ODonnel Tim - A view from the back pew: God, religion & our personal quest for truth

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It is often said that writing is a solitary, lonely experience. For me, writing is a solo endeavor to be sure, but it is rarely lonely.

But publishing? This is where the individual joins the team, where the soloist fuses with the symphony, where the lone wolf unites with the pack. And boy, was I was blessed with an incredible symphony of professionals who coordinated to give birth to the book youre now holding. For much of my adult life Ive been putting ink on paper, but Im as proud of what this team has produced as anything Ive been associated with; Im lucky to consort with the pros who made this happen.

First, Id like to thank Anne Barthel, my insightful, amazingly intuitive, and wickedly cool editor. Editing, of course, is improving the writers syntax, structure, and sentence formation, but it is so much more when done well. Annes uncanny ability to navigate my mind allowed her to go well beyond fixing my word problems and absolving my numerous sins of syntax; she grasped the potential of this book better than I had conceived at the start. Our collaborative effort turned into a relationship that has benefited me much more than the professional editing she gave to this project. She is a mentor, a writing guru, a pretty damn good shrink, and most importantly a cherished friend. Thanks, Anne, for putting up with my intensity, passion, and schizophreniaI couldnt have done this without you.

To Patricia Spadaroa real coach. I thank you for believing in the vision of this project and for keeping the team focused on priorities. Your encouragement and unwavering support was a source of great inspiration. You understand the process of writing and of giving birth to a book, and your enthusiasm for doing things the right way was a lighthouse that guided me through the unknown waters of getting a book ready to publish. I thank you for always demanding my best and not giving me a pass when you knew I could do betteryou were always right.

To Nigel Yorwerthif Patricia is the lighthouse, you are the powerhouse. Your mastery of the publishing world brought this book to market. Youre the quarterback who always called the right plays and the lens that somehow always kept the big picture in focus. Your leadership was invaluableI cant wait for our next project together.

Thanks to Nita Ybarra for an elegant and powerful cover design, to Alan Barnett for the page design, and to Karin Bilich for designing a website and blog even I can handle. (Check it out at AViewFromTheBackPew.com.)

To my kids, Kelly, Tim, and Taylor, for never complaining while your dad disappeared into the woods during his search for Truth. The time I spent on Timber Hill would not have been possible had you not been as trouble-free as youve been. You, more than anyone, allowed me the freedom to search. My only regret is my frequent separation from you. Thanks for being a source of strength and pride and for holding me accountableyou are the true blessings of my existence in this world.

To Lynn, my wife and my best friendthanks for always believing in my unconventional approach to life. Having a partner who swims against the flow must be difficult. Youve never tried to steer me to the mainstream and youve been my biggest supporter and cheerleader. With you the good times are always better and the bad times are only an illusion.

To my mom, my dad, my grandmother, and my three brothers. Thanks for shaping the foundation of a wonderful life. Dad, I miss you.

Thanks to my friends who encouraged me to write this book and who remained even when I got lost in the process.

To the Higher Power that guides my lifeIm grateful to have you riding shotgun. Anyone who has given birth to a creative project understands there is a moment in each creative session where the process goes beyond the capacity of your own mind; you accept and welcome the help that comes from beyond the borders of your self and marvel at the collaboration with something more than you. If I hadnt submitted to this power, this book would still be a dream. Once I gave into the fact that I wasnt going to write this book alone, it wrote itself.

To the readers of this book: In the end, this effort is most essentially dedicated to you. I applaud your courage to question and your dedication to seek answers. I know my conclusions may vary from yours and I hope yours may help shed new light on mine. I thank you for the trust youve placed in me, and my wish is that this story inspires you to seek until you find. I invite you to tell me what you think.

TIM ODONNELL owned and ran a daily newspaper publishing company and won dozens of newspaper publishing awards for excellence. He has also been an organizational consultant, university lecturer, and keynote speaker. In addition, he has led workshops and seminars on leadership and personal and organizational development. His unquenchable curiosity and continuing thirst for asking lifes big questions now keep him busy writing, blogging, speaking, and engaging others in meaningful dialogue.

Tim and his wife, Lynn, make their home in Kansas City and have three children. To learn more about Tim ODonnell and his work, visit www.AViewFromTheBackPew.com, where you can also find more resources for your journey of discovery and join the conversation.

ONE

DOCTRINE
AND DOGMA

TAKING MYSTERIES ON FAITH

A t Santa Maria del Popolo we went to confession every Friday. There was always anxiety amongst us boys as we waited to step into the box opposite Father Murphy. The girls had much less to fear because they didnt sin as much as we gross boys did; they didnt talk in class that much (a sin), they didnt lie to their moms as much (a sin), they never swore (another sin), and they hardly ever hit their little brothers (a very common sin). The girls were in a separate line, zipping in and out of the confessional, while our line nervously lingered, it seemed, for hours.

There was so much confession that it got repetitive. Sometimes we joked that we should do stuff just to have something new to tell the priest in the box. And there were no secrets in the pews; confessions and their corresponding penance were openly discussed. Wudja do? was the inevitable query while in line waiting to get into the box, Wudja get? while waiting after penance for everyone else to finish. A few Hail Marys and couple of Our Fathers were the norm, so when some knucklehead spent an unusual amount of time kneeling at the railing in front of the altar, we all knew a serious offensea big (mortal) sinhad been committed. Penances were compared, details shared, and stories embellished as we spent Friday mornings cleaning our souls for weekend Mass. Because, as we all knew, if you went to Communion on Sunday with a dirty soul, you would be in big trouble with God.

A SLICE OF AMERICAN PIE

Santa Maria del Popolo, or SMdP (So Many Dumb People, as we wisecracks called it), was in the heart of uptown Mundelein, Illinois, a white-flight haven of the early 60s named after George Cardinal Mundelein, Archbishop of Chicago from 1915 to 1939. Mundelein in the 60s was a quaint little hamlet where you could easily envision Wally and Beaver walking the tree-lined streets to school and back, happy and safe in an idyllic corner of a burgeoning suburbiaa perfectly portioned piece of American Pie. The tract housing looked as if the same builder had built every house; most houses were either boxy little ranches with three bedrooms or split-levels with the three bedrooms upstairs, kitchen, living room, and dining room on the ground floor, and a basement to boot. The streets were lined with saplings that would one day canopy the manicured quarter-acre square lots with shade and filled with kids on bikes zipping around in anticipation of their dads return each evening from their jobs in Chicago. Mundeleins founders must have anticipated the invasion of thousands of kids, because public parks were central to city planning. There was at least one park, inclusive of ball diamonds, swing sets, sandboxes, merry-go-rounds, slides, and monkey bars, within walking distance of every subdivision in town. A kid in any neighborhood could go to a park without having to cross one of the two busy streets, which were Hawley and Lake.