CRIES

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Cries!”

Good Friday is a good day to get in touch with our cries– our tears – our fears – the deep pains and hurts – which are rooted in us along with many other roots, buried in the hard earth of our soul, beneath this tree called me. I am bark and branch, lsapling and sap, but especially roots – roots, without which I would fall. (Cf. first reading, Isaiah 53: 2)

Our roots – what we can’t see – the underneath stuff of our life is the important stuff – where we are planted – have been planted as well as uprooted and replanted.

Our roots, our story, our family, our parents, our life experiences, our jobs, our memories of our experiences hold us up. We become what happened to us. As Tennyson says in his poem, Ulysses, “I am part of all that I have met.” We become what we eat. We become what we meet. Better we become how we digest and process what is happening to us every moment of our life – and sometimes we cry tears and sometimes we laugh tears about what has happened to us.

Cries are part of life – stress on the word “part” of life. What are our cries? What have we watered our tree with?

Obviously, cries are just part of our repertoire – just some of our sounds. Life is laughter and tears, comedy and tragedy, death and resurrection, downs and ups. Good Friday isn’t the only date on our calendar. Easter Sunday sends hints of its presence – with each movement of our watch or clock – “Tick. Tick.” Or “Silence. Silence.” And here in the Northern Hemisphere, flowers are popping up on our lawn. Trees are about to bud. We get out our rakes, wheelbarrows, and search for our gardening gloves. We feel Spring in the air and spring in our feet. New life is budding. Resurrection and hope is in the air.

But tonight, in the meanwhile, we stop for a moment. Today is Good Friday and we listen to cries.

Cries.

On Good Friday we stand under the tree of Jesus. We stand on Christ’s roots. We stand under the tree of the cross – knowing there is so much more underneath the story of Christ than what we see.

We face the cross and we face the reality that one of our human sounds is crying.

We cry when we are born. Thank God. We cry at death.

To be human is to cry deep screams – in loud or out loud.

When we picture nails being driven into Jesus’ hands and feet we wince. I picture him screaming. When they raised up the cross – when gravity pulled the weight of his body downwards, we can feel the hurt. Was he numb from the loss of blood from the crown of thorns and the beatings the day before? Or did he scream a stream of loud cries?

“Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Were you there when they nailed him to the tree? Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble. Were you there when they crucified my Lord?”

This crucifix here in this church is somewhat easy to look at – like the crosses on our walls back home or on our rosaries – compared to what the reality must have been. But could we endure facing the bloody reality of Christ on the cross 52 weeks of the year?

TODAY’S SECOND READING

The title of my homily is, “Cries!”

In today’s second reading, we heard, “In the days when Christ was in the flesh, he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence. Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.”

The first meaning of “obey” is to listen. We stand under the cross and we listen to Jesus. We hear his words from the cross – words of forgiveness and thinking of others. We hear his cry to his Father – his feeling that the Father has forsaken him. Then we hear his learning on the cross: his letting go and putting himself into his Father’s hands.

We stand under the cross and we listen. We learn. We notice.

BOO BOO

I’m sitting on a soft sofa in a living room – at a family gathering. It’s many years ago. On the other side of the room, my grandnephew Christopher, aged 3 or so – looks across the room and notices my hand. He sees a band aid on one of my fingers – a flesh colored band aid – and yells a loud cry from the other side of the room pointing at my cut finger, “Boo. Boo!” And everyone in the room becomes silent. And he walks across the room and everyone is watching and he takes my cut finger and says, “Boo Boo.” And then he kisses my cut.

It was one of those moments – one of those simple life moments that make up the moments of our life – our roots.

I didn’t know what to say, other than, “I cut it yesterday. It doesn’t hurt today.”

EXODUS

One of the oldest lines in the Bible is in the Book of Exodus, when it says, “God heard the cry of the Israelites in Egypt.” (Cf. Exodus 3:7,9)

God spotted a hurting people.

Of course, forever afterwards, we cry out to God, “Why don’t You hear the cries of the people in Darfur and Zimbabwe? Why don’t You hear the cries of children abused? Why don’t You hear the cries of those stuck in 1,001 different ways around our world?

Of course, we all know the comeback of preachers who then say, “And God says, ‘Why don’t you hear the cries of the poor and those in Darfur? Why don’t you hear the cries of children and those mumbling and crying in nursing homes?”

And we add, “But You’re God.”

CHRIST: THERE’S DOESN’T SEEM TO BE A CONCLUSION

As Christians we know there is too much mystery in life – too many twisted and turning roots that we can’t see underneath the tree of life. As humans we know there are many more questions than there are answers.

