TRANSFIGURATION:

THERE ARE MOMENTS
AND THERE ARE MOMENTS

INTRODUCTION

There are moments
and there are moments.

We spend our lives in the valley,

but we need vacations -

we need mountain moments.

We're always on the run;

we need to stop from time to time

to see the flowers - and to see

all those people and things around us.

Some moments

are transfiguration moments,
when all of creation
and all the people

are seen in a different light.

Photographers sometimes
show us something
we’ve seen a thousand times,
but didn’t see:
the beauty of a leaf, its veins,
the yellow green of a grape,
the red of watermelon,
a smile,
the pink tongue of a dog,
the hands of a baby,
a tiny, tiny, tiny bug

walking on the page of a book

we haven’t picked up in years,
the eye, the hair of a wife of 3 months

or 300 months or 600 months,
the ocean, a dolphin jumping,
or a kid on a skateboard

going down a summer sidewalk

as we drive by in a car.

Okay, there are disfiguration moments,
beer cans dropped willy nilly in the church parking lot,
a teenager mocking another teenager,
graffiti, a cold shoulder or cold spaghetti.

Jesus tried to stop disfiguration moments.
Jesus pointed to transfiguration moments.

Listen to him.
Listen to Our Father.
You too and the person next to you

are beloved sons and daughters.
It’s nice to hear that.
It’s nice to see that.

There are moments and there are moments.

Mountain moments are great,
but life is lived in the valley.

Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

WHAT’S YOUR TAKE?

There are two kinds of people: those who see wheat and those who see weeds? * What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who say, “Hail world, full of grace!” and those who say, “Hail world, full of sin.” What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: optimists and pessimists – you know the metaphors – glasses of water – half full or half empty? - or big gift boxes with straw in them – horse or horse manure? ** What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who see light and those who see darkness. What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those with face muscles that proclaim a smile and those whose faces scream a scowl. What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who sing, “Ode to Joy” or those who sing, “Dies Irae?”*** What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who give and those who take, those who bend and those who won’t budge. What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who say they’re right and you’re wrong and those who say, “Let’s talk.” What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who celebrate life, sky dive, skate board, get out on the dance floor and those who sit there saying, “Crazy kids!” What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who always have that top button, buttoned, and those who loosen their collar – open those buttons and relax. What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who stand up in church and pray, “Thank God I’m not like the rest of people, greedy, unfair, adulterers – especially that I’m not like the person back there. I fast two times a week; I tithe on all I get”; while in the meanwhile the other person in the back, hesitant, and with eyes down cast says, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” **** What’s your take? What do you see?

There are two kinds of people: those who say, “How come Jesus is in communion with that person? How come Jesus eats with sinners and dines with them?”; and those who think and say what Jesus says, “It is not the healthy who need the doctor, but the sick. Go and learn the meaning of the words: What I want is mercy, not sacrifice. I did not come to call the virtuous, but sinners.”***** What’s your take? What do you see?

There are four kinds of people: (1) those who are hard headed and hard hearted. They are like the dirt road – nothing grows on them; (2) those who are shallow ground – the Word grows on them, but soon withers for lack of roots; (3) those who are good soil and the Word gets growing in them, but they have too many other things going and growing in their lives and the Word gets choked; and (4) those who are good soil and the Word grows in them – producing thirty, sixty and a hundredfold.****** What’s your take? What do you see?

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

* Cf. Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

** The reference is to the story of two twin boys - one of whom was an optimist and the other who was a pessimist. Their parents bought them a pony - and it came in a big cardboard box with straw in it. Upon arrival, the father put the pony in the fenced-in backyard. When the boys came home from school they saw the big box: one saw horse manure and the other seeing the staw screamed, "Great. We got a pony!"

** Ode to Joy by Friedrich Schiller (1786) set to music by various musicians. I have in ear the composition by Ludwig van Beethoven.; Dies Irae - perhaps by Thomas of Celano - also set to music by many musicians.


*** Cf. Luke 18:9-14


**** Cf. Luke 15; Matthew 9:9:9-13; 1 Timothy 1: 12-17; Amos 5:21.


***** Cf. Mark 4:1-20; Matthew 13:1-23; Luke 8:4-15.

IS THAT RIGHT?

The problem with knowing
is that it can prevent us from knowing.

What?

The problem with knowing
is that it can prevent us from growing.

What?

Well, if we think we’re right,
we might not think we could be wrong
and we miss what another is trying to tell us.

What?

