Seeking Authentic Voice

I have been so busy lately that I have literally had no time to reflect, let alone read and write. I have managed, more or less, to maintain my exercise routine. My hope is for both, mornings when I can read, reflect, write, and exercise. This means I need about three hours most mornings. Seriously, who has that kind of time while also working a full time job as a parish priest, being a wife and mom, and  having three dogs and two cats? Sigh. So I exercise most days and read and write as I am able. Life is full and good and I am not complaining, I am just honoring the urges within and my inability to satisfy the many diverse directions my life is pulled in. The philosophy book I am slowly making my way through has moved on from pondering the question of the "ultimate, that which one finds when one reaches the very heart of existence" to the idea of "being" and "becoming." Ultimate, according the various philosophers who have pondered this question ma...

A week ago I was immersed in a restful Pre-Advent retreat with two other clergy-women friends. The three of us decided we really needed some time away, time to rest and just be together. We brought in my Spiritual Director who offered us some gentle yet thought provoking reflections on Adventy-themes: emptiness, anticipation, vulnerability, waiting, fullness, birth. We went to a retreat center about two hours away, spent two nights there, appreciated someone else cooking the meals and cleaning up afterward. We drank tea, colored mandalas, prayed, walked, talked, enjoyed a glass of wine together. Of course, as usual, the return was full - each of us launched back into church life and family life and pre-holiday plans. I have barely been able to catch my breath. So it is, the life of a parish priest. I'm slowly getting back to the book on philosophy (Philosophy:Something to Believe In by Richard Paul Janaro, Glencoe Press,1975). I am determined to read the entire book and have a ...

 A few days ago I wrote about my pursuit into the study of philosophy. I am reading, for the first time, a book I purchased at least a decade ago. “Philosophy: Something to Believe In” was written by Richard Paul Janaro and it seems to be a text book for a community college course. It was published in 1975. The end of the first chapter summarizes his thesis: “Philosophy is good for humanity because it is the practice of asking questions and developing the art of reflective thinking in order to understand something about what we believe and why. Philosophy is the discipline of reflecting upon the consequences of human action and the sense of responsibility which the social nature of humanity seems to require. He posits the notion that many of our beliefs exist “just because we must have belief….The act of believing, he writes, is a form of experience bringing about its own peculiar and profound pleasures. Even the momentary anguish of confusion, of knowing what to...

"One could say that the true philosopher does not have to be a great and famous human being. There are thousands of philosophers living quietly among us. They tend to look very much like everyone else. They marry, have families, and hold jobs. They watch football on Sunday afternoons and drink beer." This quote from the first chapter of "Philosophy: Something to Believe In" won me over. It appears on page two and when I read it I thought, well all right then - one does not need to be Plato or Kierkegaard or Facault to be a philosopher - and thank goodness because I've read their writings and they are a little dense. Actually it is the next quote that got me thinking that I too am a philosopher. I mean I do watch a little football on Sunday's but I almost never drink beer. I might have a glass of wine now and then with dinner. Anyway, there's this idea: "..They do one more thing, a thing most people don't bother doing: they enjoy slipping ...

My seminary advisor and New Testament professor spent time "counseling" me in academics. He was the sort of man who could never look a person in the eye, always had his gaze to ceiling, as if in deep thought. This made conversing with him a little disconcerting. It was especially odd when he preached, his gaze ever heavenward.  I have a clear memory of him instructing the student body on the correct manner of receiving communion. "Never touch the bowl of the chalice. If you must touch it, guide it from the base of the stem...." Apparently we were touching the bowl and mucking it up with our finger prints... I remember him gazing to the ceiling while he told us off. In his office, cramped and small, sitting across the desk from him,  planning my academic career was no less bizarre. His eyes perpetually gazing some where beyond my head, as he made pronouncements about what classes I should take and why. He was a very well thought of and intelligent professor. He jus...