Tuesday, December 25, 2007

FAKE DOG,
REAL LIFE


[I have writen a Christmas story for the past 14 years in memory of a Redemptorist priest I was stationed with named Father John Duffy. He used to write a Christmas story every year for his niece in Boston. Mentioning at breakast that he had just finished his Christmas story, I asked if I could read it. He hesitated, but I pushed and that's how I found out about his custom of writing a Christmas story for his niece. He wasn't a good typist, so I retyped it on computer. The following year he came with a hand-written Christmas story and asked if I would type it up for him. Great story. Then I was changed to Ohio and that December 24th we got the notice that "Duff" had died. So in memory of "Duff" I've been writing a Christmas story every year. People have come up to me afterwards and said, "I don't get it." After saying, "Oops," or "Sorry", I say, "Well, at least I hope you get THE Christmas story." So here is # 14, entitled, "Fake Dog, Real Life."]

Once upon there was this fake dog. At first, it didn’t like being a fake dog – but that was its destiny. That was its life. In fact, this fake dog is still around – while real dogs come and go.

And this time of the year, Christmas, is his favorite time.

This fake dog is a golden retriever. It’s about 30 inches high – and 12 inches wide. It weighs about 45 pounds. So it’s heavy. It’s made mostly of wood and shellac – lots of shellac.

And like every dog, it is not an it. He has a name. In fact, because several people owned this dog, he has had four names down through the years: Ginger, Woody, Doggy, but that was only for a short time, and right now, Louis.

Two times he was a Christmas gift. Life with the first two owners was a joy. Now, with his third owner, life was not too good at first. Then Christmas came and times really changed for the better.

So let me tell you the story about Ginger, then Woody, then Doggy and now Louis.

Robby was the youngest of four kids – three boys and a girl. The girl, Becky, was the second youngest.

The Nance family always had a dog – as far back as anyone could remember. When Robby was about 4 – their dog at that time was a golden retriever named Buster. And Buster was a buster. He could knock Robby over every time – especially when little 4 year old Robby tried to climb on him. He would bark too much, but everyone got used to that. He would slide too much on the tile kitchen floor of the Nance home – but everyone got used to that too.

But when Buster died very suddenly – nobody in the Nance house got used to it. Buster was only 9 years old. This really wiped out little Robby. It was his first real experience of loss. It was his first experience of death.

Mr. and Mrs. Nance decided they better get another dog – and so they bought Buster-Two – also a golden retriever – and Buster-Two brought back joy and smiles into the Nance family’s home – but especially to Robby.

This lasted for three years – when Buster-Two broke loose one day from Robby and shot out into the street and was killed by a car.

“Woo!” This was déjà vu all over again.

Robby’s parents decided, “If we get another dog, we won’t name it “Buster-Three.”

They held off getting a new dog for almost six months. They didn’t want to go through this a third time. Besides all the kids were now in school. And nobody but Robby ever rushed to take the dog out for his walks and to do his doody each day.

It was December. Robby kept asking, “Is there any chance for us to get a new dog for Christmas?”

All was solved when Mr. and Mrs. Nance were visiting some friends, the Trevers, for a Christmas party around December 15th. There it was – a beautiful fake dog – just inside their good friend’s home. It was a wonderful, beautiful, maintenance free golden retriever – fake dog. Cost, they found out, $195 dollars – made mostly of wood, epoxy, resin and shellac – lots of shellac.

“But would Robby like a fake dog?” Mrs. Nance said to Mr. Nance.

“Of course,” said Mr. Nance to Mrs. Nance. “You heard Robby complain that he was the one who always got stuck having to take Buster-One and then Buster-Two out to do his doody every morning and night – especially when it was cold outside.”

So they bought a fake dog for Robby – hoping he would like it – knowing, “Well, at least this dog won’t run away. This dog won’t die. This dog won’t break hearts. And this dog doesn’t have to go to the bathroom.”

Surprise! Robby loved it when he unwrapped it and saw it on Christmas morning.

He took off his Raven’s hat and put it on him. He put a scarf he didn’t like that he got from his grandma around his neck – and immediately named him, “Ginger!”

Being so heavy, Robby realized he couldn’t carry Ginger into the kitchen, down the cellar, into his bedroom, which he shared with his two brothers – all three who complained their sister had her own room. So Robby decided Ginger must be kept next to his favorite chair – in the living room – where he sat while watching television.

Ginger ended up loving this – not because of what Robby watched on TV – but because of what Mr. Nance watched on TV late at night – the old movies, movies like Casablanca and Key Largo – movies without commercial breaks. Ginger hated commercials. Who ever heard of talking dogs or talking ducks?

Ginger became a neat looking piece of furniture and whenever relatives or friends came over, they always loved to pet Ginger or make comments about Ginger.

Of course, Ginger loved this arrangement. The Nance family didn’t know this. Robby didn’t know this. Ginger kept such things to himself.

Ginger stayed in the Nance home for the next 30 years. Ginger became as familiar as the dining room table or the dining room cabinets for the expensive plates and silverware.

Then one day, Ginger sensed he was in for a change. Mr. and Mrs. Nance were all by themselves and loving it. Kids would come by on a regular basis. There was Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and birthdays. Then, Mr. and Mrs. Nance decided to sell their house and move to a much smaller place – a small condo in the city.

They asked their kids; “Who wants what piece of furniture or what have you?”

When Robby looked around the house, he only asked for Ginger. But it was not for himself. His father-in-law was in a nursing home – and really missed not having a dog – but dogs were not allowed in his nursing home. And it was Christmas time – and this would be a great gift. “We’ll put a Santa hat on him – and he will be the talk of the nursing home.”

That’s how Mr. John Rosetti, Robby’s father-in-law, became the proud new owner of the fake dog – which was about to get a new home and a new name.

When a friend dropped into his room to see the dog, he asked, “Does your dog have a name?”
Mr. Rosetti, paused for a moment and said, “Oh, that’s Woody. His name is Woody.”

Ginger didn’t like the new name at first – but soon got used to it.

Nurses and nurse’s aids, friends in wheelchairs or in walkers, when they would walk by or wheel by Mr. Rosetti’s room, often stopped in to pet Woody – and each time it would bring a smile to the person’s face – especially because Woody wore a series of different hats and caps. First it was that Santa Claus cap, then a Ravens cap, then a Redskins cap, and then an Orioles cap. When someone offered a Yankees hat, Mr. Rosetti said, “No way! Woody would never be a Yankee fan.”

All this certainly brought joy to Woody. More importantly, he was getting the attention he used to get 30 years ago when he first arrived, brand new, in the Nance home.

It brought back warm memories every time Robby and his wife with their kids would visit her dad at the nursing home.

Time moves on and Mr. Rosetti began to fail – and two summer’s later, died.

Death, as Robby knew, is always a tough part of life.

What to do with Woody? What to do with this fake dog?

Robby’s wife said to the head of the nursing home, “We already have a real dog, and my husband bought a similar wooden dog a few years ago, so if anyone wants it, it’s theirs.”
Good thing Woody didn’t hear this.

Well, right after that decision, a local pastor was visiting the nursing home and the head of the nursing home asked him, “Would you like a fake dog?”

“Sure,” said the priest.
He had seen it a few times when he visited Mr. Rosetti at the Nursing Home.

“Wow,” he said to himself, “this is heavy!” as he carried it to his car. He put it in his trunk and it stayed there for three weeks.

Finally, one Saturday morning, he took Woody and placed him over in the corner of his garage – near an old lawn mower and some cinder blocks that were there forever.

And Woody sat there all alone for a few months – in the quiet of the garage – missing all the action – all the stuff he saw in the nursing home – and before that in the Nance family living room.

Well, it was almost Christmas and a parish committee was setting up the crib in the church and all was perfect till someone knocked over the plaster donkey who banged into a plaster sheep and both were broken big time.

“Uh oh, we’ll never be able to glue all this together or to get a new donkey and a new sheep on December 23nd.”

Just then the pastor came into the church to see how things were going with the Christmas decorations. The man who had broken the two statues sheepishly walked up to the pastor and said, “I just broke a donkey and a sheep.”

The priest paused for a moment. Then came a great smile on his face. “I have just the solution.”

He headed back into his house, grabbed a large blue bath towel, and headed for his garage and the fake dog he had put in the corner.

Woody was feeling depressed – but hearing the pastor singing a Christmas song, said to himself, “I guess it’s Christmas time – and Christmas time has always been a blessing for me.”

The pastor cleaned Woody from head to foot with the big blue bath towel. Then he carried Woody – who by now – was wondering where he was going - into a church – a Catholic church. He smiled and said to himself, “This is the first time in my life I’m in a church. It must be Christmas!”