Or then we might not make the effort
to find out if there is something we’re missing
or if there is more to know about
what we think we know.

What?

Like there might be another continent out there
waiting to be discovered or what we think
is India is really America.

What?

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

THAT EMPTY FEELING

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “That Empty Feeling.”

Every once and a while “That Empty Feeling” hits us.

It might be after a funeral and we’re driving or flying home. We’re quiet. We’re thinking, feeling, wondering and worrying about the unfinished business of life.

Or it might be after a vacation and all it did was rain – or it didn’t meet our expectations – or something went wrong within family dynamics.

It might be after a third job interview and we don’t get the job – and we told at least three people we were sure we were going to get it.

It might be our kid messes up or drops out of the family or school or a relationship – in which there is a kid and they aren’t married.

It might be a wedding we’re attending – and our marriage ended in disaster and divorce – and we just feel so all alone – and we tried dating a bunch of times – but nothing really worked – and we have the feeling, “I don’t want to be here” – and the music from a few dances – were two of our old songs – and they sound so sour or ugly or “Ugh!”

EFS
I’m saying everyone here has EFS at times. You probably never heard of EFS – especially because I made it up last night. It’s the Empty Feeling Syndrome. It’s specific – particular – unique – to each of us. We know the feeling when it’s us. When someone else is describing that they are going through this – we might say “Yeah, I know the feeling!” but they know and we know – we don’t know the particular stuff in each other’s inner room.

That empty feeling irritates us or itches us the most, when the other seems more interested in something else - like a piece of gossip or how good the coffee is – or that there are donuts in room such and such and hurry if you want to get one.

The title of my homily is, “That Empty Feeling.”

TODAY’S READINGS

Today’s first reading has the whole Israelite community grumbling against Moses and Aaron. That would do it. That might give us that the empty feeling syndrome.

They are whining and complaining, grumbling and griping, about being in the desert – far from home – nowhere near the so called, “Promised Land” that Moses promised. The food was horrible. Biblical scholars usually write that manna was some dried “goo” from the tamarisk tree – which the desert people to this day call “man hu”. Translation: “What is this?”

So food would do it – especially when we put together a meal and everyone is complaining about the food – or we picked the restaurant or it’s our restaurant.

Harsh words or a tough letter – like Paul’s words in today’s second reading could do it.

Being corrected – having someone unmask our motives – in public would do it – like Jesus does in today’s gospel.

THAT FILLED FEELING

Maybe a better way to get our hands on “That Empty Feeling” is to talk a bit about that filled feeling. When do we feel filled – or fulfilled?

25th and 50th Anniversaries certainly would do it.

Even a 37th wedding anniversary might do it. I’m sitting there last evening at a wedding reception – and the couple sitting to my left – better the gal two seats away to my left says over the empty chair that her husband just left to go to the bathroom or to get a beer – “Before you leave, would you give my husband and me a blessing? Two days from now is our 37 wedding anniversary.” I said “Sure.”

So after he returned – but before I left to come back home to work on this homily – I said to both of them, “Can I give you a wedding blessing?”

The wife, quickly explained to her husband why I asked that, and he goes, “Oh good – great!” Sitting there – they pressed into each other – side to side – and they were holding hands and I said a few words of blessing – and at a pause, he whispers, “Pray that we have 37 more years at least.” And that’s what I prayed for – that they have 37 more years at least.

They unhuddled and both had tears and as I got, up she got up and said, “I have to give you a hug!” And I got a nice hug and I gave the husband one as well.

I would think they were having a filled feeling evening – up from Virginia – at the wedding of a good friend’s daughter – and I assume they renewed their marriage vows to each other in church – perhaps because I said that would be one of the hopes of our couple getting married, Katie and John, that everyone here in church would renew their wedding vows and marriage as a result of being at this wedding.

I would think we feel filled seeing our kids on stage – in a football uniform – or ballerina tutu – or getting straight A’s – or seeing grandkids in similar situations in person or in pictures.

I would think we would get that filled feeling when we unload all those plastic crates and cardboard boxes of our kid – who is just starting college and we drive them to that college and she is on the 9th floor – and you can’t get the elevator when 700 kids are arriving at the same moment at that dorm building and we have to make the 14 stair trips up to the 9th floor to her room with her stuff – but we did it.

I would assume we get that filled feeling – sitting on a screened porch. It’s night. We’re on vacation. We sit there listening to a thousand insect orchestra in live surround sound. Or it’s night and we’re at a beach house and we can hear the ocean a block away. Wave after wave after wave is pounding the shore. The surf is hitting the sand – and nobody – nobody – nobody is on a cell phone or watching television – but all are enjoying each other - sharing old stories as well as the night and its sounds.

