WAITING, WAITING, WAITING,

HURRY,  HURRY,  HURRY,

WHEN, WHEN, WHEN?

Poem - Saturday -  November 8, 2014

TRAIN   [1915]

Will the train never start?
God, make the train start.

She cannot bear it, keeping up so long;
and he, he no more tries to laugh at her.
He is going.

She holds his two hands now.
Now, she has touch of him and sight of him.
And then he will be gone.
He will be gone.

They are so young.
She stands under the window of his carriage,
and he stands in the window.
They hold each other’s hands
across the window ledge.
And look and look,
and know that they may never look again.

The great clock of the station, -
how strange it is.
Terrible that the minutes go,
terrible that the minutes never go.

They had walked the platform for so long,
up and down, and up and down-
the platform, in the rainy morning,
up and down, and up and down.

The guard came by, calling,
“Take your places, take your places.”

She stands under the window of his carriage,
and he stands in the window.

God, make the train start!
Before they cannot bear it,
make the train start!

God, make the train start!

The three children, there,
in black, with the old nurse,
standing together, and looking, and looking,
up at their father in the carriage window,
they are so forlorn and silent.

The little girl will not cry,
but her chin trembles.
She throws back her head,
with its stiff little braid,
and will not cry.

Her father leans down,
out over the ledge of the window,
and kisses her, and kisses her.

She must be like her mother,
and it must be the mother who is dead.

The nurse lifts up the smallest boy,
and his father kisses him,
leaning through the carriage window.

The big boy stands very straight,
and looks at his father,
and looks, and never takes his eyes from him.
And knows that he may never look again.

Will the train never start?
God, make the train start!

The father reaches his hand 
      down from the window,

and grips the boy’s hand,
and does not speak at all.

Will the train never start?

He lets the boy’s hand go.

Will the train never start?

He takes the boy’s chin in his hand,
leaning out through the window,
and lifts the face that is so young, to his.
They look and look,
and know that they may never look again.

Will the train never start?
God, make the train start!

© Helen Mackay

Blog post submitted by Marilyn Turkovich on Thursday, August 16, 2012 - 4:13pm. 

Helen Mackay (1891-1965), was an unusual woman for her times.  A pioneering pediatrician, she was the first woman to become a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, for distinguished work as both a clinician and researcher, having made important contributions to the identification and treatment of anemia in children during the 1920s.  But before that, as a medical student and young physician, she had already established herself as an author and poet of some ability, with several volumes of essays and verse to her credit by the end of World War I.

While in London on November 1, 1915, Mackay, then on the staff of a local hospital, witnessed an almost iconic scene characteristic of war in the twentieth century, troops preparing to leave for the front bidding farewell to their families at a railroad station, an image repeated tens of thousands of times during the world wars and recreated in numerous war films.

++++++++++++++++

ABOUT HELEN MACKAY

Helen Mackay was educated in New York but, after marrying, moved with her husband to France where she lived for most of her life. She worked in a hospital in Paris during World War One and was awarded the medal of French gratitude for her service. Her immersion in the life and language of France meant that she was able to publish poetry and a novel in French whilst her writing in English tended to concentrate on brief, narrative sketches. These prose pieces capture her observations of mainly French life and offer poignant insights to human behaviour.

ONE  SMART COOKIE

[The following is the Gospel for today - the 31st  Friday in Ordinary Time. It's followed by a first draft story that I wrote this morning. It is an attempt to put some modern flesh on Jesus' story about a man who was one smart cookie.]

Luke 16: 1-8

Jesus said to his disciples,

 “A rich man had a steward
who was reported to him

 for squandering his property.

He summoned him and said,
‘What is this I hear about you?
Prepare a full account of your stewardship,
because you can no longer be my steward.’

The steward said to himself,

‘What shall I do,
now that my master

is taking the position of steward away from me?
I am not strong enough to dig

and I am ashamed to beg.
I know what I shall do so that,
when I am removed from the stewardship,
they may welcome me into their homes.’

He called in his master’s debtors one by one.

To the first he said, 

‘How much do you owe my master?’

