THERE’S  MORE  THAN 

ONE  WAY  TO  SKIN  A  CAT!

 INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “There’s More Than One Way to Skin a Cat.”

Have you ever used that saying somewhere and some time in your life?

Someone wants you to do something their way – or the expected way – and you do it a different way – or you want to do it your way. And so you say, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

LOOKED IT UP

I looked it up and found out that nobody is that sure of the origin of that old proverb.

Researchers found people saying that saying - as far back as 1678 – but they are still not sure where the saying comes from. It could mean just what it says. Picture 5 taxidermists removing the skin of an animal – removing stuff - then restuffing it with different stuff – and then putting the skin back on. I would assume taxidermists - or hunters - or butchers - would remove an animal's skin differently. Then someone applied that reality to everyday life and said, "There's more than one way to skin a cat." People do things differently. Hello!

Others say it refers to skinning a catfish. Others say it refers to doing a gymnastic trick differently.

Since it’s still a common saying – someone came up with a cute list of 50 different ways to skin a cat. Some were quite funny.  Some of the 50 are gross – and I have to work on being PC correct. Better PCC – Politically Cat Correct. Here’s 4  ways from that list on how to skin a cat that I think could be mentioned in church:  
# 17: “Suddenly and severely frighten the cat you want to skin.  Try sneaking up and clap cymbals in its ears.”  
# 22:  vote yes on proposition 98. (the cat skinning law) 
# 42, “Tie one end of string to doorknob, other end to cat's skin. Slam door.” Ouch!                
# 46: Accuse cat of murder. Collect skin as evidence.”

OOPS – THE REASON FOR THIS SERMON

It’s the thought that hit me when I read today’s 3 readings.

In today’s first reading we hear about structural – organizational - changes in the Early Church.

Things are getting busier and people are being neglected. We need to reorganize.

We heard in today’s first reading that the Hellenists – the Greeks in the Early Church – complained against the Hebrews in the Early Church. Their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. Some folks were needed to serve at table; some folks were needed for prayer services.  So after discussion 7 men were chosen for a special ministry.

Reorganization has been the history of every organization – and that includes the Christian Church. Priests, bishops, deacons, other ministries developed as the church expanded and grew. These titles don’t mean exactly what they mean today.

Pope Francis has recently set up his super committee of 8 cardinals. Was it to bypass the curia or other power groups?

As we move into the future, there will be changes in Church structure and organization. What those changes will be – gives material for many magazine articles.

As we look at the past, cardinals weren’t always the sole voters on picking a new pope. That didn’t take place till 1059. Before that emperors and others got in on the pickings.

So the history of cardinals could be a case study in church organizational change and development. Some say our first reading  - with this story of these 7 men being picked by name was the beginning of the idea of cardinals. Others say it’s the idea of the deacons. These 7 were chosen as consulters – and by the 4^th century - these consulters of the Pope were called "Cardinals".  The word has the Latin root "cardo" meaning "hinge".

The word “monsignor” also has an interesting history. Pope Francis didn’t reward anyone with this title when he was Archbishop and then Cardinal of Buenos Aires – and wants to cut back on titles and awards  - telling priests to avoid careerism.

I love the last part of the last sentence in the English Translation of today’s first reading: “The word of God continued to spread, and the number of the disciples in Jerusalem increased greatly; even a large group of priests were becoming obedient to the faith.”

There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

So expect in our lifetime more structural changes in the Catholic Church.

Today’s second reading from 1 Peter says the key to any structure is Christ. The building can take many shapes, but make sure Christ is our cornerstone. Make him our rock.

So Christianity has many forms – and has had many splits – and hopefully we keep on working for Church Unity – aware that we all don’t see the same way. Hopefully, we all hear that final sentence and statement in today’s second reading: “You are ‘a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own, so that you may announce the praises’ of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”

Today’s Gospel has Jesus telling us that he is the way, the truth and the life. Today’s gospel also has Jesus telling us that there are many dwelling places in his Father’s house.

