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Today (21 December) is the Feast of Saint Thomas the Apostle, commonly known as "Doubting Thomas." In honour of the apostle's feast, I set out to use the word "indubitable" as many times as I could (in court) today. I not only succeeded in fitting it into several sentences, I got extra points of using "indubitability" once. My clerk, who is smarter by half than I will ever be, caught on at about the third usage. But she is a Roman Catholic and they tend to be more aware of saints days than are normal folk.
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is it too late to use indubitatively once, perhaps at home?
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formerly known as etaoin...
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is it too late to use indubitatively once, perhaps at home?
That would depend a lot on who's home.
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ah ~ and so we get another eponymous verb, "to Thomas"!
In England, this was a day of charity, when the poor women went a "Thomasing" or begging.
[/obligatory word post]
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Are you saying +Blackie Ryan+ ain't normal?
He would reply, "Indubitably."
For those of you unfamiliar with this character, get thee to the library and look for the Father Blackie (and Bishop Blackie) novels by Andrew Greeley. Formualistic, ritualistic, and most unrealistic, but I like them.
TEd
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....and most enjoyable to read as the storm rages outside!
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What do you like about them, Ted?
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Most of the Fr. Ryan novels are locked rooom mysteries. I am lousy at figuring out whodunit, perhaps because I read really quickly and rely on the author to tell me whodunit (perhaps this is another way of saying I can be lazy about thinking?)
The rest of Fr. Greeley's fiction tends to be very emotionally uplifting (preachy at times), and filled cover to cover with the kind of people you just want to be friends with. The biggest problem I see is that he portrays only a privileged class and does not delve into the problems of the blue-collar Catholic trying to deal with, for example, the Church's outrageous views on birth control. H9ow does a Polish-surnamed auto worker in Hammtramk deal with seven children in a three-bedroom row house with one bathroom? Note I am not picking on Poles, just using that ethnic group as an example.
While I was raised RC, never in my life did I experience anything like the sense of community that permeates Greeley's books, and I doubted the reality he sets forth. In fact, I once wrote to him to tell him of a chronology problem that had raised its ugly head one of his books, and on the side I asked him if this sense of a community actually existed in the Catholic areas of Chicago. He responded with a very gracious note saying they would fix the chronology problem in the next edition, avowing that his books reflected the spiritual life of Catholics in the Chicago area, and lamenting the fact that I did not have that experience growing up.
He's a pretty interesting person, and I've often wondered what JP II thinks of him. Can't be too good.
TEd
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He responded with a very gracious note Wow! [impressed e]
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Fr. Greeley's...
I take it by the "Fr." that this gent is a priest.
Perhaps his view of the Chicago Christian society is coloured by his exposure to his, what's the best word, "flock" or "constituents."
In my experience, I've never known a priest to walk about his parish meeting new folks, or mixing with the crowd. They'll drop by somebody's place if invited, pop in to the hospital to give last rites if requested, but that walk-by you see on television just doesn't happen.
My point is, as nice as he is, maybe his view of the community is limited by what he is exposed to.
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Bel writes: "In my experience, I've never known a priest to walk about his parish meeting new folks, or mixing with the crowd. They'll drop by somebody's place if invited, pop in to the hospital to give last rites if requested, but that walk-by you see on television just doesn't happen."
How sad. I try to be a bit more visible/available to my parishioners, despite having a whole other career on top of being their vicar. That is why you can find me at parties at people's houses, the school play, the ceremony where the kid becomes an Eagle Scout, occasional ball games and the like. And I invite newcomers to go out to lunch near their place of work, so as to get to know them in that manner.
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the priest in my childhood parish did (walk around, etc)
or at least some of them did.. Fr Malone like a good game of pick up basketball, and Fr. Netter socialize too.
my parent belonged to the Catholic Family Movement.. it involved learning real and practical solutions to surving with 5 kids on a blue collar working salery.
one summer, fr netter, the clergy involved with CFM, rented a large summer house in the hamptons (YES, THE HAMPTONS)
he invited all them families in the CFM to spend some time there.
husbands and wives and kids came on the weekend, monday morning, all the hubbies went back to city to get to work, and the house was filled with kids, wives and 1 priest.
boy do i have fond (funny) memories!one day we all piled into the Doyels station wagon.. about 17 kids--aged from infant to 17 or so..
and went to the beach.. on the front bench were my mother (who was fully gray haired by age 30, and now 10years past that.) mrs. Obrien was there too (she was in her 30's, pregnant--very pregnant) with her 4th kid, but could have passed for 22 or 23.