He replied,  ‘One hundred measures of olive oil.’

He said to him, ‘Here is your promissory note.
Sit down and quickly write one for fifty.’

Then to another he said,

‘And you, how much do you owe?’

He replied, ‘One hundred measures of wheat.’

He said to him, ‘Here is your promissory note;
write one for eighty.’

And the master commended

that dishonest steward for acting prudently.
For the children of this world
are more prudent in dealing 

with their own generation
than the children of light.”

Jesus said to his disciples,

 “A rich man had a steward
who was reported to him

 for squandering his property.

He summoned him and said,
‘What is this I hear about you?
Prepare a full account of your stewardship,
because you can no longer be my steward.’

The steward said to himself,

‘What shall I do,
now that my master

is taking the position of steward away from me?
I am not strong enough to dig

and I am ashamed to beg.
I know what I shall do so that,
when I am removed from the stewardship,
they may welcome me into their homes.’

He called in his master’s debtors one by one.

To the first he said,

‘How much do you owe my master?’

He replied,  ‘One hundred measures of olive oil.’

He said to him, ‘Here is your promissory note.
Sit down and quickly write one for fifty.’

Then to another he said,

‘And you, how much do you owe?’

He replied, ‘One hundred measures of wheat.’

He said to him, ‘Here is your promissory note;
write one for eighty.’

And the master commended

that dishonest steward for acting prudently.
For the children of this world
are more prudent in dealing 
with their own generation
than the children of light.”

ONE SMART COOKIE

Bill was one smart cookie.

He worked for the governor of a small state out west for 4 years.

He moved up the organizational ladder – till he became the key guy in the governor’s office. He was the guy to call. He was the guy to see. He was the guy who made things work.

He hired and fired. He handled money and he handled lobbyists.

When the governor’s first term was heading into his 4^th year – everyone said the governor was a shoe-in for re-election.

Bill was one smart cookie.

He thought secretly – he didn’t dare say what he thought publicly – but he had suspicions – tides were turning.

So he made friends in ways he hadn’t made friends in the past – just in case the governor was not re-elected. Uh oh, he took bribes – pocketed lots of money – just in case – just in case the governor lost in his bid for a second term.

Lobbyists loved him this past year. Lobbyists distanced themselves from him – when the governor lost by 9 % - even though the papers had him winning by 14% of the vote.

Then came the shocker. Accusations appeared in the papers and on the evening news  - all about Bill. His family closed their blinds – stayed mostly in the house – went out the side door or back door – the few times they went out.

Bill’s kids hid as well – no longer bragging that their dad had this big job for the governor. His two daughters were married and they were thankful they had new last names – even though one was a long Polish and the other a long Italian last names – both ending in i – and their maiden names were a simple one syllable Irish last name.

The grand jury called for a trial.

Bill talked to the best lawyers in town. He knew who they were.

They advised, “Plead guilty! You’ll get a lesser sentence.”

They added, “It will be quicker that way. Your name will be out of the news sooner – and it will be easier for your family. It’s tough dealing with a long drawn out public trial.”

Bill was one smart cookie.

He pleaded guilty.

He got 5 years in prison – an easy prison at that – with the possibility of parole after 2 years. He could have gotten a lesser sentence if he offered names – and other under the table deals – that the prosecutors knew were happened – but Bill decided: “Nope. I might need some of these folks some day.”

Bill had a goodly amount of money in the bank and good investments – and he knew how to protect it – just in case…. Just in case.

Bill was one smart cookie.

In prison Bill got religion. He was Catholic – but really mainly in name only.

He knew he was a CEWF Catholic: A Christmas, Easter, Weddings, Funerals Catholic. He made his deals and promises to God when he got a cancer scare there a few years ago – and a heart scare last year – and when both his mom and dad got sick.

He prayed for Good Weather for Golf Tournaments – Big Games – and the wedding of his two daughters.  He got what he wished for each time.

He knew how to make deals – even with God.

Bill was one smart cookie.

Prison – even though he was in one of those so called, “Posh Prisons” – it was much tougher than expected.

