The used book bug’s bit me. It’s such fun to find classic books, and get them at a bargain.

Sandy, who opened the package containing the book Christ in the Silence, called out, “Hon, this book is signed.” I checked it out eagerly. I compared the signature Charlie to the known signatures of letters in the archive at mkgandhi.org, and it appears to be a match.

The dedication reads, “To George with much love from Charlie, July 9, 1933.” The impress visible in the lower right corner reads “Chapel Cottage, Iden Green, Benenden, Kent.”

I fall in love with an author. I discover somebody I like and for awhile there’s nothing, nobody else in the world for me but them. At the moment it’s C.F. Andrews. I want to get in his skin and understand what empowered this somewhat neurotic Victorian clergyman to become a labor negotiator and spokesman for the Indian people, wherever they were in the world.

So I purchased What I Owe to Christ, 1932, the external story, and Christ in the Silence, 1933, the internal account of his spiritual life, one through Amazon Marketplace and one through eBay. I’d hoped the latter might give me a glimpse into the synthesis of Christianity and Hinduism that he achieved. Though he is cordial toward Hinduism, he writes as an orthodox Christian in these works.

Christ in the Silence is an extended meditation on the Farewell chapters of the gospel of John. It’s almost as if you get there through Charlie Andrews’ pen.

I know there’s a lot of sappy theology in my head. But, if God wanted to send me a PostIt that read “I love you” I can think of few things he could do that would mean more than putting a signed work of C.F. Andrews on the spiritual life in my hands.

I confess I gobbled it up in two days. Now I’m reading a page or paragraph at a time.

BTW, if you know anything about the persons and places mentioned above, drop me a line, will you? Thanks.