I doubt what I read.
I doubt this page. I doubt that age.
I am filled with suspicion;
but I need what I read,
and I doubt what I need.
Bultmann taught me to demoythologize.
Freud taught me not to demonize.
Nietzsche taught me not to harmonize.
To believe antiquated lies would not be wise;
but why I should believe these guys,
and above all modernize?
Where can I plant my feet in this ocean
of crashing waves and ceaseless motion?
I have learned a new skepticism.
I have built a wall to bridge the schism.
We should spread the doubt around:
We should invite Freud on down.
We should make some new editions,
and find courage to be defectors,
by adding the suspectors
to the hermeneutics of suspicion.
I have started to doubt my doubts as I doubt the doubters:
It helped me when my doubts began to scatter.
“Oh no,” they will say, “We got a true skeptic here…
we got a skeptic that also doubts the jeers,
who doubts the sneers, and even doubts his peers.”
Doubt like this will make things clear.