It hit me, here it is, just one day after Christmas, and the church hits
us with the horrible feast of St. Stephen.
Couldn’t they have waited another week at least?
But no, here’s the feast of St. Stephen, killed for being a follower of
Jesus, and it’s put just the next day after the sweet peace of Christmas day.
We hear in today’s gospel about the horrors of brother handing over brother - and a father a
child - because of Jesus. [Cf. Matthew
10: 17-22.]
And on Wednesday we have the feast of the Holy Innocents….. baby boys killed because of Christ.
And we turn on the evening news - Christmas eve or Christmas night - and
we hear of a shooting on the streets of Washington, Baltimore or many a big
city.
BROKEN
The title of my homily is “Broken.”
The nice neat toy - the kid opens up the box and goes, “Oooooh” over it -
on Christmas morning - and then the toy is
broken by 4 PM and the kid goes “Aaaagh!”
And we sit there with family on Christmas afternoon after a great meal and we hear good news -
accomplishments - about different members of the family - but we also hear of a broken marriage or drugs
or drinking. And our “Oooh” changes to “Aaagh.”
MESSAGE FROM
STEPHEN
And the great message from the feast of St. Stephen is forgiveness.
The great message from the life of Stephen is that he got the message of
Jesus from the cross and from the life of Jesus. Brokenness happens. Horror
happens. “Aaaagh” and dread happens.
There’s a wisdom statement from Jesus that is hitting more and more -
the older I get.
He said: what’s so great about being nice to those who are nice to us?
Everyone can do that. It’s when things
are going wrong - when we are hurt - and we deal well with those hurts - brokenness - it’s then we grow. Then we rise. Then we
know how to deal with life better.
CONCLUSION
So a message from Stephen is that things break - people throw stones - people
get hurt - and a hope is that we can be like Stephen and stop the cycles of
hell hurts - by forgiveness and acceptance - and let the beginning of a better
next start with us. Amen.
OOOOOOO
Painting on top: The Stoning of Stephen by Rembrandt Harmesz van Rijn 1609-1665
December 26, 2016
HURTING?
The person who is hurting
isn’t hearing anyone but
themselves - because they
are hurting. So … if you are
angry that nobody is listening to you, maybe you’re hurting too.
She was the nicest grandmother anyone would ever want.
And all she ever wanted was peace in the family.
Now by the time she was a grandmother, she knew what
every grandmother knows: peace in the family is relative - and most of the time
it has to do with relatives.
In-laws who can become out-laws … at times or for a time
- because of something said that was stupid. Brothers and sisters not talking
to each other because one does very well money wise and becomes uppity for a while
- hopefully just for a while.
And she knew peace in the family is held together with
crazy glue and duct tape - time - lots of forgiveness - patience - presence -
as well as absence - depending on the situation - and keeping one’s lips zipped
at the right time - and unzipped when someone needs a solid piece of wisdom -
rarely wanted - but sometimes it’s asked for - and sometimes it’s needed - but it
better be presented with delicacy. Otherwise ….
And she knew listening was 75 % of the deal and speaking
was only 5 % of the deal and the other 20 % needs to be well timed with well placed questions.
That December grandma was asked at least 100 times by her
5 kids and 15 grandkids, “Grandma … Nanny … Na Na … Nonny… what do you want for
Christmas?”
Sometimes she would say, “My two front teeth!
Then she would start singing, but not too well, “All I want for Christmas is my two front
teeth” and then she would grab her front teeth bridge by her thumb and
forefinger - semi-take them out her mouth a bit and then smile - and get a
great smile from whoever it was who asked her what she wanted for Christmas.
Next she would have her other throw-away comments for
what she wanted for Christmas: “You, just you - as my best Christmas gift” - and the little ones would give her great
hugs for that comment.
Or she would slowly repeat the question, “What do I want for Christmas?”
She would pause and then say, “Peace in the family and
peace on earth - peace in our world!” and that would not register too deep in
the soil and the soul of the next generation - but in time - she hoped that word
seed would germinate and resonate.
The phone rang….
It was her daughter….
“Mom we need your prayers. Nancy just had her baby - out
in Seattle. and it doesn’t look good. Something’s wrong with her heart.”
“Oooh,” silence.
“And,” her daughter continued, “since you’re our
designated prayer, and since this is your first great-grandchild, lots of
prayers. We need lots of prayers. We’re heading out to Washington State tomorrow. We suspect we will have Christmas
in Seattle as well as be sleepless in Seattle.”
“Okay.” Grandma said. “But wait…. Without interfering
make sure you tell Nancy and Steve to check out a teaching hospital there - get
second opinions if possible - and depending on what the story is - maybe there
are clinical trials.”
“Okay,” said her daughter. “Thank you mom. We can always count
on you for good advice as well as prayers and faith. Thanks.”
Silence.
Grandma then headed for her rocking chair - her prayer
chair - and started praying for her new great-granddaughter - the one in
Seattle - the one with the heart problem - whatever it is.
And “Ooops!” she thought, “I didn’t even ask what the new
baby’s name is.”
