Friday, October 3, 2008

THE GIFT OF WOOD

Backyards, front yards,
lumberyards ….
Wooden floors, ceiling beams,
decks and boardwalks ….
tables, chairs, picture frames,
desks, drawers and doors ….
I need to get to the woods
to see where all this wood
comes from – to say “Thank you”
for this eucharistic sacrifice,
to hear the trees say,
"This is my body…. this is my blood.
I’m giving my life to you.
Remember me. Remember that."
It was then I noticed a cross,
the sacred tree, the cut Christ,
on my wooden wall – the connection:
“This is my body…. this is my blood….
I'm giving my life to you. Remember me.
Remember that." Thank You.



© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2008

Thursday, October 2, 2008

TRAFFIC SIGNS

Caught in traffic,
stuck behind a truck
on a spiral road,
late, behind schedule,
feeling my nerves
are doing the same thing,
that snarling,
that about to snap feeling,
antsy, agitated,
like being at a stupid meeting
or a dumb sermon,
of a “have to” meeting
on a “Back to School Night,”
trapped. I have to take
those STOP, YIELD,
SCENIC OVERVIEW
signs more seriously
otherwise I’m going to crash.


© Andy Costello,
  Reflections 2008
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

Tuesday, September 30, 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

Sunday, September 28, 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.]