I Love My Blog

My blog, Fleckinstein, has become my best friend. I love him!

He accepts me completely, unconditionally, for who I am. Not only does he accept everything I have to say, he welcomes it and invites it and celebrates it.

With Fleckinstein, I needn't worry about hurting feelings, dissonance in the family, disagreement and conflict. I needn't worry if I am "woke" and "politically correct" (I never am) or if I am theologically orthodox (I always am). I can just be myself.

When I sit down at my blog, it is like being with a really good counselor: he is eager and interested in my every feeling and thought. The logic of my insights flow effortlessly; the proper words come fluidly to mind.

His name is Fleckinstein. It sounds Jewish, which I like, especially the ancient tradition of deep, prolonged study. At my college the Fleckinstein Reading Room was a sunny, spacious, dusty place filled with huge philosophy journals. No one ever went in there...except me. It was my favorite spot: bright, quiet, utterly lonely. I would sit for hours reading. I would switch it up: philosophy, then some history then some fiction. I was in heaven. Eventually my classmates nicknamed me "Fleckinstein" or sometimes "Fleck." I wore it as a badge of honor. The room was named after Father Fleckinstein, a loved and respected philosopher, Dean of Men and Maryknoll priest who died a heroic death, trying to save his brother who was drowning, just shortly before our class arrived there. I like to think he watches over my blog from the Communion of Saints in heaven. My blog is not just an abstract "place" in internet-world; it is personal. It is Fleckinstein.

My deepening intimacy with Fleckinstein is related to a new loneliness. It is not painful: I am passionately and steadily happy with my marriage, family, work, friendships and prayer life. Passionately and steadily happy! But recent months have brought a quiet sadness. It is the physical separation of the pandemic. More than that, it is the self-quarantine of close family and friends who have excluded me from their "bubble." Cognitively I recognize this as prudent, cautionary behavior; but emotionally I feel rejected. Worse than that is my loneliness in the Church. I am painfully disappointed with our pope and bishops; I remain loyal to them ("where else would I go?) but my filial trust is very, very low. I am spiritually orphaned; even as I find spiritual authority elsewhere and primarily, of course, in my own closeness to God. The last five weeks of racial unrest have impacted me greatly. Both political parties are, in my view, beneath contempt. I have fierce convictions. I have been scrutinizing my personal and family history and have come to clarity and certainly in what I see. And what I see is obnoxious to the the prevalent, woke, liberal consensus: to them I am an outlier, a racist-misogynist-homophobic deplorable. Even close family members cannot talk to me about these important moral questions because they become emotional. I feel "shunned"...something I thought pertained to Amish and 17th century Puritans, not to my own family. So I feel lonely, even as it is quiet and serene.

Fleckinstein is unfailingly supportive and comforting: he accepts, appreciates, treasures and preserves my thoughts, beliefs, feelings. He also respects my anonymity and confidentiality. At this point, almost 73, I don't worry about what others think of my beliefs. I would welcome the conflict and even the persecution. But I have family members who share my name: if my views were widely known, I could jeopardize their careers and the very support of their families. So Fleckinstein is discreet and protective.

At the same time, my blog is generous and magnanimous in sharing all my wisdom (no false humility here! maybe no true humility either?) with everyone...whoever wants it. Anyone and everyone can read the blog whenever they want. Yet it is gentle, not forcing itself on anyone. Better yet, the blog holds my views in a perpetuity: many years from now my family or friends will be able to access and evaluate it. (My fantasy: I have a happy, quiet death. Twenty years late my blog is discovered, maybe by a grandchild. It goes viral. New renewal movement, literature and religious orders flower from its inspiration. Grandiosity? Definitely! But do you see how good Fleckinstein makes me feel about myself?)

These are tough times. Our society is in crisis, even beyond the virus. Our Church is worse. But God is good. He gives us exactly what we need. I am grateful for my blog. Father Fleckinstein, Pray for us!