OUTER AND INNER 
WAR AND PEACE 

Poem for Tuesday, December 2nd, 2014

WAR AND PEACE

Man invents war.

Man discovers peace.

He invents war from without.
He discovers peace from within.

War man throws.

Peace man sows.

The smile of war is the flood of human blood.
The smile of peace is the love, below, above.  

Peace is the whole truth that wishes to enrapture humanity.
War is the whole falsehood that wants to capture humanity.

Peace begins in the soul and ends in the heart.
War begins in the mind and ends in the body.  

War forgets peace.

Peace forgives war.

War is the death of the life human.

 Peace is the birth of the Life Divine.

Our vital passions want war.
Our psychic emotions desire peace.

War is clear futility in dire spear-stupidity.
Peace is flowing infinity in glowing eternity.  

Man seeks war when he thinks that the world is not his.
Man invites war when he feels that he can conquer the world.

Man proclaims war when he dreams
That the world has already surrendered to him.  

Man seeks peace because his earthly existence desperately needs it.
Man welcomes peace because he feels 
     that in peace alone is his life of achievement and fulfilment.
Man spreads peace because he wants to transcend death.  

The animal in man wars against peace in the outer world,
       in the world of conflicting ideas.
The divine in man wars against ignorance in the inner world,
       in the world of mounting ideals.  

The animal in man wants war for the sake of war,
       war to devour the snoring world.
The divine in man wants peace for the sake of peace,
       peace to feed the hungry world.

© Sri Chinmoy,

an excerpt from

Songs of the Soul

WORDS: 

SWORDS  INTO  PLOWSHARES, 

SPEARS  INTO  PRUNING  HOOKS 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this Monday in the First Week of Advent is, “Words: Swords Into Plowshares, Spears Into Pruning Hooks.”

Today’s first reading from Isaiah 2:1-5 talks about hammering swords into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks. These words – Isaiah 2:4 – appear on a wall across the street from United Nations headquarters in New York City – but also in our hearts and minds.

How many people down through the centuries – when seeing tanks and canons – roll by in parades -  had the thought, “What a waste of money!”

How many then said, “Why couldn’t we use all this money to feed and educate and house the poor – to rebuild the highways and the bridges – to fill up the potholes – to improve our nursing homes and hospitals?

A FANTASY

During the cold war, I had a fantasy – that the United States – had built 100,000 missals – and secretly put the money that would pay for its insides – nuclear explosives and technology – inside the missiles. Then the United States announced to the world  – especially to the Soviet Union – that we had these powerful missiles in place – in missile silos – all around the world. Then when the Soviet Union goes broke trying to match our weapons – we announce to the world that for the sake of peace - we’re dismantling our weapons – but in reality taking the money out of these empty missile  shells.

WORDS

Wonderful thought… this melting down our weapons – and using the money elsewhere.

But it remains a thought.

Wars and rumors of war will always be us.

When we think those thoughts – it’s always about others – and people out there. After all – most of us are not makers of swords and spear.

But if we apply that thought  to words – to our tongues  - then we can put it into practice every day of our lives.

We’ve all heard the saying, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

If you give that saying lots of thought – we’d have to say, “Words can hurt us – and hurt us big time – and hurt us for a long time.

Which are more powerful a weapon: swords – or swords without the “W” – which is “words”?

I would dare say that people have words from a mother or a father, a spouse or a teacher, from way back – that still hurt us.

People remember a word said to us 27 years ago – a cutting comment – that is still stuck in us. We say things like, “It was like being stabbed in the back by another.”

WORD REVERSAL

People also realize the positive power of words – words that build us up – words that also last for years.

CONCLUSION

So words can be a blessing and a curse.

Words can be a wall or a bridge.

Words can be a welcoming word or a word that shuts us out.

Words can be a compliment – an affirmation – a plow – a pruning hook – that helps us grow – and grow till we become a harvest of rich and juicy fruits – to become strawberry jam –to butter and then juicify the bread of another. Amen.

