AUDIENCE
Everyone needs someone
to tell their story to.
Who is your someone?
© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
WHAT DOESTHE CROSS MEAN TO ME + ?
INTRODUCTION
The feast of the Holy Cross – September 14th – falls on this Sunday, so instead of having the regular 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, we’re focusing on this feast today.
It leads to the question: What does the cross mean to me?
If someone saw a cross around your neck – or a cross pin on your lapel – or a cross on your kitchen wall – and asked you, “What does that – [pointing to the cross] - mean?”, what would you answer?
Like all big symbols, like a flag, we know meanings, but we might not be able to put our answer, our understandings, into words.
It’s a good question and it would be worth our while to ponder it.
Would it be better if I asked you to be quiet for the next 10 minutes - the time I take for a homily - and use the 10 minutes for quiet time – to come up with your answers to the question: ‘What does the cross mean to me?’”
The feast of the Holy Cross – September 14th – falls on this Sunday, so instead of having the regular 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, we’re focusing on this feast today.
It leads to the question: What does the cross mean to me?
If someone saw a cross around your neck – or a cross pin on your lapel – or a cross on your kitchen wall – and asked you, “What does that – [pointing to the cross] - mean?”, what would you answer?
Like all big symbols, like a flag, we know meanings, but we might not be able to put our answer, our understandings, into words.
It’s a good question and it would be worth our while to ponder it.
Would it be better if I asked you to be quiet for the next 10 minutes - the time I take for a homily - and use the 10 minutes for quiet time – to come up with your answers to the question: ‘What does the cross mean to me?’”
I'm a chicken - so let me give 5 comments, 5 answers to the question on what the cross means to me – to show that I did my homework. This week, I ask you to do your homework. Write out you answers to the question, “What does the cross mean to me?” or talk to each other about the cross – and see what each of your answers would be.
Maybe by doing this, we’ll discover we have profound, deep answers, to this question, and we’ll dust off a crucifix we have in the basement or a gold cross in a jewelery box and we’ll start wearing it.
While doing my half hour on the treadmill the other day, I was watching one of the old Rocky movies and there was Rocky with a gold cross around his neck. “Rocky, what does that cross mean to you?”
FIRST ANSWER: THE TWO LINES +
To me the first answer to the question, “What does the cross mean to me?” is the two lines of the cross. [Gesture +] Someone taught me early on that the cross is a great symbol of reality.
I expect today to go this way. [Gesture a line up and down], but there is that phone call – that interruption – [Gesture a line going sideways] and it cuts across my plans. The result: the cross.
Everyone plans their life to go a certain way, but cancer, another’s will, another’s choice, another’s way – cuts right across my plans. The cross. [Gesture +]
If there is one message everyone over 60 voices loud and clear, it would be, “This wasn’t the way I had it planned.”
The other dies. The other changes. The other leaves. The other has different ideas. The company goes under. The company moves. The boss calls us in and says, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we have to let you go.” The doctor calls and says …. Our kid tells us ….
There are accidents. There are hurricanes. There are crashes. There are fires. There are floods. There are mistakes. There are sins. There is stupidity. People see and think differently than me.
Maybe by doing this, we’ll discover we have profound, deep answers, to this question, and we’ll dust off a crucifix we have in the basement or a gold cross in a jewelery box and we’ll start wearing it.
While doing my half hour on the treadmill the other day, I was watching one of the old Rocky movies and there was Rocky with a gold cross around his neck. “Rocky, what does that cross mean to you?”
FIRST ANSWER: THE TWO LINES +
To me the first answer to the question, “What does the cross mean to me?” is the two lines of the cross. [Gesture +] Someone taught me early on that the cross is a great symbol of reality.
I expect today to go this way. [Gesture a line up and down], but there is that phone call – that interruption – [Gesture a line going sideways] and it cuts across my plans. The result: the cross.
Everyone plans their life to go a certain way, but cancer, another’s will, another’s choice, another’s way – cuts right across my plans. The cross. [Gesture +]
If there is one message everyone over 60 voices loud and clear, it would be, “This wasn’t the way I had it planned.”
The other dies. The other changes. The other leaves. The other has different ideas. The company goes under. The company moves. The boss calls us in and says, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we have to let you go.” The doctor calls and says …. Our kid tells us ….
There are accidents. There are hurricanes. There are crashes. There are fires. There are floods. There are mistakes. There are sins. There is stupidity. People see and think differently than me.
Crossed lines is the first message and meaning of the cross for me.
SECOND ANSWER: FORGIVENESS
The second answer I ponder about the cross is forgiveness.
Someone looked at the 4 gospels – and noticed that there were 7 statements Jesus made on the cross. They are called, “The Seven Last Words of Jesus.” The one that jumps out for me is Jesus’ words from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
Do we really know why we do what we do?
When someone hurts us, we sometimes call this a cross. When they keep on doing it, we call that person, “our cross.” I find myself saying in these situations, “Father, forgive him because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Ooops. That's how I would say that in pulpit. In real life it would be quite different - and unprintable.
Forgiveness is very difficult. The more difficult the situation or hurt, the more the call for forgiveness.
Guess what? We too make mistakes, and we hope that God, others, will forgive us? Hopefully, they do. But there is still one person left who won’t forgive us: ourselves.
“Father forgive me, for I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I think St. Paul and St. Augustine speak for all of us when they wrote, “We say to ourselves: ‘Today I’m going to go do such and such a thing’ and we go out and do just the opposite.” Why? [Cf. Romans 6: 14-25] Or I tell my left hand it’s going to do this and my right hand does the opposite. [Confessions, Book 8, Chapter 9, The Two Wills] We do this all the time. We tell ourselves we’re going to be early for the meeting and we’re late every time. Why? Why? Why? Or we go on a hundred diets or we're not going to drink or we’re going to get to bed earlier and we don’t. Addictions. Distractions. Destructive behavior. They are us.
SECOND ANSWER: FORGIVENESS
The second answer I ponder about the cross is forgiveness.
Someone looked at the 4 gospels – and noticed that there were 7 statements Jesus made on the cross. They are called, “The Seven Last Words of Jesus.” The one that jumps out for me is Jesus’ words from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
Do we really know why we do what we do?
When someone hurts us, we sometimes call this a cross. When they keep on doing it, we call that person, “our cross.” I find myself saying in these situations, “Father, forgive him because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Ooops. That's how I would say that in pulpit. In real life it would be quite different - and unprintable.
Forgiveness is very difficult. The more difficult the situation or hurt, the more the call for forgiveness.
Guess what? We too make mistakes, and we hope that God, others, will forgive us? Hopefully, they do. But there is still one person left who won’t forgive us: ourselves.
“Father forgive me, for I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I think St. Paul and St. Augustine speak for all of us when they wrote, “We say to ourselves: ‘Today I’m going to go do such and such a thing’ and we go out and do just the opposite.” Why? [Cf. Romans 6: 14-25] Or I tell my left hand it’s going to do this and my right hand does the opposite. [Confessions, Book 8, Chapter 9, The Two Wills] We do this all the time. We tell ourselves we’re going to be early for the meeting and we’re late every time. Why? Why? Why? Or we go on a hundred diets or we're not going to drink or we’re going to get to bed earlier and we don’t. Addictions. Distractions. Destructive behavior. They are us.
Life is all about déjà vu dumb.
Father, forgive us because we don’t know what we’re doing – and we keep doing it.
So my second answer to the question, “What does the cross mean to me?” is forgiveness.
THIRD ANSWER: THE STOP SIGN
For me, the third answer to the question, “What Does the Cross Mean To Me?” is this: “It’s a STOP sign.”
I have a small book* I wrote 30 + years ago on the 7 last words of Jesus from the cross and that was one of my messages. The cross is a stop sign.
So my second answer to the question, “What does the cross mean to me?” is forgiveness.
THIRD ANSWER: THE STOP SIGN
For me, the third answer to the question, “What Does the Cross Mean To Me?” is this: “It’s a STOP sign.”
I have a small book* I wrote 30 + years ago on the 7 last words of Jesus from the cross and that was one of my messages. The cross is a stop sign.
