trough these every<br >loes not and never<br >so lay hold of the<br >m when God does<br >and grand， every-<br >ally forms a unity，<br >ich are revealed all<br >ugene Kennedy<br >CHAPTER I<br >There is a season for everything<br >On time . . .<br >Time， despite its elusive essence， preoccupies us. We either seem<br >to have too much of it or not enough. We are pressed to buy it<br >as well as to spend it， to kill it as well as to save it; it can be lost<br >but it can also be found. Time， Pythagoras was supposed to<br >have said， is the soul of the world. It has been heralded as a<br >friend and described as an enemy. A great phrase booms out of<br >the Scriptures， like the hour being sounded on a clock: Now is<br >the time， now is the hour of salvation.<br > In an era that has been marked by a change of time in order to<br >save the light at the end of the day， it is worthwhile to reflect on<br >time and its many meanings for all of us.<br > Changing time . . .<br >There are many experiences when， for an instant at least， we<br >seem to escape time itself and gaze into a world where it can<br >neither touch nor intimidate us. This may happen when， gazing<br >at a work of art， we suddenly understand that the human expe-<br >rience of a long-dead artist is co-extensive with our own and<br >how， in a fashion beyond understanding， we stand together in a<br >dimension that cannot be measured by clocks or calendars. This<br >is why you cannot rush through an art gallery or speed-read<br >through the masterpieces of literature. We must be willing to<br >submerge ourselves in time in order to transform it in a lasting<br >way. This also requires that we surrender ourselves to our expe-<br >rience of the world， that we lower our defenses against our own<br >6Q<br ><br >