COIN  COLLECTION 

Poem for Monday, December l, 2014

THE COLLECTION

Even two years later, she still gets correspondence

addressed to him. Correspondence. This like that.

Mostly about his hobby. Coin collector brochures.

Announcements of collector swap meets. His pastime.

A way to spend an afternoon back when an afternoon

needed spending. Before all the silence flooded the house.

He had old currency. Nickels worth ten dollars.

And heavy, the bags. Musical, too.

She needs to sort through them all.

That's what she should do, realize its value.

But what she is thinking of is spending it,

buying gum and soft drinks, maybe a chocolate bar.

Just get face value for mint-condition rarities.

Get them back into circulation. Circulation. The afterlife

where someone else could get them as change

and be joyful at the luck of finding his life's pleasure.

© Michael Chitwood

From Living Wages,

Tupelo, Press, 2014

North Adams, MA

DE PROFUNDIS:

PSALM 130

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “De Profundis: Psalm 130.”

Today – this First Sunday of Advent – Year B – the year we look at the Gospel of Mark mainly – the themes of watching and waiting - jumped off the page for me.

As I reflected on that – in hopes of coming up with a helpful homily for today – Psalm 130 - also jumped out at me.

It’s not today’s psalm – but as I read today’s three readings and today’s psalm – number 80 -  Psalm 130 arrived at my door - in my mind.

Various surveys of what people want from a homily - list spirituality as # 1 - and mention of money # 1 billion 687 thousand – and 36.

Reading a psalm – just one psalm - say at night – as a family – or with one’s spouse – or with oneself – certainly can help.

There are 150 Psalms in the Bible. It's a song book. Nor every psalm will grab you - buy if you bite into them bit by bit - some will become famous to you.

We priests and religious read the Divine Office each day – and they feature 3 Psalms for each prayer session: Morning, Evening, mid-day prayer, Night and Matins – some prayers for during the night or early morning.

In priest and nun’s retreats,  I often say, “If you’re rushing your prayers – don’t say them all – just say one psalm slowly and peacefully. Take your time. Chew your food. Savor the taste."  

I’d say the same of the rosary. Instead of a mindless babble of words  - say a decade of the rosary slowly or just one Hail Mary – savoring it.

I learned that mainly from Thich Nhat Hnan [pronounced "TIK NYAT HAWN"]. He's the 88 year old Buddhist Monk from Vietham. He's the Buddist monk with the great smile. 

Right now he’s in a hospital in Bordeaux, France in a coma – suffering from a severe brain hemorrhage.

When talking about mindfulness he would say,  “When eating potato chips – don’t swallow the whole bag in one big gulp. Instead savor one potato chip at a time.”

PSALM 130

Let me read the psalm first:

¹ Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;
²     Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
    to my cry for mercy.

³ If you, Lord, kept a record of sins,
    Lord, who could stand?
⁴ But with you there is forgiveness,
    so that we can, with reverence, serve you.

⁵ I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
    and in his word I put my hope.
⁶ I wait for the Lord
    more than watchmen wait for the morning,
    more than watchmen wait for the morning.

⁷ Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
    for with the Lord is unfailing love
    and with him is full redemption.
⁸ He himself will redeem Israel
    from all their sins.

IN HEBREW

The Hebrew transliteration of Psalm 130 is as follows:

     Shir hamaalot mima'amakim keraticha adonai /

     Adonai shimah vekoli tiyena oznecha kashuvot lekol            tachanunai /

     Im avonot tishmor ya adonai mi yaamod /

     Ki imcha haslicha lemaan tivare /

     kiviti adonai kivta nafshi velidvaro hochalti /

     Nafshi ladonai mishomrim laboker shomrim laboker /

     Yachel yisrael el adonai ki im adonai hachesed veharbeh      imo fedut /

     Vehu yifdeh et yisrael mikol avonotav.

TRANSLATIONS

I have about 10 different translations of the Bible into English.

When I get interested in a psalm or any text in the Bible, I like to read various translations – and fool around at times with the Hebrew or the Greek – the 2 languages the Old and New Testament are written in.

