Today’s first reading is from Job 1, about all the misfortunes that happened to Job. Servant after servant came to tell Job of losing everything, and their “line” is, “I alone have escaped to tell you.” And Job responds with,
“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
I am reminded of several random thoughts here that I hope will be somewhat cohesive.
*the lector for daily Mass, coincidentally, happened to be the October featured “Meet a Reader” that will appear in this weekend’s edition of The Catholic Post. You’ll just have to check back later this week to see who it is, but suffice to say she is an excellent lector. I always think when she is the lector, “Word on Fire,” because she reads in a very deep way (for lack of a better word, not “drahmatic” but moving and heartfelt–it’s hard to let your mind wander during her reading). You know you are hearing the Word of the Lord. I had arrived a bit late for Mass (not that that ever happens to me! hmm), so the reading has just started, but I was instantly drawn into the narrative.
*Job, scripture tells us, “committed no sin nor offered any insult to God.” I think that is more difficult than anything when bad things happen. Who can say they never complain to God? I know I am extremely prone to this, for small things and big things.
*A suggestion for your Ipod: (and it happens to be on my running playlist), Blessed Be Your Name is a great song by the CCM band Tree 63, a meditation of sorts on this passage from Job.
*I Alone Have Escaped to Tell You: My Life and Pastimes
is the title of the excellent memoir by Ralph McInerny, who died last year. He was a personal hero of mine and I wrote about him several times in my blogging life, so I’ve mined one of those old posts to share:
I met him once many years ago, when my husband and I were first married. McInerny gave a speech at Bradley University, and one of the hosting professors invited us to the after-speech gathering at his house. I brought along a super chocolate cake. It was good, with a chocolate-sour cream ganache frosting–now where is that recipe?
McInerny praised it by saying it was the “most chocolatey chocolate cake” he had ever tasted. My husband, the philosopher in the family (by trade, degree, and temperament), said this was the highest compliment given by a philosopher. McInerny agreed, and we all had a good laugh.
Several years ago my husband presented a paper at a conference at Notre Dame. I tagged along with the two children we had at the time. McInerny was one of the organizers, and even though I saw him walking around the conference, I was always too shy to re-introduce myself and tell him how much I admired him. Usually I am pretty bold about introducing myself to people. Now I wish I had.
How he discusses writing in I Alone Have Escaped to Tell You is brilliant. He takes the craft of writing seriously but not too seriously. He speaks of it being a discipline and work, and the luck/serendipity involved in his success.
He has referred to Anthony Trollope, one of my favorite authors, at least three times in the few chapters I have read. He and/or his family regularly spent several years, and weeks of others, in Europe. He is a faithful Catholic family man with a large family. What’s not to love?