7/31/2016 10:20 AM
It is Sunday morning. Cool enough
to sit outside under the roof of our patio. The day is bright and clear. I am
wearing rose-colored sunglasses.
This is the way it should be, I say
to myself. I feel good--no pains, everything in my body working, at least as
far as I can tell, and for the time being. At age 81, I know that that will not
continue very long, no one knows how long.
But Sunday mornings have always
been special times for me. I have a couple of memories that enrich each Sunday.
This morning. I am there on the
patio, singing the psalms for Week 2 Sunday, in Latin, and out loud. A couple
of them even in Greek. And I think of women and men around the world using
these same words, probably not in Greek or Latin, probably in their own
languages, but the same words.
The same words. The mystery of
language. NPR this morning had a story about Native American people working to
keep alive the Crow language. Some Native American groups are down to fewer
than ten people who can still speak the language of the group.
A language can only exist in a
group of people. Words are more than just the sounds, and the sounds are more
than just the letters. Words float among the group. Words are spiritual.
The Latin and Greek are special to
me because they tie me to my early years preparing to be a priest, and to the
centuries of people who used those languages before my time. Very few people
these days have those experiences.
But more and more I am drawn to
recall experiences from my days in the seminary. We had no TV, no computers, no
cell phones, not even newspapers. Leisure for me, even when I was studying
theology in Teutopolis, Illinois, was walking around the small pond on the
property. That’s all I needed. One Sunday memory is Brother Adolph, a World War
II veteran, and apparently something of a war hero, though he never spoke about
that--in fact, he never spoke at all--flying a kite. On Sunday afternoon he
would get this kite way way up, sometimes even with a flashlight on it for when
it got dark. That was his leisure.
We could live that way because
other people were supporting us. The time came when we had to support ourselves
and the rest of the community, so I taught for thirty-plus years.
Early in my life the Second Vatican
Council came along and overturned so much of what I cherished. I did not regret
the overturning, in fact I promoted it, because I thought that that was what
God was calling us to. And I still think God was calling us to it. But, like so
many people in our world, we got away from some things that were very rich and
good for us, like leisure that did not depend on material gadgets.
Francis of Assisi struggled with
the tension between doing things for other people, like preaching, and going
away for time alone--leisure. He spent large blocks of time in such leisure. In
fact, he even wrote a small rule of life for hermitages. The rule suggested
that a hermitage should have four men, two of them mothers and two of them
sons. The two mothers would provide the necessities of daily living, like
getting and preparing food, for the two sons. After a period of time, the
mothers would change places with the sons.
I reflect that so much leisure in
history has depended on a subservient class. In Greece and Rome it was slaves
who provided the leisure for the people on top. In religious life, there were
lay brothers and sisters. Even in the seminary we had a cadre of lay brothers
who were making the place run: cooks, bakers, carpenters, plumbers, etc.
Brother Herb Rempe told me that at one time there were over 30 brothers in the
seminary at Teutopolis.
We have abolished the subservience
in our Order--even our General Minister in Rome, Michael Perry, signs himself
sometimes in official documents as “Fr. Michael Perry,” and other times as “Br.
Michael Perry.”
I am benefiting from another form
of leisure in my society: retirement. Some people dream of spending their
retirement traveling. I dream of spending mine sitting on Sunday mornings on a
patio, and walking around the area. And I try to keep busy most of the time by
doing other things. At the moment the other thing is working on a history of
our Province.
If we are ever to create a society
where everyone earns a living wage without destroying the world we live in, it
will help if we can do leisure without consuming stuff. There are elements in
our traditions that give us hints about how we might do that.
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