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.
Monday, August 3, 2015
Seeing Bartimaeus
In the story of Bartimaeus, the bishop had thought Jesus' friends had not understood and so they tried to protect him from this shouting blind man. This Sunday, the priest thought it more central to see them leading the blind man forward. They were his advocates. Actually, they had done both. Followers do not always understand, but sometimes they do. We get in the way, but sometimes we do not stay there.
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