We had 4 years of Greek – but only 1 year of Hebrew – and to this day – K don’t know how I passed that course in Hebrew.

To me this is one way to savor a text – to taste it – to pray with it.

THE SCREAMS – THE PLEAS – IN PSALM 130

The person screaming Psalm 130 is in the pits.

He feels like he’s lost at sea. He feels like he’s in the pits. He feels like he’s been buried alive. He’s down. He’s depressed.

Ever feel that way.

Ever see the movie Kill Bill 2 – when Beatrix Kiddo is buried alive. She’s been put in a wooden casket. The box is sealed with nails. The banging of the hammer is tough for starters. Then the box is pushed down into a hole – a deep grave in a cemetery – and all becomes dark. The screen becomes dark. Totally dark. After what feels like 2 minutes of that – finally Quentin Tarantino switches to an earlier part of Beatrice’s life – where she learns how to punch her way – fist her way – with bloody, bloody knuckles through wood – and she pushes and climbs through the dirt to the top – to air – to salvation.

It’s the same scene in Shawshank Redemption when Andy Dufresne escapes from prison by going through this long, long pipe – sewer pipe – and you know what’s in and what smells in a sewer pipe – till he finally makes it to the other side – redemption – from Shawshank Prison. He belly flops into clear water on the others side. It’s a baptism. It’s freedom.

Psalm 130 screams all this out – when the song writer screams out to God – for rescue – for redemption – to be saved.

Like a watchman who waits for dawn…. Like anyone who is in the depths of despair – God is on the other end of the dark – God is the one on the other side of the casket and death – God is the one with stedfast love – who will redeem us.

BY THE WAY

By the way when we say the Apostles Creed – we say – he descended into hell.

That means Christ went down into the earth when he was buried that Good Friday  - and if you’ve been to Greek Churches – they often picture that moment much better than the Western Christian Churches – when Christ went into the depths, into Sheol, into where all those who have died were waiting, sometimes translated “Hell” – waiting for redeemption, salvation, freedom, heaven.

ADVENT

Advent means the vent – the pipeline – the arrival of salvation.

For us it’s Christmas once again – and once again – we go through the cycle, the wheel rolling us forwards to another year.

In Matthew and Luke – redemption and salvation starts with the baby.

A child will lead us to salvation – to the peacable Kingdom – as we see in those Peaceable Kingdom paintings by Benamin Hicks.

In Mark – redemption and salvation starts with the adult Christ – arriving at at doorstep – proclaiming, “The Kingdom of God has arrived. Repent and believe in the Good News.”

CONCLUSION

The title of my homily is, “De Profundis – Psalm 130.”

Psalm 130 has the great advent theme of watching and waiting and hoping for redemption.

Redemptorists serve here in this parish and our motto and our theme comes from Psalm 130: “Copiosa Apud Eum Redemptio” – with him there is plentiful redemption.

Slowly taste, savor those words, as you pray them – and cry them – this Advent, this Christmas – this new church year. Amen.

STRIVING FOR 

PEACE OF MIND

Poem for Today - Sunday November 20, 2014

IN THE DEPTHS OF SOLITUDE

pondering my true goal
trying 2 find peace of mind
and still preserve my soul
constantly yearning 2 be accepted
and from all receive respect
never comprising but sometimes risky
and that is my only regret
a young heart with an old soul
how can there be peace
how can i be in the depths of solitude
when there r 2 inside of me
this duo within me causes
the perfect oppurtunity
2 learn and live twice as fast
as those who accept simplicity 

© Tupac Shakkur

A SENSE OF WONDER

Poem for Today - Saturday - November 29, 2014

GRANDFATHER

Grandfather took us out

Long after dark

And set his telescope up on the lawn

And showed us how to look through the lens.

We saw the mountains of the moon!

We saw the rings around Saturn!

We saw the stars in the Milky Way –

Too many to count!

“See,” Grandfather said.
“what wonders God has made!”

And then he hugged each of us

And said, “And you are wondrous too!”

