Thoughts from reading, quoting:
"I wish I'd had your head at my age; I would have spared myself many mistaken turns," said my father."You, mistaken turns, Pro? Frankly, I can't picture you ever imagining a mistaken turn." [said Oliver]
"That's because you see me as a figure, not a human being. Worse yet: as an old figure. But there were. Mistaken turns, that is. Everyone goes through a period of traviamento - when we take, say, a different turn in life, the other via. Dante himself did. Some recover, some pretend to recover, some never come back, some chicken out before even starting, and some, for fear of taking any turns, find themselves leading the wrong life all life long." (call me by your name, by Andre Aciman, p. 99)
I fear for those I know that never come back or that lead wrong lives all life long. My heart aches for some... I know. Then, I wonder about myself - what turns, wrong turns, unrecognized beacons, misplaced enchiridion. What might have been, and what will be. One only knows...
Then, how many parishioners and general people view those in Holy Orders as... figures, not human beings? Sets up a dynamic that when reality encroaches, disappointment and disillusionment set in. It doesn't make life easy for the cleric, either. It can be a lonely life.