Down through the centuries there have been many descriptions of what heaven is like. We have to die to find out – and I don’t hear most people dying to find out. Different religions also give different descriptions.

There are jokes and amusing stories about up there. I’ve heard about 5 versions of the person arriving in heaven – and being shown to their room – and St. Peter says as the new person goes by several doors – “Shish – those are the Catholics, they think they’re the only one’s here.” “Shish those are the Baptists, they think they’re the only one’s here.”

Will every mansion on the street be different? Will there be gated communities – with Golden Gates and Golden cobblestones?

CONCLUSION: IN THE MEANWHILE

The title of my homily is, “There’s More Than One Way to Skin a Cat.”

I think that tiny trivial statement – can bring us a lot of peace.

I think Thomas is a great gift of a person to have in the gospel readings. He says things we all need to say at times. For example, from today’s gospel: “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?”

Then Jesus says to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

To me that’s like ordering “Cobb Salad” when at a restaurant.

My good friend Tom and I were preaching in Ohio – where Bob Evan’s Restaurants started. The priest in the parish took us out to Bob Evans every night – he didn’t like to shop or cook. Every night – Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I got Cobb Salad.

As a result whenever I see Cobb Salad on a menu – except if it says it has fish in it – I order Cobb Salad to see how they make it in this restaurant.

That’s the act of faith. I make it.  In the meanwhile I wait to see what’s going to appear 10 minutes later.

Life – we have to make lots of acts of faith. We know there are lots of ways to skin a cat – lots of ways to live our faith – lots of ways to do life – and we make acts of faith in each other – and in our judgment - and in God – and we just hope what happens after our waiting– it was all worth the wait.

Of course we have hesitations. Didn’t the risen Lord – on that Lake called Galilee – have fish on a fire for the disciples  – for breakfast - one of those first mornings after Easter? I hope to get to heaven after I die, but if I meet him waiting for me on the other shore of death  cooking something up for me when I arrive, I hope it's not catfish.

VENICE  -  FIREWORKS 

Poem for Today - May 18, 2014

THINKING  OF  GALILEO

When, during a weekend in Venice while standing

with the dark sky above the Grand Canal

exploding in arcs of color and light,

a man behind me begins to explain

the chemical composition of the fireworks

and how potassium-something-ate and sulfur catalyze

to make the gold waterfall of stars cascading

in the moon-drunk sky, I begin to understand why

the Inquisition tortured Galileo

and see how it might be a good thing for people

to think the sun revolves around the earth.

You don't have to know how anything works

to be bowled over by beauty,

but with an attitude like mine we'd still be                   swimming

in a sea of smallpox and consumption,

not to mention plague, for these fireworks

are in celebration of the Festival of the Redentore,
or Christ the Redeemer, whose church on the other           side

of the canal was built after the great plague

      of 1575 to thank him for saving Venice,

though by that time 46,000 were dead,

and I suppose God had made his point if indeed he           had one.

The next morning, Sunday, we take the vaporetto

across the lagoon and walk along

the Fondamenta della Croce, littered

with the tattered debris of spent rockets

and Roman candles, to visit the Church of the                   Redentore

by Palladio. The door is open for mass,

and as I stand in the back, a miracle occurs:
after a year of what seems to be nearly futile study,

I am able to understand the Italian of the priest.

He is saying how important it is

to live a virtuous life, to help one's neighbors,

be good to our families, and when we err

to confess our sins and take communion.

He is speaking words I know: vita, parlare,                       resurrezione.

Later my professor tells me the holy fathers

speak slowly and use uncomplicated constructions

so that even the simple can understand Christ's                 teachings.

The simple: well, that's me, as in one for whom

even the most elementary transaction is difficult,

who must search for nouns the way a fisherman

throws his net into the wide sea, who must settle

for the most humdrum verbs: I am, I have, I go, I       speak,

and I see nothing is simple, even my desire to                   strangle

the man behind me or tell him that some things

shouldn't be explained, even though they can be,

because most of the time it's as if we are wandering

lost in a desert, famished, delirious,

set upon by wild lions, our minds blank with fear,

starving for a crumb, any morsel of light.