© Madeleine L’Engle

THE BREAD 

THAT SATISFIES 

OUR HUNGER 

Poem for Friday -  November 28, 2014

PLENTY

Having shared our bread,

we know that we are

no longer hungry. It is enough

that you see me for myself.
That I see you for yourself.

That we bless what we see

And do not borrow, do not use

one another. This is now we know

we are no longer hungry … that

The world is full of terror, full of beauty

and yet we are not afraid to find solace here

To be bread for each other. To love.

© Gunilla Norris

THANKSGIVING

Poem for Thursday - Thanksgiving Day - November 27, 2014

FAMILY

Not enough hours in the day, we often say
we watch as the business of life allows time slip away.

Before we know days turn to months and months into years,
Time is mapped with laughter and cheers,
the long road sometimes landmarked with sadness and tears.

Elders pass and children grow,
has it been that long we ask, where does the time go?

Not every chance to gather is taken.
"We'll see them next time" we say and hope we're not mistaken.

A chance like now comes once in a lifetime it seems,
when the bright light of family is nurtured and beams,
there will be laughter and time to reminisce
we will all be proud this is a chance we did not miss.

© Ryan Guerrero

Written for the

Guerrero Miramontes

family reunion

July 4-5, 2008

in Scottsbluff,

Nebraska

Painting on top:
Carmen Lomas Garza
Tamalada
(Making Tamales)
Collection of Leonila Ramiriz,
Don Ramons Restaurant,
San Francisco,
California\in
Imaging the Word,
page 175

FAMILY  BIBLE

Poem for Wednesday November 26, 2014

A GRANDMOTHER'S FAITH

They went together—those

wrinkled hands and tattered

book. And something in the

awe with which she held it

 made me think she held

a sacred fire.

The old brass-bound Bible

came to her from her mother,

and hers before that, too,

through more generations than

I know how to reckon - faded,

cracked, worn with use.

I wonder how it felt to hold

the past within her hands -

how many broken hearts found

comfort there, how many searching

minds were fed, how many fears

were calmed in its reading-, what

songs of joy were hummed over it;

what secret tears still stain its pages?

I loved to hear her talk to God,

and when she prayed, I sometimes

imagined I felt God near. It was a

very safe place to be - with God and her.

I liked her God, so wrapped up in the

small goings-on of daily life—not too

far away and busy with eternal

things to take notice of one

small child.

The Bible became mine today, and

my smooth hands look somehow out

of place - and somehow right at home.

Like her, I hold the accumulated joys

and sorrows of my heritage and join

my life with theirs. There is a

strength to it - forged by faithful

living in the presence of a loving

God. The line still holds - all those

who have gone before, myself, and those

who are to come.

© Marie Livingston Roy

HALFBORN WOMAN

Poem for Tuesday - November 25, 2014

BLIND WOMAN

Now I must write for myself     for this blind

woman scratching the pavement        with her wand of thought

this slippered crone     inching on icy streets

reaching into wire trashbaskets  pulling out

what was thrown away     and infinitely precious

I look a my hands and see     they are still unfinished

I look at the the vine and see the leafbud

inching towards life

I look at my face in the glass     and see

a halfborn woman

© Adrienne Rich, 1975,

Excerpt from “Upper Broadway”

THE WOMAN

IN THE WHEELCHAIR

Poem for Monday November 24, 2014

FIELD OF VISION

I remember this woman who sat for years
in a wheelchair, looking straight ahead
Out the window at sycamore trees unleafing
and leafing at the far end of the lane.

Straight out past the TV in the corner,

The stunted, agitated hawthorne bush,

The same small calves with their backs to wind and rain,

The same acre of ragwort, the same mountain.

She was steadfast as the big window itself.

Her brow as clear as the chrome bits of the chair.

She never lamented once and she never

Carried a spare ounce of emotional weight.

Face to face with her was an education

Of the sort you got across a well-braced gate –

One of those lean, clean, iron, roadside ones

Between two whitewashed pillars, where you could see

Deeper into the country than you expected

And discovered that the field behind the hedge

Grew more distinctly strange as you kept standing

Focused and drawn in by what barred the way.