His wife visited him every Saturday.

His daughters and their husbands came every other month – with their small kids.

Those moments made it  easier.

He read.

He cleaned toilets.

He worked on the lawns.

He worked in the kitchen.

He had to deal with a tight prison cell – locked doors – and lots of depression.

He got God at the end of that first year.

In fact, he discovered that God was not a God of deals – but a God who loved everyone and everything – even the worst of thieves – or the best of thieves. Bill was know in the papers for a while  as, “The Prince of Thieves.”

He got that God doesn’t bargain.

God just loves.

God just waits.

God just challenges – in sneaky – very patient ways.

Near the end of his second year in prison – he started talking to his wife about God and all this.

He didn’t nag her about her faith life.

He didn’t try to convert her.

He simply started telling her his own inner thoughts.

His tears – at times – slid down his face – and into her way of thinking and she slowly changed as well.

She started talking to the kids on the phone what their dad had said and what she was thinking.

This got them thinking – and a Catholic Faith in that family that had basically disappeared for two generations came back – this time with a depth of honesty and  joy.

That First Friday after Bill got out of prison - he and his wife were at their local church – for a Mass of Thanksgiving. The gospel read was all about the dishonest steward. He   was also a very smart steward – who had set himself and his family – for the future -just in case  he lost his job or got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Bill looked up at Jesus in the front of the church on the altar during the Mass. He felt his presence in the images in the stained glass windows – as well as in the big crucifix in the front of the church – as well as in the tabernacle.

As he sat there he realized Jesus loved Good Thieves – and Bad Thieves - and all thieves.

Bill winked at Jesus saying, “You’re one smart cookie!”

And Bill smiled when he heard Jesus say in return, “Bill you’re one smart cookie!” 

At that Bill elbowed his wife – and she wondered for the rest of the Mass – what that was all about.

WORLD  WAR  I  AGAIN 

Poem for November 7, 2014

THE WAR FILMS

O living pictures of the dead,

O songs without a sound,

O fellowship whose phantom tread

Hallows a phantom ground—

How in a gleam have these revealed

The faith we had not found.

We have sought God in a cloudy Heaven,

We have passed by God on earth:

His seven sins and his sorrows seven,

His wayworn mood and mirth,

Like a ragged cloak have hid from us

The secret of his birth.

Brother of men, when now I see

The lads go forth in line,

Thou knowest my heart is hungry in me

As for thy bread and wine;

Thou knowest my heart is bowed in me

To take their death for mine.

© Henry Newbolt

St. George’s Day, 1918

THE  KISS  PRINCIPLE:

KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID!

Poem for Today, Thursday, November 6, 2014

SIMPLE MAN

Mama told me when  I was young

Come sit beside me, my only son

And listen closely to what I say.

And if you do this

It will help you some sunny day.
Take your time … Don’t live too fast,

Troubles will come and they will pass.
Go find a woman and you’re find love,

And don’t forget son,
There is someone up above.

[Chorus:]

And be a simple kind of man.

Be something you love and understand.
Baby, be a simple kind of man.

Oh won’t you do this for me son,

If you can?

Forget your lust for rich man’s gold

All that you need is in your soul,

And you can do this if you try.

All that I want for you my son,

Is to be satisfied.

[Chorus:]

And be a simple kind of man.

Be something you love and understand.
Baby, be a simple kind of man.

Oh won’t you do this for me son,

If you can?

Boy, don’t you worry.
You’ll find yourself.
Follow your heart,

And nothing else.

You can do this,

If you try.
All that I want for you my son,

Is to be satisfied

[Chorus:]

And be a simple kind of man.

Be something you love and understand.
Baby, be a simple kind of man.

Oh won’t you do this for me son,

If you can?

Baby, be a simple, be a simple man

Oh, be something you love and understand

Baby, be a simple kind of man

© Singer – Lynyrd Skynyrd

Songwriters: Vanzant, Ronnie /

 Rossington,  Gary Robert. 

