DOUBTING TOMMY

(The following is a story I made up last year for our Sunday morning Kids and Family Mass. I try to write a new story for each of these Masses - and when I wrote this year's story, I said, "Uh oh! Didn't I write something like this last year?" You be the judge!

Once upon a time there was this kid name Tommy. He was a great kid. However, his mom and dad often told him, “Tommy, you have to think before you act.”

They would say this if he spent too much on his Game Boy and not enough time on his homework. As a result, he’d end up almost failing. Now Tommy had a good brain. Yet his parents would say, “Tommy, you have to think before you act.”

They would say this if he ate only dessert and skipped his green vegetables and salad and hamburger and potatoes – and all those things parents nag their kids about when eating. Then when he felt sick – because he took too much dessert, they would say, “Tommy, you have to think before you act.”

Now Tommy had a twin brother named Teddy. Now, Teddy loved his twin brother Tommy, especially because Tommy always got the corrections. Teddy just stayed cool, calm and collected, enjoying life in Tommy’s shadow.

One Sunday afternoon, their mom and dad, left the two of them alone – because they wanted to go to a wake. Someone in the parish had died suddenly. As they were leaving mom said, "Tommy, you're in charge!" Then out of habit she added, "Think before you act."

Tommy liked being the older brother. They were both 12 years old – but Tommy was 26 minutes older than his brother.

Their parents didn't think much could go wrong if they were out of the house for just an hour.

It was raining out. It was a Sunday. It was April. March madness was over. Nothing good was on TV. When T & T realized they forgot to recharge their Game Boys, they got out their lacrosse sticks and started tossing a ball back and forth in the living room.

Tommy wasn’t thinking before acting – but neither was Teddy.

They were doing well – when suddenly Tommy threw a lacrosse ball to Teddy – but too hard and too wide. Teddy lunged for it, but the ball crashed into a very expensive living room big mirror on the wall. Teddy, as he tried to catch the ball, hit an expensive Waterford crystal vase with his lacrosse stick. It was on an end table and had some spring flowers in it.

"Crash!" "Splash," went the glass of both the vase and the mirror. Water, flowers and broken shards of glass were scattered everywhere.

“Uh oh,” both of them muttered.

Then they both yelled in unison, “Uh oh! Big time!”

Teddy said, “I’m going to call mom and dad right away and tell them we just broke a vase and the mirror. Better tell them now than latter.”

“No,” said Tommy. "Let’s wait till they get home. We need some time to come up with a good story.”

Teddy, said, “Nope, I’m calling right now.”

So Teddy went to the phone in the kitchen – while Tommy pouted on the big couch – looking at the mess – wondering how he’s going to get out of this one. He could hear his mom and dad saying as they walked into the room and seeing the mess, “You have to think before you act. You could have gone out into the garage and have a catch there with your lacrosse sticks.”

Teddy returned from the kitchen three minutes later.

Tommy asked, “What did mom and dad say?”

Teddy told his twin brother Tommy, “They were upset, but they forgave us. Mom said, ‘Just as long as neither of you are cut.’”

Tommy said, “No way. No way they forgave us. I can hear them as soon as they walk in the house and see this mess. ‘We told you. No lacrosse, no football, no baseball playing, in the living room. You’re going to break something.’ Then I’m going to hear, ‘Think before you act.’”

Teddy repeated himself, “Nope. They forgave us. And they added, ‘Don’t try to pick up the broken glass. You might cut yourself.’”

The next hour was the longest hour in their entire life. They could hear every drop of rain falling from the sky. Finally, they heard the garage door opening and the car coming into the garage. Then they heard their parents come into the living room.

“Are you guys okay? All the way home we were worried you might be cut. We can always get a new mirror and a new Waterford vase, but we can’t get a new set of Twins like you guys.”

Teddy and Tommy were silent – amazed – and stunned.

Their parents continued, “All the way home we were thinking how you must be nervous wrecks worrying that we’re going to yell at you. Hey we broke things when we were your age. And we’re impressed that you called right away. Nice going. Not too many kids would do that.”

And Teddy didn’t give Tommy the “I told you so” look.

Tommy thought to himself, “Better to stay in Teddy’s shadow. There will be more broken windows and dishes and more, ‘I told you so’s’ – in the future, but for now, it was all forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness and lots of wonderful peace.

EASTER 

UPRISING 

Each Easter,
hopefully
a new uprising
of the Spirit
of Christ,
up out of the silent
grave of our heart,
breathing deeper,
wanting a fuller life,
springing up out of
the cavity of our chest,
up higher to our lips,
and with breath
from our depths
we sing,
“Alleluia!”

