I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling war weary.
It was bad enough before Barack Obama escalated the war in Afghanistan. We had already suffered so many years of battle in Iraq, in an unjustified war.
Already the administration is reneging on the president’s promise of pulling back by July 2011. Instead Secretary Gates and others are saying the push in Afghanistan will last at least another four years.
One weekend last March, Michael Steele, the chairman of the Republican National Committee, made the mistake of asserting that Rush Limbaugh was not the de facto head of the Republican party, and that he was, rather, an entertainer who could be incendiary and ugly.
On the following Monday, Mr Steele was obliged, evidence notwithstanding, to retract what he had said.
As each Thanksgiving Day arrives, I like to reflect on the blessings received during the previous year. From what I can gather, this is some of what the Pilgrims did in the autumn of 1621 when they celebrated the first such feast.
A framework for such reflection has helped me in the effort. Over the last two years, members of a local assisted-living community have allowed me to review current events for them.
The new device weighs almost two tons. Even though it rests on wheels, getting it into the book store required a major pushing effort by members of the staff.
Called the Espresso Book Machine, it can turn out a book in less than five minutes. Almost four feet wide, three feet deep, and four and a half feet high, this new contraption prints, binds, and trims in remarkably short order.
Later life can be a time of liberation. If I ever doubted this, I would be convinced immediately by the example of my old friend, Father Michael Gillgannon, who recently wrote an open letter critical of his bishop.
For a priest of the Catholic Church to take on his bishop takes guts. Most members of the diocesan clergy would sooner dive into a snake pit than challenge their appointed (and anointed) leader.
A few months ago, one of our neighbors died. I felt greatly saddened by her loss.
She was a remarkable woman, much respected by those who knew her. Over the previous two and a half years, she had drawn admiration for her courage in the face of the painful disease that eventually led to her death.
The woman’s family announced the sad event in a death notice published in the Boston Globe. This notice ran for three successive days.
Call me a religion junkie if you will. Maybe that’s why I have taken such intense interest in the recently published memoir of an archbishop.
Still, the life story of Rembert Weakland, A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church, may hold fascination for others too. It offers a detailed portrait of a man who has been monk, prelate, scholar, musician, and, ultimately, penitent.