Simple Man Lyrics

 © Universal Music Publishing Group

SEE,  TASTE,  TOUCH,  SMELL

Poem for Today - Wednesday - November 5, 2014

ON APPLES

One is not hale until one inhales

The russet of these apples—

Their rosy smell . . .

As from cleft hearts there rises

The green

Veridical stem.

Thus in Cezanne one sees

The stillness of utter rest: an electric calm

Of placement; the apple transcendent—

Flat: cool: the virtual assumed

As real . . .

Anne once refused to have

An apple; yet she held it

And sat there like another, or the first

Eve, who again rejected

Pleasure for the pleasure of a cusp,

Self-worried; the famous prerogative

Of feminine indecision . .

The apple need not be eaten; must be had.

I recall at the end of the road, where rampant boys lived,

Green apples on the ground, ant-laden, brown, abscessed—

We'd chuck them at each other, or at trees.

Hit in the ribs, it hurt.

Ted Mingo showed me.

And sometimes near Cooper Union, peddlers buff

Pippins upon their rusty

Winter sleeves;

Reset each polished crimson

On their cart.

McIntosh are best

Unpeeled, for rosy apple sauce,

For eating, as for fragrance . .

Try them

But you must smell them.

© David Ross

page 507 in

The New Yorker

Book of Poems 1974

ATTITUDE

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Attitude.”

Attitude is my tone – my temperament. It’s my set of beliefs about all sorts of things – all bundled up to form my outlook. It’s my spirit. It’s what comes into a room with me – when I walk into a room.

IT’S GREEK TO ME

Today’s first reading from Philippians begins,

Brothers and sisters:
Have among yourselves the same attitude 
that is also yours in Christ Jesus,

I read that and began thinking about the word and the theme “attitude”.

For starters I did what I always do when I start to work on a homily. What are the key words in the text. If from the Jewish Bible – what are the key Hebrew Words? If  the text is from the New Testament,  I go back to the Greek.

I was wondering what the Greek word that became “attitude” in our text was. It’s “phroneo” - here in Philippians 2:5 – that becomes “attitude” in our New American Bible translation and “mind” in other translations.

The only everyday word where this Greek word appears in is the back end of the world schizophrenia – meaning a person’s mind is disorganized and out of touch with most other minds..

So the Greek word “phroneo” – here in Philippians means “mind”.

Listen to these translations of that one verse:

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” [NRSV]

“Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.” [KJ]

“You attitude should be the kind what was shown us by Jesus Christ.” [The Living Bible Paraphrased]

“Let Christ Jesus be your example as to what your attitude should be.” [Phillips]

“In your minds you must be the same as Christ Jesus.” [Jerusalem Bible]

Take your pick. In this Letter to the Philippians Paul is telling his readers to take on the attitude or mind or way of thinking and doing that Christ had.

TODAY

This morning and today I would just stress looking at one’s attitudes and compare them to Christ’s attitude.

Comparisons can crush. Comparisons can also recreate us.

Conversion – growth – recalculating – would be moving from my way of thinking to Christ’s way of thinking.

Different surveys indicate that people want stuff and sermons on spirituality.

 So there it is: compare my attitude to Christ’s attitude.

We’ve all seen scenes in movies when a dad says to a son, “I don’t like your attitude, young man!”  We’ve all heard someone say, “I like your attitude.”

Coaches, bosses, parents, teachers often challenge others to better their attitude.

We hear about a company’s morale or a team’s culture or mood – usually when it needs a change of attitude or atmosphere – or tone of voice or mood around here.

The first step would be to get our minds on comparisons between different takes on situations. The second step would be to choose the better way. The third step would be to start stepping in that better direction  - walking the walk – not just talking the talk – as they put it.

TODAY’S FIRST READING

Today’s first reading gives us Christ’s attitude. It’s emptying self of self – no matter who we are – even if we’re God. It’s service. It’s an attitude of humility – the willingness to clean toilets and pick up litter on our streets – take out the garbage – listening – really listening to those around us.

