Monday, January 13, 2014

THE DIGS THAT DIG
DEEP INTO THE HUMAN HEART




INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “The Digs that Dig Deep Into the Human Heart.”

They can kill us - slowly. They can bury us.

Being hit by a sharp word - can be like being hit in the head by the edge of a steel spade shovel. Now that would hurt.

Other titles could have been: “The Words that Wound!” or “The Comments That Cut or Crush!”

Whatever title chosen - the challenge in this homily is to try to challenge each of us to stop with “The Digs That Dig Deep Into the Human Heart.”

TODAY’S FIRST READING

Today’s first reading triggers this homily….

Today’s first reading from the opening words of the First Book of Samuel tells of a nasty habit that happens amongst us humans: put downs! We put each other down.

A man named Elkanah has two wives: Hannah and Peninnah. Peninnah has sons and daughters by him; Hannah is barren.

It’s a sad story - because even though the text says Elkanah loved Hannah more, when they went to the temple in Shiloh, he gave Peninnah more food from the sacrifice - because she gave him children. The worse words in the story is that Peninnah would taunt Hannah just to annoy her.

Being barren, not having children, caused Hannah great tears and great sadness. Seeing this, sensing this, today’s text ends with her husband saying, “Hannah, why do you weep, and why do you refuse to eat? Why do you grieve? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

The Jewish storyteller of 1 Samuel is obviously echoing the story of Sarah and Hagar in the book of Genesis 16: 1-5. He is also echoing the reality that goes on with people down through the years.

Hey world, look at me, my kids are A Students at The School. Hey world, look at me - look at my skin, my thinness, my car, my house, my gold, my vacations, my dog, my Mass going, my place of birth.

Unspoken message: I’m better than you!

Motive: Perhaps we human beings put each other down - so we can step on the person down below and look taller.

DRAWING

I noticed a drawing in The New York Times Book Review years and years ago. It simply shows a mouth - with a zipper on it - and the zipper is closed.

The obvious message is to zip our lips.

Stop the zingers.

Instead build people up.

It’s my experience, no matter what positive things Hannah’s husband says to her, like you’re worth more to me than ten sons - one zinger weighs 100 times more than the weight of one compliment.

Isn’t that why scenes in the movie As Good As It Gets - jump off the screen - every time Jack Nicholson puts his foot in his mouth and says the wrong thing every time.

CONSCIOUSLY AND UNCONSCIOUSLY

We humans do this consciously and unconsciously.

If we zip our lip and slip into our minds - and think about the “Ouch” comments we make, maybe we can get in touch with our unconscious feelings of inferiority and inadequacy.

Innuendos - like arrows have that pointed tip. If we don’t shoot them into the air at others, we can follow the arrow back to its quiver - and see inside ourselves - what’s really going on with us.

What’s true richness? What’s real success? What really matters.

Our gospel is also a beginning - new beginnings for Peter and Andrew, James and John. They leave all to follow Jesus,

My message for today is to leave the dig a hole in the ground and throw the digs in them - bury them and move on and discover the Kingdom of God. Amen.


MOST IS UNSPOKEN

Poem for Today - January 13, 2014


A RECOLLECTION

My father’s friend came once to tea.
He laughed and talked. He spoke to me.
But in another week they said
That friendly pink-faced man was dead.

“How sad …” they said, “the best of men …”
So I said too, “How sad”; but then
Deep in my heart I thought, with pride,
“I know a person who has died.”

© Francis Cornford [1874-1943]

Sunday, January 12, 2014

DIFFERENT!  



INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is “Different!”

As I thought about this feast of the Baptism of the Lord - which we celebrate this Sunday, my mind went through various things.

I read the readings. I thought about what was said. Then I usually say a prayer: “Come Holy Spirit!”  I pause and listen.

If nothing hits me, I read the readings again and once more say, “Come Holy Spirit!”  I pause and listen.

If nothing hits me, I read the readings again and ask: what questions - what thoughts - what wonderings - would someone reading or hearing these readings have?”

In the middle of all that, the word “Different” jumped up at me.

“Different!” So a homily today on something about “Different”.

BUT WHAT TO SAY ABOUT DIFFERENT?

Some days are different than other days. Some moments everything feels the same - the same old - same old. And I hear the word, “Boring.”