I would assume we get that filled feeling when we’re at Mass and the music is just right – and / or we’re going down the aisle behind a kid in a dad’s arms and the dad receives communion and the kid says, “I want some too daddy. I want some too.” And we say to ourselves, "What a wonderful distraction. What a wonderful moment!"

I would assume it would come from a second honeymoon – or a couple getting some space when the kids are away at summer camp – or when a couple are 23 years married and still holding hands or hugging or smooching – and the kids see them kissing – and the kids are wondering – how come our parents are different from other parents. And the parents – overhear their kids' wonderings – and they hold each other longer that night.

THAT FILLED FEELING – THAT EMPTY FEELING

We are not cars. We don’t have a gauge on our wrist that says, “Full \\\ /// Empty."

We know how much energy is in our tank!

We know when we’re running on empty. We know the empty echo of sin – the wanting to “escape” feeling when we just spent 10 minutes in a pack - meowing catty gossip – and it went too far – and we tore another person apart - and all afternoon we can't stand the aftertaste.

We also know when we’re full to the brim – when our tank has just been topped off with goodness. And goodness, when it spills over, can be explosive. Don’t we love a summer evening moment – walking with family or friends and we see an ice cream place and we get two scoops and the cone starts leaking – and we love the taste of lick – the taste of butter almond or rum raisin ice cream – and we try to lick our chin or fingers and we’re laughing with and at each other?

SUMMARY

That Empty Feeling – as well as it’s opposite, That Full Feeling, – is the theme that I thought of as I read today’s readings – especially today’s gospel. These 4 Sundays – every 3rd year, the year we use the Gospel of Mark for Sunday readings – we switch over to this 6th chapter of John for reflection.

It’s a wonderful chapter to read slowly. It is well developed. It has many nuances. It gets at this question of the human hunger and thirst for food, for meaning, for life. It gets at the question of being empty or being full.

It talks about food, but it obviously has Eucharistic overtones and undertones.

One of the things I hear when someone tells me they have an addiction – whether its food, drink, pornography, or what have you, it’s that they have a down deep empty feeling – and they want to feed it. They often say, “I feel there’s a hole here inside my soul.”

“Feed me. Feed me. Feed me.”

The difference between social drinking and addictive drinking is pain. I remember hearing a famous - as well as classic, Alcoholics Anonymous talk – on tape – by a guy named Clarence X – who said the one identifiable item in the stories of alcoholics is that we take booze as medicine.

Addicts will tell you there is never enough alcohol, never enough food, never enough sex, to medicate that pain, to fill up the hole that person feels is in their soul.

And the first step in AA and in 12 step programs is to admit I’m powerless over my addiction – but there is a power than can help – God – my higher power.

If you haven’t read Augustine’s Confessions for a while, dust it off, and hear him say all this a thousand times better than I said some of this. Hear his words, better his prayers, his confessions to God, “You have made us for yourself and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”

So that’s why we are here in church, at this meeting, at this gathering place, at this Mass. That’s why we hunger for the bread of life. We want to be in communion with Christ and all his brothers and sisters here in his midst. Here we discover Christ more and more and he brings us more and more into communion with His Father and the Spirit of love between them and us. Amen.

WHY NOT?

“Do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Stop asking `Why?’”

“Why?”

“Well, it annoys me!”

“Oh! Thanks for telling me that. I didn’t know
it annoyed you.”

“It does and you do it every time.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do, and it’s getting to me.”

“Why?”

“There. You just did it again.”

“Ooops! I’m sorry.”

“I bet you half the time
you don’t realize you’re doing it.”

“Well, … come to think about it, I don’t –
but let me ask you a question, ‘Do
you have any ideas why I do it.’”

“Well … no, but why are you asking me?”

“Why not?”

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

THE DAY JESUS
WALKED AWAY HUNGRY

[This is a story I always wanted to write – and that “want to” hits me every year when we come to July 29th, the feast of St. Martha. So this morning I said, “Do it!” So here it is: a first draft story that I’m sure those here, especially women, think about whenever they hear this gospel text, Luke 10:38-42.]

Once upon a time, Jesus dropped into the house of two friends of his: Mary and Martha. He had been there many times before – and each time he really enjoyed the visit.

It was good to get away from his disciples – all these men. They could be so petty and so stupid. They were always trying to be up front, right next to him, first and foremost, whenever he was telling a parable or teaching a teaching – which they usually didn’t get – until at least the tenth time he told one of his favorite stories.

But Mary and Martha were different. Jesus liked women. Mary was a great listener; Martha was a great cook.

But this time Martha was sitting there waiting for Jesus – wearing her Sabbath best. And there was Mary – wondering, “What’s going on with Martha? She’s usually waiting for Jesus at the door with an apron and a smile.”

Jesus called from outside, “Mary. Martha!”

He always put Mary’s name first. Mary noticed that. Martha also noticed that – and it irked her at times. Jealousy could be rather sneaky – creeping around our mind making various inner innuendos.

Martha knew the way to a man’s heart was his stomach. Mary knew the way to a man’s heart was listening to his stories.

Jesus sat down. Mary and Martha were also sitting. Mary and Martha were all ears – but something was eating at Mary. She wanted Jesus all to herself.

Time ticked on. Jesus and Mary both became both anxious and worried. Mary’s face became twisted a bit – because her mind was wondering, “Did Martha order take-out’s and someone was going to deliver the food any minute now?” “Did Martha forget that Jesus was coming?” “No,” she said to herself, “she’s all dressed up and was talking about his coming to see them for three days now.”

Jesus kept wondering: “What’s Martha doing in here? How come she’s not in the kitchen cooking – cooking up her best stuff?”

Jesus’ words weren’t flowing – because he kept wondering, “Where’s the food?” Jesus sniffed a few times – trying to get a scent of some kind of food - somewhere.

Martha was watching everything. She knew what she was cooking up this time. Mary wasn’t getting it. Jesus wasn’t getting it. Martha got it.

Well, after about two hours of chat as they sat – much of which was blurts – and stories about his busyness – Jesus said, “I better get back to the boys. They’ll be wondering where I am.”

As Jesus walked away from Mary and Martha’s house – his stomach was growling. He wished the stones along the side of the road were bread. He was hungry – more hungry than that time in the desert.

Suddenly, he stopped. Suddenly, he got it. Suddenly, he hit himself on his forehead and said out loud to himself, “Martha, Martha, you are smarter and wiser than all my disciples. Martha, Martha, that’s the last time I’ll say to you what I said the last time I was here, ‘Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.’”

He laughed and looked back at Martha and Mary’s house and yelled, “Martha, Martha, I was wrong, cooking is the better part.”

And Luke and John got it too – when they wrote about these two women. They both put Martha’s name first when telling their stories. [Cf. Luke 10:38-40; John 11: 19-27]



Painting on Top: Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, c. 1654-1655, Vermeer, oil on canvas, National Gallery of Scotland, Edinburgh

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

MISUNDERSTOOD

If there is one thing we need to understand,
it is how to deal with being misunderstood.

In fact, when the other says,
“I understand”,
I need to stand there in silence,
humbly and calmly saying to myself,
“I sort of understand why you just said that,
because I say the same thing all the time,
but right now both of us don’t understand.”

So I understand 
that parents don’t understand kids,
coaches their players, teachers their students,
and vice versa, and then some more,
and then some more after that.

And I understand taking this stance
can make me cynical or angry or both.

It’s life! Classroom Earth.

But I also understand, this is
what can challenge me to listen,
to probe, to ponder, to pray,

and especially to be humble.

This is what can challenge me
to try to understand fiction and non-fiction.

This is what can get me to taste the tears
running down my face in songs, movies,
plays and poems and family hurts.

I guess this is why 
artists paint paintings

or sculpt sculptures. 
I guess

they are trying to get glimpses,
tiny understandings, of the human condition

and everyday situations.

So God, I don’t understand You

or it. In fact, I understand,

I misunderstand You,

and the it of every day.

So it’s back to Shakespeare and the comics,
the Psalms and the Parables – aches and pains,

laughing in the middle of traffic tie-ups,
and life's million misunderstandings
and one million and one miracles. Amen.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD

INTRODUCTION

Since today’s first reading and gospel talk about food, it hit me to say something about food. So the title of my homily is, “Food, Glorious Food.”

That’s the title of the opening song of the musical and movie “Oliver” – where the orphans long for, hope for, imagine, more food – and all they get is this ugly grey slop called, “gruel”.

The “Food, Glorious Food” song in the movie has the boys dressed in drab colored clothes marching down steps into what looks like a big prison eating hall. They see servants walking with trays and bowls of steaming, delicious looking food. Then you see the boys in the big hall peeking through windows into a small dining room where those who run the orphanage are about to eat a big meal. It looks like there is a large turkey and all kinds of rich food on a full table.

“Food, Glorious Food.”

WHAT IS MORE BASIC?

What is more basic – more important than food?

Abraham Maslow lists food – along with clothing, water, sleep, shelter – as the bottom line – physiological needs – the lowest level in his pyramid of our hierarchy of needs.

We hope for food – glorious food – at least 3 times a day.

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

And when we pray that prayer we pray and hopefully work for all the means to help bring about daily bread for all: family, education, jobs, research and development. And daily bread – obviously means all kinds of food and drink – water, watermelon, rice, beans, proteins, carbs, veggies, what have you. (Cf. http://www.worldhunger.org/articles/09/editorials/brown.htm)

TODAY’S READINGS

In today’s first reading a man from Baal-shalishah brings 20 barley loaves to Elisha, the man of God, to help feed the people. The text from the Second Book of Kings [4:42-44] was obviously chosen because the gospel has a similar story: How can a small amount of bread feed a large amount of people? [John 6:1-15]

And in both stories the people are fed – and there is food left over.

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

THE MASS AS MEAL

It wasn’t by accident that Jesus told us to eat this meal – come to this Mass – and do all this in memory of him.

Just as we need to eat, we need to eat God – and each other. We need communion. We need community. Just as we are hungry for food, we are hungry for God and each other.

Take and eat. Take and drink. This is my body. This is my blood.

We need food. Sometimes we are blind to the close to a billion people on our planet who are hungry. As a kid I couldn't figure out how the vegetables I didn't want to eat could somehow help the starving kids in China. As an adult I know China has improved their food production, yet I know very little about solving and doing anything about world hunger.

In the meanwhile, hopefully we enjoy our daily bread – and coffee – and ice cream – steak, salmon and crab cakes. Hopefully, we are aware that everyone on the planet has a tummy as well.

Food, Glorious Food. Without it, our stomachs will growl. Without it, we will be screaming and growling in the streets. Without it, we’d be checking dumpsters and garbage cans – hoping for something to eat – and I read somewhere we’d be doing this in less than a week – if we had nothing to eat.

POPE BENEDICT XVI

Pope Benedict XVI put out on June 29th, the third of his encyclicals: “Caritas in Veritate” – “Love in Truth”.

Saturday, a week ago, Peter Steinfels in The New York Times, (1) criticized it a bit for its heaviness – its complicated intricacies. It is a hard read. Yet like his first big encyclical letter, “Deus Caritas Est” – “God Is Love” – it tackles not only our need for God and others in our lives, but also one of life’s most important issues: “Give us this day our daily bread” or our need for “Food, Glorious Food.”

In these two encyclicals of our Pope, he links his words with some of the great biblical texts that call the world to be aware of everyone in the world.

In these two encyclicals of our Pope, he links his words with the great social justice encyclicals of other popes. He refers to Rerum Novarum of Leo XIII, as well as the social justice encyclicals of John the 23, Paul VI, and John Paul II. (2)

TWO SUGGESTIONS

If you use a computer, if you have internet, if you have time – if you want to be challenged – if you are hungry to be a saint – here are two suggestions:

1) In the Google search engine on your computer screen type in, “You Tube Oliver Song Food Glorious Food.” Then watch the short film of the song, “Food, Glorious Food” a few times. It’s really well done – and much, much shorter than any sermon you’d hear from me. Then type into Google, “You Tube Les Miserables” and watch some of the songs of that musical as well -and catch the similarities in both plots.

2) Then type into Google, “Encyclicals Benedict XVI” and surprise, free of charge you can read and study the encyclicals “Deus Caritas Est” and “Caritas in Veritate”.

They are tough reads – but if you want to be challenged, go for it.

If you don’t use a computer, find the DVD movies of “Oliver” and “Les Miserables” and watch both of them.

If you don’t use a computer, and don’t have a DVD player for movies or what have you, then check out in a local library, Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens and Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. You’re getting your hands on two authors from the 1800’s who were trying to get people aware of what was happening outside their inner rooms. The Industrial Revolution was changing the world. Crowded cities, open sewers in the streets, child labor, horrible working conditions, pollution, were just some of the problems. This was before the advent of labor unions. Those of you who see the play, A Christmas Carol, every Advent here in Annapolis, know about Scrooge and how folks didn’t have Christmas and holidays off. Charles Dickens spoke up about the same problems that Karl Marx protested. People were hungry. People were starving – while the wealthy ate very well in their inner rooms.

THE UNITED NATIONS AND TODAY’S SECOND READING

I like to tell the story about the time, years and years ago, when I went to the United Nations on a Sunday afternoon. I had time and I was in Manhattan. Why not? I walked up the steps and it was closed.

I stood there for a moment to see what might be around. I went and saw the wall where they have Isaiah’s words, “… they will hammer their swords into ploughshares and their spears into sickles.” (Isaiah 2:4)

I still had time. I spotted what looked like a chapel across the avenue. It was called, “The United Nations Chapel.”

I walked in. Nobody was there. I sat down on a bench and said some prayers for world peace – and while praying, I noticed a Bible or what looked like a Bible, open on the altar up front and center.

I walked up front and there was a rope fence around the altar. I turned and looked to see if there was a camera anywhere. I didn’t spot one, so I climbed over the rope fence and walked up to see what page the Bible was open to, if it was a Bible.

Surprise it was open to today’s second reading: Ephesians 4:1-6

Brothers and sisters:

I, a prisoner for the Lord,

urge you to live in a manner worthy

of the call you have received,

with all humility and gentleness,

with patience,

bearing with one another through love,

striving to preserve the unity of the spirit

through the bond of peace:

one body and one Spirit,

as you were also called

to the one hope of your call;

one Lord, one faith, one baptism;

one God and Father of all,

who is over all and through all and in all. 

There it was – a clear call for unity – that Our God is the Father of us all.

THE HEART OF THE MATTER – THE STOMACH IS WHAT MATTERS

As Jesus knew – and those who cook know – the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach.

As Jesus knew – as we hopefully know – the way to world unity or united nations – is through our stomachs. We need our daily bread. We need food. Of course, we don't live by bread alone, but we better start here.

This is the Gospel message. I don’t think it’s an option.

This is the Church’s message. As Pope Benedict said, this is what St. Vincent de Paul and Teresa of Calcutta and so many saints did and do. This is what we are called to do.

CONCLUSION

In case nothing in this homily grabbed you, let me conclude with 10 quotes to chew upon – 10 quotes to digest.

The first is from St. Basil the Great: “When someone steals another's clothes, we call them a thief. Should we not give the same name to one who could clothe the naked and does not? The bread in your cabinet belongs to the hungry; the coat unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor.”

The second is from Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Life Together, “So long as we eat our bread together, we shall have sufficient even for the least. Not until one person desires to keep his own bread for himself does hunger ensue.”

The third is from Viktor Frankl who wrote the great book, Man’s Search for Meaning, “We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.

The fourth is from the Brazilian, Archbishop Helder Camara, “When you give food to the poor, they call you a saint. When you ask why the poor have no food, they call you a communist.”

The fifth is from Dorothy Day, “I have long since come to believe that people never mean half of what they say, and that it is best to disregard their talk and judge only their actions.”

The sixth is from John Ruskin who warned Christians when he wrote that “you had better get rid of the smoke, and the organ pipes ... and the Gothic windows and the painted glass ... and look after Lazarus at the doorstep.” Works XXXVI, 1864) We were blessed and nagged and challenged in this parish for years by Father Jack Lavin who wrote a whole book entitled “Lazarus at the Doorstep.” Justice, fairness, concern for the forgotten, the edged out, the immigrants around us - were Jack's bread and butter issues and concerns.

The seventh is from Daniel Berrigan, S.J. who wrote, “Sometime in your life, hope that you might see one starved man, the look on his face when the bread finally arrives. Hope that you might have baked it or bought or even kneaded it yourself. For that look on his face, for your meeting his eyes across a piece of bread, you might be willing to lose a lot, or suffer a lot, or die a little, even.”

The eighth is from William Booth of the Salvation Army who wrote that we spend so much energy “to save people from perdition in a world which is to come, while never a helping hand is stretched out to save them from the inferno of their present life.”

The ninth is from Mother Teresa, “There is more hunger in the world for love and appreciation in this world than for bread.”

The tenth is also from Mother Teresa, “If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one.”

++++++++OOOOOOOOOOOOO++++++

Notes: 

(1) Peter Steinfels, "From The Vatican, A Tough Read," The New York Times, July 17, 2009, can be found on line.

(2) Pope John XXIII, Mater et Magistra (May 15, 1961), Pacem in Terris (April 11, 1963); Pope Paul VI, Populorum Progressio (March 26, 1967); Pope John Paul II, Laborem Exercens (Sept. 14, 1981), Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (March 25, 1987, Centesimus Annus (May 1, 1991). Confer also, Pope Pius XI, Quadragesimo Anno (May 15, 1931); Gaudium et Spes, The Pastoral Constitution of the Church in the Modern World (December 7, 1965), Vatican II document.

*

HOW AM I DOING?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “How Am I Doing?”**

TODAY’S READINGS

I read today’s readings and it struck me that as far as I know, nobody in this parish is a shepherd.

Yet the readings challenge shepherds to be good shepherds.

Then it hit me: what about all the other roles we play in life? How am I doing as a mom or a dad, a husband or a wife, a brother or a sister, a friend, a fireman or a coach, a neighbor or a driver, a dentist or a bar tender?

How am I doing?

THE EXPERIENCE OF MEETING A NEAT PERSON

Haven’t we all been to a restaurant and the waiter or waitress was neat. She was there for us, but out of ear shot. She was there when we wanted a refill on water. She had scanned all the glasses as she was walking by after taking the orders from two tables away. She was there when we wanted the bill. And in between we found out – because we asked her – that she’s at Anne Arundel Community College and hopes to finish at Maryland. She wants to be a lawyer some day. And she told us this rather quickly, because she had work to do.

We’re driving through a toll booth heading east on the Bay Bridge. We don’t have E-Z Pass and in that 7 seconds of giving the guy a 5 dollar bill and getting our $2.50 in change – we experience neat positive energy, a smile, a “Have a great day!” and we have a tiny up-draft in our spirit as a result of that quick simple human transaction.

We’re at the beach and we’re relaxing with some folks renting next door and we’re talking about high school – and we begin talking about teachers and we jump in with praise for a great teacher we had in our high school junior year – and the lingering neatness of that person is still with us after 35 years.

We’re on vacation in Wyoming or South Carolina and we find a Catholic Church for Sunday morning – and we’re having breakfast afterwards – and we’re saying to each other. “That priest seemed like such a nice guy. The sermon was excellent and it was only 5 minutes. He got to the point – said it – gave a great example – and that was it. Neat.” And a month later we realized we told at least 15 people about a wonderful church and priest we experienced in Wyoming or South Carolina.

QUESTIONS

Is there anyone on the planet this summer bragging about us – and they haven’t seen or been with us in 35 years?

What kind of aftertaste do I leave?

What will they be saying about me at my funeral?

Or better, what do the nurses say about us at a coffee break when we’re in room 356? Will someone say, “Patient 356 is the most impatient patient I’ve had in that room this year?” Or would they say, “Room 356: neat person?”

How am I doing?

What are the ingredients – qualities – gifts – we expect of others?

What are my expectations for a fellow worker – a neighbor – a friend?

What happens when I walk in a room?

What happens when my kids see me getting out of the car and heading for the house?

Am I able to describe myself as a spouse, dad, mom, friend, neighbor, car pool person, driver?

Could I answer the question, “How am I doing?” Or do we need to get that feedback from others? Is the old saying true: “No one can be judge in their own case or cause?” ["In propri cuus nemo judex."]

ANSWERS
Today’s first reading, in giving a job description for a good shepherd, begins negatively. Jeremiah says “Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture, says the Lord.”

Jeremiah says that the Lord wants shepherds who care for the sheep – bring them to good meadows – shepherds who don’t scare the sheep – shepherds who don’t lose sheep.

When Jesus gave his message about being a good shepherd, he gives pretty much the same message. The distinction that hits me: am I a hireling or a real shepherd. Is it a job or is it a pleasure to be with you? Do I know the sounds of those I’m with each day? Can I read faces, moods, attitudes? [Cf. John 1o:1-18]

Today’s Psalm in between the first and second readings – the famous Psalm 23 – has the best description of a good person that I’ve ever heard, “Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life.”

Let’s be honest, most of us get mixed reviews. Is that why the marriage vows have the worse with the better?

I don’t know of any elected official who has 100 % approval ratings.

I remember mentioning in a sermon something that I read somewhere. “When it comes to being a priest, 1/3 like you, 1/3 don’t like you, 1/3 don’t care either way.” I have had people say you’re doing a good job and I know some people that wish it was another priest who came down the aisle – but they’re stuck with me.

And I know when it comes to preaching, we’re not in the business of preaching to be liked. The task is to try to capture and proclaim a message from the readings of the day. However, when it comes to being a human being, who wants negative ratings or to be disliked?

