I’m thinking today of Father Leander, an old Irish monk I knew when I was myself a monk.  You don’t meet many really holy people but you know them when you meet them.  He was one.  He was unwittingly and brilliantly creative with language but whether that came from his holiness or his Irishness I’m not quite sure.  He wrecked just about every idiomatic phrase in the English language, but always revealing a deeper truth.  As flat as a billiard ball.  They waited on us tooth and nail.  As safe as a house on fire.  Tomorrow is another yesterday.  The shortest day lasts a week.  He hit the hammer on the head. Once when out cycling with a companion they came across a sign that read No Road to the Left.  He interpreted it as No Road! To the Left! and they both crashed into the ditch.  He always saw things in a completely original way.   He taught me that there is always a deeper truth under appearances that cannot be reached by logic and analysis.  Will we meet him again in the great hereafter?  If there is a hereafter?  I do hope so.  Doubtless it will turn out there were many goats in sheep’s clothing and sheep in goat’s clothing.  


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