As Christians we know that God heard the human cry of every human being and so he became one of us – human – born a baby of Mary – born in a borrowed stable – was hunted and hounded – and was rejected when he started to really challenge people to notice their brothers and sisters – and to hear their cries – especially when they were hurting and wounded on the roads of life.

As Christians we know we are called to hear the cries of others – to become like little children who somehow know when something is wrong in mommy or daddy or brother or sister or uncle or aunt. We are called to be like children and see that every person in this room here tonight and every room – has a boo boo – a hurt – a cry – a scream – a wound.

Every person here tonight knows Good Friday. Every person here tonight has been on a cross – maybe right now.

And so tonight we come up the aisle like little children and kiss the cross.

And so in life, we cross rooms to help those who are cut and crying.

*

HOLY THURSDAY:
SEVEN INGREDIENTS

1) People,
2) Place,
3) Bread,
4) Wine,
5) Water,
6) Table,
7) Words.

1) People:
people wanting to be with Jesus,
people wanting to follow Jesus,
people hesitating to have their feet washed,
people not sure what is really going on,
people who will remember.

2) Place:
the upper room,
the place of the Last Supper,
the place of coming of the Holy Spirit,
the place where the disciples hid out of fear,
the place where the disciples heard, “Peace” from the Risen Lord,
the womb, the birth place of the church.

3) Bread:
bread broken,
bread shared,
bread held,
bread that hears the words: “This is my body which is being broken for you”,
bread eaten out of hunger for the Lord,
bread always asked for -- “Give us this day our daily bread.”

4) Wine:
wine made from grapes picked from a living vine,
wine made from crushed grapes,
wine the color of blood,
wine in the chalice that Jesus said “Yes” to,
wine gladdening the hearts of all who thirst for it,
wine becoming the blood being poured out in a New Covenant of love and service.

5) Water:
water used by Jesus to wash his disciples feet,
water reminding us of all the people on the planet who serve others, parents, nurses, farmers, dentists, mechanics, cooks, waiters, waitresses, truck drivers, nursing home workers, business people, hopefully, everyone,
water reminding us of the sacredness and beauty of all the water on our planet covering most of our earth,
water answering our prayers, “Give us this day our daily shower”; “Give us this day our daily glasses of cold water”; “Give us this day our water for our many hand washings”,
water, like the water that would flow from Jesus’ side on the cross.

6) Table:
a table of food, a meal, bringing people together in love and communion,
a table, reminding us of all that goes into our everyday meals, sacrifice, work, planning, shopping, lining up, preparing, cooking, serving, doing dishes and silverware, saran wrapping and plastic containing leftovers, etc.
a table reminding us of Jesus willingness and joy to sit down at our tables,
a table, a place for each one in the family to answer, “How was your day?”,
a table, an altar that brings us together with Jesus in a real presence at each Eucharist,
a table reminding us of the importance of gathering as a family around table for everyday meals, everyday Eucharist’s as well as special celebrations and thanksgiving dinners and Eucharist’s,
a table reminding us of the need to gather at table for meals, for meetings, for mapping out how we can live the New Testament.

7) Words:
Last Supper words, teachings,
Last Supper words, prayers, promises, a new commandment,
Last Supper words of Thanksgiving, Unity, Mystery,
Last Supper words that will be remembered,
Last Supper words, “Gather” and “Do this in memory of me.”

* I received

the picture

on the top

of this meditation

on an Easter Card -

but there was no mention

of who the artist is. Sorry.

WAIT A MINUTE!

“Wait a minute!” Haven’t we all said that at times? Haven’t we all said that when we felt a need for a STOP sign – when the traffic of words – or demands – or people pushing – were coming at us too fast– and we didn’t want to crash or be forced off the road or over a cliff.

“Wait a minute!” 3 simple words – that we need to have in our backpack of everyday skills for everyday living.

“Wait a minute!” There are a series of books - that talk about “The One Minute Manager!” Kenneth Blanchard and others challenge people to use one’s time well - to learn how to be aware of the monkeys on one's back, etc.

Wait a minute. Awareness is the first step. The second step is to learn to say politely, calmly, but strongly, “Wait a minute. Let’s talk about this. Let’s negotiate this. Let’s see what’s going on here. Let’s take some space. Let’s work this out.” Or when someone suddenly stops us with the request when we're on the way to do something else, "Do you have a minute?" we can say politely, "Sorry. I don't right now." Or if they read the book, to say with a smile, "I don't want your monkey for my pet."

