“The Invisible Man,” one of G.K. Chersterton’s classic Fr. Brown mystery stories, revolves around the murder of a man alone in his home, his body removed and disposed of, while four men stood guard, watching the only entrance. When questioned whether anyone has gone up or down the stairs to the building, the officer responds, “Nobody’s been in here, sir, you can take it from me.” G.K. Chesterton’s great detective, Fr. Brown, naturally, is able to figure out how the crime was done and who is responsible. [Spoiler Alert: for the sake of those who are curious enough to wonder what the solution is, but not curious enough to find and read the story, the solution can be found at the end of this entry.] In revealing the solution, Fr. Brown observers, “When those four quite honest men said that no man had gone into the Mansions, they did not really mean that no man had gone into them. They meant no man whom they could suspect of being your man. A man did go into the house, and did come out of it, but they never noticed him.” As another great detective, Sherlock Holmes, might have commented, “you see, but you do not observe.” (from “A Scandal in Bohemia”)
The Catholic Theological Society held their annual conference in Cleveland the weekend of June 10-13. They celebrated Mass Saturday evening at St. Malachi, with Fr. Bryan Massingale, President of the Society presiding and preaching.
During his homily, Fr. Massingale recounted his experience earlier that day. For his morning run, he decided to run from the hotel downtown across the bridge to see where St. Malachi was and get some sense of the area. He spoke of finding a man “sleeping under the arch,” lying on a makeshift cardboard “bed.” He noticed that the man was barefoot — “and I began weeping.”
I was not at the Mass; someone told me the story the next day. As I listened, Fr. Massingale’s encounter was very familiar to me; I could picture the scene clearly in my mind. It was easy for me to recognize from experience why the man was barefoot — probably not because someone had stolen his shoes, but because he took them off and put them under his head for a pillow.
What moved me was Fr. Massingale’s tears. Like the Good Samaritan, when he came upon him, “he was moved with compassion at the sight.” (Luke 10:33) For Fr. Massingale, the man was not, could not be invisible.
When we come to St. Malachi, how much to we see? Are some people invisible?
[Spoiler Alert solution: "Nobody ever notices postmen somehow," he [Fr. Brown] said thoughtfully; “yet they have passions like other men, and even carry large bags where a small corpse can be stowed quite easily.”]
Seeing Through Other People’s Eyes
“The Invisible Man,” one of G.K. Chersterton’s classic Fr. Brown mystery stories, revolves around the murder of a man alone in his home, his body removed and disposed of, while four men stood guard, watching the only entrance. When questioned whether anyone has gone up or down the stairs to the building, the officer responds, “Nobody’s been in here, sir, you can take it from me.” G.K. Chesterton’s great detective, Fr. Brown, naturally, is able to figure out how the crime was done and who is responsible. [Spoiler Alert: for the sake of those who are curious enough to wonder what the solution is, but not curious enough to find and read the story, the solution can be found at the end of this entry.] In revealing the solution, Fr. Brown observers, “When those four quite honest men said that no man had gone into the Mansions, they did not really mean that no man had gone into them. They meant no man whom they could suspect of being your man. A man did go into the house, and did come out of it, but they never noticed him.” As another great detective, Sherlock Holmes, might have commented, “you see, but you do not observe.” (from “A Scandal in Bohemia”)
The Catholic Theological Society held their annual conference in Cleveland the weekend of June 10-13. They celebrated Mass Saturday evening at St. Malachi, with Fr. Bryan Massingale, President of the Society presiding and preaching.
During his homily, Fr. Massingale recounted his experience earlier that day. For his morning run, he decided to run from the hotel downtown across the bridge to see where St. Malachi was and get some sense of the area. He spoke of finding a man “sleeping under the arch,” lying on a makeshift cardboard “bed.” He noticed that the man was barefoot — “and I began weeping.”
I was not at the Mass; someone told me the story the next day. As I listened, Fr. Massingale’s encounter was very familiar to me; I could picture the scene clearly in my mind. It was easy for me to recognize from experience why the man was barefoot — probably not because someone had stolen his shoes, but because he took them off and put them under his head for a pillow.
What moved me was Fr. Massingale’s tears. Like the Good Samaritan, when he came upon him, “he was moved with compassion at the sight.” (Luke 10:33) For Fr. Massingale, the man was not, could not be invisible.
When we come to St. Malachi, how much to we see? Are some people invisible?
[Spoiler Alert solution: "Nobody ever notices postmen somehow," he [Fr. Brown] said thoughtfully; “yet they have passions like other men, and even carry large bags where a small corpse can be stowed quite easily.”]