The decoration committee laughed when they saw the dog.

The pastor, whose name was Father Princebury, was all smiles. The committee said, “You’re not?”

The pastor said, “Yes we are!”

And the fake dog fit perfectly up there in the stable in the front of the church – just behind the baby Jesus. He was able to see everything that Jesus sees. And Woody wanted to pinch himself as he thought, “Wow, wow, bow, wow, this is going to be great.”

Woody loved Mass – because the lights would be on and the church was filled and he was able to see all kinds of faces – faces that changed during the Mass – smiles, yawns, puzzlement, watch watching and prayer.

He loved the music, especially the Christmas music. Everyone was singing.

Mass was a new experience for him. He finally figured out something he wondered about – the meaning of the word “Christmas”. “Da,” he barked to himself, “Christ’s Mass… Christmas.”

Woody loved being in church – up front, but not central. He didn’t know it, but he was to be the hit of the Christmas season

People from all over the county came to see the church that had the Christmas stable with the fake dog in it – and many people would put a dollar or two or kids some coins in the poor box on the way out.

After Mass on the Sunday after Christmas, a little girl asked the pastor, “Father Princebury, what’s your doggy’s name?”

He had to think quickly. With a great laugh he said, “Ho, ho, ho. You already know its name. You just said it. It’s ‘Doggy!’”

“Oooh,” thought Woody, “another name – and ‘Doggy’ – what does he think I am, a puppy?”

Well, Doggy even brought people back to church – because kids asked their parents, “Are we going to see Doggy again this Sunday?”

The pastor kept the crib up till almost the end of January.

Then he had to take it down. But instead of putting Doggy in his garage, he brought him into his living room – and placed him right next his favorite chair – his La-Z-Boy Chair – facing the TV set – where he loved to watch old movies – late into the night.

The two of them were now all alone.

Then this priest, whose favorite movie was Casablanca, remembered the last line of the movie. He sat there, put his hand on Doggy’s head and baptized Doggy with his fourth name: “Louis” – saying and laughing at the same time, “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

Sunday, December 23, 2007

LOOKING FOR A SIGN

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Looking for a Sign.”

I think that theme can sum up today’s readings, as well as sum up this moment – Christmas is almost here. I’m not worried about repeating myself because I don’t have to come up with another homily for Christmas – less than two days away. For the past dozen or so years I write a story for Christmas – instead of a homily.

So for this 4th Sunday of Advent, a homily on the theme: “Looking for a Sign.”

TO BE HUMAN

To be human is to look for signs.

Kids have been looking at presents in the corner or hidden in the closet – looking at the size of the box – wondering what’s behind that wrapping – shaking them – and some surely try to peal away the tape to get a peek at what’s inside.

To be human is to look for signs.

Parents look for signs that their new born baby is okay – normal – healthy – has 10 fingers and 10 toes.

Parents look for signs that their kids are moving along the right way – so that’s why we celebrate that first smile, that first roll over, that first word, that first step.

Parents look for signs that their kids are doing well in school – that they are athletic or artistic or can get A’s – or are happy, joyful, wonderful – but you better be hardworking if you’re a B student – and if a kid is autistic – that they get the best care possible for their child.

Parents look for signs that their teenagers are hanging out with the right kids – doing the right things, etc.

Parents look for signs that their teenager can handle a car okay.

Parents better be looking for signs from their kids!

Parents look for signs that this person their college or post college kid is serious with – is the right spouse for their child.

When married kids drop in or are dropped into for Christmas, their parents are looking for signs all is well.

Husbands and wives look for signs – consciously and unconsciously – all the time – that things are good, better and best in their relationship.

Husbands and wives get nervous when their parents look like they are slipping – and they wonder about their driving – their forgetting things, etc.

Men worry about prostate and women about lumps, etc. etc. etc.

When someone is sick, we look for signs they are getting better.

Our reporters, our talk show folks, our pollsters, are looking for signs who’s going to win in Iowa and New Hampshire – and then in all the states that follow – and the rest of us are looking for signs that it’s going to end.

Retailers are looking for signs how the economy is going – whether there is a recession going on or about to happen or what have you.

We look for signs of peace for our world.

We look at the weather report for December 25th. Some hope for a white Christmas – while others hope for a dry, clear, blue skies, good driving weather Christmas.

To be human is to look for signs.

