In my retirement, I
have been blessed to have found a hobby that I enjoy and which is very different
from the life I lead as a teacher. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my life as a
teacher and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
Now, I spend a fair
amount of time in my basement scroll sawing; that is, making “pictures“ out of
wood. The alone-time affords me the opportunity to “contemplate the verities”.
A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting in the faculty room
at Ignatius, having a pleasant conversation with Steve Lord. For those of you
who haven’t been around Ignatius since 1999, Steve teaches in the Religious
Studies Department. In earlier blogs, I speculated about who might be the
“iconic” teachers filling the void of some of the greats of bygone eras. Steve
falls well within such a sphere.
In my conversation with Steve, as I was struggling to
remember a name-from-the-past, I mentioned that a sharp memory is one of the
assets sacrificed as payment for the privilege of growing old. My compensation,
however, is a certain level of “wisdom”*…”sign posts” along the road of life
that hopefully appear when needed. (Not a brag; this “wisdom” is just knowledge
gleaned from experience over a whole lot of life.)
At this point, many other “young” teachers would have
excused themselves saying their phone was ringing or they just remembered that
they had to prepare a test for the next class. I speak from experience because
that’s what I did when I was a young man in the company of old-timers back in my
day.
Not Steve. Instead, he asked me what I had learned.
Given fair warning, I could have rattled off several tidbits, but I was so
caught off guard by that invitation to expound, that all I could come up with
was not to judge others. In the Spalding-Raispis List of
Cliches to Live By, it is written “View everyone’s motives in the best
possible light.” To quote Sydney J. Harris, “It is hard to weigh the faults
of others without putting your thumb on the scale.” Again, Steve didn’t just
stare, or argue. Rather, he seemed to agree, or, at least, consider that tenet
as viable.
As I thought about our conversation, I was more and more
impressed by his reaction. Steve was born and raised in Texas and became a
captain in the marines. (Perhaps he still is in the reserves, but that I don’t
know.) He saw action in Operation Desert Storm in the early ‘90’s, and
afterwards he and his family came to Chicago when he received a scholarship to
study Theology at the University of Chicago.
Steve told me that he
had wanted to be a teacher which prompted the question, “Why religion instead of
some other discipline?”. Here’s was his response: “After my war
experience, I needed to make sense of the world and the confusing existence of
profound evil in a good world. I was swept away by the wisdom of the Church
fathers and the richness of scripture. My love for theology continues to
grow.”
I can see a common element between Steve’s quest and
mine. We both seek truth. I have a feeling that he’s better at it than I
am.
Merry Christmas and
Happy New Year to you and your
family.