She began thinking - she began praying, “God bring these kids
of mine back to you - back to church - back to faith - back to prayers. Let this
little child - be the one - when they see the little one in the manager in some
church for Christmas in Seattle - let this little baby be the one who will open
up their Inn for Christ - and make more room for him in their lives.”
And she thought about Nancy - her granddaughter - and
Steve her husband, the parents of this new born baby. Their marriage is shaky….
Their nights, I hear, are not silent nights - nor are they calm - nor are they
bright…..so let his baby make them right.
She then began thinking about her life - how Christ was
there for them - not only at Christmas - but also especially for their Good
Friday - that Friday in August - many years ago - when John her husband had his
heart attack and died at work. Wow ……………………That was a tough time - a Bad Friday
- but we got through it. I got through it being a single mom at that point with
5 kids to raise.
Thank you God, we did it. College.
Marriages…. Helping with grandkids…. Now this new baby…. Help us God.
Help us, God, to realize these stories
in the Bible, not just for way back when - but for now - like right now - here
and now. And everyone’s life is messy at times - not a comfortable Inn but a
messy stable.
She asked Jesus in prayer, “Is that why you were born the
way you were born and where you were born?”
At that, like all grandmothers who pray, she fell asleep
in prayer in the Lord. Amen.
She’ll wake up with no solutions - only worries about
that baby and she’ll stand up saying her favorite saying, “Life: to be
continued….”
O O O O O O O
CHRISTMAS
STORIES
FOR
THOSE
WHO
BELIEVE
IN
CHRISTMAS
by Father
Andy Costello, C.Ss.R.
by Andy Costello
CONTENTS
Introduction
1) The Greatest Christmas Gift
2) Mack & Missy
3) Thousands of Christmas Photos
4) The Thinking Sheep
5) The Camel With the Great Smile
6) Roscoe
7) Footsteps In The Snow
8) House Painters
9) Christmas, Lima, Peru
10) His Last Christmas
11) Timmy’s Eight Christmas
12) Little Nell
13) Wise Fool
14) Fake Dog, Real Life
15) The Big Boy
16) Hamburgers For Five
17) Seeing Through The Back of Your Head
18) Recalculating
19) 2 Wise Women, 1 Wise Man
20) Real Christmas Tree or Fake Christmas Tree
21) The Present
22) Happy Ending
23) A Two for One Christmas Tree
24) All I Want For Christmas….
INTRODUCTION
Duff began our breakfast conversation
with, “Well, I finished that.”
“Finished what?” I asked.
“My Christmas story.”
“What Christmas story?”
“Oh, every year I write a
Christmas story for my niece in Boston.
I’ve been doing it for years.”
I asked, “Can I read it?”
“No,” he said, “it’s nothing.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please!”
“Well, okay,” he said.
I got it from him after
breakfast.
The typing was bad – but the
story was good.
He was BC – Before Computer, so
before bringing it back to him, I retyped it on my computer.
Then I walked down the long
corridor in the retreat house where we lived and knocked on his door. When he
opened his door I said, “Great story, Duff. I just retyped it. If there are any
changes you want me to make, just let me know. They are very easy to do with a
computer.”
“Thanks,” he said. Looking at the
neat copy, he continued, “but you didn’t have to retype it.”
Sure enough, the next day, he
knocked on my door. There were several changes he’d like to make. He stood
there looking over my shoulder at the computer screen as I made the changes. He
was amazed at what a computer could do. I hit “Print” and he had a perfect copy
of his Christmas story for his niece in hand.
The following December, just
after Thanksgiving, he knocked on my door. This time he had a hand-written
document. He asked if I could type this year’s Christmas story for his niece.
I said, “Gladly.”
I sat there at my desk typing his
new Christmas story for his niece. At one point I found myself looking out the
window to see how deep and how fast the snow was falling.
Surprise: it wasn’t snowing. In
fact, it was a cold, but bright sunny day – with no snow on the ground and no
snow in the forecast.
But it was snowing in his story.
It was one of those moments of
insight. It was the moment I realized the power of story.
The following August I was
transferred to another place, so that was the last Christmas story I typed for
Duff.
Three years later, on the day before
Christmas, there I was at another desk working on a homily for Christmas. I was
now stationed at St. Gerard’s Church, in Lima,
Ohio. I was wondering what to say
for a homily based on the Christmas story as found in the scriptures.
The notice came in that day:
Father John Duffy, C.SS.R. died – December 24, 1993.
It hit me, “Why not write a
Christmas story for a homily, in memory of Duff?”
I did and I have been doing it
every Christmas since. I’m now up to number 24.
These are those stories.
Someday I might give it a shot as
a book. They are a bit uneven - and some a tiny bit “preachy” - but maybe.
And maybe I’ll throw in a story
or two by Duff. He’s long gone - so he can’t complain.
A Christmas story has to be
sentimental and mushy, mystical and magical. It has to have a kick and some
substance in it. It has to tell the Christmas story. I hope these stories come close to these
benchmarks. I know they don’t come near the stories Duff wrote.
OOOOOOO
You can find some of these stories in Christmas Past on my blog - that goes back to June 17, 2007
