Talking on the Plane

When the seatbelt light was turned off, I unbuckled and asked the fellow beside me if I could trouble him to get up. He was gracious, of course, but he asked if I would mind if he looked at my book while I was gone. No one has ever asked that before. 

I had noted that he had a Hebrew Bible and had been reading it. When I returned, he thanked me. The book was Walker Percy’s novel, The Moviegoer; he told me of a college trip (some decades ago) when he almost got up the courage to visit Percy. He didn’t know the novel; I told him that Percy, a southern Catholic writer, had appreciative insights about the role of Jews in the South. For instance, Percy takes their survival through millennia as a sign from God. One of his characters (in another novel) marvels over this survival and cries (naming ancient enemies of the Jews), “Where are the Hittites?”

He then surprised me by citing recent archeological discoveries about the Assyrians. He then touched my heart by saying he had been taking care of his late father’s library. I learned his father had been a military chaplain. The care with which he was treating his father’s books seemed pious and fitting. He took many of them to the synagogue. “You know synagogues have vaults for burying books?” he asked me. “I was taking them so many, they finally said, No more!” He had found fitting homes for many of the significant volumes. He treasured for himself his father’s sermons.

I had told him I was a Christian theologian. He told me he was a neurologist. We talked about that field—I said that when my wife’s brain tumor was found, I had thought, and I still think, that were I to have another life I would love for it to be in neurology. We both lamented the natural tendency for doctors to focus on that one body part in which they are expert. He resists that as much as he can. I told him about Susan’s neurologist in New York City—it turned out that he had studied under him. We shared our admiration.

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I often fly with hardly a word to the people around me. This reticence, perhaps, keeps me from seeing divine gifts. I’m glad he asked to look at my book.

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Out & About. The Good Books & Good Talk seminar this Sunday, January 15, will discuss the aforementioned Moviegoer by Walker Percy. Anyone who reads the book is welcome to participate in the conversation, which is from 5 to 6:30 pm at Incarnation in Dallas. We meet on the 2nd floor of the education building.

I teach a five-session course on Christian Ethics, which will meet monthly through May, in each month on the third Saturday. The first class is January 21, from 9 a.m. to noon. If you are interested, contact Erica Lasenyik: .


Corduroy

Like many others who live in blessedly temperate climates, I have a few clothes that are fitting for cold weather but seldom worn. Recently we had our winter in Dallas—it lasted about four days—and I pulled out some old corduroy pants. Although but lightly worn, they are very old, being what was sold by L. L. Bean in the latter portion of the previous century.

And my, were they noticed! The barista at the Green Giant coffee shop: “Like those pants.” The person who took me to a dining table: “Nice pants.” A middle-aged person who greeted my mother as we left her church said to me: “I like your style.”

Style? Moi? These are not comments I am used to receiving! I know enough to be gracious, but in my heart I know it’s not true. I don’t have a sense of style—I just hate to throw things away. And I think: if a person just hangs onto anything long enough it will seem new again.

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Yet that also is not true. I have a very well made, 20-year-old car, but I know that at some point I will have to let it go. It is never becoming new again. Likewise I have a body—it’s triple the age of my car, and at some point I will have to lay it down also. In this world, the cyclical return of old fashions does not reveal the truth about things in general.

Nonetheless it does expose a longing. Our hearts have a longing that, thank God, is based in a reality that is greater than this world. Saint Paul writes in Romans that the whole creation awaits the revelation of the children of God. Jesus himself has taught us (not to mention being the first examplar of this truth) that our bodies themselves will rise out of death to life. God will hang onto us long enough for us to be new again.

That, I think, is a happy thought for the beginning of the year of our Lord 2023.

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Out & About in 2023: Holy Trinity Church in Garland is having a study during the Epiphany season on my little book A Post-Covid Catechesis. The study will be weekly on Wednesdays at 7 p.m., with the first session January 11. I will be with them that evening and visitors are welcome. We will be discussing the first chapter that evening.

There’s more on “post-pandemic catechesis” on the diocesan website: https://edod.org/resources/articles/a-post-covid-catechesis-book/.

The Good Books & Good Talk seminar on Sunday, January 15, will discuss The Moviegoer by Walker Percy. Published in 1961, this novel established Percy as a Southern Catholic writer to be reckoned with. Anyone who reads the book is welcome to participate in the conversation, which is from 5 to 6:30 pm at Incarnation in Dallas.

Ethics class at the Stanton Center. I teach a five-session course on Christian Ethics, meeting in Dallas on third Saturdays starting January 21, at 9 a.m. If you are interested, contact Erica Lasenyik: .


 

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The Rev. Canon Victor Lee Austin. Ph.D., is the Theologian-in-Residence for the diocese and is the author of several books including, "Friendship: The Heart of Being Human" and "A Post-Covid Catechesis.: