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| Carraroe, Ireland, home of Andrew Greeley's fictional character, Nuala Ann McGrail (Wiki Commons) |
I am not a Roman Catholic. I am a sometimes-kinda-sorta Episcopalian (Church of England) with Druid tendencies and New Thought understanding of how it all works; in addition, I operate via existential behaviors. So it is odd that Father Andrew M. Greeley is, for me, the revealer of infinite wisdom, as he has been since I read a column he wrote about Star Wars, long ago and far away―to be precise, in my apartment in a New York City high rise, 17th floor. The column, syndicated at the time, appeared in the New York Post, a rag I rarely read. At that moment, at the zenith of my unbelief in much of anything, Greeley captured me heart and soul with his insightful comments on that iconic movie, which was eliciting outrage from a great many clerics at the time. It has been a good, long time that I have been an avid fan of the writing of Father Andrew M. Greeley.
It is with the utmost sadness and distress that I admitted to myself this morning that the creator of stories I have loved so well for so long shall not, though he yet lives, offer me any more spirit-lifting, mind-engaging parables of the modern age and its relation to the numinous. His website has said so for months, but I refused to understand. Selfishly, I wanted more. Except for his accident two years ago, we’d have had another mystery novel from his pen by now, and I’d have eaten it whole, relished every word, every nuance of his lovable characters developed over the past 30 years or more.
No more Nuala Ann McGrail
I realized, finally, that there will be no more Nuala Ann McGrail mysteries, populated by the world-famous but self-effacing (while being altogether fierce) singer from Carraroe, County Galway and her husband and several children, one of them fey like Nuala Ann, and the wonderful wolfhounds, going now into the second and third generations from the original pair of savior dogs.
No more Mike Casey the Cop showing up in the Nuala books and in the luminous works about the tiny fresh-faced bishop in a Chicago Cubs jacket, the Rt. Rev. John Blackwood Ryan (“Call me Blackie”) and his just-retired boss, Sean Cardinal Cronin, who also starred in an early series by Greeley about the problems inherent in celibacy, and in human relationships in general.
No more one-offs, like the ultimate entry in modern mainstream fiction, Lord of the Dance.
And so, finally, I grieve, and feel compelled to acknowledge the gift while Greeley yet lives.
Moving house
I grieve, in the middle of my angst about finally getting to move into the house we bought in October, finally financed in December after we had danced to the unfortunate tune of an incompetent mortgage broker for six weeks, and which has been delayed by acts of God―snow and the vagaries of lawyers and builders―since then. It looks now as if my original extended estimate―Feb. 10―will be about right. We shall thus be denied a trip to London on the 9th to meet with Simon’s boss, the lovely man who made it possible for him to move and work here while the company remains in the U.S. We shall endure an extra week in the interim rented house, where light bulbs burning out cause major power shorts (the owners need to have that looked at!) and frighten the dog into hour-long shaking fits. The event doesn’t do much for me, either.
Father Greeley’s homily concluded with the phrase “we should never let the important interfere with the essential.”
Indeed. And so I suddenly got happier, as I began to ruminate on the fact that the to-do list often overwhelms the must-attend list. The house? It’s a to-do list thing.
The scourge of the to-do list
The to-do list, I realized (as so many others have before me, and will after) that the to-do list is how we become human doings rather than human beings. It is how parents become so convinced that their children have to do well that they forget to allow them to be well, to help them to be well.
It is how marriages become hollow, targeted only on acquiring houses, boats, cars, and trips, and not on cherishing the other person and the relationship itself.
It is how careers become things such as those execrable excuses for meaningful work carried out, and finally exposed, on Wall Street..the faux work of the tycoons and tycoon wannabes; their 'work' did not express stewardship for the world and its people. Not at all, at all.
Working the do-do list is how actors become idols rather than artists, how artists become caricatures instead of the bearers of cultural understanding.
The to-do list is how cultures become the sham found in most nations these days. Not just western ones; it’s too easy to point fingers at America.. Islam is just as much at fault for putting the to-do list first:
Item One; Make westerners accept Islam, regardless.Item Two: Repel all incursions into Islam of thought from other cultures.Etc.
Consider how different the world would look if it followed a must-attend list rather than checking off its to-do list. Would there have ever been a 9/11? Probably not. Regardless of who did it (and I am mainly persuaded it was an inside job), it wouldn’t have been carried out because the event fails, in every possible way, to attend to the welfare of anyone. It cannot actually even attend to the welfare of whoever did it and thought to profit from it in some way. There can be no profit in destruction. If there could, then the eternal quest would be not for order, but for chaos.
Appearances abound; truth, not so much
There may be a temporary appearance of profit in harmful deeds, from 9/11 to the BP blowout in the Gulf to trashing a co-worker whose job one covets…but appearances are allied with the to-do list. “What a success he is!” we may say. “Look at all he has done.” We do not say, “Look at all that he is.” Or even “Look at all he isn’t.” We don’t look at all at human beings; we simply look at human doings, and judge accordingly. Thankfully, even this semi-atheist is familiar with the phrase “Justice is mine, saith the Lord.”
And so it is. No human can mete out ultimate justice. The universe will do it in its own time, I say. (Others would say God does it.)
Meanwhile, our task―as human beings―is to attend to those things we must do:
- Care for others, not just about them.
- Do valuable work, whether or not for a paycheck.
- Balance our to-do list (it is, after all, necessary to vacuum the hallway sooner or later) with listening to the music of the universe, and gleaning what it can say about contributing what we can.
The judgment of the universe will be, I think, that Andrew M. Greeley is a brilliant teacher, whether he teaches through novels or homilies, through abundant life energy or in the less active moments of his current life.
And for that, and countless hours enjoying the universes he has created and mulling the spiritual food he offers so entertainingly, I thank him.
***
Dear Father Greeley,
I realize you have worked both lists for decades, and it is time for your must-attend list to be mainly about your own relationship to the numinous. And I thank you for all you have done for me for so long. But you must know: When I’ve finished my daily to-do list from here on, knowing I will lack a fresh Blackie Ryan or Nuala Ann book to please me, I will grieve. But I will also continue to thank you, and to commend your work to anyone I feel needs both a laugh and some spiritual instruction. You are a true mensch. I adore you. I wish you well.
Love,
Laura
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