

Awww, thank you, Kim! The Point is so rewarding I would only leave it to seek a greater reward, and that not of my own volition but only in obedience.

And more to your original point, Kim, there's a famous problem in computer science known as "the dining philosophers". It's a whimsical way of describing what happens when a computer has to work on several problems all at the same time (such as when you start up your email, a web browser, and other programs, all when you first log in). There are three philosophers eating spaghetti at a table, and each philosopher needs two forks, but there are only 5 forks on the table, so a philosopher grabs two forks, fills his mouth, and puts down his forks. If he only has one fork available, he has to wait, but fills his time thinking. (Like many math problems, this one disregards calling a waiter, the grossness of sharing forks, etc.) Visualizing how to let everyone get enough to eat helps programmers figure out how to make Windows, MacOS and Linux work. But I'm still highly amused to recall the problem and compare it to this essay, imagining Chesterton holding Shaw's fork with a wicked grin and asking if Shaw was *certain* he was hungry.