© Seamus Heaney

PICTURE  THAT! 

OH MY GOD! 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Picture That! Oh My God!”

Today is the Feast of Christ the King!

I don’t picture Christ or God the Father as a king. 

Oh my God! You don’t. Nope. Sorry….

HOW DO YOU PICTURE GOD?

If you were handed a box of crayons or clay or paint, canvas and brushes, how would you picture God?

A wondering: Does each of us – including atheists – and agnostics – and drop outs -  have an impression, a picture, an image, an idea, a feeling about God – inside – down deep inside of us?

Primitive or refined?

As you know, everyone – including atheists – agnostics – has a blurt sound or words, an “Oooh!” or an “Oh my God!” or some kind of exclamation – when we experience a catastrophe, a death, a tsunami, an explosion, a crash or a spectacular sunset or rainbow or new born baby, a great play in football or coming into a big room and see all the family together for a big Happy Thanksgiving Dinner.  “Oooooh!” “Ohhhh!”  “Oh my God.”

I’ve been on retreats where people were asked to draw God and then in a small group circle explain their picture.

Answers are different.  Answers are fascinating. Answers trigger questions.

Kids often picture God as male, with robes and with beard.

Adults often do the same – but sometimes – sometimes….

Sometimes adults picture a tree with leaves – and try to draw leaves that are moving – and then in reporting their image of God – say that they see God as a breeze – sometimes soft, sometimes loud – sometimes refreshing us, sometimes shaking us – all the time moving realities inside us.

Adults picture God as mountain, light, ocean, circles, arrows, ladders, steps  ….

How do you picture God?

OUR SCRIPTURES

The Jewish Scriptures – as well as the Hindu, Moslem – and various other religious scriptures – picture God as Power – Energy – Sexual Energy – Earth’s Energies – Volcano - Lava Flow -   Lightning – Thunder – Storm.

In today’s scriptures God is pictured as a Shepherd.

In today’s first reading from Ezekiel, he has God saying, “I myself will look after and tend my sheep. I will find my scattered sheep.  I will rescue them. I will pasture them. I will seek them out. I will bring back the strays. I will bind up.  I will heal the sick ones.

Then at the end of today’s first reading, there’s the catch: we have to act right – not be a goat – not be a bad sheep. Sheep are dumb animals, but we can’t be all dumb – passive – stupid.

We are responsible.

In today’s second reading and gospel, New Testament texts – we have the same message – but with a bit tougher and tighter message.

In today’s second reading from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, Christ is central. Christ is the one who resurrects us from death.

In today’s gospel from Matthew, we are called to feed the hungry, give a drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger and clothe the naked.

Then Matthew pictures us after we die, in a Last Judgment  scene – when God – when Christ – will separate all of us – sheep from goat – self-centered from other-centered?

The good sheep will be lead into eternal life; the goats will be led to eternal punishment.

If this is what happens after death? Will we say – when we hear, see, experience this Last Judgment, “Oh my God!” Will we mutter in complaint, “Oh my God, nobody told me about this. Nobody prepared me for this. Oh my God! What’s next?”

We are coming to the end of the Church year this week – and then next Sunday we begin the cycle again – with Advent.

We move from Christ as adult, as strength, Shepherd, King, to Christ as Baby.

Everyone loves a baby; many are scared of the other end of the life cycle, death, especially death, death on a cross or dementia in a wheel chair.

Next Sunday we move from Cycle A in the Liturgy Readings to Cycle B of the Church’s Year.

We move from Matthew’s yearly cycle of Gospels to Mark.

If we sat down with Mathew and Mark – it’s my impression listening to both of them tell the story of Christ – that Mark is not as tough as Matthew when it comes to Jesus – when it comes to judgment – when it comes to the reality of why we were created in the first place.

To get back to my earlier question about how we would paint or picture God, how would we picture Christ?

We have the 4 gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – then there’s Paul.

Each have the floor. Each have the pulpit. Each have the words – that present their take – their scenes and pictures of Christ - to tell us about Jesus.  What is God the Father’s picture of Jesus?  Is Jesus – the reality of Jesus – is he God the Father’s attempt to break into our world – and tell us who He is – what he  wants us to be and what have you?

