The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. I love her very much. . . . In the last thousand years God has given to no bishop such great gifts as God has given me (for one should boast of God’s gifts). I am angry with myself that I am unable to rejoice from my heart and be thankful to God, though I do at times sing a little song and give thanks. Whether we live or die, we belong to God.5 Here was the very wound at the heart of human existence: even when we know as much as or more than anyone else of the truth of God, we are nonetheless sufficiently mired in the fallenness of this world so
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