The explanation is simple; he is standing on his head; which is a very weak pedestal to stand on.

But when he has found his feet again he knows it.

Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small.

The vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world.

Rather the silence around us is a small and pitiful stillness like the prompt stillness in a sick room.
We are perhaps permitted tragedy as a sort of merciful comedy: because the frantic energy of divine things would knock us down like a drunken farce.