© Barbara Hamby (1952-  )

THE SCREAM!

A QUIET POEM

My father screamed whenever the phone rang.

My aunt often screamed when she opened the door.

Out back, the willows caterwauled.

In the kitchen, the faucet screamed

a drop at a time.

At school, they called screaming “recess”

or sometimes “music.”

Our neighbors’ daughter had a scream

more melodious than my own.

At first, Col. Parker had to pay girls

to get them to scream for Elvis.

I didn’t want to scream when I saw the Beatles

but I did. After that, I screamed for even

mediocre bands.

Late in his career, John Lennon

got into Primal Scream.

Many people find it relaxing to scream.

Just as crawling precedes walking, so screaming

precedes speech.

The roller coaster is just one of many

scream-inducing devices.

The ambulance tries, in its clumsy way, to emulate

the human scream, which in turn tries to emulate nature.

Wind is often said to shriek, but Sylvia Plath

also speaks of “the parched scream of the sun.”

Jim Morrison wanted to hear the scream of the butterfly.

With ultra-sensitive equipment, scientists measure

the screams of plants they’ve tortured.

It’s proven, that if you scream at a person

for years, then suddenly stop, he will hear even

the tenderest words of love as violent curses.

And to anyone who speaks above a whisper, he will say:

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare raise your voice to me.”

© Elaine Equi, pages 570-571,

In Post Modern American Poetry,

A Norton Anthology, edited by

Paul Hoover, 2^nd Edition.

Painting on top:
The Scream, The Shrik,
(The Scream of Nature),
Edvard Munch [1863-1944]
Pastel on Board, Oslo.
This version sold for
$119,922,000.

QUIET

May 16, 2014

QUIETLY

Quietly

may the murmur of water falling

fill us,

quietly

may the autumn moon

Float on the ripples of the lake,

quietly

may life’s unspoken mystery

deepen in our still eyes,

quietly

may we, ecstatic, be immersed in the expanse

yet find it in ourselves –

Agyeya, translated by Lucy Rosenstein, from New Poetry in Hindi, Nayi Kavita: An Anthology (London: Anthem Press, 2004 / Permanent Black, 2002) Copyright © by Lucy Rosenstein.

GOD?

Poem for Today - Thursday May 15, 2014

TO GOD

How many things they say about you –

that you created the expanding universe,

or was it that the world’s people

created you? Whose side do you choose?

The rich – who take more than their due

and toss scraps to the poor, and toss you too?

Or the poor – who hope you’ll soon turn things upside down

and so deliver them? But you never do.

In battle, you sit by the victor.

Nietzsche says, you’re dead.
Pascal says, we can’t know whether or not you exist,

but it’s worse to be fooled disbelieving.

These are weighty and deep philosophical questions. I see

a forest behind me, a desert in front of me,

and man in the middle, in his encampments.

and bullock carts hauling heaps of beef everyday.

© Sarat Kumar Mukhopadhyay

Translated from the Bengali

by Robert McNamara and

the author.

BE  STILL

Poem for Today - May 14, 2014

TODAY

Today I’m flying low and I’m

not saying a word.
I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,

the bees in the garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.

And so forth.

But I’m taking the day off.

Quiet as a feather.

I hardly move though really I’m traveling

a terrific distance.

Stillness.  One of the doors

into the temple.

© Mary Oliver, page 23,

in A Thousand Mornings.

Painting on top:
The Purification of the Temple,
1479-1481. It's part of  the
St. Wolfgang Alterpiece
by Michael Pacher (c. 1435-1498)
which can be found 
in a monastery at the end of 
Lake Wolfgang in Austria.

ON  BEING  CALLED 

A  CHRISTIAN  

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 4^th Tuesday after Easter is, “On Being Called a Christian.”

In our lifetime I think we’ve seen people and heard about people being called and seen as a Christian.

I like that last sentence in today’s first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, “… and it was in Antioch that the disciples were first called Christians.”  That’s Acts 11: 26b to be exact.

THREE REASONS TO BE CALLED A CHRISTIAN

As I thought about this last night for  a sermon this morning, I came up with 3 reasons why someone might want to be or would be called a Christian.

First reason would be that a person does Christ like things: turns the other cheek, goes the goes the extra mile, gives the shirt off one’s back, visits the sick, feeds the hungry, loves one another as Jesus loved us. This happens without knowing whether who the person is or what have you. I wonder, I hope, the following also happens in other parts of the world that someone says when someone is charitable to another that someone says, “That was very Moslem like of you.”

Yesterday – in the Metropolitan Diary section of The New York Times – I noticed the following story. Every Monday morning I look for at these incidents and anecdotes about life in New York City.  A man named Kevan Slattery writes, “I had the privilege and the pleasure to usher at St. Patrick’s Cathedral on the morning of March17. The members of the 69^th Infantry Regiment are the guests of honor at the Mass celebrated before the parade. My assignment is to stand on the front steps, starting at 7:30 a.m.and continuing until the 69^th marches through the central doors.  

Today’s gospel has a great 3 word sentence, “It was winter.”

That story in the New York continues, “It was very cold and quite windy early on March 17. Well, in advance of the time the central doors were opened, while the regiment waited in formation on51st Street, a color guard of eight enlisted men and women were posted on the top step. As they flanked the entry with national, state and regimental flags, they stood and waited in place, outside the closed doors, in the biting cold.”

He continues, “The cold was having a particular impact on one young enlisted man. The major noticed the enlisted man’s plight and persuaded him to accept the offer of the Army-issue long undershirt the major word beneath his battle-dress uniform tunic.”

The story teller concludes, “There on the steps of the cathedral, out of view of the public with no diminishment in the hoor or accorde the colors, the major gave the shirt off his back to the enlisted man.”

As I read that I said to myself, that’s probably the only thing Mr. Kevan Slattery will remember from the St. Patrick’s Day parade this year. Then it hit me, it’s the only thing I remember from reading the whole New York Times yesterday. Then I smiled, because it will be the only thing you’ll remember from this sermon – if that.[N.Y. Times, A-13, May 12, 2014]

Second reason would be that a person is baptized a Christian. C.S. Lewis, in his book Mere Christianity, states loud and clear this viewpoint. Instead of using the word “Christian” as an adjective to describe a giving or loving or caring person he makes Christian a noun. You’re baptized, you’re a Christian. This takes us away from subjectivity – to objectivity.

Third reason would come from today’s gospel. A Christian is a person who is united into the Trinity – into Christ – into the Body of Christ – like a grape on the vine or a hand or foot or a voice in the Body of Christ.  This comes from the last sentence in today’s gospel: “The Father and I are one.”

Being a Christian is all about being one in Christ - having a living relationship with Jesus – entering into God in and through Christ.

This makes me a Christian. We Redemptorists were brought up stressing what St. Alphonsus  discovered: The whole of life – the whole of spiritual life – is to practice the love of Jesus Christ. That makes one a Christian – regardless of the words.  

CONCLUSION

Let us be loving Christians this day – as we march in the parade of life.

MUSIC FROM THE REED 

Poem for Today - May 13, 2014

THE REED FLUTE

Listen to the story told by the reed,

of being separate.

“Since I was cut from the reedbed,

I have made this crying sound.

Anyone separated from someone he loves

understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from the source

longs to go back.

At any gathering I am there, mingling

in the laughing and the grieving,

A friend to each, but few

will hear the secrets hidden

within the notes. No ears for that.

Body flowing out of spirit,

spirit up from body. We can't conceal

that mixing, but it's not given us

to see the soul." The reed flute

is fire, not wind. Be nothing.

Hear the love-tangled

in the reed notes, as bewilderment

melts into wine. The reed is a friend

to all who want the fabric

torn and drawn away. The reed is

hurt and salve combining.

Intimacy and longing for

intimacy in one song.

A disastrous surrender,

and a fine love, together.

The one who secretly hears this

is senseless.

A tongue has one customer,

the ear.

The power of a cane flute comes

from its making sugar in the reedbed.

Whatever sound it has

is for everyone.

Days full of wanting, let them go by

without worrying that they do,

Stay where you are, inside

such a pure, hollow note.

© Rumi

ON  BEING  INTERVIEWED

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for today’s St. Mary’s Lawn Mass is, “On Being Interviewed.”

ON  BECOMING A REPORTER

About 15 years ago I was at a Mass for our confirmation class at St. Gerard’s Parish, Lima, Ohio.

Bishop Hoffman, the Bishop of Toledo, was speaking to our young people.

He stood there in front of the Confirmation Class and asked, “Does anyone here want to become a newspaper reporter when you grow up?”

He said he was reading a newspaper the other day and the reporting was poor – terrible – and he thought to himself, “We need some good Christian reporters, some good Catholic newspaper writers.”

So he said that’s why he was asking the question: “Does anyone here want to be to a newspaper reporter when you grow up?”

Nobody raised their hand!

So he said, “Think about it?”

It’s now 15 years later. I’ve often wondered if anyone in that group that day became a newspaper reporter as a result of that question.

I’ve wondered at times if there is any mention here at both St. Mary’s Elementary School or St. Mary’s High School – about becoming a reporter. Does anyone teach kids how to interview people and how to be interviewed.

Two times in the past 12 years kids from our high school called me up and interviewed me for a school project or what have you.

They asked some basic interview questions:

• ·       “Where are you from?”
• ·       “Where did you go to school?”
•          “When did you decide to become a           priest?”
•          “Why in the world did you become a        priest?”
• ·       “Where have you been as a priest?”
• ·       “What’s the most interesting                      experience you’ve had as a priest?”
• ·       “How do you come up with your                sermon ideas?”

I would like to add that every one of us will be interviewed and we will interview others all through our life.

10, 15, 20, 30, 40, 50 years from now, we will be on a plane, a train, a bus, or in a bar, or at the beach, or at a boring basketball game and we’re sitting next to a stranger. And they will ask us the regular life questions:

·       “Where are you from?”
·       “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
·       “Where have you lived in your life?”
“Where did you go to school?”
·       “What job do you have?”
“Where did you go to college or trade school or what have you?”
·       “Do you have a family?”
·       “Were you in the military?”
·       “What teams do you go for?”
·       “Have you ever met anyone famous?”
·       “What was your best vacation?”
·       “What was the best moment in your life so far?
·       “Are your mom and dad still living?”

Those are some regular interview questions.

We don’t call them that. We just call them talking with another – usually one to one – at a picnic or a ballgame or on a plane – a bus – or a train.

If we’re interested in life, if we’re nosey, if we’re inquisitive, if we’re alive, if we’re social, we interview and we like to be interviewed.

IN MY POCKET

I have here in my pocket the 3 tools of a reporter. Father Tizio loves to have something to show when he preaches. Show and Tell.

Here is a ballpoint pen. If you want to be a reporter – or catch on paper – some of life’s great stuff, always have a pen handy – in your pocket or purse.

Here is a small spiral pad. I have well over 100 of these tiny notebook pads in my desk. They contain all kinds of information that I picked up from reading – but especially meeting people – going to talks – what have you.

Most of you can’t see the leather protector for my small spiral pad. A gal in a wheelchair – in a church near Rochester, New York – her initials were M.G. handed this to me once as a gift.  All I remember was the smile on her face, the handing me the gift, and the wheelchair.

I have put over 100 of these small 3 inch by 5 inch pads in this homemade leather cover. They stay there till they are filled up. Then in goes a new clean pad. I can pick up anyone of these pads and find interesting stuff from way back – comments, interviews, talks I’ve heard, neat bumper sticker quotes, etc. etc. etc.

This morning I just opened this up and at random spotted this quote: “Babies diapers and politics must be change frequently and both for the same reason.” George Bernard Shaw

I wonder where I spotted that quote.

I also noticed in front about 20 tiny pages of notes from the commencement address of James Patterson that I went to a few years back in New Jersey.  He’s the guy who has the most written books in the United States right now. He said in his talk that he went to Catholic school in Newburgh, New York, was an altar boy, went to Manhattan College in New York, went to Vanderbilt, and somewhere along the line, some teacher reading his writing said, “Mr. Patterson, don’t ever try to make a living as a writer.” So he went into the advertising business and in the meanwhile became a writer.

And the last thing in my pocket is this small tape recorder. It’s one more reporter’s necessary tool. You’ve seen reporters interviewing Buck Showalter after an Oriole game or an athlete after a game – and they have tape recorder in hand – as they interview an athlete or a coach.

HERE’S A JOB FOR YOU

The title of my homily is, “On Being Interviewed.”

Here’s a job for you.

Interview your mom and dad. Ask they how they met – what was it like growing up – their favorite dessert – their favorite moment growing up?

If your grandparents are alive still and they are not that far away, interview your grandparents.

Get a tape recorder. Get a ballpoint pen. Get a pad.

Interview. Interview. Interview them.

It’s magic. It makes them feel that their life has been worthwhile, bringing you into the world – and someone is interested in how they spent the time of their life.

Line up your questions – ask them – clarify them – ask follow up questions.

Write their life.

I recently did a funeral – and one of you kids is here today – and your grandpa loved it when you interviewed him.  He told me this just before he died.

MY MOM AND MY DAD

Way back in 1969 – for some reason – I sat down with my dad – and at that time I had a big Yellow Legal pad. My dad was very quiet. He didn’t say that much. That evening at the dining room table, I jotted down about 45 pages of notes.

I asked him about what it was like growing up in County Galway, Ireland – in a small town named Ballynahown. I asked him about his mom and dad. I asked him about school. I asked him about coming to America. He told me he  took a boat from Ireland to Boston. He said he had a 5 dollar bill in his pocket. He had a clean set of underwear in a bag. He said he was told to arrive in America with a clean set of underwear. He said the tossed the bag with his dirty underwear off the boat before they landed. He was polluting the Boston Harbor.  He told me about working and looking for work in Boston, Portland, Maine, Philadelphia, and then New York City.  He told me about writing love letters to my mom in Boston for 10 years – till she finally said, “Yes!”  They knew each other as teenagers in Ireland. Those notes are precious writings. My dad died in 1970.

In 1987 – for some reason – I decided one evening to interview my mother. She was very healthy – still working – being a caretaker for a woman who was younger than she was. This time I had a small tape recorder – with this tiny cassette – and I tape recorded my mom’s story – where she was from – just a stone’s throw from where my dad was from – right on the water at the edge of Galway Bay. I asked her about school – there were just 2 rooms in their schoolhouse – one side for boys, the other side for girls. First grade in Row 1, Second Grade in Row 2 and up to Grade 5.  She came to America – to Boston – worked as a maid at the Adam’s House Hotel. She also worked for a lady named Mrs. Brandt – whose daughter was a classmate of Anne Morrow in college – so my mom met Charles Lindbergh – the pilot who made the first solo flight from the United States to France.

After about 45 minutes of being interviewed, my mom said to me, “The moo is out of me.”  Translation: I’m tired. I’ve said enough. Then she said, “The next time you come home, we’ll get the rest of the story.”

Sad to say, two weeks later, my mother was killed crossing the street in a hit and run accident. She was still working at the age of 82.

This little tape is precious to me. Yesterday was Mother’s Day and I sat there and listened to some of her story again.

It is a very powerful reminder to me of the importance and the power of interviewing people.

CONCLUSION

The title of my homily is, “On Being Interviewed.” Go for it.

And we have over 1500 kids right here, right now – in this great big beautiful outdoor Mass.

What would it be like, say 20 or 30 years from now, you’re on a plane or a train or in Pensacola Florida and you’re talking with a stranger. And one of you says to the other, “Hey, where are you from?” And the other answers, “Annapolis, Maryland.” And the other says, “That’s funny. Me too.”

“Well,” the next question is asked, “What school did you go to?” “St. Mary’s” comes the answer. “Well, what years were you there?” And the other says, “Way back around 2014.” And the other person says, “Me too.”

And you both laugh, because you both were at this Mass way back on May 9, 2014 – and you didn’t know it.

And one of you says, “Yeah, remember the ducks. Quack. Quack! They landed right on the lawn next to the altar right in the middle of the Mass and everyone laughed!”

WHAT’S  IT  LIKE 

TO  BE  THE  OTHER?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 4^th Monday after Easter is a question: “What’s It Like to Be the Other?”

Today’s readings trigger that question for me.

After Easter a lot of these first readings during the week are all about these struggles in the Early Church about different groups – becoming Christian and then the struggles with integration – circumcised with uncircumcised, pork eaters and non-pork eaters, Gentiles and Jews.

I’m sure there were various other language struggles and barriers – in all the different areas – around the Mediterranean Basin. I’m sure various cultures and customs brought struggles into the growing Christian community.  In fact, that’s one good way to read and listen to the New Testament: the Acts of the Apostles, The Letters of Paul and others, as well as the Gospels.

And today’s gospel - John 10: 11-18 - has Jesus talking about sheep from other flocks – and the urge – the hope for unity and mergers of flocks.

MODERN TIMES – SOME QUESTIONS

Down through the centuries the Church had to deal with these issues of differences – with nationalities, tribes, cultures, class struggles, etc.

The title of my homily is, “What’s it like to be the other?”

That’s a great opening generic question. It might be helpful to be more specific with the question.

What’s it like to be in a wheelchair?

What’s it like to not be able to hear?

What’s it like to divorced?

What’s it like to have had an abortion?

What’s it like to be widowed?

What’s it like to stutter?

What would it be like to be parachuted into central Africa or central China and be the only person who looks like what we look like?

What’s it like to have a son or daughter on drugs?

What’s it like to have a brother or a sister who is gay and someone is blasting those who are gay?

What’s it like to a first year or first teacher – standing there in front of 28 first grade kids or senior high school kids?

CONCLUSION

Years and years ago, I remember my mother sitting there in this big hall and a black priest I knew walked into the room. Spotting me he walked up to my mom and started talking to her.  She was shocked. He might have been the first black person she ever met.

I remember my first assignment as a priest. Every guy in the community was an old man. Most were probably around my age right now or younger. It was the late 60’s and they were educated and trained before Vatican II – and so they were quite different from me. The first evening I walked into our common room to watch a ballgame on TV with them. Half were sleeping and half were smoking horrible smelling cigars.

Welcome to a new world.

Welcome to life: isn’t it all about seeing, learning, comparing, adapting, adjusting, compromising – and expansion of discovering others are different.

Hint. Hint. God is different.

Hint. Hint. Others are different.

Imagine Christ – the Son of God – becoming human, born of Mary, a teenage girl. It took time - but as Luke tells us, he grew  in wisdom and age – with people who had no idea who he was.

All this is called life – and Jesus gives lots and lots of one liners on how to deal with life and others. For the sake of being practical, let me just line up guess three secrets we have from Jesus on how to deal with all this:

1)   Try the golden rule. Do unto others.

2)   Expect the Cross

3)   Love the Lord your God with your whole mind, soul and strength and love your neighbor as yourself.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS PERIOD

Poem for Today - May 12, 2014

THE MAN WHO 

HAS MANY ANSWERS

The man who has many answers
is often found
in theaters of information
where he offers, graciously
his deep findings.

While the man who has only questions,
to comfort himself, makes music.

© Mary Oliver, 

page 69 in

A Thousand Mornings.