How many times in our life have we thought, “Wait a minute. Isn’t this déjà vu all over again?”

It might be about food or about others or ourselves.  Didn’t we have this for supper last night,  Didn’t you tell me about this before?

What’s this guy babbling about in the pulpit this Mass? It’s sounds like the same old - same old? It doesn’t sound different.

I’ve preached on these readings for this feast of the Baptism of our Lord at least 100 times now - probably a lot more. I’ve baptized hundreds of babies.

I’ve eaten thousands of hamburgers. Is this one any different than that one I had 17 years ago in that place on the water - in Charleston, South Carolina?  Now that was a great hamburger?

We’ve seen well over 1000 football games - and I’m sure there are folks who have never seen even one game.

What’s it like to be a head coach for the first time? Will this coach be different from the last few coaches? Will my team ever make it to the Super Bowl?

We watch TV hoping for the different. But then again, sometimes we love re-runs. My father knew all 39 episodes of The Honeymooners by heart. That last year of his life, he had emphysema pretty badly. He couldn’t move around too much. I have fond memories of sitting with him - watching The Honeymooners and hear him tell me about the next scene to come. He’d say, “Watch this….. Watch this!”  He knew all the lines and all the jokes before they came on.

So I remember  watching together with my dad in Brooklyn a TV series about 4 people in Brooklyn - Alice and Ralph Kramden - Ed and Trixie Norton - The Honeymooners.

Not all the days of our lives are the same. Isn’t that a TV show too - soap opera: “Days of Our Lives”?

There are memories. There are moments. There are different days than the other days.

There are regrets and there are happy memories - as we look back on the Days of Our Lives. No I never watched that program with my mom - but I did hear that she watched the soaps near the end of her life.

Looking at our life? What’s different? What are those things I can do to make this day different - especially  for those around me?

THE MASS - A DIFFERENT HOUR

The Mass  - if it’s to have a grab - it has to be seen as a different hour than the other 167 hours of our week.

So too Sunday - Sabbath - these 24 hours ….

The Mass ….

Why do you come here to Mass? 

Why do I come here to Mass? 

We know the classic distinction between "have to" and "want to". We know the change in language about the Mass that's been going on for years now: celebration not obligation. 

So sometimes I’m up here because it’s my job. Yet a long time ago I decided: "I don't want to be here because it's a job. It is work. But I want to be here because I want to be here. I come here for the same reason I eat: to be with others and to be nourished."

This hour is a time for just that? I could also ask, "What was the best meal you were ever at?"  

If you have a clear answer to that - compare your answer to the best Mass you were ever at.

Hear yourself saying, "That meal ... that Mass ... was different because ...."

Notice that word "different".

So this weekend - as I was working on this homily - I was wondering where this word “different” would take me.

It might have been because of watching TV last night. I don’t know.

A few of us were watching the baseball channel last night. Hey football season is over for most of us. A promised upcoming program was to ask different retired baseball players, “What was your most memorable game?”  It looked like they are going to ask Cal Ripken that question one of these nights.

Sitting there we said: “His record breaking game!”

Will that be his answer: “September 6, 1995, Camden Yards, Baltimore, my 2131 straight game?”

Or will it be his 2632 game?

While just sitting there, I asked Father Joe Krastel that question - his most memorable baseball game. His answer: a snore.

So I asked Father Jack Harrison his best game and he said, “The game I caught a guy Lenny Miller. He had 18 strikeouts - against the Irish Christian brothers.”

Now that’s different.

For myself, I couldn’t remember any specific game - other than being part of a triple play once - which won the game for us - or the time I hit a long fly ball deep into some trees in left field - but it was only batting practice. It was probably not that long a hit. I would have been about 155 pounds at the time.

What was the best Mass I was ever at? Answers would be the funerals of family members. Those moments make it really worth while to be a priest - and also other funerals - and weddings - and a Mass one night in Reading Pennsylvania - for all the parishes in that area. They told me there were over 20,000 people there - in a park - but I couldn’t seen any person - because of the lights. That was very different. Was anyone sleeping? I couldn’t see.

What was the best Mass you were at?

Each Sunday Mass…. is there anything you do that makes this hour different than all the other hours of the week?