“Wait a minute!” Without pushing too hard, why not take a minute right now to practice saying a few times? “Wait a minute!” “Wait a minute!” “Wait a minute!” Take a rosary and say it on each bead – 59 times. Say 59 times: “Wait a minute!”

Wait a minute! If you take a minute or two to practice saying that, you’ll find yourself saying it to yourself from time to time – hopefully at the right time.

Wait a minute. Ask: "What am I not seeing?" "Whom am I missing or 'dissing'?"

Wait a minute – what I just said hurt you.

Wait a minute – I’m driving too fast.

Wait a minute – you’re going too fast.

Wait a minute! Don't go there!

Wait a minute! Do I really want to watch this?

Wait a minute – smoking – or drinking – or using these drugs will do damage to my body, my brain, my lungs, my liver.

Wait a minute, I’m wasting my life with too much sitting around.

Wait a minute, I want to save this for marriage.

Wait a minute, this is cheating.

Wait a minute – I’m not allowing God into my life.

Wait a minute – I’m not really trying. I’m just going through the motions.

Wait a minute, I’m not helping around the house.

Wait a minute, I just dumped my empty coffee cup on the tarmac of the parking lot and someone has to pick it up.

Wait a minute, I’m hurting here and I need to talk to someone about this.

Wait a minute, it only takes 15 to 30 seconds to say a prayer before eating or going to bed – or after waking up in the morning.

Wait a minute, it only takes a short phone call or e-mail to connect with someone I haven’t heard from in a while.

Wait a minute! Look before you leap. A whole life can change in a minute.

Wait a minute, confession only takes a minute. It’s good for the soul. It’s good to say, “These are my sins” and hear ourselves say what we’re sorry for saying or doing or not doing. Presidents and governors, parents and teachers, all of us find it difficult to say, “I made a mistake.” Say it: “I sinned!” “I was selfish!” “I didn’t stop to think before I spoke.”

Wait a minute. I need a minute to think about this.

© Andy Costello.

March 18, 2008

[I wrote this for yesterday's

St. Mary's High School

Penance service -

then adapted it a tiny bit

for a wider blog audience

last night.]

WE UNDERSTAND

PALM SUNDAY

The title of my homily or reflection is, “We Understand Palm Sunday.”

Should I end my sermon or homily having said just that?

I could. Then a few of you will stand in the back after Mass and say, “I didn’t understand what you meant by your statement: “We understand Palm Sunday.”

So I’ll say something: something about something we all know.

Sometimes all goes right. We’re the talk of the town and sometimes we’re a disaster: everything in our life has come tumbling down.

Life is the highs and the lows – the Mountains and the Pits, Palm Sunday and Good Friday. Life is not a flat plain. If we’re alive, the monitor shows us alive as a jagged line, highs and lows, till we flat line.

Understand that, and you understand Palm Sunday.

Understand that, and you understand life.

Sometimes we’re the lead horse and we win the race; sometimes we feel like the donkey. Nobody notices us – but they notice the person or persons we’re carrying on our back.

Understand that and you understand Palm Sunday.

Life! The baby arrives – finally – and we all celebrate. Praise God. There are the phone calls – cell phone and e-mail pictures – and then a party – and Christians celebrate birth with baptism.

And then life goes on. Life’s calendars are marked with birthday parties – and graduation parties – and wedding parties – and anniversary parties. Life goes on and on and on.

We understand Palm Sunday.

We understand celebration – parties – parades – Palm Sunday type moments.

And this same baby in time becomes a graduate, becomes a bride or bridegroom, has babies of their own, gets older, has a hospital stay or two, retires, gets cancer or is in an accident, gets even older, needs a cane, a walker, Depends and a bed pan – and at some point dies.

Understand that and you understand Palm Sunday – and Holy Week.

Spring, summer, autumn, the trees are beautiful – buds, glistening green leaves, then green turning to orange, red, beautiful brown and gold leaves, then the fading, the fall, the crumble, then the long cold winter – trees standing out in the cold - empty naked branches shivering and scratching the night sky wondering is there anything after the golden glory of autumn? Trees know the meaning of the cross. Trees long for the sap of Spring – resurrection – new life.

Understand that and you understand Palm Sunday – and Holy Week.

Christ knew he had to go to Jerusalem. He had to face evil and the opposite of what he was about. He had to go there to celebrate the Passover. He couldn’t pass over it.

Christ also knew he had to have a last supper with his disciples. They still didn’t understand him – who he was and what he was about - after dozens and dozens of parables and dozens and dozens of healings. He had to wash their feet and tell them life is all about service. He had to sit with them one last time and try to sum up his whole message. He chose two simple everyday, every table, gifts: bread and wine. Both have to go through the life cycle to get to that table, wheat, grapes, cut, crush, baked, then bread, then wine.

