A note from the editor.

I joined Commonweal in 1988, and its two-week schedule has set the rhythm of my thinking, reading, writing, and social life ever since. Twenty-two times a year for fifteen years adds up to 330 issues of Commonweal. There have certainly been editors who have produced a good many more issues than that, and some less, but for me 330 issues seems just about right and just about enough.

At the end of this year, I will resign as editor, and take a nap. Paul Baumann, who has long served as excellent executive editor, has been chosen by the Commonweal board to become the excellent editor at the beginning of 2003.

My decision to move on has not been taken lightly, though as the end approaches I am feeling a remarkable lightness of being. The burden of doing what must be done and doing exactly what suits intellect and character is a paradoxical one. Some people have an affinity for making money or for doing good. My natural affinity is for analyzing, arguing, judging, and correcting, which makes editorial work for me a kind of doing, non-doing. Yes, there is a Zen of editing. But then paradox: these well-honed skills have a character-deforming quality as well. They take over. Novel reading drops out of the editor's life in favor of military analysis (yes, I actually have read a book on the Yugoslav military as it existed before the break-up) and the reading of poll results. Time for poetry is eclipsed (What, no Auden read this year!). Music is out. For me, editing demands silent concentration, not even a fluid and quiet Chopin may intrude. Writing is hellish, but leads to the greatest pleasure--rewriting. So after fifteen years of doing what I do best, I've noticed that my imagination has become a bit stunted; flights of Mozartian fancy are few and far between; the circle of good friends has not grown. Something different is required, thus my departure from the best job in the world.

Fortunately, the actual doing, redoing, and producing of Commonweal is a collaborative one. And in that quality we are and have been richly endowed by many skilled heads and hands. Most egregious errors are spotted before publication, though we always try to leave a few for readers' delectation (true, our Latin and French proofreading suffers from the departures of Bob Hoyt and Edward Skillin respectively, but our Spanish and Italian seem to be improving). We meet our deadlines; we wish the post office did as well. The technological revolution of personal computers and desktop publishing has caused us to retire scissors and paste pots, giving control freaks a virtual paradise of correcting and perfecting down to the wire. I leave these matters in very good hands.

When long-time readers ask me, "How is Commonweal doing?" they usually mean how are we doing financially. I report that cash-flow crises seem to be a thing of the past. The Commonweal Associates in an amazing and providential show of generosity always supply what is needed, with a dollar or two to spare. Our endowment drive, bolstered over the last two years by a matching grant, is slowly approaching its goal, but is still $170,000 short. Consider making a contribution. That too is a piece of the collaborative effort that keeps Commonweal going, and for which I am always deeply grateful.

But finally it is the Commonweal tradition itself that carries us along. It is a tradition in the Great Catholic Tradition and in the far newer American tradition. The stresses and struggles of these two traditions in conversation are what Commonweal has been about for almost eighty years. If neither church nor state seems at the moment to be in top-notch condition, fortunately the conversation goes on. I plan to remain a part of it.