I love the moment in a baseball or football or basketball game when a player gets a great hit or makes a great play - and pauses and raises his index finger to God - and I hear him or her saying, “Give God the Glory!” Ever since I started to see that - at every Sunday Mass - while we are saying or singing the Gloria - as a group - I sense we’re doing just that: giving God the glory.

I love the moment at Mass when I get to say over the bread and over the wine, “This is my Body…. This is my Blood….” because for the past 7 years or so at Baptisms I ask the parents of a new born baby to put the baby on the altar - just where the bread and wine sit - unless there are 6 babies. They all fit there. I say, “Hold onto that baby - and repeat after me: ‘This is my body…. This is my blood …. we’re giving our life to you.’”

On that altar here - a lot of babies have sat or just lay there - in the past 7 years  - as well as a lot of bread and wine. Recently one little girl - she must have been almost 1 - stood up and started to dance - and everyone clapped and she loved it. A star was born. I think they got it on video.

DIFFERENT

Better come to a conclusion - of some sorts - and I’ve been studying homilies lately and I realize my endings need a lot of work - so how do I end this baby?

If you’re married …. when was the moment - you looked across a crowded room - and there she was - or there he was - and that other was different - and your parents wondered when they met your other for the first time: “How is this one different from the last one?”

What was the different that got you married?

Has your marriage become same old same old same old - or could you do anything different - better - unique - right now - not waiting till February 14th every year? Is your marriage only 39 episodes - repeated over and over again. If it is, maybe it’s time for a new honeymoon?

If you have kids, have you ever put your hands on your kid’s head and said what God the Father said over Jesus in today’s gospel: “This is my beloved Son [or daughter] with whom I am well pleased.”

Have you ever seen your children - if you’re blessed with them - that they are your body and your blood - and you’ve given your life for them?

Have you ever expressed that thanks to them and to our God? When was the last time we gave them attention, recognition, praise, a good compliment - as opposed to a complaint or a gripe or a correction - or an expressed disappointment?

Hint …. hint …. Atta boys, Atta girls, make a difference.

Hint …. hint …. thinking and praying over this stuff during this hour - called "Mass"  can make the other 167 hours that much more glorious.

Have we ever paused and heard God say that over us? “You are my body…. you are my blood.  You are my beloved daughter…. you are my beloved son.”

Do I realize I’m different?



Do I realize I’m called to make a difference in this world - and that’s why I was created?
MARRIAGE -
EXPECTATIONS 




Poem For Today - January 12, 2014

MY RULES


If you want to marry me,
here’s what you’ll have to do
You must learn how to make
a perfect chicken dumpling stew
And you must sew my holey socks
and you must soothe my
troubled mind
And develop the knack for scratching my back
And keep by shoes spotlessly shined
And while I rest you must rake the leaves
And when it is hailing and snowing
You must shovel the walk, and
be still when I talk
And – hey where are you going?


© Shel Silverstein

Saturday, January 11, 2014

REST AND PEACE



Poem for Today - January 11, 2014


EPITAPH

Erected by her sorrowing brothers
In memory of Martha Clay.
Here lies one who lived for others;
Now she has peace. And so have they.


© C. S. Lewis

Friday, January 10, 2014

WORK



Poem for Today - January 10, 2014


Work is Love

Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love
But only with distaste, it is better
That you should leave your work and
Sit at the gate of the temple and take
Alms from those who work with joy.


                                      - Anon

Thursday, January 9, 2014

AM I A NUT?


A Poem for Today - January 9, 2014 

LOCKED IN


All my life I lived in a coconut.
It was cramped and dark.
Especially in the morning 
                when I had to shave.

But what pained me most was that 
                      I had no way
to get in touch with the outside world.
If no one out there happened 
                      to find the coconut,
if no one cracked it, then I was doomed
to live all my life in the nut,
and maybe even die there.

I died in the coconut.
A couple of years later 
               they found the coconut,
cracked it, and found me shrunk 
                     and crumbled inside.

“What an accident!”
“If only we had found it earlier.”
“Then maybe we could have saved him.”
“Maybe there are more of them 
               locked in like that …”
“Whom we might be able to save,”
they said, and started knocking to pieces
every coconut within reach.

No use! Meaningless! A waste of time!
A person who chooses to live in a coconut!
Such a nut is one in a million!
But I have a brother-in-law
who lives in an
acorn.


© Ingemar Gustafson