CONCLUSION

Years ago the key spiritual message for Christians was found in the book entitled, The Imitation of Christ. Then for spiritual direction we moved to reading the scriptures. If we could get a handle on the Bible – we were getting our hands on good spirituality. We were told to practice the Beatitudes. Many began taking the Jesuit Exercises which stressed seeing Jesus walking our roads  and meeting folks – and be each person in the scene in the story. See and picture what Jesus did in these stories – and then do it. Then we had those bracelets with WWJD on them – and then do it.

Attitude comes from action. And wonderful things happen when we act like Jesus. Did you hear how the opening prayer for today’s  feast of St Charles Borromeo put it. Let me close with it,

Preserve in the midst of your people,

we ask, O Lord, the spirit with which

You filled the Bishop Saint Charles Borromeo,

that your Church may be constantly renewed,

and by conforming herself to the likeness of Christ,

may show his face to the world.

Who lives and reigns with you

In the unity of the Holy Spirit,

One God, forever and ever. Amen

NOVEMBER  TREES

Poem for Tuesday November 4th, 2014

NOVEMBER THROUGH 

A GIANT COPPER BEECH

This almost bare tree is racing,

taut in the wind, leaves flaring,

jet fire fed by a hurrying

keen whistling bird, against

hundred-limbed elephant branches

steadied in wrinkled gray molten

antediluvian skin

wrapped tight to stay where it is.

Think of sheer endlessness, beauty

patient in form, forever

uncrumbled between time's nickering

teeth—oh brutal necessity!

Think of the still and the flowing­ -

Heraclitus's everything passes,

the one-eyed conviction against

the rockbeaded everything dozes.

On this bleary white afternoon,

are there fires lit up in heaven

against such faking of quickness

and light, such windy discoursing?

While November numbly collapses,

this beech tree, heavy as death

on the lawn, braces for throat-

cutting ice, bandaging snow.

© Edwin Honig,

Page 495 in

The New Yorker

Book of Poems 1974

Tree on top: Copper
Beech Tree, University
of Connecticut

ALL  SOULS DAY  AGAIN

Poem for Monday - November 3, 2014 

ON PASSING A GRAVEYARD

May perpetual light shine upon

The faces of all who rest here.

May the lives they lived

Unfold further in spirit.

May all their past travail

Find ease in the kindness of clay.

May the remembering earth

Mind every memory they brought.

May the rains from the heavens

Fall gently upon them.

May the wildflowers and grasses

Whisper their wishes into light.

May we reverence the village of presence

In the stillness of this silent field.

© John O’Donohue,

Pages 113, in

Benedictus,

A Book of Blessings

Bantam Press, London

NOVEMBER  2^nd: 

REMEMBERING  OUR DEAD 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “November 2^nd: Remembering Our Dead.”

Today – November 2^nd – for Catholics – it’s the day to remember our dead.

VISIT THE CEMETERY

In earlier centuries – most people lived and died  - and didn’t move too far from where they were born. As a result – it wouldn’t be too difficult  to visit one’s family cemetery.

Back in 1994 - I visited the place where my mom and dad were from in Ballyhahown, Galway, Ireland. We walked to the cemetery – down near the waters of Galway Bay. The cemetery had a metal bar turnstile type gate –– built to keep cows out. The cemetery had high grass -  rough clumps of earth – difficult to navigate - and lots and lots and lots of old tombstones.

I was with my 2 sisters and my brother-in-law and my Aunt Nora. She was one of my mom’s two sisters – who still lived there in this small coastal area. She pointed out the gravestones of our grandparents and great grandparents – aunts and uncles – and she made some choice comments – with a great smile on her face. All the names and numbers were  carved in Gaelic. Most were very faded and weathered – but she knew them all by heart.

It was a sacred moment. We prayed. We were with family. Without them we would not have been here on this earth.

The only bad moment was what happened to my sister Peggy the nun. She stepped in a cow plop. Evidently the gate didn’t work. We laughed. She didn’t. The Chick-fil-A commercial with cows showing up wasn’t around yet – otherwise I’m sure we would have thought of it.

Where are your cemeteries? Where are your people buried? Where are your sacred stones? Where are the places you shouldn’t step into?

