THE SPAGHETTI SAUCE STAIN

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “The Spaghetti Sauce Stain.”

We’re invited to our sister-in-law’s house for dinner. We’re wearing a bright white wool sweater – brand new – first time wearing it – and we didn’t know it was going to be veal parmesan and spaghetti.

“Ooops!” A small smidgeon of red spaghetti sauce slips off our fork and right onto our bright white wool sweater – right above our belly button.

“Ooops!” and we don’t have a Tide to Go Stick with us.

We cover it with our napkin. The stain is smaller than the size of a dime – but it feels like the size of 12 inch plastic Tupperware cover.

We go to the bathroom – napkin pressed to our stomach – hoping no one saw our tragic accident. Soap and water don’t work. “What did she put in that red spaghetti sauce?” We come back to the table with napkin strategically placed and we sit down for the rest of the meal – hoping our sweater will dry and maybe the stain will go away. Then the host says, “Let’s have dessert in the family room.”

“No!” we scream inwardly.

Dessert is cannoli and spumoni, Napoleons and almond macaroon tarts, but the spaghetti spot is so loud and so screaming we don’t enjoy the cookies or any of the dessert.

Nobody notices the spaghetti sauce stain – but us.

STAINS ARE US

Stains are us. Sins are us. Mistakes are us. Foot in the mouth is us.

And we remember our mistakes for the rest of the evening – some disasters for the rest of our lives.

We don’t forget. We get – we understand, the spaghetti sauce story.

It can be a dumb comment or a car accident – or a parking ticket – or a wardrobe malfunction. There are things we don’t forget.

The baseball pitcher pitches a three hitter – and he remembers those three hits more than the 13 strike outs he pitched.

The basketball player remembers the key missed foul shot and forgets the four three 3 pointers she or he made.

The ice scatter falls on her butt – but doesn’t remember her perfect triple Axel and otherwise flawless performance – just the fall on her fanny in front of thousands – especially her competition.

The reader at Mass reads the reading perfectly – except for the second sentence where she pronounced one word wrong – and for the rest of the Mass she feels really stupid. She’s still stuck in that second sentence. “Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!”

The grandfather – aged 87 – looking back on his life – remembers that time he cheated on his wife. He had too much to drink at the office party. It was 47 years ago. It was a hug with another woman – and one long kiss in a corner. That was it. As he looks back on a wonderful life, he still can’t see anything but that mistake.

At one point he felt so miserable that he had to tell his wife. She forgave him. It was difficult, but she forgave him. There was still one person who wouldn’t forgive him: himself.

A marine killed 5 Viet Cong in Vietnam – as well as a mother and a child who were in the house – in a nasty fire fight – an ambush on him and his buddies as they came into this small village.

Therapy – a silver star from another incident – a wonderful wife and family – a church goer – 12 years in service for our country – seeing the movie, Saving Private Ryan – couldn’t remove the pain, the wonderings about those 7 people – who couldn’t share the rest of their lives like he could.

Pain and stains are hard to be bleached from our record.

THIS IS BLACK HISTORY MONTH

With Michelle Obama as First Lady – and her husband Barack Obama as President – I, for one, hope for more peace – more forgiveness – more improvement in the stained United States history regarding slavery, bigotry and racism. Obviously, to me there has been great improvements. I look forward to an end to "them and us" and we are simply a we - a true US.

There is a poem by a black poet, Countee Cullen [1903-1946] that has the same message as my spaghetti sauce example. The title of the poem is, “Incident”.

INCIDENT

by Countee Cullen

Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,

And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out
His tongue, and called me, “Nigger.”

I saw the whole of Baltimore

From May until December;
Of all the things that happened there
That’s all that I remember.

This is the way we are. We spot spaghetti stains more than almond cookies.

Parents pick up the report card and see the C in algebra – and miss the A’s in all the other columns.

Twenty five people say, “Good sermon Father.” I only hear the one complaint.

The basketball referee drives home in his car that night – no radio – no music on – just the echo of the boos and nasty chants of the crowd because of one blown call.

PARALYSIS

Today’s gospel has it right. Great use of body language.

Sin paralyzes us. Sin prevents us from enjoying the veal Parmesan and the spaghetti dinner as well as the dessert – as well as the sights and sounds of Baltimore.

We all remember the sordid or stupid comment that someone made at us – years and years ago. And if it was particularly violent, it can paralyze us.

We’ve learned from the child abuse stories – that predators of children can paralyze a person for life.

Then the pain, the hurt, the paralysis of soul and spirit, can be made even worse by someone saying, “Get over it.”

Today’s first reading begins, “Thus says the Lord: Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new!”

Today’s first reading ends, “It is I, I who wipe out, for my own sake, your offenses; your sins I remember no more.”

CONCLUSION: 5 BRIEF OBSERVATIONS

1) Guilt works. It gets us to do a lot of things we might not have done if we didn’t feel guilty because of a mistake.

2) God does not do guilt. We do. God wants to make us new after our offenses. We hold onto old stuff.

3) God doesn’t have scales and books. God doesn’t have a set of scales – good stuff goes on the right and bad stuff on the left – and at the end – whatever side is lower – that side wins. God isn’t Santa Claus – with a book on who’s naughty or nice. Nope, God goes after the one lost sheep and leaves the 99. God is a Forgiving Father who welcomes home prodigal sons and daughters without a, “How could you have done this to us?” Older brothers might. God the Father doesn’t. God just says, “Set up the banquet tables. He’s home! And enjoy the food. Don’t worry about stains.”

4) True friends worry about friends. If a brother or sister has a spaghetti spot on their lower cheek, we signal them, [Signal]. If a brother or sister at work or car pool or family is messing up, a true friend prays over it and looks for the right moment, if that seems the right move, and tries to help a brother or sister from falling off a cliff. If that doesn’t work, he or she gets a few more friends to try to figure out what to do. Today’s gospel has 4 friends in on the healing – and they go through a roof to get him to Jesus. That’s what friends do!

5) This is serious stuff. We start Lent this Wednesday. We get Ashes on our forehead – then we wash them off – and spend extra time in our inner room for Lent. We have 40 days to ponder heavy stuff. Why stay paralyzed by the past, when we can pick up our selves and walk life in a better way? Pick up a piece of Lenten literature from one of the tables in the back. Put a flyer on your car visor to remind you it’s Lent and use your car as a small chapel. Put a Lenten booklet in the bathroom or on your bedside table or read a page at supper out loud and talk about the contents as a family. Lent is a good time to let the good stuff sink into you like good spaghetti sauce.