TODAY’S FIRST READING

Today’s first reading from Isaiah – whom we heard from every Sunday this Advent, takes place roughly between 750 and 700 B.C.

Isaiah, the Prophet, is trying to convince Ahaz, the King of Judah – southern Israel, – not to enter into an alliance with Assyria – who’s leader is the powerful king. Tiglath-Pileser III. I love that name.

In the meanwhile Ahaz is being attacked by the tribe of Ephraim and Syria or Aram. So war is going on – and he needs to make an alliance. He looks around and it hits him to reach out to Assyria.

Isaiah asks him not to do this.

He won’t listen to Isaiah. He won’t ask God for a sign to indicate that Isaiah is correct.

So Isaiah says, “The Lord will give you a sign: the virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel.”

In the Hebrew text, there is a word, “ha alma”. The translation you heard this morning translates it into English as “virgin”. The normal word for “virgin” is “betula” – but that is not the word used in the Hebrew text. Well, according to some scholars the better translation for “ha alma” would be “young woman”.

Some scholars think it refers to King Ahaz’s wife. Isaiah promises Ahaz, if he follows his advice, his wife will get pregnant – and your dynasty will be preserved. The Davidic dynasty, the House of David will continue.

Obviously, when wars are going on – and they always seem to be going on in Israel and Palestine – people are always looking for signs.

Aren’t we all looking for signs in Iraq that the Sunni’s and Shiites will work this out. Aren’t we looking for signs that Al Qaeda is lessening?

TODAY’S GOSPEL


Matthew in today’s gospel takes that text from Isaiah and applies it to Jesus.

Maybe that’s the reason they translated the Isaiah text we heard this morning using the word “virgin” instead of young woman.

Notice he let’s us know that Joseph is also from the House of David.

Notice Jesus is born in the town of David – Bethlehem.

Notice that Matthew is telling us that Jesus is a sign from God – a sign that things are about to change – that Jesus is Emmanuel – God with us.

LOOKING FOR SIGNS FROM GOD


To be human is to look for signs from God.

If there is a television news report that Mary has appeared in southern New Mexico or southern Italy or southern Belarus or southern Argentina, some people would be buying tickets immediately to get there as soon as possible.

To be human is to look for signs from God.

IN CONCLUSION

People hearing a sermon look for signs when the sermon is going to end. That’s why I like to say, “In conclusion”.

However, as we all know, speakers and preachers might say “in conclusion”, but it might not happen. They might just be warming up – and take forever to get to their real conclusion – which is what I am going to do right now. Sorry.

The Christmas message is that Jesus has already appeared - being born in Southern Israel – Bethlehem.

Christmas is the great sign from God.

That’s the message of the gospels.

That’s the message of Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans – which is today’s second reading.
This past year several books came out – announcing there is no God.

This Christmas and every Christmas – as well as the millions of people who go to Mass – every Sunday – are announcing that there is a God.

And we all know Christmas means Christ mass – no wonder most Catholics go to Mass at least once a year: Christmas.

Who but God could up with the idea that his son is present in the bread and the wine – in hopes not only of nourishing us each Mass – but also to remind us to eat together – and be in communion with each other.

Who but God would come up with such a story: a young girl in one of the smallest villages in Israel, some 2000 years ago, becomes pregnant – without a male? Angels talk to her and Joseph. And then just before she’s to have the baby, Joseph has to get to Bethlehem for a census, etc.

Why did God decide to come as a baby?

We all know that everyone is comfortable with babies.

We all know that babies stop us in our tracks.

We know that babies reach out to the good, the bad, and the ugly.

We all remember Marlo Brando in Godfather I and the scene with his little grandson in the garden. Here is this godfather grandfather who had to kick and kill and connive to get to the top – being a little kid again

Remember the scene in the 1987 movie, “The Untouchables” when a lady with the baby carriage is on the stairs. It’s the wrong place at the wrong time – but somehow we know everything is going to work out – even if bullets are flying – and she let’s go of the baby carriage. Andy Garcia runs and slides under the baby carriage and throws a gun to Kevin Costner – at the same time and saves, mother, baby, and the situation – and the bad guys lose.

Those who have already have had the birth of the Christ Child in the manger of their heart know things are going to work out – because they have hoped in Christ – and grown in Christ – through the years.

Jesus is the great sign we’re looking for. Amen.


We who follow Christ are the sign people are looking for. Amen.

[Now that took 7 and a half minutes! Not too bad.]