ON HAVING LEPROSY

I have leprosy.

The priest in our village was the one who broke the news that I had to leave my wife and kids. I had leprosy.

I don’t know where or how I got it, but I got it.

It began on the side of my head – above my right ear. It was a lump – a hard skinned lump – composed of a dark something. It itched at times. I scratched it at times. It bled at times. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”

Then the same thing appeared on my right leg above my ankle and then my back. It was like I was getting camel skin.

I was supposed to head for the hills: “Leave!” “Go!” “Disappear!”

Well, I left. I didn’t want to. Who would? But I had to.

At first, I didn’t go too far from our village.

I camped myself behind this rock – on a hill just above our village. It allowed me to watch our house from a distance.

Sometimes at night, my oldest son would come half way up the hill – half way up to me – and we would talk from a distance – about what was going on. It had to be at night – and even that was risky – because in a small town everyone knew everything – warts and all.

My wife was like a widow. She felt isolated like me – becoming what I had become – because of me – but without leprosy. She remained inside our tiny house most of the time. She continued to weave baskets and make bread – but my five kids had to bring the bread and baskets to a market in the next village which was about 7 miles away – if they wanted to sell them.

They needed money – daily bread and daily coins – and it would have been nice if daily forgiveness came along with them. It did from some, but others would point out my wife from the other side of the street, “There’s the woman whose husband has leprosy and had to leave her. They must have done something wrong for God to punish them like this."

In the meanwhile, what do you do to put food on the table?

I felt helpless – isolated – stupid – and all alone. My wife didn’t understand any of this either. I don’t blame her. It killed me. I itched more. I scratched more.

Then word got out that I was hiding just above our village.

The priest – whose job it was to bark out such orders – came half way up the hill and told me that I had to leave the area.

“Unclean!” “Unclean!”

It must be tough being a priest.

I left. It wasn’t easy. But I did.

Finally, I found a group of men who had what I had: leprosy.

They hung out in these “Godforsaken” caves – high up in the hills.

They had little gardens – some sheep and goats – and were able to make it – with a lot of difficulty.

In the evenings we could laugh at times. Two men in our small group could play a flute – and three were good with bells – so the dozen of us or so – could sing and laugh at times.

However, when it came time to sleep, we were a sorry bunch – all alone – sleeping with the feeling of rejection and not being wanted.

In the morning some would wash up – but some had given up even that. What’s the use? It was good there weren’t mirrors. However, it’s always easy to see the other person’s lumps and cuts and dirt more than one’s own.

Each new lump – each new sore – lowered our expectations and our hopes about life.

We had to say, “Unclean!” if some shepherd or kid wandered into our camp in the hills.

We had to wear a bell around our neck and ring it if we ran into a caravan or stranger on a road we might be traveling.

I was ugly. I was alone. I was miserable.

Then this crazy guy – who didn’t care about us or anyone – went to the synagogue in Capernaum and met a man named, “Jesus of Nazareth.”

And Jesus healed him. Jesus healed him and he went outside and told everyone in the market – in the carpenter shops – in the inns – as well as in the hills – that he had met Jesus and Jesus healed him.

Hearing that I heard hope.

Hearing that I gathered up my stuff, said, “Good bye!’ to the men in our camp, and headed in the direction of Jesus. I had to find him. I had bundled myself up and wore a turban. I covered all my sores.

I asked folks on the roads, “Do you know where Jesus of Nazareth is?” Some hadn't heard of him; some had and pointed me in his direction. I just missed him two times.

Good News.

There he was – all alone – early in the morning. I knew it was him. I just knew it.

Surprise!

I followed him. He didn’t see me. This was up in the hills. He rested behind a rock. I could identify with that. It looked like he was praying. I watched and watched.

After about an hour he stood up – bowed to the heavens – and headed back down to the road. Well, here was my chance.

I yelled to him, “Jesus of Nazareth!”

He turned.

I said, “If you want to, you can cure me!”

Jesus looked at me. He looked me in the eye – even though my tendency by now was to constantly be looking at the ground. I felt ugly – very ugly – and not worth anything.

Jesus walked towards me. He reached out and touched me. He then said, “I want to heal you. You’re cured.”

I could feel something happen to my skull above my right ear. I could feel tingle in the sores on my feet. I could feel the sores on my back itch in a new way. Something was happening to them.

Jesus said, “Don’t tell anyone. Go back to your priest and make the offering that Moses prescribed. That should be a proof for anyone who thinks you still have leprosy.”

I stood still for a moment – shocked, surprised, stunned.

Jesus hugged me and then he headed back towards where his disciples were encamped.

There was a stream of water nearby. I headed for it and washed myself and my clothes completely and rung them out to dry. While waiting for them to dry in the sun I found myself singing. I felt as clean as a naked new born baby. Then I dressed – singing like I used to love to sing when I was a kid.

First thing I did? You know it. Everyone I met on the road I told my story. They thought I was another crazy person. I headed back to my camp. There were ten people there with leprosy. I told them what happened. They quickly got together their stuff and headed in the direction I told them Jesus went.