© Andy Costello,

Markings Prayers

GOOD FRIDAY
AND 

EASTER SUNDAY 

Good Friday
doesn’t always come on Good Friday.
Sometimes it comes with
a phone call on a Sunday night,
“There’s been an accident!”
Sometimes it comes
while visiting a parent
in a nursing home as we see
mom or dad having to make
their painful way of the cross.
Sometimes it comes
in a doctor’s office,
or in the boss’ office
just when we thought
we had job security.
Good Friday
doesn’t always come on Good Friday.
So Lord, give me the courage
that you had on your way of the cross,
to keep walking,
to keep getting up after each fall,
to make it beyond the hurt,
beyond the bitterness and the nails,
beyond death on our cross.
Lord, help me to know
there’s always an Easter Sunday,
even if it doesn’t
always come on Easter Sunday.

© Andy Costello,

Markings Prayers

CREED FOR 

SPRINGTIME 

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the Lord, the Giver of Life.

I believe all will rise again,
like the sap in the trees,
the wheat in the fields
and the grapes on the vine.

I believe that there is life beyond the funeral
and resurrection on the other side
of every tragedy,
just as sure as the flowers will bud
and the spring rains will come.

And as I see long armies
of birds marching and spelling out
V’s for VICTORY across the highest skies,
I know that once more sparrows
and robins and the rest of creation
will music my mornings.

I believe that the greening of trees
and the warmth of the sun
will once again fill our days
and take away the skin tightening
cold of the long winter.

I believe that kids and lovers
and all of nature will yell
to the rest of us to wake up
and never give up on life.

I believe YOU are saying to us:
“Rise from your death.
Come out of hibernation.
Stretch your limbs and be people of life.
I believe in you.”

© Andy Costello,

Markings Prayers

ABOUT LAST NIGHT

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this Easter is, “About Last Night.”

I wasn’t sure just what to preach on this morning. What do you need?

What does your spirit crave this Easter?

Of course the main focus of Easter is Christ – the Risen Christ.

ABOUT LAST NIGHT

Last night we had the Easter Vigil Mass at St. John Neumann – our other church in this enormous parish. The Mass took two hours. I was watching my watch. It was a good religious experience - and I have to watch out for the time keeping side of me.

It started in the dark.

Our Pastor, Father Jack Kingsbury, blessed a new fire in the back of the Church.

Then Deacon Tony Norcio brought over the new Easter Candle.

The pastor cut a cross in the wax of the Easter Candle. Then he traced on the wax the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet while saying,

“Christ yesterday and today,
the beginning and the end,
Alpha
and Omega;
all time belongs to him,
and all the ages;
to him be glory and power
through every age for ever. Amen.”

Then Father Jack pressed five grains of incense into the Easter Candle in the form of a cross saying,

“By his holy
and glorious wounds
may Christ our Lord
guard us
and keep us. Amen.”

Then he lit the Easter Candle from the new fire saying, “May the Light of Christ, rising in glory dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds.”

The church is still in darkness when Deacon Tony Norcio begins a procession down the main aisle of the church. Holding the lit Easter Candle high in the air he sings three times, “Christ our light.” And the crowded church in the benches sings each time in response, “Thanks be to God.”

Halfway down the aisle the altar servers take a light from the Easter Candle and begin lighting candles that people are holding. Slowly the whole church becomes filled with people holding a light.

It had to be especially impressive for the 30 people here in this parish who came into the Church last night. And this was happening all over the Catholic Church around the world last night.

The bottom line is this: Christ is our light. Christ gives meaning to our lives. Christ gives sense and significance to our lives. Christ is the one we are following – down the aisles – traffic – the everyday situations of our lives – especially when we feel we’re in the dark.

FOLLOWING SOMEONE WHO HAS A VERY UNFAMILIAR NAME
Has this ever happened to you? You’re watching the evening news or reading an article about a disturbance or disagreement going on somewhere in Iraq – and the reporter says the fight was caused by the followers of some leader with a very unfamiliar name to you – and maybe even hard to pronounce. And the article says that the leader has thousands of followers.

Then you get the thought: would there be people in the world who would think me strange if I said, “I am a follower of Jesus Christ.”

Then when I say that, someone says, “I really don’t know who this Jesus Christ is? Who is he?”

You’re surprised.

Then you begin to answer the question: “Two thousand years ago there was this carpenter from a small village in Northern Israel, a Jew. When he was around thirty years of age, he began preaching and teaching and healing. Some people began following him. Some got angry at him for upsetting the status quo. And he was killed – crucified on a cross. And his followers believe he returned from the dead. He is alive."

Then you pause and then add, "I too believe. I too follow him."

Then you add, "There is a lot more to the story - much more. And right now, Christians, those who follow Christ, are the largest religious group in the world. Of the 6 billion plus people in the world, well over a billion are Catholics – and another half billion plus follow him as Protestants or Greek or Russian Orthodox, or in other branches of Christianity.”

Would the other person think we’re strange? Or would they say, “That’s interesting.” Or let's talk about this again some day." (Cf. Acts 17:32)

RENEWAL OF OUR BAPTISM VOWS

Last night at St. John Neumann, five of the 30 people were baptized. Most were already baptized – so all 30 received the Sacrament of Confirmation – as they became Catholics.

At this Mass this morning – and all the Masses on Easter Sunday, Catholics renew their baptismal vows – and there is the sprinkling with the Holy Water to remind us of the Baptismal waters – something we do every time we come into church - when we put our hand in the Holy Water font and make the sign of the cross.

We just went through a Lent in preparation for this renewal of our Christian faith and our following of Jesus.

Those who came into our Church last night went through the RCIA – the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults program. It started last September. That’s a lot of Wednesday evenings.

Last night, as priest I had a great seat up front facing the congregation. I could watch the whole scene. I was not preaching or in charge. I was just a potted plant – so I watched faces. I like to watch faces.

Deacon Leroy Moore and his wife Kathy – have been running our RCIA program for years – and Father Jack Harrison has joined them these past 3 years – along with several other people who serve. Their faces were filled with joy – along with those coming into the Church – their families, sponsors and friends as well. There was a daughter who came into the Church a few years ago and she was the sponsor for her dad doing the same last night. I studied her face as she stood there behind her dad with her hand on his shoulder.

I’m sure every new Catholic has a unique and wonderful story to tell.

I’m sure you read in the paper about a month ago how many Catholics drop out and try other religions.

I think, this, as well as recruitment, and renewal, should be topics at our annual Town Hall Meeting – as well as the groups we belong to in this parish, etc.

Before I came here to Annapolis five years ago, I was stationed in Lima, Ohio at St. Gerard’s Parish. We were average when it came to the number of people coming into the Church at the Easter Vigil – usually about 15 people. But every year there were about 50 people who became Catholics at St. Charles Parish on the other side of town. I wanted to know the reason. And I got the answer. It was this older nun – probably younger than I am now. She would start Monday morning after Easter gathering names for the next RCIA class – that would start in September. And she would quietly contact lots of people who showed interest.

I would think we need to advertise the RCIA program a lot more.

I would also think we need to put into play a program for fallen away Catholics. There are several good programs that are going on in Catholic parishes around the United States and world – right now. Folks meet for a series of weeks - have a chance to ventilate their questions, concerns, hurts, what have you - and are challenged to look at their story.

Okay, if more people starting coming to Mass, it would cause more space problems in our parking lots and our two church buildings – here and at St. John Neumann. And it would mean more work for us priests. Why not?

NOW WHAT CAN THIS CARPENTER OF NAZARETH DO FOR US?

Each of us has to answer this question for ourselves. We have to look at the furniture in our inner room. That’s one of Jesus’ images and questions. Who’s sitting in the chairs of our mind and heart? Who’s doing all the talking? Who’s running the show? Who’s present? Who’s absent? Whom should we be talking and listening to? Who’s taking up our energy and excitement? What are our dreams and what are our nightmares? Is Jesus Christ there? Do we meet the Father and the Spirit there?

There are Churchy answers and there are personal answers to the Jesus question. In the public forum and in the pulpit we give the Church answers – theology answers – very important answers – well worked out answers from some 1900 years of theology and thought – but in one to one moments with ourselves and with others we can give our personal witness.

The 3 people in today’s gospel – would each tell you a different story. In the gospels, we get glimpses of who Jesus was to these people: Mary of Magdala, Peter, and the Disciple whom Jesus loved. Most think this is John – but we’re not absolutely sure.

What is your story? Who is Jesus to you? Why are you here today?

Your story - your relationship to Jesus - your meeting God stories - are as unique to you as the question to a couple: "Where did you meet? When did you fall in love? Tell us your relationship story?"

I am a born Catholic. We went to Mass all the time. We said the rosary in the house – and I used to wish it wasn’t so long. Then my mother started doing the "add on’s" – ugh. I still hate "add on’s" and it’s the nature of religion to have "add on’s". We’d finally finish the rosary and my mom would add on 5 Hail Mary’s for the wound in his right hand. 5 Hair Mary’s for the wound in his left hand, etc., etc., etc. One time as adults my brother and I were home and mom and dad said, “Do you want to say the rosary?” We were trapped. So we said, “Yes!” We discovered my mom and dad had come up with another whole series of new "add on’s". When we finally finished my brother said, “Mom are you going to put vestments on now and say Mass for us?”

We went to Catholic school. I was an altar boy. And priests would ask us in grammar school from time to time. How many here would like to be a priest? And it got me thinking. So I went to the seminary and all that. But it wasn’t till I was 20 years of age – having finished two years of college – and I was in our novitiate year – a whole year in the middle of our 4 years of college. It was New Year’s Eve – and we had to go to bed around 9 and I thought that was crazy, so I stayed up till midnight – to bring in the New Year – but I was all alone – so I went to the chapel in our religious house and at midnight I said, “Happy New Year” to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. I had this overwhelming experience of the real presence of Jesus on New Year's Eve, 1960 – a meeting with a carpenter from a small town in Nazareth – some 2000 years ago.

My religious understanding changed at that moment. Looking back, my life changed at that moment. Jesus switched from being a word and an idea and a teaching and a picture and a statue – to a person – a real life person whom I have been connecting with ever since – in my inner room, in the bread, in people, in thousands and thousands of everyday situations I’ve been in ever since. Imagine telling that to someone who has no clue who Jesus Christ is?

Years later, I remember telling my New Year’s Eve experience to my sister Peggy and she laughed. She’s a nun. Surprise! She told me that she had the same experience on a New Year’s Eve – when she was making her novitiate – but instead of going to chapel she went to the bathroom – got a glass of water in a paper cup and at midnight saluted herself in the mirror saying, “Happy New Year!”

We both laughed because our dad was the type who went to bed at 9 PM on New Year’s Eve – but my mom and my brother and sister and their spouses and family always celebrated New Year’s Eve.

CONCLUSION

I better conclude this – less this too take 2 hours – and there might be some watch watchers here.

In today’s gospel, if that stone would not have been rolled back, we would not be here this morning. We would not believe that Jesus is present in the bread and wine of the Mass. Imagine telling that to someone who never heard that before? St. Paul gets even more dramatic. He says, “If Christ did not rise from the dead, we would still be in our sins.” We priests here at St. Mary’s have just spent the last three weeks hearing thousands and thousands and thousands of confessions – here as well as in many other parishes in Anne Arundel County. St. Paul says, “If Jesus didn’t rise from the dead, we’re idiots for believing in him. But we’re here.

About last night. At some point, the stone was removed from the tomb. Jesus was not in the grave. We believe: Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

HOLY SATURDAY MOMENTS

Holy Saturday -- the day after -- the day in between -- the day after the death.

Holy Saturday -- the only words to describe it are waiting, watching, and quiet, lots of quiet.

Holy Saturday -- waiting.

Like waiting as a family in a waiting room outside the intensive care center in a hospital.

Like waiting for 9:00 P.M. in a funeral home after a long, long day of standing, greeting relatives and friends who have come to say a prayer and pay their respects and voice their sorrow and sympathy to us -- when we have lost a loved one.

Like waiting for spring after the winter -- to see buds and birds once again -- new life -- the resurrection of the earth.

Like waiting for the birth of a child -- a mother about to give birth has great pain, but all that changes to joy when she sees her new child born into this world.

Like the father of the Prodigal Son waiting, waiting for his wayward son to come home -- and then waiting, waiting for the stubborn older brother to come into the house and welcome his younger brother back into the family.

Like Jesus waiting and looking with one last glance from the cross before he dies hoping to see Judas coming home, coming up the hill of Calvary.

Like Peter, not knowing resurrection, scratching his mistakes like picking at a freshly formed scab on a cut on the skin of his soul.

Like Mary, hurting, another sword -- pondering all this in her heart.

Like waiting for tomorrow: Easter Sunday.

Holy Saturday: watching.

Like watching others and how they deal with a loss.

Like watching the eastern sky for dawn.

Like watching our watch and then a clock and then the phone and then our watch again when another promised to give us a call that they arrived home safely on an icy night.

Like the disciples in the upper room huddled in worry and fear, wondering what’s going to happen next.

Holy Saturday: quiet.

Quiet like the quiet after experiencing a dream that has become a nightmare -- when all our plans and all our expectations have totally unraveled.

Quiet like the quiet we feel when someone we loved has died -- feeling the gulping hole in our conversations and our thoughts and our prayers.

Quiet like seeing an empty space in a bed.

Quiet like seeing an empty cross.

Quiet like the quiet we feel when someone has hurt us badly.

Quiet like the quiet we feel when we were wrong and can’t admit it.

Quiet like the flowers of spring ready to burst -- tulips trumpeting the spring.

Holy Saturday: an off day -- a day in between -- a day you have to have -- to slow us down before the big day -- the day of we’re waiting for, watching for, then the quiet, then the burst of the Easter Christ.

Come Lord Jesus, come. Come Risen Son of God

Holy Saturday a time to come here to church for quiet prayer together, waiting and watching for Jesus’ return -- for resurrection -- for new beginnings and new life. Amen

Come Lord Jesus, come.

Come Resurrection and Life.

Come “Amen” of the Father.

Amen, Jesus always rising within us all days, even to the end of the world.

Amen. Maranatha.*

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

*Cf. Book of

Revelation 22:16-21)

© Andy Costello

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.