What is our favorite Gospel Text?

Benedict Groeschel – who recently died – who was quite the character – once said in a course I took on pastoral counseling, “Ask people their favorite Gospel text and they will tell you a lot about themselves?” 

Then he added, “It’s a Rorschach blot. It’s an inkblot test. A person projects themselves into the images in ink – into the ink of the words – found in the gospels.”

That weekend – on a men’s retreat – there was this guy – who was tough, rough, angry at everything and everyone it seemed. In the question and answer period he was after gays and politicians and certain priests, and lots of other people. Out of the blue I asked him, “What is your favorite Gospel text?”

His answer: “Beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing!”

His answer scared me.  His demeanor and his anger scared me.

What would happen if God was like this man?  Are all of us trying to be God-like and we think our image and likeness of God is God?

I know a family in Ohio with 4 sons: Matthew, Mark, Luke and Sean. Sean is John.  Each son is different.

There are 4 gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. I sense that each puts their personality into their presentation of Christ to our world.  I prefer Luke. I’ve read that he was a doctor and an artist.

I prefer the gospel of Luke. He was supposedly a doctor and a painter.

I know you can’t take anything with you. But I’m taking Luke 15 – and it’s 3 stories with me – into death – with me.

I once was praying and I said to God just that. I then wondered, “What happens if God said after I died, ‘I’m not like that”? 

I then said to God, “Then the hell with you.” At that I covered my mouth and went, “Oooh. Oh no.” I didn’t say, “Oh my God!” because I was talking to God.”

Then I said, “Yes. If you’re not like the way your son pictured you in Luke 15, I’m going to go and find that God.”

“Oooh!” 

Then I said, “Yes!”

POPE FRANCIS

I’m well aware that we all picture and paint life and God and reality and what happens after we die differently.

Someone took the scripture texts that talk about Christ as King – and pushed for that image of Christ to be broadcast to the world.

Others pushed for Christ as Good Shepherd.

As you know Pope Francis is pushing bishops and priests to smell like sheep and shepherds – and not be monarchs and dictators and Lord it over others – but to listen and serve one another.

I’m sure in his sermon for this weekend – if he talks about Christ the King, he’ll talk about the kind of king Christ is – the foot washer, the feeder, the healer, the servant king.

He’ll talk about simplicity over splendor, poop over pomp, listening over speaking, serving more than being served.

If I hear him saying anything, that’s the kind of images and pictures, he’s presenting in gallery of images of how to do life.

I’m sure you’ve been hearing about the Francis Effect. This pope is effecting people around the world to re-picture, reframe Christ and God in their lives. In the last few months I’ve had at least 10 calls from folks who have been away – and they added, “I like this pope. He’s triggering good stuff in me. Can we talk?”

CONCLUSION

Doodle this week.

Draw this week.

Take our your crayons – be like a little child again – and with your imagination – get in touch with those deepest visions and hopes we all have within us for a better world and a better life.

Then stop doodling and start doing his kingdom –  here in his wheat field – his vineyard – growing, harvesting, and then becoming the bread and wine that becomes Christ – as we give our lives to each other – that we feed off each other – that we be in communion with Christ and each other - for our life of this world and the next world to come.

Oh my God…. Picture that.

LISTENING

Poem for Today, Sunday, November 23, 2014

WHEN SOMEONE DEEPLY

LISTENS TO YOU

When someone deeply listens to you

it is like holding out a dented cup

you've had since childhood

and watching it fill up with

cold, fresh water.

When it balances on top of the brim,

you are understood.

When it overflows and touches your skin,

you are loved.

When someone deeply listens to you,

the room where you stay

starts a new life

and the place where you wrote

your first poem

begins to glow in your mind's eye.

It is as if gold has been discovered!

When someone deeply listens to you,

your bare feet are on the earth

and a beloved land that seemed distant

is now at home within you.

© John Fox, in Finding

What You Didn't Lose