“In between lectures, panels, and papers feeding the mind with philosophical fare, the conference presenters found themselves around a table enjoying a common meal. Among these academics of diverse creeds and professional interests sat one unusual philosopher. In most respects, I am told, he was as usual as philosophers can be, but he had the curious habit of asking profound and unsettling questions without the slightest pretension – questions that sought after great rooms of truth without heed for elephants standing in the way. On this occasion, the philosopher’s question came by way of a personal anecdote:
“It was a day like any other. The philosopher was walking down a crowded avenue accompanied by a priest friend of his. As they walked, they began to notice a commotion on the side of the street to their left. A large crowd had gathered, joined by an alarming silence and a low anxious murmuring. The philosopher and the priest ran up to the crowd, weaving between faces dazed, pained, and blanched. Emerging into the center of the scene, their worst fears were confirmed at the sight of a woman’s body, broken and bleeding, on red-stained pavement. She had jumped, but her body had proved more resilient than she had anticipated. Half-conscious, she moaned in the throes of death.”
In a recent commentary, Brother Dominic Mary Verner, O.P., reflected on one of the offerings of philosopher W. Norris Clarke, S.J.
To access Br. Dominic Mary’s complete post, please visit:
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment