POEM: 

UPS AND DOWNS

I just met two people.
One looked up to me.
The other looked down on me.
I pray for both of them
because neither of them
know me, nor know
my ups and downs.

© Andy Costello

TELL ME ABOUT GOD

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Tell Me About God.”

If I’m hearing people correctly, they are silently screaming, “Tell me about God.” “Tell me about God.” – especially when they come here to church.

That’s quite a demand – a scary demand. What happens if my image and likeness of God is wrong? What will happen when I die and meet God? Will I say, “Oh my God, You’re not the God, I thought You were.” Will that be hell? And I was Your priest – standing there in the pulpit – week after week after week after week – now going on 42 years of weeks.

Now that’s a scary thought?

Did any priest, any deacon, any minister, rabbi, imam, have this thought and close the Book and walk away out of fear?

It scares me. Oh, my God, it scares me.

The title of my homily is, “Tell Me About God.”

Is every person a walking book – a talking book – telling others what God is like? After all the Bible says we’re made in the image and likeness of God. (Cf. Genesis 1:27)

YOU

If I handed out pieces of paper and asked each of you to write an answer to the following question: “Tell me about God? Describe God in 100 words or less?” What would you write? What would be your description of God?

And if I then said, “Pass your paper to the person on your right and keep doing that till we have all read each other’s descriptions.” What would that experience be like?

A PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

Once upon a time I was praying, just sitting there quietly in a big chapel, all by myself. It was at Mount St. Alphonsus, Esopus, New York – on the Hudson River between Kingston and Poughkeepsie, N.Y. The place is celebrating its 100th Anniversary next month – and I’m hoping to get there for the celebration. It’s a favorite place of prayer for me – having studied in the seminary there for 6 years – being ordained a priest there in the sanctuary in 1965 by Cardinal Spellman. Then it closed – because of lack of students for the priesthood. Then it re-opened as a retreat house and our novitiate where I was novice master there for 8 years. So I spent 14 years of my life there.

I’m sitting there praying that evening and for some reason the following happened. I began thinking about what God is like – the theme for this homily – and I had a so called “God moment”.

I have found out that if a person takes time out to pray on a regular basis – say 15 minutes in a chair one designates as one’s “prayer chair” – in some quiet spot in one’s house or cellar, there will be “moments” at times – not too often – but there will be “moments” – “God moments”. Guaranteed.

Now one does not pray for these moments. One prays simply to be in the presence of God – and then to do God’s will – which is to love God with one’s whole mind, heart, soul and strength – and to love one’s neighbor as oneself. It’s not complicated.

That’s what prayer is about. I get people mad at times when I push quiet prayer - not saying lots of words - just listening and speaking to God. Now, the rosary is great. Prayers are great – especially when one is struggling with prayer – or when one sick. My brother hung onto his rosary for the last year of his life – when he had big time cancer – especially when it went to his brain. The rosary is good. Prayer books are good. And just sitting with God in prayer is good.

Just as long as one’s prayer is not babbling – unless we’re losing it and becoming little children again. Not babbling is one of Jesus’ messages. (Cf. Matthew 6:5-13; Luke 11:1-13)

Continuing this line of thought. Most moments in prayers will be boring in the second year of prayer – and from then on for the rest of one’s life. Those of you who pray quiet prayer – were not surprised when the newspapers and magazines recently came out with surprise comments that one would not expect Mother Teresa to have said her prayer life was mostly dark nights of doubt and blank emptiness – and that God seemed absent – most of her life. Everyone who prays on a regular basis knows this.

Now I’ll babbling. So let me try to explain why I’m remembering my special prayer moment or experience today. I’m sitting there praying and I say to God, “When I die, I expect to be forgiven everything. I expect no questions – just a great embrace – a great welcome.” Then I felt a big, “Uh oh!” I had hit a wall of a question from God. “What if I’m not like what You think I’m like?”

Silence. Then I said to that God, “Well, if You’re not like the God Your Son Jesus describes in the 15th Chapter of Luke, the hell with you. I’ll go and find that God – because that’s the God I want to spend eternity with.”

Then my hand went to my mouth – honestly, it went right to my mouth – and I said, “Woops” as if I was hearing, “That’s not the way you speak to God. You don’t say to God, “The hell with You!”

Then I paused a very serious pause and then said, “I repeat what I just said, ‘If you’re not the God your Son mentions in the 15th Chapter of Luke, I’ll go find that God. Amen.’”

That was a good 20 years ago or so – and I feel and think the same way today and even more.

Of course, what happens after we die, is totally out of our hands. Like life itself, it’s all gift. It’s all grace. It’s all mystery. It’s all in someone else’s power and control. It was not our doing that we landed here on earth on our birthday. It’s out of our control, if there is anything after our death day.

That’s my description of God. What’s yours? Now of course, we would be here all day if we had to read each person’s description of how they see and experience God. And I’m sure, some descriptions would make us cry; and some would make us go, “Wow!”

TODAY’S FIRST READING

In today’s first reading Moses came down from the mountain and was shocked to see the people he led out of Egypt worshipping a molten golden calf. He heard God screaming that God wanted to burn them – consume them with fire.

And Moses pleads with God not to destroy the people. He pulls out all the stops. Re-reading today’s first reading, “Why, O Lord, should your wrath blaze up against your own people whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with such great power and so strong a hand? Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, and how you swore to them by your own self, saying, ‘I will make your descendents as numerous as the stars in the sky; and all this land that I promised, I will give your descendents as their perpetual heritage.’” [Exodus 32: 7-11-13-14]

It worked.

People pray to God like this. I have prayed to God like this.

15th CHAPTER OF LUKE

But today we are graced and blessed with the 15th Chapter of the Gospel of Luke – the gospel I appealed to in my prayer moment in a chapel in upstate New York.

That’s the piece of paper that was passed around to each of us today. If any of you are at my funeral, rip the 15th chapter of Luke out of your Bible or a missalette and put it my casket. I want it in hand as I meet God.

You know this chapter by heart. It begins with Pharisees wanting to ban and exclude sinners. They complain that Jesus hangs around with tax collectors and sinners.

Jesus eats with sinners. Hint. Hint. Hint. The Mass is a meal. If we say we are not a sinner, maybe we’re in the wrong place. Just kidding. Nobody leave. We need everyone for the collection.

Jesus tells 3 stories – 3 parables in today’s gospel reading of the 15th chapter of Luke.

These stories tell us how God is and how God works.

Sometimes God goes after people – like a Good Shepherd looking for a lost sheep till the dumb sheep is found. Scream, "Baa! Baa! Baa!" till God finds you. Or God goes looking for people like a woman who lost a special coin. Some think it’s one of her wedding coins – which women would sew on a special head covering to be worn on special occasions – the coins she received at her wedding – the more coins, the more bragging rights – like medals on a general’s chest.

So sometimes God searches for people. Sit in prayer and talk to God about the times in your life God has found you.

And sometimes God waits. God waits for us to return like the prodigal son. So those of you who have kids or family members who have disappeared to far countries from God, be patient. Learn to wait. Or scream to God in prayer, “Stop being like the father of the prodigal son and become the searching woman or the Good shepherd. Go find my son or daughter and bring her or him home.”

Sit in prayer with God and talk about the times he waited for your return.

And all three stories have a celebration when a sinner comes home.

CONCLUSION

The third story has a great ending – because there is always someone in the audience who says, “Wait a minute. That’s not fair. I’ve been good all my life and these dumb sheep, these lost coins, these prodigal son types, are welcomed just like that. [Snap fingers]

And God laughs, and says, “Just like that. [Snap fingers] And by the way, you too come to the party – come to the banquet. I’d love to eat with you as well.”

COIN, SHEEP AND SON 

Luke 15 

Lost and found,
a “baaing” sheep caught
in thick brambles,
a shiny coin lost
in the dark underneath
of a carpenter’s table,
a pigsty scented son
in a far country,
all three waiting in
disconnection,
sheep and coin,
waiting and wondering,
a son hitting bottom,
caught in entanglements,
stuck in himself, also alone
in a dark mess,
a father back home waiting,
looking out each day
for his son's return, an older
brother who could care less,
the sheep, the coin, found,
the younger son deciding
to come home,
all three swept clean by grace
and kindness and love.
When found, celebrate.

Okay, sometimes

older brothers don't,

but God does.

© Andrew Costello, 2007

THE LOST SON

Two brothers:
one stayed home,
so the other moved on.
But paths cross,
parents die,
and we all must meet each other
from time to time.

As the younger brother
was standing there
to the right of the casket,
his older brother
came in -- came in
and refused to shake hands
with either his hands
or his eyes.

Then the younger brother
turned to the casket,
turned to his father,
needing another embrace,
crying at the loss
of what might have been,
remembering the time
their father
tried to get them
to eat the fatted calf together.



© Andrew Costello, Cries .... But Silent, 1981


PRODIGAL

Starving,
I can’t stand my within,
this pigpen prison called “me”.
I keep hearing the snorting sound, “Failure!”
It’s eating up my insides,
behind these bars, my ribs,
which are becoming more and more visible
above my empty stomach.
Ugly sounds erupt up as grunts
from deep within me,
so many, “I told you so’s.”
I hate my mistakes.
I keep on wanting to escape
from these inner voices,
to run away from myself,
to run out onto the highway,
to the broad way.
But each time, I end up homeless,
starving, empty, penned in,
out of money,
out of so called “friends”,
out of everything,
everything but this ever present feelings of,
“I am a failure.”

So I’m still the prodigal,
always have been, always will be,
always with drifting eye on distant cities,
wanting different harbors,
hoping to spot new lights on distant shores.

I keep rehearsing these speeches
about coming home to you, Father.
I keep hearing dark speeches and questions:
“What happens if there is no you, only a me,
waiting there at the end of this dark feeling?
What then, Father, what then?”
“What happens if I discover down deep
that you have forgotten me
because I have forgotten you?”
“What happens
if the only other person within me
is my older brother
and I come home to hear, ‘It’s too late.
Your Father has died.
You're too late for forgiveness.
Dad died of a broken heart
a long time ago waiting for you.’”

© Andrew Costello, Reflections 2007

SINGLE BIRD

A single bird, a sandpiper,
pranced alone along the beach,
a dancer, feet moving fast, faster,
each step just above the top edge
of so many already crashed waves,
semi-circles of water, transparent
bed covers, trying to cover
the bed of grayish soft sand.

A he sat there, a lonely watcher,
watching this smooth graceful
runner moving back and forth,
back and forth, back and forth,
along the edge of the ocean.

The bird was miming him.
This bird was miming him.
This bird moving and then stopping
from time to time,
tapping the sandy beach
and salty water with beak,
till he found what he was looking for.

The single bird, a sandpiper,
then disappeared into the morning;
and he picked up his towel, paperback
and binoculors,
and headed back to his car
having seen, having found,
what he too was looking for,
and he too disappeared into the morning.

© Andrew Costello, Reflections 2007

THE NOISE MAKER

When he wakes up,

everybody wakes up.

© Andrew Costello, 2007

THE TOPPLING TOWER

[Hello. Instead of a homily for today, I wrote a story last night on one image from today’s gospel: that of the tower. I like to do this once and a while – to break the monotony and to see where a story will take me – hopefully challenging me with the gospel in a new way. So here goes. The title of this story is, “The Toppling Tower.”]

Ted kept to himself. Oh, he could be sociable. He had a good smile – but he could also fake it to make it. Nobody really climbed the steps inside of him – climbing to the top of his neck, to unlock the door that led to his brain – to walk around inside his skull and find out what was really going on in there.

His wife, Julia, often wondered. His introverted personality could get her to cringe at times – but it didn’t seem to bother Ted. Their three kids knew their dad as dad – father – authority – wallet – chauffer – quiet chauffer for longer trips. He was there all through their growing up. As to knowing him – really knowing him? “No. Not yet.”

Sometimes getting to know dad – is an adult to adult thing – later on – in boats or golf or troubles – but always after grandchildren.

As to his wife Julia – yes, they would talk to each other – chat chat, and sometimes that was that. They loved each other. They met in college. They were doing the husband-wife – family-experience-thing – as a dream at first – then sleep walking as far Julia could see it – for Ted these past 7 years.

They did weekends – vacations – family gatherings – birthdays – Fourth of July – Parish picnics – Thanksgiving – Christmas together – but as Julia was slowly figuring, their marriage – now in double numbers and then some, was on automatic pilot too often.

The bills were paid – sometimes reluctantly – but the bills were paid all through the years of their marriage – as the kids were growing up. Julia slowly sensed that money was the root of something in Ted that she didn’t grasp. Money was the issue that made her nervous at times.

She went back to work as a dental hygienist after the kids were all in school. It was the perfect job because she could make her own hours and shift schedules with two other hygienists she worked with at a wonderful dental practice.

Down through the years, Ted had tried many ventures. That’s what he called them – “ventures” – never “adventures”. That hinted of too much risk – and not enough sound planning. Ventures: a dry cleaning business - a coffee shop – a sub shop – real estate. Each business failed – but silently, slowly, undramatically – just as he moved into the next venture.

Somehow there was always money – but the stress could be wicked at times – but at no time would he tell Julia or anyone about the “wicked stress” – as he called it. Yet, it was a negative energy: this walking near the edge of the cliff between failure and success as he kept searching for the perfect business venture.

This time it was a tower. Yes, a tower. Someone said, “There was money in towers.” He did a study on cell towers. “Yes,” he said to himself. “There is money here.” So he took out a loan – got the property – did the paper work – had the tower constructed, lifted and installed. It reached high, high, into the sky – with its great metal cables holding tightly – grabbing the ground. Then he went a hunting for people who wanted to hang cell phone or pager dishes on a tower.

His wife, Julia, would be saying from time to time, “Are you okay?”

"Fine!” he answered. He was a man of few words – mostly short words.

The money was coming in – but not enough.

The bills were coming in and he was getting nervous – because maybe there wouldn’t be enough money.

Jinny was at an expensive private high school. Jessica had a series of operations on her left eye. Jason, their youngest, wanted to be a hockey goalie – and that equipment cost a lot of money.

Ted never yelled. Ted never screamed. Ted never lost it out loud.

His face mask was his smile. However, underneath the smile, because of the tower, there was a sense of panic that he never felt before. He was getting older. Did he still have it? All these other ventures, when they weren’t making it, he was able to sell off the assets and buy his next asset. This one was looking like a mistake – a major mistake.

One reality was key: he always worked alone.

This was the way it always was. He had reached out to his dad when he was a kid – and his dad was always in his own private tower.

Without knowing it, son became father. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tower.

He remembered one day as a little kid at the beach building a castle alone and he didn’t notice the tide coming in behind him. He was almost finished and this big wave snook up behind him and wiped out his castle. The father of a kid about 10 yards away said, “You should have built your castle up here where my son and I are building ours.” And a tear almost came – as he looked over the man’s shoulder and there was his dad on a blanket – sleeping by himself under their big umbrella. At that moment he realized with a kid’s brain his dad was different than so many other dads – the ones who were coaches and fans at Pop Warner football games and Little League baseball games – or like this dad building a castle with his son with its great towers at the beach – 10 yards safer than where he was.

His towers had just toppled by this great wave of water.

So he stood up that day – and without knowing it – became his own father – but he also became a tower – and he had the only key.

Here it was happening again – with his cell tower. Waves of other entrepreneurs and small companies were putting up towers along the interstate where his tower was and they were underbidding him. The literature he read didn’t warn him about other venture capitalists when it comes to cell towers.

He was about to have to face his life long issue: pride – aloneness – stubbornness – not willing to reach out to others.

That Sunday he went to church – and he did what he always did when he went to church – sitting alone but with his family. He prayed. He stood. He sat. He heard the sermon. He put money in the collection – this time with a bit of hesitation. He prayed. He said the Our Father. He thought about pro football starting that afternoon - but he felt no interest.

The only show in town, the only sound in his brain, was the disaster he was facing with regards his tower. This was what he was watching that morning in church on the TV screen in his mind. That was the sound ringing on the cell phone in his head.

His tower was toppling – that was the sound paging him.

The second reading that Sunday mentioned a man named Onesimus who was a slave – and Paul was sending him to a friend named Philomen – saying that he was sending him as a great gift, a great worker, with a great resume.

Ted didn’t hear or read that.

The gospel talked about being a disciple and making Jesus number 1 – making him one’s top priority, if we want to travel with him – and not letting our family or anyone or anything getting in the way of discipleship. “Tough stuff”, the preacher said. Ted didn’t hear that.

However he did hear the word “father” and he did hear the word “tower”. He especially heard the story of a man who wanted to construct a tower – who first sat down and calculated the cost to see if he had enough money for its completion – otherwise if he built it and ran out of money, everyone would laugh at him.

Ted had an epiphany moment. The light went on in his skull. Jesus was speaking to him. Jesus wanted to free him.

“Wow” he thought, “I’m not the first person who has been where I am right now.”

He reached over his left hand and took Julia’s right hand. She was shocked. This was the first time this man did this in church since their wedding day.

Julia could hear all kinds of sounds from Ted’s brain going down his shoulder into his arm and into his hand and into her hand and up her arm into her shoulder and into her skull – but the sounds were too scrambled and too strange and had too much static for her to know what Ted was saying and thinking.

Did he have cancer? Was someone sick? Was he worried? What?

She sat there next to him during the long sermon – through the rest of Mass – and at the Our Father, Ted gave Julia a hug – a long hug.

When they came back from communion there was eye closing prayers. Julia was watching Ted from the corner of her right eye – and she saw him wipe tears. Yes, tears.

“What was going on?” she was screaming inside her thought processes.

When they got home, he said to Julia, “Let’s go for a walk.”

He cried. He stopped at times. He embraced her there on the sidewalk as they walked down their street. He held her hand all through the walking. He told her about the disaster of the toppling tower he had bought and how this time he was worried.

She calmly said, “We can work this out. We can work this out.”

But she was nervous. This was new territory. These were new sounds from Ted.

Then Ted said, “I know what I’m going to do. I know what I have to do.”

“What?” said Julia.

“I’m going to go Ocean City and see my dad and ask his advice. He was terrifically successful in all his ventures.”

His dad lived alone – near the beach. His mom had died two years ago.

And that’s what Ted did. When he got there, his dad was in the backyard of his house near the beach – laying there under a big umbrella - sleeping.

The two of them had a long, long, long talk – a life time talk.

Ted sold the tower – and with his dad’s advice – and with Julia’s wisdom and blessing, he got a county job – in the Unemployment division. Where else?

And everything became different for Ted – for Ted and Julia – for Ted and Julia and their kids. It was also very different for Ted and his dad – who moved back closer to his grandkids and to his son and daughter-in-law – buying a condo – no not in a tower – but one close to the ground.

The Toppling Tower had brought both of them together. The Tower got both of them communicating with each other. Ted laughed. Wasn’t that what cell towers were supposed to do in the first place?