the back of the car was stuffed with wall to wall kids (no seat belt laws in those day!)
we stopped for gas on the way home.. the gas attendent looked at my mother, looked at fr. netter (in street cloths, not with a collar or cassock) looked a Mrs. Obrien, and the at all the kids.. his eyes nearly popped out of his head..
we kids immediately became obnoxious.. and started to call out. Father, father, can you buy ice cream.. they sell icecream here.. please can we have ice cream, please father?
the parent weren't much better.. the summer house had a flag pole and one day the 'flag' was a pair of boxer shorts.. and we posted a sign that we were going to have a intigration rally on the weekend. --that actualy had the cops coming to the door.. we thought it was funny. the neighboors diddn't! (it was a very good lesson for all of us kids..about how pervasive prejudice is.)
Father Doughetty was another priest who was active. we had him over for dinner once.. he came from a large family too.
we started out on best behaviour, but we soon realized fr. neal (first name corneilus) was used to boarding house reaches, and 'played well' and soon it was the usually casual atmosphere of a normal dinner.
i did grow up, some what, in a catholic community. the parish had dances for the kids, (so we had something to do) and dances for the adults (new years, so no one had to drive, and not too much drinking would be done) and the priest were not just in the parish hall, but members of the neighborhood.
(and once when an exchange student form egypt came too early for the start of term (fordham university) he was directed to the local parish by someone in the university, and the parish priest, (fr malone as recall) called my parents, and we ended up putting him up for a weekend..
(poor man!) i am sure he was middle or upper middle class in egypt, (after all he has enough money to come to the university, airfair, tution, etc) and we were barely middle class (we had a 7 room (4 bedroom) apartment, but it was a 5th floor walk up, and we only had one bath!-- what an introduction to live in america.. we treated him as family, not as a guest..
ei, here is the kitchen, here is the stove, you want breakfast, make it yourself.. the only meal you get cooked for you in this house is dinner, and if you cook something for breakfast (eggs for instance) clean up after yourself!
the parish was a large one.. (the parochial school over stuffed with kids) but the priest new must of us kids by name, (or they at least knew our last name and who are parents were..
-'YOU there--the reilly kid.. which one are you? (helen, father..)
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> They'll drop by somebody's place if invited,
In the early 70s, my Dad's Anglican vicar dropped by home without waiting to be invited, to let Dad know that he didn't actually have to come to church, he could just make his contributions by mailing in a cheque.
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Sounds a little like my last experience with the church.
Me: Single parent who's ex has emptied their bank-account, living on a receptionist's salary.
I got my request for the "dīme" (pronounced dim in French) - a yearly fee we pay to the church. It was supposed to be 60$ per household and 10$ per head in the household, so seventy dollars in my case.
I called the church and explained my situation; I barely had enough money for food in those "peanut-butter" days (feed the baby, and a slice of peanut-butter bread for me.) The priest kindly suggested that I could sell one of my possessions to get the money right away.
Mind you, this was the same priest who told me that I couldn't get an annulment on my mariage just because my husband was cheating on me, on drugs and threatening me with a switchblade.
I realize this is probably not typical, but our experiences are what they are.
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Much respect, ma belM - you've survived tough times that would have made many break, and have come though it with increased humanity and wisdom. You're lovely. :)
So is our own exceptional padre here - but grrrrr, about too many other priests I have encountered it is probably better I keep a discreet silence :O
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>Me: Single parent who's ex has emptied their bank-account, living on a receptionist's salary.
Coincidentally, when this happened to my Dad, he was a single parent raising 3 kids, after his ex had split, and had tried to clean him out (Fortunately, her parents prevented it).
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When one thinks of a spouse abandoning another, it is probably cultural to assume that it is the man who leaves the woman. When the reverse is true, it seems somehow more noteworthy.
Hence, the Kenny Rogers song of a few years ago:
"You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille
With four hungry children and a crop in the field.
I've had some bad times,
I've lived through some sad times,
But this time the hurtin' won't heal.
You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille."
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I know I posted this a while back but a search turns up no results.
Back when California was getting ready to dump Grey Davis, a friend of mine had a bad dream. In that dream Schwartzenegger and Diane Feinstein were running neck and neck for the governorship, and, in fact, ended up exactly tied. Under the screw constitution in California, a tie vote (according to this friend's dream) is broken by taking a poll among the eared seals off the California coast. My friend woke up screaming, "You picked a Feinstein to lead me, you seals."
TEd
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