Years later that theme was developed big time for me by the writings of Rene Girard**– who said that the cross stands there on the hill above our lives with the message, “Stop doing this to people.”
Yet we don’t stop. We hurt others with our comments, our gossip, our remarks. People scapegoat other people all the time – crucifying folks. Jesus died on the cross to put an end to this hurting and killing of other folks.
Yet we don’t stop. We hurt others with our comments, our gossip, our remarks. People scapegoat other people all the time – crucifying folks. Jesus died on the cross to put an end to this hurting and killing of other folks.
Stop!
Yet we keep on crucifying people. We keep on hearing about random acts of terror – bombings of innocents in market places. Last week we stopped for a moment to remember September 11th.
The cross yells: Stop the horror. Stop the terror. Stop the crucifixions!
FOURTH ANSWER: NAME WHAT IS KILLING US
The fourth answer is to name what is killing us. This is applying the Stop sign to ourselves. What’s killing me? Is it overeating, smoking, laziness, lies, sweeping truth under the rug, or what have you?
In today’s first reading from the Book of Numbers we have the folk story about the serpents or the snakes. The Israelites were in the desert and snakes were biting them. So Moses prayed and the Lord told him to take a snake, kill it, put it on a pole – and tell the people, “This is what’s killing you. Look at it and you will be healed."
So Moses had a bronze snake made and put that on a pole and said, “This is what’s killing us.”
This symbol became the emblem of the Medical Profession – doctors and nurses, researchers – who try to find out what’s killing a person – and put it on the diagnosis sheet and show it to the person - or they show them MRI results or however that works.
Remember years ago when a group of American Legion folks on a convention got sick and some died mysteriously in Philadelphia. Research found out it wasn’t food. It was a bacteria forming in water towers – and it was called, “Legionnaires Disease.” Clean out the water towers – and people won’t be dying.
Name the poison. Name the culprit. Discover the cause of our problem.
Remember the story of the Panama Canal – when a Dr. Gorgas and others did the research and said it was mosquitoes that were causing malaria and yellow fever. Get rid of the mosquitoes and you’ll stop all these deaths. So they put up pictures of the bug – find out where they hang out – and zap them. They overcame opposition and did it. We humans tend to deny what’s killing us.
The cross announces not only what’s killing us – hurting ourselves as well as other people – but also it announces the healing – name it, shame it, face it. The cross announces death - but also resurrection. That's my take on today's three readings.
FIFTH AND LAST ANSWER: HOPE ON A HILL
The cross is a symbol of hope.
They tried to destroy Christ on a hill a long time ago – and today there are well over a billion of us Christians on the planet. There are over a million buildings on the planet with a cross on top – like here at St. Mary’s.
The idea was to have a high steeple – with a cross on top – so farmers in the field could look up and get hope – so sailors at sea could look and see home – so people around Annapolis – when looking out the window in a restaurant – or while walking up town or down town – can look up and see a sign of hope – the cross on high.
When saying Mass at St. John Neumann, we have that powerful cross in the sanctuary saying so much. Ponder its message. It will bring hope. When coming to Mass here at St. Mary’s, when your get out of your car, don’t forget to stop and look up and see the Golden Cross high on the steeple of this church and pray for the city and the county and the state and the country and the world.
CONCLUSION
So that’s your homework. This week jot down 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 things the cross means to you – and do what I just did for the past ten minutes. I told you my answers to the question what the cross means to me - tell each other your answers to the question, "What does the cross mean to me?"
* Andrew Costello, CSSR, How to Pray When Troubled, From His Cross to Yours, Liguori, 1977, p. 5
** Cf. Rene Girard, The Girard Reader, edited by James G. Williams, Crossroad, 1966; Rene Girard, Violence and the Sacred, Johns Hopkins, 1972; Gil Bailie, Violence Unveiled, Humanity at the Crossroads, Crossroad, 1995
Friday, September 12, 2008
NARRATIVE
During both the Democratic and Republican national conventions, the word “narrative” was used when talking about upcoming speeches by the candidates for both the president and vice president.
Tell us your story. Tell us who you are. Tell us where you are coming from. Tell us why you are here.
Tell us your story. Tell us who you are. Tell us where you are coming from. Tell us why you are here.
Narrative.
Some folks don’t want narrative. They don’t want spin. They don’t want negative campaigns. They don’t want name calling. They want clear speech and clear plans on issues.
So a question I ask: can we have both?
In this blog piece I’m looking at narrative.
The candidates told us something about themselves. They told us some of their story.
Reporters will be doing the same – trying to find out as much as possible about candidates. My hope for the press is something I read in a recent op-ed piece. The press needs to report on the battles not be part of the battle. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
Let me get back to narrative?
Some people want to hear the narrative, the stories of those who are running for national office.
What about us getting in touch with our story – our life?
In 1999, Tom Brokaw woke a lot of people up to the importance of telling their story. Check out his book: The Greatest Generation. There were all these people moving closer and closer to death – and they didn’t tell their story – about what they went through in World War II. His book helped to get people to tell their story.
The result was wonderful. Veterans of World War II were taped. They were invited into classrooms where they could tell another generation about what they experienced. People found out what was locked up inside the memories of a whole generation of Americans. I hope a similar thing happened in England, France, Italy, Poland, Russia, Germany, Japan, the Philippines, and all those places where that war took place.
Starting in 2003, Dave Isay did a similar thing with the StoryCorps Project – providing a method to help people tell their story. You go to a recording booth – some are mobile trailers that travel around the country. You bring a family member – mom, dad, a grandparent – and enter the booth. It’s a place where there is a microphone and a recorder. A facilitator tells you what to do. The recorder is turned on. For about 40 minutes the questioner asks the person they brought the questions they want to ask. “Two broadcast-quality CDs” are created. One goes into the StoryCorps archives; the other goes home with you. If you haven’t cried tears of joy lately, buy the Deluxe Gift Collection – a book and CD – of stories entitled, “Listening Is an Act of Love.”
In the back of the book you can find “Favorite StoryCorps Questions."
“What was the happiest moment in your life? The saddest?
Who was the most important person in your life?
Who has been the biggest influence on your life? What lessons did this person teach you?
Who has been the kindest to you in your life?
What are the most important lessons you’ve learned?
What is your earliest memory?
What is your favorite memory of me?
If you could hold on to one memory from your life for eternity, what would that be?
Are there any words of wisdom you’d like to pass along to me?
What are you proudest of in your life?
How would you like to be remembered?
Do you have any regrets?
What does your future hold?
Is there anything about me that you’ve always wanted to know but never asked?
Turn the tables: This is your chance to tell the person you’re interviewing what you’ve learned from him or her and what that person means to you.”
Then it adds, “You can find more StoryCorps questions at www.storycorps.net/. You can also find information on how to record an interview yourself.”
Erik Eriksson said the last stage of life is Ego Integrity vs. Despair. A person can despair if he or she doesn’t see spiritual meaning, reason, order about their life.
I often ask people, “Have you ever written your autobiography?”
Some have said with a smile on their face, “Yes!”
Motives vary. Some do it for themselves; some do it as a way of passing down to their kids what they learned, their legacy, their wisdom, what they think life is all about. I think folks automatically start doing their autobiography – not necessarily writing it – after 55.
“Go figure!”
They take time to figure out who they are, where they are from and how they got to where they are.
Narrative.
There are many ways to put together one’s story.
Let me provide some suggestions. I’ll also track down an article I wrote about “Autobiography” years ago and make it a separate blog entry.
Get a spiral pad – a notebook – from the supermarket stationary section – or Staples – Office Depot – K-Mart or Wal-Mart.
Start jotting down your memories.
If you use a computer, make a folder called “Autobiography.”
Then start putting in the stories of your life.
If you start doing this, surprise! More and more memories come down the river.
To trigger the process, read other people’s autobiographies, memoirs, diaries as well as biographies. Libraries have lots of them.
They will give you possible chapter headings and ways to line things up.
You are not writing it for anyone but yourself.
If you find yourself looking for time to get to the computer and/or your spiral pad, you’re onto something that has energy and interest.