I went home. I went to the priest and told him what happened. He was skeptical till I showed him the side of my head – above my right ear – and my feet and my back. I was a brand new person.

He was dumbstruck – a priest with nothing to say. Amazing.
Then I headed home to my wife and 5 kids.

Then the celebration began.

[This Sunday in the Archdiocese of Baltimore we had the Archbishop's Annual Appeal 2009, so we didn't have a sermon - so I wrote this reflective story on today's first and third readings for this 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B: Leviticus 13:, 1-2, 44-46; Mark 1: 40-45]

ME

A rock – no, never.
Water – not even close.
A tree – sometimes.
A chair – getting closer.
A table – a tiny bit at times.
A door – but closed – perhaps.
A bridge – trying to be.
A window – no.
A mirror – definitely not.
Me – yes.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

R.S.V.P.

Love is a risk – well worth it
when another chooses
to love back in return –
and that’s the catch. It has
to contain the possibility of
the other’s “No!” – otherwise
the other’s “Yes” means
nothing. So here goes,
“I love you!” R.S.V.P.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

CRAYONS  AND  CLAY

Adults know – somehow they know
to say, "Thank you!"
without being told to say it
when a kid hands us a drawing –
or a statue they made from clay or play dough.
Putting the drawing on the refrigerator door
or the clay cat or dog on a shelf
or a very prominent place,
so the creator can notice it every time,
now that’s learned behavior….
God the Creator has to be saying “Wow!”
and “Thank you” as well.
“Imitation is the sincerest of flattery.”
But what does someone feel when he or she
finds in an attic box or cellar trunk
old papers and pictures
from mom or dad – or grandparents –
a crayoned Picasso or an impressionistic painting
or sculpture or note book that he or she drew
or wrote in when they were 2, 3 or 4?
It has to be somewhat like the feelings
the 4 teenagers had who discovered the Cave of Lascaux
in southwest France in 1940 with all those drawings
of bisons and bulls, horses and penguins
dated back to Paleolithic times –
some 15,000 to 17,000 years ago –
or the feeling the shepherd or goatherd had
who discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls in 1947.
Wait! There's more to come.
Imagine all the undiscovered paintings and scrolls
in trunks and boxes in attics and cellars,
as well as in the caves of the human heart,
waiting to be discovered, “Thank you!” “Wow!”

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

PERSPECTIVE

From way up here
everything looks so, so small …
sitting here – window seat
looking down at the vast below….
And sometimes that’s how I feel
sitting here right next to you,
window seat next to aisle seat,
feeling so far, far away from you.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

EITHER / OR

Walking after the spring rain….

You can see the puddle
or the sky.

Or you can see the sky
in the puddle.

© Andy Costello Reflections 2009

[Scenes from Capernaum: Notice the Octagonal Church (upper left picture)- the octagonal ruins (lower right picture) over which the church was built; the synagogue; the Red Roof Greek Orthodox Church and how close everything is to the Lake of Gallilee. Tap - tap with your mouse cursor on any picture to get a bigger view of the specific picture.]

UNDERNEATH

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Underneath.”

You never know what’s underneath. You can’t judge a book by its cover. You can’t tell a person by the color of their hair – or the number of their teeth or the look of their car. Get a second, third or fourth opinion.

Today I’m challenged by the old Indian saying we’re all very familiar with, “Don’t judge your neighbor till you walked a mile in his or her moccasins.”

To get to that theme, let me first take you on another bus ride.

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Last Sunday’s gospel began, “Then they came to Capernaum….”

They go the synagogue and Jesus heals the man who screams out, “I know who you are – the Holy One of God.”

Today’s gospel begins, “On leaving the synagogue Jesus entered the house of Simon and Andrew….” and Jesus heals Peter’s mother-in-law.

In January of 2000 I went to Israel with 20 priests. It was a great deal. An old Redemptorist priest in his 80’s always wanted to go to Israel – but he needed someone to carry his bags. “Here I am Lord, send me.” If you ever get a chance to see Israel, go for it. It really gives you an interesting take many times when you read the Bible.

We got off the bus in Capernaum. We walked through a gate – into an enclosed area – maintained by the Franciscans. We walked to the ruins of a 4th century A.D. synagogue – built on top of the synagogue mentioned in last Sunday and this Sunday’s gospel.

Father Stephen Doyle, a Franciscan, was our guide. It was more like a retreat than a tour. We sat down on the stone seats on both sides of the roofless synagogue and he read last Sunday’s gospel to us. Then he gave us a half hour of quiet prayer to reflect upon the story and where we were. It was wonderful. After the half hour, he said, “We’re now going to walk to Peter’s mother-in-law’s house – but because there will be a lot of tourists there, let me now read the next gospel story in Mark.” It was today’s gospel. Neat.

That house became an early Jewish Christian community church. Then it was lost – fell apart – disappeared underneath soil and rocks.

Sometime after 1968 it was rediscovered by the Franciscan archaeologist Father Virgilio C. Corbo. A modern church was built over the ruins and dedicated on June 29, 1990.

One walks up the steps to this octagonal church and inside it has a see through glass floor – which enables one to see the excavations of Peter and Andrew and Peter’s Mother-in-law’s house below – which then became an early Christian church. It’s quite an experience standing there – looking at what is underneath one’s feet.

After finishing seeing the church and the ruins underneath, we went to the gift shop. They always have a gift shop. Then, just before we were to head back to our bus, Father Stephen Doyle said the most significant thing of the day for me. He told us to look to the distance. He said that’s a Greek Orthodox church over there – the one with the red roof. It was maybe two football fields away. There were five seasons of excavations there on the Greek Orthodox Property from 1978 to 1982. He added, “Notice the lumps and mounds of earth. Someday underneath all that earth they are going to discover all sorts of things.”

I heard the word “underneath”. Underneath all that earth were future discoveries.

I had bought the guidebook “Recovering Capharnaum”* by Stanislaus Loffreda in the gift shop and read it on the bus and that night when we got back to our hotel. I discovered what we saw that day was a total mess for centuries – well over 1000 years and then some. I read that an American scholar, E. Robinson, visited the area in 1838 and wrote, “The whole place is desolate and mournful. A few Arabs of the Semekiyeh were here encamped in tents, and built up a few hovels among the ruins….” (p. 11)

I also read that the Franciscans in 1894 had acquired from the Bedouins the ruins of the synagogue and a large area of ancient Capharnaum. They fenced and walled the area off and began digging and discovering – but it took a long, long time.

We benefited from their work and our bus ride to see Capernaum.

UNDERNEATH

My thought for today is the theme of “underneath”.

How many times in our lives have we been superficial?

How many times in our lives have we misjudged others and their motives?

How many times have we been misjudged and we never got a chance to tell others what was underneath our comment or behavior?

How many times in our lives have we been surprised – when we heard the real story or the rest of the story?

How many times in our lives have we ever really listened to what’s buried underneath the face and skin of another?

How many times in our lives have we been taken back when we discovered what was underneath?

EXAMPLES

A corporate lawyer recently said he would like to retire in his mid-fifties – and then when asked what he would like to do after that said, “I would like to work for the poor.”

A retired guy recently said off hand, “I want to talk to so and so who is very good at bridge – because I’ve always wanted to learn to play bridge.”

A priest in his late 50’s, whom I worked with, once told me that he wanted to play the banjo when he was in his late teens and early 20’s but never did. Well, he took up the banjo big time in his late 50’s – and surprise, there he was up on stage jamming away – if jamming away is the word banjo players use.

A 56 year old woman, Jennifer Figge, just finished swimming the Atlantic – from the Cape Verde Islands off Africa to Trinidad in the Caribbean. It was her dream for a long time. She was the first woman to do it – swimming 700 miles.

James Harrison of the Steelers was cut from the Steelers and the Ravens, made some bad mistakes in his life, was resigned by the Steelers 4 times – got his life a bit better, won a Super Bowl Ring a few years back and helped win the Super Bowl for the Steelers again this year and is going to the Pro Bowl. He said he almost quit to become a truck driver like his dad.

Billy Crystal was bumped from the first Saturday Night Live show – and said, “Good thing I didn’t give up.”

While preaching in a small town in Ohio I met a lady who went to college for art – and when asked to do a self-portrait – her teacher and the other students made fun of as well as some tough comments about her painting. She left college – went home – got married to a part time farmer – who worked for Cooper Tire as his regular job. On the side when their kids were in school, this lady told me she started doing craft pieces – and came up with a furry type animal doll. A friend saw some of her pieces and said, “I’m going to a craft show next Saturday – bring your dolls with you and people will gobble them up.” She brought them and she was sold out of them in a half hour. Well, in three years she made a small fortune on her creations. They changed a barn into a work place. And her husband was laid off just in time to manage the business.

You never know what’s underneath. Who would believe Jesus is in us? Who would believe Jesus is in bread and wine? Who would believe that Jesus is God and he helps mother-in-laws and uncles and aunts – swimmers and bus drivers, doll makers, lawyers, comedians and would be banjo and bridge players - and us?

You never know what’s underneath.

Maybe someone here didn’t hear a word from today’s second reading, today’s gospel, or this sermon. They were still thinking about today’s first reading. They were wondering: “What would get someone to say what Job says in today’s first reading? That’s pretty pessimistic stuff.” So they go home and read the whole book of Job to get underneath his story. Then they read everything they can find on Job – including the play JB by Archbald MacLeish – and wow are their eyes opened to what was underneath the text.

CONCLUSION

Underneath.

You never know what’s underneath.

Since this is Black History Month I think of Langston Hughes’ poem, “Dream Deferred.”

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Start dreaming. Start digging. Start getting in touch with your deferred dreams. Start exploding.

Take a bus, a tour, better make it a holy quest, to your ground. It’s Holy Ground. You own your own heart and mind – even if you have a fence around it. Remember there’s great stuff – treasures – underneath.

Underneath.

*Stanislao Loffreda, Recovering Capharnaum, Second Edition, Reprinted 1997, Franciscan Printing Press Jerusalem, 1993, pp.86 - [Studium Biblicum Franciscanum Guides 1]