Jesus knew life. He knew the way and the truth of life. He said he was the way, truth and the life. Isn’t that the truth?

Life: male, female, mom, dad, egg, seed, baby, the mother cut, body and blood, the mother along with the father holding their baby saying, “This is my body. This is my blood. We’re giving our life to you.”

Life: raising kids, working hard, building a home, shopping, making sacrifice after sacrifice – laughter, card games, ups and downs.

Life: long nights, worry about who the kids are hanging with, the nagging whine and angst and acne of their teen age years, okay there are A’s at times and goals in field hockey, lacrosse, football or soccer, or a great performance in a school play, but there are fights over dating the wrong person, after all we’ve done for you, driving you here and driving you there, and you’re driving us crazy at times.

Money - worries about money - taking a second job or a second mortgage. Hoping the family gets the message at every meal: “Hey we are giving our body and blood for you?” Family, food, prayer, sacrifice, togetherness. Hoping the family understands the meaning of the kitchen table – that it’s connected to the altar table.

This week – Holy Week: Palm Sunday to Easter – two highs and then the lows of betrayal and fear and tears in a garden – the high of the Last Supper on Holy Thursday – the low of spit, nails, curses and crucifixion on Good Friday.

Holy Week: Palms up. Hosanna to the Son of David. Holy Week: Thumbs down – a governor betraying himself – trying to manipulate a crowd by giving them a choice between Jesus and a thief named Barabbas – a governor whose wife sent him the message: “Have nothing to do with that righteous man. I suffered much in a dream today because of him.”

Holy Week: Christ’s hands sharing bread and wine as well as washing feet, hands nailed to a cross.

Holy Week: the steps Jesus had to take to get to Easter – the steps we follow because we want to have everything to do with this righteous man named Jesus.

Understand this and you understand Palm Sunday – and Holy Week. It’s a matter of life and death and resurrection.

LIFTED UP

If I be lifted up
like a child
on my Father’s shoulders,
all will see me,
some will wave and
some will wink,
but most will soon forget
such a cute scene
and none will believe
who I AM.

But, if I be lifted up
like a criminal
on my Father’s shoulders,
this time shoulders
made of wood, a cross,
then all will see me,
especially those who are caught
in pain and shame and then
maybe some will believe
who I AM? Amen.

© Andy Costello

Reflection for 5 Tuesday Lent

ARE YOU NUTS?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Are You Nuts?”

Different people use that phrase, “Are you nuts?” or “Are you crazy?” or, “I don’t believe you.” or “No way!” or “Muy loco!”

Today’s readings have the great theme of resurrection or life after death. The theme is put here this Sunday because next Sunday is Palm Sunday which begins Holy Week and then Easter – when we celebrate Christ rising from the dead.

FIRST READING

Today’s first reading is an excerpt from the great scene from the 37th chapter of book of the Prophet Ezekiel. He finds himself in the middle of a big valley filled with dead bones – skeletons – and God tells him to walk up and down among the dead bones. He sees that they are quite dried up. God tells him to prophecy over the bones that they come back to life – and they do. If you have time today or this week, read the 37th chapter of Ezekiel – or go to a cemetery and walk around the grounds. Think of the bones beneath the stones.

And then God tells Ezekiel, “This is Israel. The people are dead. Call them back to life. Tell the people to come out of their graves – and I will put a new spirit in them.” And Ezekiel does that and they come back to life.

The message is twofold: here and hereafter people are dead. God calls people here and hereafter to rise from the dead – to have a new spirit – to come back to life.

Ezekiel’s stress is on the here and now. The Gospel of John is a stress on both here and the hereafter. I tend to stress the here more than the hereafter. What about you? Is it a question of age?

To me the message is obvious: people are dead. People are sleep walking. People need to hear “Alarm clock words!” People need to hear, “Wake up everybody!”

POST OFFICE

I always remember a moment when my niece and I were to meet my brother, Billy, in New York City. He worked for the post office out of Washington DC and he was working on changing a procedure in the main New York office – over near the Old Penn Station. We went in and met him. Then he took us into this big room with about 40 desks – with someone at every desk. There was a big clock on the wall and it was at 3:55 and he sort of whispered to us, “Wait till you see what happens at 4 o’clock. It’s finishing time. The bell will ring and if anybody doesn’t believe in resurrection from the dead, they should be standing here ever afternoon at 4 PM.”

