My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
The Police and The Clergy
There was a meeting between the Police Department and the clergy. It was not a bad idea. People are dying and killing themselves, or they are killing someone else. There is poverty and pain, no shortage of suffering. There are places where the work of Police and clergy overlap, and at other junctures they conflict. Talking seemed a good idea, except their ministers wanted to say they had no places to park their cars and the Police wondered how the clergy could endorse what the Department wanted to do. There is still every sort of crime and ill. There was, however, no real endorsement and parking is going to remain a concern. It was a meeting where just talking had to be seen as a favorable outcome. To expect more would have been inviting disappointment, anger, or increased depression.
Labels:
meetings,
pain,
perspective,
police,
poverty,
priesthood,
work
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