As priest I have given many workshops, missions, retreats where they ask folks to fill out evaluation forms. Then they give the results to the speaker. To be honest I am only appreciative of specific recommendations – specific suggestions where I could improve.

I remember giving a presentation on “Skills for Running Small Groups” to the priests of the Syracuse Diocese. The priests had the option to go to various speakers. I gave the same talk twice: in the morning and again in the afternoon – on a two and a half day program. Then the other half of the diocese came for the second half of the week – and once more I gave that presentation twice. The numbers kept going down. Obviously, they were talking to each other. Obviously, people asked people, “Who’s good? Who’s not?”

If you’re in the business, you got to be able to take the heat.

Some of you, upon hearing that, might say, “I gotta give that guy a cookie. He’s gotta be feeling bad.”

Nope. I’m a diabetic.

Nope. But the readings for today challenge me to ask, “How am I doing as a priest?” because "shepherd" is a word used especially for the pope, bishops, pastors and priests.

And today we Redemptorists are celebrating the feast of Christ the Redeemer. How are we Redemptorists doing here at St. Mary’s and how are we doing around the world?

Being specific, I hope I have improved through the years. I know when I do a good job, a decent job, a poor job. And there are times when I don’t know how I did.

Then I remember what my mom and so many other folks have said, “Do your best! In fact, that’s all you can do.”

Then I remember a story I heard Father Mike Dillon, a Redemptorist, say at least a dozen times. He’d say, “As Father Mike Downing used to say. ‘Do your best! And if they don’t like your best, they’ll get a replacement.’”

CONCLUSION
Let me move the energy that I might have generated in how priests are doing to all of us here today. What would it be like to have evaluation forms on our kitchen table? What would it be like if all of us were evaluated as spouse, parent, brother, sister, friend, coworker, insurance sales person, usher, or driver or how we park?

Today’s gospel has Jesus needing to escape – needing a rest. He tells his disciples, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.”

They tried it – but as we heard, it didn’t work. They got crowded. Evidently Jesus had something everyone wanted.

Yet Jesus needed space and he did find it at times.

How about you? Do you take walks by yourself? Do you escape from everyone at times while on vacation? Do you talk to loved ones from time to time on how you’re doing as a spouse or parent or what have you?

Evaluations are tough stuff. Those of you who work in places where there is peer evaluation know what I’m talking about.

If done well, calmly, with specifics, we’d have better marriages, stores, medical practices and parishes.

“Ooops!” on that last one: parishes. Sermon and Mass and parish evaluations are rare.

Enough already, in case you’re a short sermon advocate and you’re evaluating my time. My time goal is 10 minutes. How did I do?

How are you doing?

How are we doing as the flock of Christ the Good Shepherd here at St. Mary’s Annapolis. Good or Baaaaaa? [Make sheep sound!]

*Painting on top: Christ the Good Shepherd, from Cameroon
** This is Ed Koch's, former mayor of New York City, question.

WAITING AT THE GATE 43

The stranger sat there at Gate 43.

I sat there waiting in that same airport alcove.

Now and then the stranger would turn a page
of his big newspaper and as he did,
he would look up to watch whoever was walking by.

I too was watching, reading him
reading people walking by.

I like to watch and wonder about people –
who’s with whom and where are they going?

A loud loudspeaker announced an arriving flight.

The stranger didn’t seem to hear that – even when
a door opened. At that clusters of people stood up
looking for people coming through a doorway.

I love this moment. I love to see people
waiting for people, faces recognizing faces,
wives husbands, parents children,
lovers lovers, friends friends.

The stranger just sat there – still reading his paper.

Then he looked at his watch, folded up his paper.

His face twisted a bit. It seemed negative.

He stood up, and headed out onto
the main walking rug, heading towards an escalator.

Still sitting there, I watched him walk away,
wondering who he was and who he was waiting for.

Quietly, you walked up unnoticed and said, “Hi stranger.”

It was then I saw another person in another chair
watching me – and he had a smile on his face.

It told me he too was waiting and watching.

Now about that stranger …. There are some things
I guess we’ll never know. “Bye stranger.”

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

SILENT MARRIAGE

Lonely, and the only sounds,
(and they were loud)
were the clinking and cutting
of meat on their porcelain plates,
plus the return of coffee cups
to their saucers. The love sounds
of their marriage stopped several years ago.
Both refused to face their consequences.
Both tried to survive in separate corners
of their empty bed and heads,
and their silent dinner table.
Their parents said it was because
they stopped going to church. They knew
it was because they stopped going
to communion to each other.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009