We drag our kids to Mass – how about dragging them to cemeteries – and tell them the stories – who it is - who is buried here – and how they are part of our family’s life. And tell the family stories – especially the one’s that bring the laughter and the tears.

If you’ve forgotten, make a list or find out what family member knows where our dead are buried.

This week my sister Mary and I are planning to watch a wonderful CD of my sister Peggy’s funeral from last November. It has the wake the night before as well as the funeral Mass. The cemetery is a good 15 miles from Marywood University in Scranton – where she worked her last job – till she died.

IN THE BACK OF CHURCH

In the back of the church are big books – to write in the names of our dead. This is very Catholic. Names of the dead are mentioned at Masses. Masses are said for our dead – and I would add: “They are also said to help us the living – deal with death of those we miss and loved.”

This weekend there are also prayer cards and a display for vocations.

Please pray for vocations to the Priesthood and Religious life.

When folks get sick – they still want a priest to visit them – to anoint them with sacred oil – as they were anointed at their baptism and confirmation in the faith. So please encourage folks to think priesthood.

People are not having big families  - so there is a shortage of priests. People want to see grandkids.

So I would add, “If you’re under 40 – expect changes in priesthood in your lifetime.” Something needs to be done besides prayers for vocations – if we want to have Eucharist and a priest when someone is sick.

MEMORIAL CARDS

Do you have a prayer chair in your house – that is – a nice comfortable chair in the corner – with a small table near by – with your beads and your prayer books – a Bible or a journal – or what have you?

Let your little ones see you sitting in prayer – with your memorial cards.

I grew up seeing my mom and dad with their prayer books – sitting quietly – and sometimes I noticed them lifting out one of their memorial cards. And their prayer books got fatter with the years.  I wonder how folks will use these wonderful flyers that one gets at funerals these days. There is a nice picture of the person  on the front  in the midst of life – laughing – steering a sail boat. I saw on the front side of a flyer a great picture of a guy cutting the grass with a mower and a great smile.

Where do you keep your funeral mementos. I assume they are saved – perhaps in a clear plastic bag – maybe with a rubber band around them.

Take the time to picture what yours will look like. Go through your photos and put together your life. Why wait till death?

Recently we were telling folks to write down what they would like their funeral Mass would to look like. Readings? Music? Who to do your eulogy? I’ve heard of people who even did their obituary. So I did mine. It was a great meditation.

Life. Death. The in-between. The story of one’s life.

I like to say at funerals – don’t listen to my homily right now – listen to the homily – the words – the prayers – the wonderings – the memories going on inside your brain right now.

THE CEMETERY IN YOUR MIND AND MEMORY

Speaking of brains – I  also like to say – that everyone has a cemetery in their mind – in their memory.

With paper and pencil – remember them – draw a big box and then draw tiny tombstones in that box. Make them big enough to put the names of one’s dead. Mom – dad – grandma – grandpa – kids – brothers – sisters – friends – neighbors – spouse – the people of your life.  Put dates. That should get us talking to others. What year did Aunt Jean die?

Our dead walk go with us. Sometimes the memory of them are heavy stones – that weigh us down.  It’s important to mourn. It’s important to pray for our dead. Then as Jesus said: “It’s time to bury the dead and move on.”

I have been helped by those Easter Scenes – when Jesus broke through the walls of the upper room – even though they were locked – and told his disciples – he was alive.   He said, “Peace!” He spoke of forgiveness and faith.

CONCLUSION

Today – All Souls Day – we remember our dead.

November – we remember our dead.

We Christians walk with faith – that Christ rose from the dead – and that we have the promise – as today’s readings put it – readings we’ve all heard at funerals – that we too shall be lifted up – in new life – resurrected life – with him forever and ever. Amen. 

OOOOOOOOOO

Painting on top: Jakub Schikandeder, "All Souls' Day"

Painting in middle: William-Adolphe Bouguerfeau (1825-  1905) "The Day of the Dead" 1859.

Picture at end: "Skogskyrkogardgen at All Souls' Day" 2010-1 by Holger Motzkau