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وإذ تتحول التجربة إلى «أصل» فإنها تُثْقِل على كل التاريخ اللاحق، وذلك من حيث تغدو موضوعاً للامتثال والتكرار، بدل أن تكون ساحة للتمثُّل والحوار. وإذن، فإن «الأطلقة» - وليس سواها - هي ما يُحيل تجارب البشر من «تاريخ حي» إلى «نصٍ أو أصلٍ جامد» يقف خارجه؛ على النحو الذى يكون معه أشبه بالشاهد المصمت المُعلق على قبر صاحبه، والذي لا يعرف الخَلَف اللاحق إلا التعبُّد في ظلاله. وتلك هي جوهر الممارسة السلفية؛ على أن يكون معلوماً أن هذه الممارسة لا تقف عند حدود من يُقال أنهم سلفيو هذا الزمان، بل تتجاوزهم إلى من يُقال أنهم حداثيوه أيضاً. و سواء مورست هذه «الأطلقة»، تحت يافطة الدين أو العلمانية، فإنها تمثل خطراً داهماً على الدولة ↗
ولقد كان ربط صلاح الحكم بالوقت هو أداة الفخر الرازي في الفرار من مأزق نسبة النقص إلي الله؛ فإنه إن قيل: لو كان( الحكم) الثاني( الناسخ), أصلح من الأول( المنسوخ), لكان الأول ناقص الصلاح, فكيف أمر الله به؟ قلنا: الأول أصلح من الثاني بالنسبة للوقت الأول, والثاني بالعكس. إن الصلاح هنا هو المبدأ التأسيسي, وأما الحكم الذي يتحقق من خلاله هذا الصلاح, فهو الحد الإجرائي; وبحسب تقرير الرازي فإن الحكم, أو الحد الإجرائي المحقق للصلاح, قد يتحول في غير وقته إلي عائق يمتنع معه تحقيق الصلاح, فيلزم رفعه بالنسخ. الغريب, هنا, أن تجربة الجيل الأول من المسلمين تشير إلي حقيقة أنهم- ورغم انقطاع الوحي- قد رفعوا من الأحكام, ما أدركوا فيه حائلاً يمنع تحقيق الصلاح؛ وكان ذلك استناداً إلي وعيهم العميق بالمنطق الذي يحكم علاقة كل من الوحي والعقل والواقع. ولعله يلزم الإشارة, هنا, إلي ما جري بخصوص الأحكام المتعلقة بسهم المؤلفة قلوبهم, وتوزيع الغنائم علي الجند الفاتحين, والحد المفروض علي شارب الخمر وغيرها مما أدرك فيه الصحابة أن صلاحه مرتبط بوقت تنزيله, وأن شروط صلاحه قد ارتفعت, ولم تعد قائمة. فهل يقدر حمقي هذا الزمان الحكمة من وراء ذلك فيميزون بين التأسيسي والإجرائي في القرآن؟ ↗
فرغم الوعي، من جهة، بضرورة وجدوى ما قام به الخليفة الثالث "عثمان بن عفان" من تقنين المصحف، فإنه يبقى لزوم الإشارة إلى ما صاحب هذا العمل مما يُقال أنه الإنتقال من القرآن "الناطق" إلى القرآن "الصامت"، وبما ينطوى عليه هذا الإنتقال من إهدار ثرائه وحيويته. ومن جهة أخري، فإن ما قام به الأمويون، إبان صراعهم السياسى مع الإمام على بن أبى طالب، من رفع المصاحف على أسنّه الرماح والسيوف كان الواقعة الكاشفة عن إرادتهم فى تثبيت القرآن كسلطة حارسة لسلطانهم، وذلك بعد أن تبدى لهم جلياً أن فاعليته فى إنقاذ هذا السلطان تفوق فاعلية السيف بكثير. وغنيٌّ عن البيان أن هذا التمييز بين قرآن النبى الحى وبين القرآن المنحبس وراء التقييدات التى تفرضها السلطة، إنما يعكس ما يكاد يكون تقابلاً يعرفه دارسو الأديان على العموم بين "دين التقليد" الذى تحرسه مؤسسات السلطة لتسوس به الناس، وبين "الدين الحي" الذى يقصد إلى إذكاء الوعى وتحرير الإرادة. وإذ تحرس المؤسسة دين التقليد، لأنه يكون حارساً لها بدوره، فإن سعياً إلى تحرير الدين من سطوة التقليد، واستعادته فى انفتاحه وحيويته الأولي، سوف يعرى تلك المؤسسة مما تستر به عورتها. ومن هنا أن انتقام المؤسسة من هؤلاء الساعين إلى استعادة الدين الحى يكون قاسياً حقاً، لأن ذلك يكون بمثابة تعرية لها من غطائها الإيديولوجي ↗
I do like him. I'm sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet somebody I could respect.... .... Listen, don't hate me because I can't remember some person immediately. Especially when they look like everybody else, and talk and dress and act like everybody else." Franny made her voice stop. It sounded to her caviling and bitchy, and she felt a wave of self-hatred that, quite literally, made her forehead begin to perspire again. But her voice picked up again, in spite of herself. "I don't mean there's anything horrible about him or anything like that. It's just that for four solid years I've kept seeing Wally Campbells wherever I go. I know when they're going to be charming, I know when they're going to start telling you some really nasty gossip about some girl that lives in your dorm, I know when they're going to ask me what I did over the summer, I know when they're going to pull up a chair and straddle it backward and start bragging in a terribly, terribly quiet voice--or name-dropping in a terribly quiet, casual voice. There's an unwritten law that people in a certain social or financial bracket can name-drop as much as they like just as long as they say something terribly disparaging about the person as soon as they've dropped his name—that he's a bastard or a nymphomaniac or takes dope all the time, or something horrible." She broke off again. She was quiet for a moment, turning the ashtray in her fingers. Franny quickly tipped her cigarette ash, then brought the ashtray an inch closer to her side of the table. "I'm sorry. I'm awful," she said. "I've just felt so destructive all week. It's awful, I'm horrible. ↗
Why do only the awful things become fads? I thought. Eye-rolling and Barbie and bread pudding. Why never chocolate cheesecake or thinking for yourself? ↗
It is sometimes said that butlers only truly exist in England. Other countries, whatever title is actually used, have only manservants. I tend to believe this is true. Continentals are unable to be butlers because they are as a breed incapable of the emotional restraint which only the English race are capable of. Continentals - and by and large the Celts, as you will no doubt agree - are as a rule unable to control themselves in moments of a strong emotion, and are thus unable to maintain a professional demeanour other than in the least > challenging of situations. If I may return to my earlier metaphor - you will excuse my putting it so coarsely - they are like a man who will, at the slightest provocation, tear off his suit and his shirt and run about screaming. IN a word, "dignity" is beyond such persons. We English have an important advantage over foreigners in this respect and it is for this reason that when you think of a great butler, he is bound, almost by definition, to be an Englishman. ↗
He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.) And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's. And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled, Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled, Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair - Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there! And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray, Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way, There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair - But it's useless to investigate - Mcavity's not there! And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say: 'It must have been Macavity!' - but he's a mile away. You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs, Or engaged in doing complicated long-division sums. Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity. He always has an alibi, and one or two to spaer: At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN'T THERE! And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known (I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone) Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime! ↗
#dr-moriarty #mac-the-knife #macavity #master-criminals #respect
Bradley is one of the few basketball players who have ever been appreciatively cheered by a disinterested away-from-home crowd while warming up. This curious event occurred last March, just before Princeton eliminated the Virginia Military Institute, the year's Southern Conference champion, from the NCAA championships. The game was played in Philadelphia and was the last of a tripleheader. The people there were worn out, because most of them were emotionally committed to either Villanova or Temple-two local teams that had just been involved in enervating battles with Providence and Connecticut, respectively, scrambling for a chance at the rest of the country. A group of Princeton players shooting basketballs miscellaneously in preparation for still another game hardly promised to be a high point of the evening, but Bradley, whose routine in the warmup time is a gradual crescendo of activity, is more interesting to watch before a game than most players are in play. In Philadelphia that night, what he did was, for him, anything but unusual. As he does before all games, he began by shooting set shots close to the basket, gradually moving back until he was shooting long sets from 20 feet out, and nearly all of them dropped into the net with an almost mechanical rhythm of accuracy. Then he began a series of expandingly difficult jump shots, and one jumper after another went cleanly through the basket with so few exceptions that the crowd began to murmur. Then he started to perform whirling reverse moves before another cadence of almost steadily accurate jump shots, and the murmur increased. Then he began to sweep hook shots into the air. He moved in a semicircle around the court. First with his right hand, then with his left, he tried seven of these long, graceful shots-the most difficult ones in the orthodoxy of basketball-and ambidextrously made them all. The game had not even begun, but the presumably unimpressible Philadelphians were applauding like an audience at an opera. ↗
