Epistolics Anonymous

To the Editor:

Can you tell me, please, whether it is proper to launch an ICBM rocket with a bottle of champagne? Having flunked physics, I am somewhat unsure of myself in this atomic age. It would be great fun for an inveterate non-alcoholic to contribute some verbal pop and fizz to the launching of your new magazine, but I don’t know whether it would be appropriate.

I’m a little over-awed. Your magazine, you say, is “designed for worldwide impact.” Looking at your streamlined brochure and the impressive list of editors and contributors I can well believe it. The jet take-off of your first issue is going to be something to see!

But sir, you need a Pseudonymous Letter Writer, for which position I herewith make application. I can hear you muttering, “The pseudonymous, while not synonymous with the anonymous, is equally pusillanimous…” I wish you wouldn’t talk that way. Where would American literature be without Mark Twain? Besides, as that great master of pseudonymity, Soren Kierkegaard, has explained, using a pseudonym may show too much courage rather than too little! My nom de plume suggests not a personality but a picture. Easy slumber under sound gospel preaching was fatal for Eutychus. The Christian church of our generation has not been crowded to his precarious perch, but it has been no less perilously asleep in comfortable pews.

The resemblance to Eutychus does not end there. Eutychus prostrate on the pavement is more appropriate than we know as a symbol of Christendom today. To tap sleeping Eutychus on the shoulder, to embrace dead Eutychus in love, faith, and hope is your task.

Believe me, my heart is with you. Evangelical Christianity … never ...

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