If you stick to it, you’re really into it.
If you find yourself talking to your spouse or parents (if alive) or brothers and sisters, you’re caught. I remember asking my sister Mary, "Who were the people on our street in Brooklyn (62nd Street between 3rd and 4th Avenues) when we were kids?" I drew boxes for all the houses on both sides with address numbers and then filled in the boxes with names. The exercise triggered various memories and moments.
Start with a scratch sheet. Don’t be scared to cross out and make corrections.
Fascinating. It can be much more interesting than many programs on TV.
Another trick is draw time lines.
Just draw a line across a piece of paper or on a page in your spiral pad and put your birthday on one end – and today’s date on the other end. You can list that page: “schools”. You put down the schools you were in. Who are the teachers you remember? Who are the classmates you remember? Pop! Up pops the memory of winning a spelling bee in the 6th grade. Up pops a name. “What ever happened to what’s her name?”
On other pages you can draw other time lines with headings such as these: “Jobs”, “Friends”, “Vacations”, "Houses", “TV programs”, “Songs”, “Cars”, “Dogs”, “Religion” – and on and on and on.
When people go for therapy, sometimes the therapist does the same thing – getting people to look at their relationships history, their sexual history, their “tears” history, their family history, their body history, etc., etc., etc. Tell me your story?
Hopefully, the overall experience is an experience of gratitude and grace.
One great question is: “What were your epiphany moments?” These are the eye openers, the insight moments, the “aha!” moments. “Oh my God, Santa Claus doesn’t exist!” “You’re kidding. The Stork Explanation isn’t true.”
Another trick is to get out all your photos and photo albums. Get them from everywhere – closets, under beds, attics, etc. Looking for a great project for one’s old age. Save those photos. Scan them into a computer. Organize them. Enhance them. Fix them. Label them. Indicate who’s who before it’s too late and they are tossed when you have passed away.
You’ll cry. You get in touch with some tough stuff along with the great memories.
As Christians forgiveness is a major theme. We make mistakes in life. We are hurt in life. We get cuts and scars.
If someone likes to read scripture, several sections of scripture can be very helpful. The story of the woman at the well in Chapter 4 of the Gospel of John is a great text to read. The woman ends up saying, “Come and meet someone who knows everything I’ve ever done.” The story of the disciples on the way to Emmaus in the 24th Chapter of the Gospel of Luke is also excellent. Jesus unfolds his whole story to them and they are burning with story. One great lesson is that it’s long afterwards that we see that our story makes sense. Or as someone said, “Don’t write in your diary what happened that day. You won’t know what really happened till a month or years from how.”
In the meanwhile, jot.
If you’ve ever been at an A.A. [Alcoholics Anonymous] meeting you soon discover the power of narrative. Members get up, tell who they are, “I’m John and I’m an alcoholic.” Then they tell their story, sometimes called their “drunkalogue”.
And the captive audience hears some of their story as they listen to another’s story.
Narrative.
If you start walking the steps in A.A. you come to the 4th step – “Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.” This can be an incredible moment. It's autobiography. It's confession. It's the story of one's life. You put down on paper an inventory of your life. You vet yourself.
Then when that is finished – a person chooses to take the 5th step, “Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”
Sometimes folks revisit their 4th step - because as they grow in A.A. spirituality - they see a lot more than they saw years earlier.
A.A. has many great sayings, One powerful one is: “We are as sick as our secrets.”
I’m not an alcoholic. I never drank. However, as priest, I have had the profound and humbling experience many times of hearing a person make their 5th step – telling me their life story. It's told in utmost confidence - as sacred as in the Sacrament of Reconciliation - and I would add that it's my experience that it's much more deeper and profound. I pinched myself many times while listening to someone telling me who they are and what has happened so far.
“Wow!”
Enough already. Start writing…. start typing your narrative. Start narrating your story to yourself.
A.A. has many great sayings, One powerful one is: “We are as sick as our secrets.”
I’m not an alcoholic. I never drank. However, as priest, I have had the profound and humbling experience many times of hearing a person make their 5th step – telling me their life story. It's told in utmost confidence - as sacred as in the Sacrament of Reconciliation - and I would add that it's my experience that it's much more deeper and profound. I pinched myself many times while listening to someone telling me who they are and what has happened so far.
“Wow!”
Enough already. Start writing…. start typing your narrative. Start narrating your story to yourself.
© Andy Costello, 2008
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
It was September 16th. I have the day marked on my calendar. She told me her name. It was the first time she was ever asked to be in charge of organizing a nun’s retreat. Then she said, “I have your name listed here as giving the retreat next year: June 16th to the 25th.” I said, “Yes.” Then she asked, “What is your theme?”
She caught me completely off guard - completely. I don’t even know what I am going to do tomorrow. I don’t even know what I am going to preach on next Sunday? She wanted to know the theme for a retreat for next year - a retreat nine months from now!
I made a mistake. I gave her a theme. There was a book sitting on my desk, an autobiography, right there next to the phone. So I said, “The theme will be `Autobiography’.”
She said back to me, “Autobiography?”
It sounded like she had a question mark after the word, so I repeated, “Yes, autobiography.”
She finished the phone call with a hesitant, “Okay. Thank you.”
After I hung up, I said, “Uh oh!” Anyway I jotted down on my calendar the word “autobiography” and then forgot about it.
Next April it hit me that I better start preparing for the retreat. Theme? What’s a good theme? Then I remembered that I jotted something down on my calendar. There it was, “Autobiography.”
What do I say about autobiography? Silence. So I started to reflect and look at every autobiography that I could find. Surprise! In a month I had enough material for 16 talks - two talks a day for an 8 day nuns’ retreat on the theme of “autobiography”. As I was packing for the retreat, just in case, I threw into a cardboard box about 10 autobiographies. Thank God I was traveling by car.
Looking back afterwards, like most retreats that I have given, I think I got the most out of it. Autobiographies, Memoirs, Journals, Diaries, are fascinating reading. Turn off the TV; read someone’s diary!
I once made a workshop on how to keep a journal: using the Ira Progoff method of journal keeping. You might have seen his Intensive Journal Workshops advertised here and there. It’s great stuff on how to keep a journal - an Intensive Journal. Basically you’re taught how to do an autobiography or a diary. For example, you keep a daily log, jotting down what happened to you that day. But you also learn how to map out the main stepping stones of your life as well as your dreams. You’re also taught how to dialogue on paper with the significant people in your life, absent or present, alive or dead. It’s a neat way of doing one’s story. That workshop way back in 1974 has taught me to keep a journal or diary ever since.
Autobiography. Everyone, well not everyone, keeps an autobiography. Most people don’t write it down, but scratch a person, and you’ll scratch a memory. We know our stories, chapter and verse. We know the significant things that have happened to us so far. We have our halls of fame and our halls of shame, the stuff of our life that we don’t mind talking about and the stuff that we want to keep hidden forever. Isn’t that what makes us all so interesting?
Autobiography. Everyone has their memorabilia: ash trays and shells and souvenirs from the trips of our life. Everyone has a place: a box under the bed or on the top shelf of a closet, a bottom drawer, a trunk in the attic, where they keep their secret stuff. We also have our public stuff: photo albums, pictures on book shelves or on end tables or on tops of televisions, diplomas and degrees and awards framed or laminated on our walls, trophies in cabinets for winning softball tournaments or twirling contests. Our homes and our hearts are filled with the stuff that makes autobiography.
Autobiography. Everyone has a right to have a home or an apartment, a place and a space, to keep their souvenirs and their trophies, the reminders of their story - that place we call home. Everyone has a right to a porch or a bench in the summertime where with family or friends we can listen to each other’s story. We need to listen to each other, to be willing to turn off the TV and ruminate with ice tea or lemonade or beer or wine, to shoot the breeze and tell each other our stories. Isn’t that what all those men are doing who sit in the corner bar night after night, hour after hour after hour?
Autobiography. Who are the people in your life who are willing to tell you their story? Who are the people you would love to tell your story to?
