Personal/Theological Notebook: Reading Küng Under a Peachy Sky
The sky turned an almost uniform shade of peach tonight at sundown. I don't think I'd ever quite seen anything like that before. Weaving my way through clumps of undergrads scattered around campus, I was spending the sunset hour reading over at the Courtyard, where the roses are finally growing back around the fountain. Father Fahey had given me a heads-up as he was reading Hans Küng's Memoirs that the first volume had a reference to the intervention on the charisms of the faithful that Cardinal Suenens had given at the Second Vatican Council, which I had been doing some work on for the dissertation. Küng mentions that he had written the bulk of the address to the rest of the bishops, and so I had fetched the tome from the library and was working through the relevant pages (and some irrelevant ones). I suddenly noticed how, as I'd turned toward the east and was angling the pages to catch the fading light, how all the page had gone peach, and so turned around to look at this unusual sky. Walking home shortly afterward, with the heat and thick, humid stillness, I found old instincts turning me toward the southwest, how back when I was a kid, a colour and an atmosphere like that might get me looking for the big storms coming up Tornado Alley. Nothing like that, mercifully, seems to be going on tonight, but it was certainly a colour worth noting.
I'm off in the morning to help Mike install the new countertop in their kitchen. Clearly there is a desperate need for hands.