TODAY’S GOSPEL

In today’s gospel we have the great story about Lazarus – who has been dead 4 days. He and his two sisters were good friends of Jesus – so when Jesus gets there – they are crying. They are wishing he had come sooner, because then Lazarus would not have died. When Jesus sees how sad Martha and Mary are, he too cries. Then after Jesus speaks they remove the stone that locks the tomb and Jesus cries out in a loud voice into the tomb , “Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus comes out – tied hand and foot – with burial bindings. His face is wrapped in cloth. And Jesus says, “Untie him and let him go.”

It’s a great scene to picture. It’s one of the key stories in the gospel of John – right in the center – and it can evoke all kinds of theological themes.

Each main character in the gospel of John is us: Nicodemus, the man born blind, the woman caught in adultery and people want to stone her to death, the man at the pool of Siloam who is sick and stuck for 38 years, and this Sunday, Lazarus.

We hear these stories and we pray that Jesus calls us, heals us, hears us, saves us, enlightens us, challenges us, changes us.

We hear the story of Lazarus and we pray that Jesus will raise us from the dead – both here and hereafter.

POEM

I’d would like to read a poem that I love. It’s by the Swedish poet, Ingemar Gustafson. It’s where I got the title of my homily for today, “Are You Nuts?”

LOCKED IN

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

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

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

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

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

To me the poem has the same message as today’s first reading from Ezekiel and today’s gospel from John.

TODAY’S SECOND READING

In today’s second reading from Romans Paul says we have the choice to live by the flesh or by the Spirit.

The obvious call is to live by the Spirit.

The Spirit of God is in me – in these bones called “me”.

Am I living in the Spirit? Or am I living like the man in the poem cramped and crumbling inside a coconut? Am I all wrapped up in myself – small and tiny – when I could be so much more alive and spirited?

HERE AND NOW

Here and now – don’t we all hear the call to new life – from time to time – the call to a deeper spirituality – especially during Lent – to be a better Christian, a better worker, a better mom, dad, wife, husband, kid, servant?

Friday I was driving to Pennsylvania to go to my grandnephew Benjamin’s confirmation. He asked me to be sponsor. How about that? But I had to get a letter indicating that I was a practicing Catholic. While driving I was listening to a talk by John Shea on a CD. I had heard the talk in person – and didn’t really hear till yesterday something that I found very interesting.

Looking at his own life, John Shea, the speaker, said something like this: “When it comes to adult education, I find that I go through different periods. Sometimes the window is closed and I’m not learning anything. Sometimes I need to read and eat all I can. Then I need other periods to digest things. Then I become silent for a while. Then looking back I realize I put some of those new learnings into practice.”
I said to myself: “That’s so true.” Then I said, “Where am I right now in my growth process? – in my adult ed process?”
Where are you?

We’re nuts or crazy if we’re not growing.

MICHAEL HIMES

I was watching a video tape this week by Michael Himes, a theologian, who was giving a talk on today’s readings. Plagiarizing an image that he uses in his talk, he says that today’s gospel reminds him of a baby in the womb – comfortable, living a leisurely life, being fed as is, being told, there’s another world you’re going to have to enter one of these days and it’s going to be exciting. You’re going to experience all kinds of new adventures and the baby says, “I’m perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.”

Then we’re born. The doctor yells out, “Come forth!” and surprise we meet faces and tears, smiles and celebration. “Welcome to a new world.”

He says that’s a glimpse of what eternity will be like.

Looking back I’m sure the baby would say, “Are you nuts? I’m satisfied being just where I am right now.”

We never hear what Lazarus’s thoughts are after he comes back.

We do know that Israel fought Ezekiel’s call to new life.

CONCLUSION

I see Jesus going around calling out our name. He sees right through our hard shell, our mask, the walls of our tomb, our barriers and he keeps knocking – hoping that the person we are called to be will come out to play – come out to pray – come out to live life to the full.

And we say, “Are you nuts? I satisfied to be who I am and where I am right now.”

And Jesus laughs and cries and keeps knocking on our skull, on our coconut shell. “Is there any body in there?”

What would it be like to die – as an acorn – only to find out we could have been an oak tree? Now wouldn’t that be nuts?

LAZARUS*

Down, on the ground,

unnoticed,

buried in a crowd,

surrounded

by so much similarity –
thought dead at times –
yet we’re all so different - so different.
The few who see us
know us by our edges,

but, who but God,

really notices us?

Yet it’s March,

and wind and rain,
resurrection and Spring,
mean hope - new life.
We’re Lazarus
begging at doorsteps
and graveyards
and Jesus keeps calling us
from death to life.
Celebrate!
God will green us again.

God will Easter us again.

*Cf. John 11:1-54;

Luke 16:19-31
© Andy Costello