REMOTE CONTROL

Okay, this is what I know about you
so far. I’ve been watching you.
You always get the remote,
but please, don’t point it at me.
I’m not a television. I know you
try to change my channel when
I become boring or challenging,
when you want different. Sorry.
I’m not a program to be programmed.
I have my own ideas – my own ways.
My script isn’t finished yet – I’m
still in draft mode. I’m still figuring.
I don’t have to enjoy what you enjoy.
I don’t have to vote for the person
you’re pushing. I hear your reasons,
but I have my reasons. Don’t scream.
Don’t manipulate. Don’t push my buttons.
From what I’ve seen so far,
I don’t think you’re remotely aware of
who I am – what I’m thinking of.
Tune in once in a while
You might find me interesting.

© Andy Costello,
Reflections 2008

LABYRINTHINE
MUTTERINGS

Quite by accident

I found myself muttering the phrase,
“The Burden and the Blessing.”
It sounded like the title of a novel
or a movie made from a novel.
It would be one chase scene after another.
It would be the story of the struggles
of a president or a king,
a restaurant owner or a priest.

Make it a priest.
The word “blessing” has religious overtones.

The burden:
one man’s struggle with a parish,
with a people, with alcohol or anger,
with laziness or love,
with a woman, with God.
Would it be words whispered about him
behind his back, or the dark night journey
in search of God and God in search of him,
or the pain of going it alone,
or the saying “No!”
to powerful temptations hounding him?

The blessing:
the scent of God in the chase,
glimpses of being pursued,
and in the midst of all this
I found myself muttering the phrase,
“I am loved.”
Then the laugh, the realization,
“Hey stupid! All this has already
been written by Francis Thompson
in his poem, The Hound of Heaven.”
Then I laughed again, because it's also
written in Graham Green's novel,
The Power and the Glory - and surprise,
both of these are connected,
because the novel was also named,
"The Labyrinthine Ways.”

© Andy Costello,
Reflections 2008

PAINTED POEMS

I can’t paint,
but I like impressionistic paintings
and some modern art pieces.

I like to paint poems,
poems that are impressions —
impressions of inner conversations,
realities people are mumbling about
in their gallery, their garage – or their attic,
to try to see modern ways
of seeing old themes they vent about:
anger, angst, hope, despair,
morning, night, and blue beauty
in the mist – in the midst of one’s life,
in the mix of personal relationships.

Sometimes after sitting with someone
for a hour or so, they look
like squeezed paint tubes.

Gobs of words, blobs of feelings,
brush strokes and streaks of beauty,
becoming their paintings: exhibitions
they have invited me to look at
on the walls of their soul.

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2008

Don't forget to put the cursor on a picture and tap, tap, mouse, mouse, to see the pictures a bit larger.

[Top Blue] White-and-Greens-in-Blue-Posters by Mark Rothko

[One sailboat picture] Sunset at Sea by Childe Hassam

[Man in boat with oar] Impression Sunrise by Claude Monet

[Wall on left] Autumn in Bavaria by Wasily Kadinsky

[Truck on top] Death in the Ridge Road by Grant Wood

BREAKFAST

The butter was yellow,
glossy, laminated on my toast.
The bread had the texture
of a tan terry cloth robe.
The Rice Krispies were
snap, crackle and pop.
The coffee was sending
smoke signals across the table.
But I missed all of this,
because I was still digesting
what you said last night at supper.

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2008

HOW MANY TIMES

DOES IT TAKE
FOR US TO LEARN
WHAT SAINT PAUL LEARNED?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “How Many Times Does It Take for Us to Learn What Saint Paul Learned?”

Since there is going to be “A Special Dramatic Presentation on the Journey of St. Paul” tonight at 6:30 by Kevin O’Brien and his troop, I thought it would be practical to preach a few words on St. Paul tonight in this homily – jumping to my thoughts from today’s 3 readings.*

It will be a little forced, but I’ll try to connect the dots.

FIRST READING

Today’s first reading from Ezekiel gets at the question of fairness.
How are you on the issue of fairness?

This is one of the questions we ask many times in the journey of our life – big time when someone dies – small time when a teacher gives us what we think is an unfair grade – or a referee makes what we think is a bad call in a game – or our parents seem too strict compared to other parents and we can’t throw a red flag for a video replay of their decision.

So the question Ezekiel raises in today’s first reading is a question we know about: fairness.

Ezekiel challenges his own people when they complain, “The Lord’s way is not fair.” He answers them back by saying, “You’re unfair – especially when you sin – especially when you do wrong and you don’t like the consequences.”

St. Paul thought his way was the right way, the fair way, the only way – so he hit the highway to arrest Jewish Christians whom he thought were going the wrong way.

Be careful of the person who is absolutely sure of themselves – people who don’t hesitate – people who don’t step back and take a walk and think about things and think them through – people who don’t consult others.

Sometimes we’re wrong and we don’t want to hear it.

It took Paul, whose prior name was Saul, a good hard push to wake up.

Saul, who becomes Paul, had to be knocked to the ground to have Christ’s way knocked into his head. He had to become blind in order to see. He had to be told to listen to someone else – in order to hear his own thoughts and become aware of his own attitudes.

How many times does it take us to realize that God’s way is the fair way – and our way might not be the best way or the right way?

How many times does it take us to learn what Ezekiel learned?

How many times does it take for us to learn what St. Paul learned?

SECOND READING
Today’s second reading from St. Paul’s letter to the people of the city of Philippi has several heavy duty messages. The key message to me is humility. If I believe what I just said a moment ago, I could be wrong in what I’m saying. Sometimes I have to preach to figure out what I’m trying to say. Sometimes I learn that I am wrong.

This has to happen to all of us.

It’s called humility, so let me say a few words about humility.

Question: How could you get a 50 foot balloon into this church? The doors are not wide enough.

Answer: You take the air out of it.

In today’s second reading, St. Paul takes an early Christian hymn and sort of asks, “How does God – the God who fills the universe – get into our tiny minds and hearts?”

Answer: he empties himself and becomes one of us.

Answer: he becomes a tiny baby – and tries to squeeze into our life.

Question: How does God try to fit into our schedule – our plans – our outlook – our attitudes? How does God try to get into people’s lives?

Answer: he becomes one of us. Every Christmas we hear the story how he became a baby born in a stable. Every time we come to church we hear about this Jesus – a man who grew up in Nazareth – a carpenter who worked with wood, who becomes a carpenter with words – who tries to get us to buy the furniture of prayer and love that should fill our inner room – our brains – who tries to get us to make him the wooden beams - the foundation of our house.

Question: How does Jesus Christ try to stop us in our tracks – turn off our Ipods at times – and start to listen to the scriptures – for example St. Paul – and see what tunes he’s singing – what messages he’s trying to challenge us with?

Answer: Jesus becomes a servant. If he came as a rock star or a brilliant professor or a TV celebrity – we might be moved or scream with teenage screams of delight – but in time we’d get over it. So Jesus walked into towns talking – listening – watching – trying to get us to stop to see the flowers in the field in all their beauty – to see the birds of the air as well – and understand God is behind, above, under everything – and also to see our brother or sister when they are hurting by the side of the road. And when Jesus preached he stung some people who thought they were right – so they wanted to throw rocks at him but he walked away. In the end, they crucified him. They killed him.

St. Paul in this second reading from Philippians says that because he emptied himself – took all the God out of himself – like the emptying of a balloon – because he fitted into a baby’s skin – becoming a baby, an us, a human being, because he was a servant, because he was crucified, and killed, emptied of all life on the cross, God his Father raised him to life again – filled him with life again – and announced to the world, “Jesus is Lord.”

TODAY’S GOSPEL
Today’s gospel tells the story about a man with two sons. One when asked by his father to go into the vineyard said, “No”. Later he realized he was wrong and went to work in the vineyard. The other son said, “Yes” to his father that he would go into the vineyard, but then said “no” by sitting on his butt and not going.

When God was trying to tell Saul, who became Paul, that Jesus was Lord – that Jesus was the way – the way that Israel was called to take – Saul said “No!”

But he changed. It was a difficult change, but he changed.

Then when Paul told Israel that Jesus is Lord, the ones who were saying "Yes" to God, they walked away.

Then when he told others about Jesus, they said “Yes” but didn’t do anything.

How about us?

Many are like Paul. They hear about Christ over and over and over again – but unlike Paul, they don’t catch on as soon as they could.

Some of you will be coming to this GUS [God Uniting Students] Mass all this year – and then next year – and then like so many others, some will drop out – and some will drop out of church when they go to college – and after college – and then some day, like Paul, they’ll hit bottom. They’ll fall down. They’ll need God. They’ll realize they have been self inflated like a big balloon. They will realize they have to emptied to fit into Christ – to become filled with Christ – not self. Then they will be able to say with St. Paul. “I live now not with my own life, but with the life of Christ who lives in me.” [Cf. Galatians 2: 20]

CONCLUSION

“How Many Times Does It Take for Us to Learn What Paul Learned?”



[*Youth Mass for 26 Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A, September 28, 2008 at St. John Neumann Church.]

MELISSA:
NO’S DON’T HAVE
TO BE FOREVER

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this children and family mass is, “Melissa: No’s Don’t Have to be Forever.” *
I would like to tell you a story. It’s the story of a girl named Melissa.

THE STORY OF MELISSA

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Melissa.

And as everyone knows, the name “Melissa” means “Most Sweet” or better, “The Sweetest” and that she was.

She was a star. She was very bright. She was a princess.
She was an only child.

And Melissa loved being an only child. The only pictures on the refrigerator door were pictures of Melissa. The only pictures in her grandma and grandpa’s wallets were of Melissa – because Melissa’s mom and dad were also the only child.

Melissa was loved by neighbors and checkout counter ladies, teachers and classmates – because she was so outgoing – so talented – so cute – so smart.

She could dance. She could sing. She could play the piano. She got all stars in Kindergarten. She was able to catch a lacrosse ball already – when she and her dad went out to play on their front lawn. She was great in Monopoly already.

Her dad and her mom were so proud of her. Life couldn’t have been better.

Then one day Melissa felt an “Uh oh!” in her throat and her tummy.

She heard her mom talking to someone on the phone – and her mom said, “The baby will be due in August.”

“Uh oh,” she said again.

In her gut – without knowing why – Melissa started to become more and more quiet – the closer they got to August.

The baby was a baby brother – 8 pounds and 8 ounces. They were going to name him Jack, but they changed to name to Michael – because they thought that would make Melissa happy – she and her brother being called, “M and M.”

Her mom and dad felt super – her grandparents on both sides felt super – finally more than one child – and her parents thought it was great that Melissa would no longer be an only child. They never liked growing up as the only child – because people would say, “An only child is a spoiled child. They get everything.”

Well Melissa went into a shell – into a mood – into feeling sorry for herself – because nobody was noticing her. Nobody was giving her attention. All the action was with her baby brother Michael.

He was a prince and she no longer felt like a princess.

It was Michael this and Michael that. And the only pictures taken were pictures of Michael.

And a big, big baby picture of Michael went smack on the center of their refrigerator door.

People would stop her mom in the mall and ask to see the new baby. Nobody seemed to notice Melissa any more.

Teachers would say to Melissa, “Aren’t you lucky? You now have a baby brother.”

Melissa didn’t think so. Melissa didn’t like this new arrangement.

Melissa was cranky and moody at Michael’s baptism – in fact, she acted up a bit – and this annoyed her grandmother on her dad’s side.

Everyone drove back to Melissa’s house. There was to be a party in honor of the newly baptized baby Michael.

The priest who did the baptism was there – and he noticed how Melissa was hiding out – how alone Melissa seemed to be – how she was so sour in the face. So he went over to her and asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

And Melissa said, “No!” and ran away.

The priest felt an “Uh oh” in his tummy.

About five minutes later the priest was sitting there eating tiny hot dogs – wrapped in dough – smothered in great yellow mustard – talking with Melissa’s grandparents.

The priest felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

He turned. It was Melissa.

She said, “Okay, you can ask me a question.”

No’s don’t have to be forever.

The priest was surprised. He had to think backwards to remember what his question was. He thought and thought. Then he remembered.

Seeing how much Melissa had changed since her baby brother arrived, how she had become so quiet and moody, he was wondering if she was being jealous . He was wondering if it was because she was no longer getting all the attention. So the priest whispered in her ear so her grandparents wouldn’t hear, “Are you jealous of your new baby brother?”

And before he could say, “because he’s now getting all the attention and you think it’s not fair!” Melissa yelled out, “No!” and ran away again.

Five minutes later the priest was still sitting there. He was eating his fifth tiny hot dog wrapped in dough, smothered with great yellow mustard. Once more he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Once more it was Melissa.

She said, “Yes, I am a little bit jealous.”

No’s don’t have to be forever.

Then Melissa with her old sweet smile and her fingers going like this, [Gesture of her thumb and index finger slightly apart] added “but only a little bit jealous.”

Then she ran over and started tickling her baby brother and from that moment on, she became the bestest of older sisters.

[*Family Mass - especially kids - St. Mary's Church, Marian Hall, September 28, 2008, 26 Sunday Ordinary Time - Year A]

SECOND THOUGHTS

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Second Thoughts.” *

We know all about second thoughts. To be human is to have second thoughts.

“I could have!” “I should have!” I wish I had….” “I wish I didn’t….” are regular sounds in our regret system.

You can be sure that presidential candidates – 10 minutes after a debate “kicking themselves” for what might have been – what was said, what wasn’t said.

Second thoughts.

Preaching – it’s always after the homily that I figure out what I was really trying to say – what I was trying to figure out. We preachers here often say it’s great to have the 4:30 at St. John Neumann or the 5:00 here at St. Mary’s on Saturday evening – because you can straighten the sermon out after you gave it – and make it better for tomorrow - hopefully.

Second thoughts.

TODAY’S GOSPEL
Today’s gospel has the son who said, “No” – who then had second thoughts. He then goes out into the vineyard and does what his father asked him to do in the first place.

The second son who said “Yes” to his father also has second thoughts. He does not go out to do what he told his father that he would do.

We are both sons.

We say, “Yes” and then do “No”.

We say, “No” and then do “Yes.”

MONDAY MORNING FLIGHT
It’s Monday morning 6:45 and Jill is driving Jack to BWI – who is about to go on a business trip to the West Coast.

They are both quiet – both moody – both in a rush – and both need more sleep.

Silence.

Finally, Jill says, “You know you shouldn’t have said that yesterday!”

Jack says, “What?”

“The comment you made in front of all those people.”

“Jill, I was only kidding.”

“Jack, you’re never kidding when it comes to saying that. That hurt. You shouldn’t have said it.”

Silence.

Jack is saying to himself, “I don’t need this. I don’t need this now.”

They arrive at the Departing Flights curb.

No kiss. No good by. Only anger – and once more the feeling of having been trapped in the confines of this metal cage called her car.

He closes the door. He doesn’t slam it – but he is saying to himself, “She does this every time. Ugggggh!”

He’s still chewing on Agita as the plane climbs to 30,000 feet.

He’s thinking. Then it hits him, “Maybe I shouldn’t have said what I said yesterday afternoon.”

Second thoughts.

He lands in Chicago and leaves a message on Jill’s cell phone. “Honey, I’m at O’Hare and you’re right. I was being stupid. I’m sorry about yesterday afternoon. I’ll call again tonight. I love you. My connecting flight to L.A. is delayed two hours.”

Second thoughts.

He stops into an airport bookstore and spots a book with the title, “The Five Languages of Apology” by Gary Chapman. He wouldn’t have noticed it – if there wasn’t what happened yesterday and this morning in the car. He pages through it. “Woo!” He buys it. He takes a seat off to the side in the waiting area. He reads that “I’m sorry!” is often not enough. He reads about 5 types of “I’m Sorry!”. He tries to figure out what the author means by the 5 languages of apology.

He reads that people need to understand that the other might have another language or understanding when it comes to forgiveness. He gets glimpses that the other might have different needs when it comes to apologizing. We need to accept responsibility for what we say and do. We need to make restitution. What will it take to recover? We need genuine repentance. We need to request forgiveness.

He remembers the old saying that talk is cheap. Talking is easy. Walking the talk is what is called for. Changes in behavior need to follow the magic two words called, “I apologize.”

Second thoughts are important – but second steps and follow up are much more important and necessary.

Monday morning quarterbacking doesn’t help change the score of yesterday’s game, but it can help next Sunday’s game – if we learn and make significant changes.

TODAY’S FIRST READING

Today’s first reading from Ezekiel has the words of every child and the words of every adult who is angry with God. “Not fair! Not fair!”

And if we take time to think about life – we will hear God say to us, “You say, ‘I’m not fair.’ Let me tell you about fair. Let me tell you about your life.”

Prayer and reflection time – whether in church or in a plane 30,000 feet above the earth – or sitting in an airport waiting for a plane – or sitting alone after an argument, is often the time we think deeply about life.

Ezekiel is trying to get people to hear God say, “Take some time for some second thoughts about your life and then tell me who’s fair and who isn’t fair.”

Ezekiel is capturing the same thoughts you’ll find so powerfully in the Book of Job – when God gives Job the big picture.

And on second thought we’ll pinch ourselves – or we’ll get down on our knees and thank God for everything.

On second thought we realize we were just focusing on our mom or dad’s death or our spouse or our kid’s death – or a broken life – or a “walk out” by a spouse. On second thought we start to see a bigger picture. We see the years and years and years of blessings. We see big and the little blessings called, “Life.” We see ourselves at 9 years old sliding into home with the winning run in a Little League game or intercepting a pass in a high school football game or being selected to edit the high school year book in our junior year in h.s. and that changed our whole career track – and on and on and on. We see births of babies, camping in western North Carolina, white water rafting in West Virginia in a distant May morning and on and on and on.

Second thoughts.

SECOND READING
Today’s second reading contains what some scholars think is an early Christian hymn – from the early 50’s which St. Paul took and put into his letter to the people of Philippi.

What I hear on second thought is great theology.

Adam, the first human said, “No” to God!

Jesus, the new Adam, representing all of us who say “No” says “Yes” and becomes one of us.

Those who say, “Yes” – those who say, “Amen!” – those who say, “I do” and don’t – are still out there like the second son.

And what does Jesus do – according to this hymn?

The reading says that God has second thoughts – God – the Second Person – in God – empties himself and becomes human – and not only that – becomes our servant – and not only that – he dies for us – he is killed for us – he is killed by the “goody goods” – who think they are right.

And because Jesus, the second person, does all this, to make things right – right like God wanted creation and human beings to be in the first place – God lifts this second person out of death – and raises him – and gives him the name above all other names: Lord. Kurios!

This hymn in Philippians is estimated to go back to the year 54 AD.

It’s early theology about Christ – which we call “Christology”.

It took a long time for the early church to come up with creeds and language – lots of second thoughts – almost 400 years of talking and arguing – various heresies – lots of infighting – Church councils like Nicea in 325, Ephesus in 431 – and Chalcedon in 451 to formulate how Christ can be both human and Divine – how Jesus was the Second Adam and the Second Person in the Trinity.

Theologizing is second thoughts – lots of second thoughts.

Communication is second thoughts – lots of second thoughts.

Marriage provides the opportunity for lots of second thoughts.

Life is second thoughts.

CONCLUSION

So let’s give each other the chance to debate without playing, “Gotcha”. Let’s learn to allow for second thoughts – and apology – so that we can play this great game of life together with great joy and laughter, forgiveness and understanding. Amen.

* [Homily for 26 Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A, September 27, 2008, 5 PM Saturday Evening Mass at St. Mary's]
* y in Ordinary Time, Year A, September 28, 2008]