Autobiography. Have you ever thought about writing down your autobiography - putting it down on paper or into a computer? If you have a computer, there is a program called “Memories” It helps you line up your story - your childhood, schooling, moving you through all the stages of your life. There are also programs that help you line up your family tree as well as your roots. Simone Weil wrote a whole book on The Need For Roots. She saw the horror of uprootedness in Europe because of World War II. She said, “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.” (p. 43).
I remember one time thinking, “As an adult I never sat down with my dad and listened to his story.” My dad was very quiet - as introverted as an owl. So one evening I asked him to tell me his story. At one point I said, “Dad, let me get paper and pencil. This stuff is worth jotting down.” My dad, the introvert, had begun to extrovert his story to me. He told me about starting in Ireland and then coming to America with only $25 and one suit. He recalled that they had told him, “When you see America, put on a clean set of underwear and put on your good suit. Then put your old underwear in a paper bag and throw it overboard.” My father dumped dirty underwear in the Boston Harbor on May 9, 1925. He told me about looking for work in Boston, Portland (Maine), Philadelphia, and finally settling in New York City. He told me about writing letter after letter to my mom in Boston asking her to marry him. She kept on putting him off. Most of his life he worked for the National Biscuit Company in New York City, unloading flour, sugar and all those tasty ingredients that make up those great cookies by Nabisco.
Those notes on pieces of paper are precious ingredients, because my dad’s life is part of my life. A good part of his story is my story. Parts of his autobiography are my autobiography.
As I take time out to put together the story of my life, I discover that I have memories of my dad that I didn’t know I had. They were just sitting there ready to be recalled. My dad loved poetry. One day, there I was a little kid, opening up a book of poems that my dad loved. Inside on a certain page was a dried up red rose petal. I never saw such a thing in my whole life as a dead rose petal inside a book. I went to my dad, who was sitting there in his favorite chair. Pointing to the dark red petal, I asked, “Dad, what’s this?” My dad was known for his smile, but when I pointed to the rose petal he had an even bigger smile. Now, every time I picture my dad, I picture him in that chair, that day, wearing his light blue work shirt, with that smile. I always hear his one word answer to my question why anyone would put a rose petal in a book, “Memories!”
That’s a precious story in my autobiography. One of the regrets I have about my dad is that I never got a tape recorder and put him on tape. I would love to have his voice on tape now. I have notes on him on paper, I have memories of him in my mind, but I don’t have him on tape.
So when my brother was dying of cancer, I said to him, “Why don’t you make some tapes - eight tapes - one for Joanne and one for each of your daughters. After you die, each of them can have that as a precious memory.” His answer was, “Nah! I don’t want to do that. I’d rather be in their memories as I am.” Then he added, “Besides, this way, they can make up even better stories about me after I die.”
About a year after my brother died, I got the thought about taping my mom - getting her story. I had heard bits and pieces about her story through the years. But I thought, “Let me see if I get her on tape.” One evening, when I stayed overnight in Brooklyn, I sat with her and asked her to tell me her story and we’ll put it on tape. She too was a bit reluctant, but as she got into her story, she forgot the tape recorder. She was 81 years of age at the time, very healthy, still had a job, still making money, still full of life.
I noticed the same thing happened to her that happened to my dad when I sat and asked him to tell me his story. It’s magic. It’s sacred. Asking a person to tell you their life story, their autobiography, and taking the time to sit there and listen to them is magic. It’s a sacred moment.
My mom gave me all kinds of details that I never heard before: her childhood in Ireland, her landing in Boston on the feast of the Immaculate Conception, December 8th, 1919. She told me about working as a maid in the Adams House - a hotel in Boston, sending most of her money home to Ireland, working for a family whose daughter was a good friend of Anne Morrow and as a result my mom met and served Charles Lindbergh a few times, going to the dances, and for years receiving all kinds of letters from Mike in New York asking her to marry him. Finally, one letter changed her mind. My father had written, “This is the last time I’m asking. If you don’t marry me now, I’m going to join the Irish Christian Brothers.” It worked! She finally said, “Okay.”
She filled up a side and a half of a tape with all kinds of pieces of the puzzle that was her story. Some I heard before; some I had never known. Then she said, “The moo is out of me!” That was her way of saying she was tired. She wanted to have a cup of tea and some cookies and we’ll get back to the tape some other time. I said, “Next time I come to Brooklyn, we’ll get Part Two of your story.”. She said, “Good.”
There was no next time. A couple of weeks later she was killed while walking to Mass before going to work. It was a hit and run accident. That tragedy became part of my two sisters’ and my story - part of our autobiographies. Looking back now, 5 years later, I am very grateful that I taped my mom. Only recently I told my sisters about the tape and I gave them each a copy. I figured they would be ready for it now, to hear my mom’s story, to hear her voice once again. And I’m happy that my mom’s story will be passed down on tape and my dad’s story will be passed down on paper to my nine nieces and my one nephew and then down to their children. Our roots, their roots, are all part of the story, the autobiography of each of our lives.
Two suggestions: start telling yourself your story. It’s worth listening to. It’s worth putting down on paper or into a computer or onto tape. Secondly, ask other people to tell you their story - starting with the people in your own family. It’s magic. It’s sacred. Watch their faces as they talk. Notice how they come to life. Listen, really listen to them. Ask questions. Be ready for surprises. And then, it’s been my experience, most people after they are really listened to, wiping a tear or a smile off their face, usually say, “I’m doing all the talking. Now you talk. Tell me about yourself. Tell me your story.”
She caught me completely off guard - completely. I don’t even know what I am going to do tomorrow. I don’t even know what I am going to preach on next Sunday? She wanted to know the theme for a retreat for next year - a retreat nine months from now!
I made a mistake. I gave her a theme. There was a book sitting on my desk, an autobiography, right there next to the phone. So I said, “The theme will be `Autobiography’.”
She said back to me, “Autobiography?”
It sounded like she had a question mark after the word, so I repeated, “Yes, autobiography.”
She finished the phone call with a hesitant, “Okay. Thank you.”
After I hung up, I said, “Uh oh!” Anyway I jotted down on my calendar the word “autobiography” and then forgot about it.
Next April it hit me that I better start preparing for the retreat. Theme? What’s a good theme? Then I remembered that I jotted something down on my calendar. There it was, “Autobiography.”
What do I say about autobiography? Silence. So I started to reflect and look at every autobiography that I could find. Surprise! In a month I had enough material for 16 talks - two talks a day for an 8 day nuns’ retreat on the theme of “autobiography”. As I was packing for the retreat, just in case, I threw into a cardboard box about 10 autobiographies. Thank God I was traveling by car.
Looking back afterwards, like most retreats that I have given, I think I got the most out of it. Autobiographies, Memoirs, Journals, Diaries, are fascinating reading. Turn off the TV; read someone’s diary!
I once made a workshop on how to keep a journal: using the Ira Progoff method of journal keeping. You might have seen his Intensive Journal Workshops advertised here and there. It’s great stuff on how to keep a journal - an Intensive Journal. Basically you’re taught how to do an autobiography or a diary. For example, you keep a daily log, jotting down what happened to you that day. But you also learn how to map out the main stepping stones of your life as well as your dreams. You’re also taught how to dialogue on paper with the significant people in your life, absent or present, alive or dead. It’s a neat way of doing one’s story. That workshop way back in 1974 has taught me to keep a journal or diary ever since.
Autobiography. Everyone, well not everyone, keeps an autobiography. Most people don’t write it down, but scratch a person, and you’ll scratch a memory. We know our stories, chapter and verse. We know the significant things that have happened to us so far. We have our halls of fame and our halls of shame, the stuff of our life that we don’t mind talking about and the stuff that we want to keep hidden forever. Isn’t that what makes us all so interesting?
Autobiography. Everyone has their memorabilia: ash trays and shells and souvenirs from the trips of our life. Everyone has a place: a box under the bed or on the top shelf of a closet, a bottom drawer, a trunk in the attic, where they keep their secret stuff. We also have our public stuff: photo albums, pictures on book shelves or on end tables or on tops of televisions, diplomas and degrees and awards framed or laminated on our walls, trophies in cabinets for winning softball tournaments or twirling contests. Our homes and our hearts are filled with the stuff that makes autobiography.
Autobiography. Everyone has a right to have a home or an apartment, a place and a space, to keep their souvenirs and their trophies, the reminders of their story - that place we call home. Everyone has a right to a porch or a bench in the summertime where with family or friends we can listen to each other’s story. We need to listen to each other, to be willing to turn off the TV and ruminate with ice tea or lemonade or beer or wine, to shoot the breeze and tell each other our stories. Isn’t that what all those men are doing who sit in the corner bar night after night, hour after hour after hour?
Autobiography. Who are the people in your life who are willing to tell you their story? Who are the people you would love to tell your story to?
Autobiography. Have you ever thought about writing down your autobiography - putting it down on paper or into a computer? If you have a computer, there is a program called “Memories” It helps you line up your story - your childhood, schooling, moving you through all the stages of your life. There are also programs that help you line up your family tree as well as your roots. Simone Weil wrote a whole book on The Need For Roots. She saw the horror of uprootedness in Europe because of World War II. She said, “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.” (p. 43).
I remember one time thinking, “As an adult I never sat down with my dad and listened to his story.” My dad was very quiet - as introverted as an owl. So one evening I asked him to tell me his story. At one point I said, “Dad, let me get paper and pencil. This stuff is worth jotting down.” My dad, the introvert, had begun to extrovert his story to me. He told me about starting in Ireland and then coming to America with only $25 and one suit. He recalled that they had told him, “When you see America, put on a clean set of underwear and put on your good suit. Then put your old underwear in a paper bag and throw it overboard.” My father dumped dirty underwear in the Boston Harbor on May 9, 1925. He told me about looking for work in Boston, Portland (Maine), Philadelphia, and finally settling in New York City. He told me about writing letter after letter to my mom in Boston asking her to marry him. She kept on putting him off. Most of his life he worked for the National Biscuit Company in New York City, unloading flour, sugar and all those tasty ingredients that make up those great cookies by Nabisco.
Those notes on pieces of paper are precious ingredients, because my dad’s life is part of my life. A good part of his story is my story. Parts of his autobiography are my autobiography.
As I take time out to put together the story of my life, I discover that I have memories of my dad that I didn’t know I had. They were just sitting there ready to be recalled. My dad loved poetry. One day, there I was a little kid, opening up a book of poems that my dad loved. Inside on a certain page was a dried up red rose petal. I never saw such a thing in my whole life as a dead rose petal inside a book. I went to my dad, who was sitting there in his favorite chair. Pointing to the dark red petal, I asked, “Dad, what’s this?” My dad was known for his smile, but when I pointed to the rose petal he had an even bigger smile. Now, every time I picture my dad, I picture him in that chair, that day, wearing his light blue work shirt, with that smile. I always hear his one word answer to my question why anyone would put a rose petal in a book, “Memories!”
That’s a precious story in my autobiography. One of the regrets I have about my dad is that I never got a tape recorder and put him on tape. I would love to have his voice on tape now. I have notes on him on paper, I have memories of him in my mind, but I don’t have him on tape.
So when my brother was dying of cancer, I said to him, “Why don’t you make some tapes - eight tapes - one for Joanne and one for each of your daughters. After you die, each of them can have that as a precious memory.” His answer was, “Nah! I don’t want to do that. I’d rather be in their memories as I am.” Then he added, “Besides, this way, they can make up even better stories about me after I die.”
About a year after my brother died, I got the thought about taping my mom - getting her story. I had heard bits and pieces about her story through the years. But I thought, “Let me see if I get her on tape.” One evening, when I stayed overnight in Brooklyn, I sat with her and asked her to tell me her story and we’ll put it on tape. She too was a bit reluctant, but as she got into her story, she forgot the tape recorder. She was 81 years of age at the time, very healthy, still had a job, still making money, still full of life.
I noticed the same thing happened to her that happened to my dad when I sat and asked him to tell me his story. It’s magic. It’s sacred. Asking a person to tell you their life story, their autobiography, and taking the time to sit there and listen to them is magic. It’s a sacred moment.
My mom gave me all kinds of details that I never heard before: her childhood in Ireland, her landing in Boston on the feast of the Immaculate Conception, December 8th, 1919. She told me about working as a maid in the Adams House - a hotel in Boston, sending most of her money home to Ireland, working for a family whose daughter was a good friend of Anne Morrow and as a result my mom met and served Charles Lindbergh a few times, going to the dances, and for years receiving all kinds of letters from Mike in New York asking her to marry him. Finally, one letter changed her mind. My father had written, “This is the last time I’m asking. If you don’t marry me now, I’m going to join the Irish Christian Brothers.” It worked! She finally said, “Okay.”
She filled up a side and a half of a tape with all kinds of pieces of the puzzle that was her story. Some I heard before; some I had never known. Then she said, “The moo is out of me!” That was her way of saying she was tired. She wanted to have a cup of tea and some cookies and we’ll get back to the tape some other time. I said, “Next time I come to Brooklyn, we’ll get Part Two of your story.”. She said, “Good.”
There was no next time. A couple of weeks later she was killed while walking to Mass before going to work. It was a hit and run accident. That tragedy became part of my two sisters’ and my story - part of our autobiographies. Looking back now, 5 years later, I am very grateful that I taped my mom. Only recently I told my sisters about the tape and I gave them each a copy. I figured they would be ready for it now, to hear my mom’s story, to hear her voice once again. And I’m happy that my mom’s story will be passed down on tape and my dad’s story will be passed down on paper to my nine nieces and my one nephew and then down to their children. Our roots, their roots, are all part of the story, the autobiography of each of our lives.
Two suggestions: start telling yourself your story. It’s worth listening to. It’s worth putting down on paper or into a computer or onto tape. Secondly, ask other people to tell you their story - starting with the people in your own family. It’s magic. It’s sacred. Watch their faces as they talk. Notice how they come to life. Listen, really listen to them. Ask questions. Be ready for surprises. And then, it’s been my experience, most people after they are really listened to, wiping a tear or a smile off their face, usually say, “I’m doing all the talking. Now you talk. Tell me about yourself. Tell me your story.”
© Father Andy Costello, CSSR,
U.S. Catholic, Oct. 1992
Sunday, September 7, 2008
THE THREE MONKEYS
INTRODUCTION
The title of my homily is, “The Three Monkeys.”
Today’s readings triggered for me the difficult issue of seeing others doing and saying things that we think are wrong – destructive – harmful to themselves and others, especially children – and what to do about it. Tough stuff.
JADE MONKEYS
As I was thinking about the readings for this Mass, the memory of “The Three Monkeys” came on my radar screen.
When we were kids there were The Three Monkeys on a shelf in our house. They were three small statues - light faded green – jade. Their message: “See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil.”
My mom and dad are long dead, so I can't ask them where the monkeys came from. Don't we all have questions that hit us from time to time that we'd like to ask those who have died? In this case: "Where did these three monkeys come from? Were they a gift – a souvenir from a trip? Did they evoke any conversations?”
I just remember playing with them as a little boy – three tiny toys – three monkeys – whom I had conversations with. I have to talk to my sister Mary about them. I think two of them were lost in time. Does anyone in the family have that last monkey somewhere?
THE THREE MONKEYS
I looked up on Google, “The Three Monkeys” and found lots of stuff about them. It’s the name of restaurants and magazines. They are collectors' items. They also have three cows, pigs, pugs, Labradors, frogs, doing the same thing as the three monkeys. One with hands over ears; one with hands over eyes; one with hands over mouth.
The best I could make out was that The Three Monkeys are part of Chinese, Japanese, and oriental wisdom. I don’t know Japanese, but I noticed they are a word play on the Japanese word Zaru – whose vocalized suffix is Saru – meaning monkey. So the three monkeys are named in Japanese: Mizaru, Kikazaru, Iwazaru. Eyes, ears, mouth. Sometimes there is a fourth monkey, Shizaru, “Do no evil.” His hands are on his belly or his arms are folded.
CRITICIZING SUCH WISDOM
The title of my homily is, “The Three Monkeys.”
Today’s readings triggered for me the difficult issue of seeing others doing and saying things that we think are wrong – destructive – harmful to themselves and others, especially children – and what to do about it. Tough stuff.
JADE MONKEYS
As I was thinking about the readings for this Mass, the memory of “The Three Monkeys” came on my radar screen.
When we were kids there were The Three Monkeys on a shelf in our house. They were three small statues - light faded green – jade. Their message: “See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil.”
My mom and dad are long dead, so I can't ask them where the monkeys came from. Don't we all have questions that hit us from time to time that we'd like to ask those who have died? In this case: "Where did these three monkeys come from? Were they a gift – a souvenir from a trip? Did they evoke any conversations?”
I just remember playing with them as a little boy – three tiny toys – three monkeys – whom I had conversations with. I have to talk to my sister Mary about them. I think two of them were lost in time. Does anyone in the family have that last monkey somewhere?
THE THREE MONKEYS
I looked up on Google, “The Three Monkeys” and found lots of stuff about them. It’s the name of restaurants and magazines. They are collectors' items. They also have three cows, pigs, pugs, Labradors, frogs, doing the same thing as the three monkeys. One with hands over ears; one with hands over eyes; one with hands over mouth.
The best I could make out was that The Three Monkeys are part of Chinese, Japanese, and oriental wisdom. I don’t know Japanese, but I noticed they are a word play on the Japanese word Zaru – whose vocalized suffix is Saru – meaning monkey. So the three monkeys are named in Japanese: Mizaru, Kikazaru, Iwazaru. Eyes, ears, mouth. Sometimes there is a fourth monkey, Shizaru, “Do no evil.” His hands are on his belly or his arms are folded.
CRITICIZING SUCH WISDOM
I also found several articles and cartoons criticizing such a stance towards life. Politicians or leaders who do nothing – when something should be done – are pictured or described as monkeys who don't see, hear or speak up.
We could do the same with bishops, who did nothing at first with the abuse issue, etc.
We could look at ourselves as well. Antoine de Saint-Exupere, in The Little Prince writes, “It is much more difficult to judge oneself than to judge others.”
Jesus said we see spots in the other’s eye and miss the big log in our own eye. [Cf. Matthew 7:4-5.]
TODAY’S READINGS
This leads to today’s readings.
In today’s first reading from Ezekiel, the call of the watchman is to call out when he sees the city in danger. The call of the watchman is to be a whistle blower – to see evil, hear evil, and scream out about evil.
When this doesn’t happen, we have Enron and toxic waste dumps in the wrong places, etc. etc. etc.
What about the issues of adultery, stealing, coveting, killing, commandments mentioned in today’s second reading?
What about the issue of not loving our neighbor – to practice The Golden Rule when Paul says in today’s reading from Romans, “Love does no evil to the neighbor; love is the fulfillment of the law.”
Jesus' words from today’s gospel from Matthew – seems very different from the wisdom of The Three Monkeys.
He says if your brother or sister sins against you – talk about it with them.
If that doesn’t work, take another person or two with you, and talk again to your brother or sister.
If that doesn’t work, bring it to the church – and if the person who is sinning still won’t listen and change, then cut him or her off. Cut him or her out of the life of the group.
This is tough stuff – very tough stuff. No wonder people prefer to follow the policy of The Three Monkeys.
Jesus adds the dimension of prayer here. Pray for the person. Pray with others for the person – when things seem helpless and hopeless.
EIGHT OBSERVIATIONS
Here are eight observations. You don’t have to remember these. Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle! I believe we have to evolve above the wisdom of The Three Monkeys. Each of us has to come up with our own ways of dealing with this very tough – as well as, very difficult issue. Thank you for this opportunity to try to line up what I would think to be key thinks to keep in mind.
First Observation: Most of the time we don’t act like the monkeys or do what Jesus says. Most of the time when we see evil, or hear evil, we speak the evil to someone else – other than the person who is going in the wrong direction. We do nothing but gossip or whine or complain to the wrong person or persons. We do this in family, at work, in church, all over the place.
Second Observation: We don’t know what its like to be in the shoes or the skin of the person whom we think is in the wrong relationship – or messing up their life – and often our lives as well. If a son or a daughter has left their spouse and kids and is now living with someone else – and is not married – we feel terrible for the kids and our son-in-law or daughter-in-law and after the inner pain boils too hot, we explode. Sometimes this makes things worse; in some rare cases it could be a wake up call to the person whom we think is messed up. Sometimes the best thing is to pick the right person to talk to that person – someone who will try to understand what happened. Sometimes, unfortunately, the best move is nothing. Sometimes The Three Monkeys are right.
Third Observation: Sometimes it’s a waiting period – a long waiting period. St. Monica waited and waited, and prayed and prayed for years for her son Augustine to wake up – and change.
Fourth Observation: Sometimes we have to speak up – and try to do something – and the wisdom of The Three Monkeys has to avoided. Money is being stolen. Someone is being abused or hurt.
I’m sure you’ve all heard the words attributed to the Lutheran Pastor Martin Niemoller. They are on a wall in the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. He was in Germany before and all through the time of Hitler and ended up spending 8 and a half years in a prison.
The version in Washington D.C. at the Holocaust museum goes like this:
"First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out –
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the communists
and I did not speak out –
because I was not a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out–
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me –
and there was no one left to speak out for me."
There are other versions. There is no exact evidence as far as I could find that Martin Niemoller actually wrote or said this. Yet the message proclaims a truth.
In the Congressional Record, for October 14, 1968, on page 31,636, we read this version of Martin Niemoller’s words:
There are other versions. There is no exact evidence as far as I could find that Martin Niemoller actually wrote or said this. Yet the message proclaims a truth.
In the Congressional Record, for October 14, 1968, on page 31,636, we read this version of Martin Niemoller’s words:
“When Hitler attacked the Jews
I was not a Jew,
therefore I was not concerned.
And when Hitler attacked the Catholics,
I was not a Catholic, and therefore,
I was not concerned.
And when Hitler attacked the unions and the industrialists,
I was not a member of the unions
and I was not concerned.
Then Hitler attacked me
and the Protestant church –
and there was nobody left to be concerned.”
Fifth Observation: Time and place are the key. If one chooses to talk to another one to one, make sure you pick a good time and the right place.
Sixth Observation: Remember when you are correcting another you’re going out on a limb and then the other rule kicks in: the higher the monkey climbs the tree, the more his butt is seen. Expect to be pelted with coconuts in retaliation for challenging another. Expect counter attacks. “How dare you!” “Look who’s talking.”
Seventh Observation: The motive for all this needs to be love – as we heard in today’s second reading. If we are going to speak to another, we need to do it because of love.
Eight and last Observation: Maybe the better rule to have is that of Pope John XXIII. When asked about how many people work in the Vatican he said, “About half.” So my last observation is this: Come up with a statue of Pope John XXIII. Keep it on a shelf. Every morning pick up his statue, rub his belly and ask the Lord that you have a good day. Next: I think his rule is better than the “See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil” rule. His rule was: “See everything; overlook a great deal; correct a little.”
Fifth Observation: Time and place are the key. If one chooses to talk to another one to one, make sure you pick a good time and the right place.
Sixth Observation: Remember when you are correcting another you’re going out on a limb and then the other rule kicks in: the higher the monkey climbs the tree, the more his butt is seen. Expect to be pelted with coconuts in retaliation for challenging another. Expect counter attacks. “How dare you!” “Look who’s talking.”
Seventh Observation: The motive for all this needs to be love – as we heard in today’s second reading. If we are going to speak to another, we need to do it because of love.
Eight and last Observation: Maybe the better rule to have is that of Pope John XXIII. When asked about how many people work in the Vatican he said, “About half.” So my last observation is this: Come up with a statue of Pope John XXIII. Keep it on a shelf. Every morning pick up his statue, rub his belly and ask the Lord that you have a good day. Next: I think his rule is better than the “See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil” rule. His rule was: “See everything; overlook a great deal; correct a little.”
Sunday, August 31, 2008
HERE’S THE DEAL:
“OUCH!” AND “WOW!”
“OUCH!” AND “WOW!”
INTRODUCTION
The title of my homily is, “Here’s The Deal: ‘Ouch!’ and 'Wow!’”
Subtitle: There are lots of blessings in this life, but suffering is part of the package – sometimes more; sometimes less. Life is a package deal.
I think that’s one way to sum up today’s readings.
Some people don’t like the suffering message – but God says, “It’s part of the deal.”
WOW & OUCH
Life is lots of “Wow!” as well as, “Ouch!”
Take veal parmesan and spaghetti. To come on a plate to our place at a table in a restaurant, the spaghetti had to be in hot water. Ouch! The calf had to be killed. Ouch! And the veal cut. Ouch! And cooked. Ouch! It’s part of the deal, if you order veal parmesan and spaghetti at an Italian restaurant. Then before you start eating, you look down and go, “Wow!” – that is, if you like veal parmesan.
It isn’t for decoration that Stations of the Cross are on the walls of our churches. The Stations of the Cross are part of life. Life is the falls and the cuts – people yelling accusations and people coping out – washing their hands of responsibility of protecting others – and we’re hurt. Ouch! Then there’s the dying – preceded for many with the stripping of their dignity – in a hospital gown with all kinds of tubes or in a nursing home wearing Depends – that hopefully are dependable – and a backless dress. Ugh! Then death. More ugh and plenty of ouch. Each of us has to walk our way of the cross.
But life is not just the ugh and the ouch – dementia or Alzheimer’s or what have you. It’s the long stretch of days – from birth till the end of the story. So we don’t just look at death. Death can be a dramatic final scene and hopefully we have family present as the audience. There are the days and months and sometimes years before it. There are also the wow moments. We see the pictures of days in bathing suits and tuxes - prom dresses and football uniforms – all those pictures on photo boards at the funeral parlor when someone dies – as well as in our memories.
Ah the memories. Ah the moments. Ah the beauty of it all. There is the wow of life – as well as the ouch of life.
Crosses aren’t just in churches or on walls. They are part of life.
That’s what today’s readings are talking about.
The little baby is so cute – so beautiful – but as Jesus said, the mom has to go through a lot of pain and inconvenience to bring that little gal or guy into our world. “Ouch!” and then “Wow!” Thank you mom. (Cf. John 16:21)
Then there are the teenage years – the angst and the worry – along with the sweetness of awards, first date, graduations, marriage. Wow! There is also divorce and wrong choices. Ouch!
FIRST READING FROM JEREMIAH
Would any of us say what Jeremiah says to God in today’s first reading, “You duped me! You tricked me. You gave me the gift of life, but you didn’t tell me about the crosses and the pain”?
M. Scott Peck begins the first section of his classic book, The Road Less Traveled with three words, “Life is difficult.”
Then he writes this profound statement. “This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult – once we truly understand and accept it – then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”
There is a footnote on the bottom of the page to that statement: “The first of the ‘Four Noble Truths’ which Buddha taught was ‘Life is suffering.’”
Jeremiah, in today’s first reading, first fights God about the deal he was getting in life by being a prophet – God’s spokesperson. People laughed at him. People from his own home town of Anathoth wanted to kill him (Jeremiah 11:21) People were not happy with him as a preacher and a prophet – because of his words and warnings.
Prayer is sometimes ranting and complaining to God. There are inner mumblings. Today’s first reading has Jeremiah's thought process: “I say to myself, I will not mention him, I will speak in his name no more.” Then comes a reverse scream, “But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones; I grow weary of holding it in, I cannot endure it.’” He has to proclaim God and God’s message.
PETER IN TODAY’S GOSPEL
Peter in today’s gospel tries to stop Jesus and his message of the cross.
The title of my homily is, “Here’s The Deal: ‘Ouch!’ and 'Wow!’”
Subtitle: There are lots of blessings in this life, but suffering is part of the package – sometimes more; sometimes less. Life is a package deal.
I think that’s one way to sum up today’s readings.
Some people don’t like the suffering message – but God says, “It’s part of the deal.”
WOW & OUCH
Life is lots of “Wow!” as well as, “Ouch!”
Take veal parmesan and spaghetti. To come on a plate to our place at a table in a restaurant, the spaghetti had to be in hot water. Ouch! The calf had to be killed. Ouch! And the veal cut. Ouch! And cooked. Ouch! It’s part of the deal, if you order veal parmesan and spaghetti at an Italian restaurant. Then before you start eating, you look down and go, “Wow!” – that is, if you like veal parmesan.
It isn’t for decoration that Stations of the Cross are on the walls of our churches. The Stations of the Cross are part of life. Life is the falls and the cuts – people yelling accusations and people coping out – washing their hands of responsibility of protecting others – and we’re hurt. Ouch! Then there’s the dying – preceded for many with the stripping of their dignity – in a hospital gown with all kinds of tubes or in a nursing home wearing Depends – that hopefully are dependable – and a backless dress. Ugh! Then death. More ugh and plenty of ouch. Each of us has to walk our way of the cross.
But life is not just the ugh and the ouch – dementia or Alzheimer’s or what have you. It’s the long stretch of days – from birth till the end of the story. So we don’t just look at death. Death can be a dramatic final scene and hopefully we have family present as the audience. There are the days and months and sometimes years before it. There are also the wow moments. We see the pictures of days in bathing suits and tuxes - prom dresses and football uniforms – all those pictures on photo boards at the funeral parlor when someone dies – as well as in our memories.
Ah the memories. Ah the moments. Ah the beauty of it all. There is the wow of life – as well as the ouch of life.
Crosses aren’t just in churches or on walls. They are part of life.
That’s what today’s readings are talking about.
The little baby is so cute – so beautiful – but as Jesus said, the mom has to go through a lot of pain and inconvenience to bring that little gal or guy into our world. “Ouch!” and then “Wow!” Thank you mom. (Cf. John 16:21)
Then there are the teenage years – the angst and the worry – along with the sweetness of awards, first date, graduations, marriage. Wow! There is also divorce and wrong choices. Ouch!
FIRST READING FROM JEREMIAH
Would any of us say what Jeremiah says to God in today’s first reading, “You duped me! You tricked me. You gave me the gift of life, but you didn’t tell me about the crosses and the pain”?
M. Scott Peck begins the first section of his classic book, The Road Less Traveled with three words, “Life is difficult.”
Then he writes this profound statement. “This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult – once we truly understand and accept it – then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”
There is a footnote on the bottom of the page to that statement: “The first of the ‘Four Noble Truths’ which Buddha taught was ‘Life is suffering.’”
Jeremiah, in today’s first reading, first fights God about the deal he was getting in life by being a prophet – God’s spokesperson. People laughed at him. People from his own home town of Anathoth wanted to kill him (Jeremiah 11:21) People were not happy with him as a preacher and a prophet – because of his words and warnings.
Prayer is sometimes ranting and complaining to God. There are inner mumblings. Today’s first reading has Jeremiah's thought process: “I say to myself, I will not mention him, I will speak in his name no more.” Then comes a reverse scream, “But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones; I grow weary of holding it in, I cannot endure it.’” He has to proclaim God and God’s message.
PETER IN TODAY’S GOSPEL
Peter in today’s gospel tries to stop Jesus and his message of the cross.
If Buddha said, “Life is suffering”; if M. Scott Peck said, “Life is difficult”; Jesus said, “Life is carrying one’s cross.”
Ouch.
But that’s the deal.
ONE MEANING OF THE WORD “DEAL” - "COVENANT"
One of life’s key words is, “covenant” or “deal”.
We make a deal with another. It’s called “marriage” or “friendship” or "neighbor".
Or we make a deal with a car dealer. We give him or her our money and they give us a car. They give warrantees and guarantees – for this and that. But they can’t guarantee a lot of things about the life of our car. They can’t guarantee we won’t crash. It’s not part of the deal.
So too marriage. People make their marriage covenant with another with lots of assumptions and lots of spoken and unspoken promises. “Let’s make a deal. Let’s make this a great marriage?”
But who can guarantee chapter 2 – the rest of the story after the marriage, after the honeymoon?
Life is a package deal and it takes a lifetime to open and discover what's in the package.
TODAY’S SECOND READING FROM ROMANS
Today’s second reading from Romans tells us what we can do with the deal called "life", called "marriage", to make it work. We can try to live a life pleasing to God and to one another. We can try to avoid being transformed by false values. We can become renewed by an attitudinal change – living each day for God and family – for each other. That will mean “Ouch” and “Wow” – the cross and resurrection – good days and bad days – in sickness and in health. Sound familiar? It’s the marriage covenant. It’s life’s covenant. We are married to our bodies. We are married to much of our reality.
We give ourselves to the other and others – and hopefully they give their lives to us – and that makes life sweet. Wow.
And we help each other when the crosses come. Ouch.
DEALING THE CARDS
Ouch.
But that’s the deal.
ONE MEANING OF THE WORD “DEAL” - "COVENANT"
One of life’s key words is, “covenant” or “deal”.
We make a deal with another. It’s called “marriage” or “friendship” or "neighbor".
Or we make a deal with a car dealer. We give him or her our money and they give us a car. They give warrantees and guarantees – for this and that. But they can’t guarantee a lot of things about the life of our car. They can’t guarantee we won’t crash. It’s not part of the deal.
So too marriage. People make their marriage covenant with another with lots of assumptions and lots of spoken and unspoken promises. “Let’s make a deal. Let’s make this a great marriage?”
But who can guarantee chapter 2 – the rest of the story after the marriage, after the honeymoon?
Life is a package deal and it takes a lifetime to open and discover what's in the package.
TODAY’S SECOND READING FROM ROMANS
Today’s second reading from Romans tells us what we can do with the deal called "life", called "marriage", to make it work. We can try to live a life pleasing to God and to one another. We can try to avoid being transformed by false values. We can become renewed by an attitudinal change – living each day for God and family – for each other. That will mean “Ouch” and “Wow” – the cross and resurrection – good days and bad days – in sickness and in health. Sound familiar? It’s the marriage covenant. It’s life’s covenant. We are married to our bodies. We are married to much of our reality.
We give ourselves to the other and others – and hopefully they give their lives to us – and that makes life sweet. Wow.
And we help each other when the crosses come. Ouch.
DEALING THE CARDS
Here’s the deal. A deck of cards can teach us that there are at least 52 ways our life can go and then some more. In the deal a rare few get three aces and two kings. Some get a 2 of spades, a 6 of diamonds, an 8 of clubs, a 9 of hearts and a jack of spades. Not fair. Give me at least two 10s.
That’s the deal. We all know the old song called, “The Gambler!”
“You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when youre sittin at the table.
Therell be time enough for countin when the dealins done.
Gotta know when to hold them and when to fold them."
The parents we got, we got. So too the neighborhood, house and the classes we’re were in. Sometimes mom and dad are the king and queen of hearts. Sometimes dad is a jack of all trades. Hey you never know. Sometimes the other is a Joker – and in the situation we’re in, we don’t need a Joker – or a wild card.
Here’s the deal. Make the most of it.
We got the DNA, genes, skin color, heart texture, future hair line, freckles, new clothes or hand-me-downs, this and that – in the deal.
Here’s the deal. Make the most of it.
CONCLUSION: THE MASS
We come to Mass to think about these things.
The Mass is a wonderful moment each time we come here.
It is filled with “Wow” and “Ouch”
Here’s the deal. Have you got the Mass yet? Do you understand the Mass yet?
Have you understood Jesus yet?
What have been your “Eureka” moments – “Insight” moments – “Lights went on” moments – defining moments – life changing moments?
I remember reading a story when I was young. It was a “Lights went on” moment for me. I don't remember where I read it, but it went something like this.
The story teller told of a young man – not old enough to be in the army – and a war is going on. He wants to go to war. He sees it as all excitement – a wow! He’s walking down the street one day and a group of soldiers with a band are marching up the street heading for the local train station – heading off for war. He stands there envious. Then he marches with them on the sidewalk all the way to the train.
The troop gets on the train and there are the thrown kisses – after the hugs and the tears – and the band plays on.
The train pulls out - with all the troops going off to war leaning out the windows and waving – on the platform side of the train.
The young man didn’t hear or notice that another train had come in on the other side while this train was getting read to leave. He sensed something wrong – something big – about the other train. So he walked to the end of the platform and went to the other side. It was a train that had just come back from the war. There were the coffins and the crutches – the bandaged and the bloodied – the hurt and the wounded being wheeled towards ambulances. There was no band – only doctors and nurses and stretcher bearers and wheel chair pushers.
It was a moment of Epiphany and Insight – Eureka and “Oh my God!”
It was an ouch moment.
It was a life changing moment for him.
Has this ever happened to us as we came here to Mass? Was there a moment when we recognized Christ in the breaking of the bread? Did it finally hit us why Christ chose bread – bread that was cut down and crushed – why Christ chose wine from grapes that were crushed? Did we finally realize that God knows life – and so he sent his son to us to live this life to the full with us – with the wow and the ouch? Do we see why Jesus entered into this life – to be in communion with us in the crush and hurt as well as celebration of life – with its ordinary days – as well as its Holy Thursday and Good Friday – and Easter days..
Have we ever sensed life’s reality at Mass – that it’s an “Ouch” and a “Wow” – that that’s the deal?
Gotta know when to hold them and when to fold them."
The parents we got, we got. So too the neighborhood, house and the classes we’re were in. Sometimes mom and dad are the king and queen of hearts. Sometimes dad is a jack of all trades. Hey you never know. Sometimes the other is a Joker – and in the situation we’re in, we don’t need a Joker – or a wild card.
Here’s the deal. Make the most of it.
We got the DNA, genes, skin color, heart texture, future hair line, freckles, new clothes or hand-me-downs, this and that – in the deal.
Here’s the deal. Make the most of it.
CONCLUSION: THE MASS
We come to Mass to think about these things.
The Mass is a wonderful moment each time we come here.
It is filled with “Wow” and “Ouch”
Here’s the deal. Have you got the Mass yet? Do you understand the Mass yet?
Have you understood Jesus yet?
What have been your “Eureka” moments – “Insight” moments – “Lights went on” moments – defining moments – life changing moments?
I remember reading a story when I was young. It was a “Lights went on” moment for me. I don't remember where I read it, but it went something like this.
The story teller told of a young man – not old enough to be in the army – and a war is going on. He wants to go to war. He sees it as all excitement – a wow! He’s walking down the street one day and a group of soldiers with a band are marching up the street heading for the local train station – heading off for war. He stands there envious. Then he marches with them on the sidewalk all the way to the train.
The troop gets on the train and there are the thrown kisses – after the hugs and the tears – and the band plays on.
The train pulls out - with all the troops going off to war leaning out the windows and waving – on the platform side of the train.
The young man didn’t hear or notice that another train had come in on the other side while this train was getting read to leave. He sensed something wrong – something big – about the other train. So he walked to the end of the platform and went to the other side. It was a train that had just come back from the war. There were the coffins and the crutches – the bandaged and the bloodied – the hurt and the wounded being wheeled towards ambulances. There was no band – only doctors and nurses and stretcher bearers and wheel chair pushers.
It was a moment of Epiphany and Insight – Eureka and “Oh my God!”
It was an ouch moment.
It was a life changing moment for him.
Has this ever happened to us as we came here to Mass? Was there a moment when we recognized Christ in the breaking of the bread? Did it finally hit us why Christ chose bread – bread that was cut down and crushed – why Christ chose wine from grapes that were crushed? Did we finally realize that God knows life – and so he sent his son to us to live this life to the full with us – with the wow and the ouch? Do we see why Jesus entered into this life – to be in communion with us in the crush and hurt as well as celebration of life – with its ordinary days – as well as its Holy Thursday and Good Friday – and Easter days..
Have we ever sensed life’s reality at Mass – that it’s an “Ouch” and a “Wow” – that that’s the deal?
Amen.
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