LENT:
40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Lent: Forty Days and 40 Nights.”

Lent is a time to get serious. Lent is a time to see if we are having the time of our life. Lent is a time to see where we are on the time line of our life. Lent is a time to look at serious matters – serious questions – and come up with some serious answers – year after year after year. Lent is a time to look in the mirror and ask, “How’s it going?”

Lent is 40 days and 40 nights. A month and 10 days. That’s a lot of time. Vacations are usually one or two weeks – or for some, just a long weekend – but 40 days and 40 nights. Now that’s a serious amount of time.

40 DAYS TO A MORE POWERFUL ?

When my brother – the oldest of 4 – was in high school and my two sisters and I were still in grammar school, he came up with the book, 30 Days to a More Powerful Vocabulary – and for 30 days he drove us crazy with big words – words we never heard of before. His favorite word was, “sesquipedalian” – as in, “By now you’ve noticed I’ve become a sesquipedalian?”

And when we asked him what does that word mean, he would say, “A person who uses big words.”

Sesquipedalian – literally means “a foot and a half long”. Notice the “ped” root in the word.

Some speakers are name droppers and some speakers are sesquipedalians.

Those of you who are writers know that one of Ernest Hemingway’s gifts to American writing was short sentences and short words.

Fill in the blank. Come up with just one word for the end of this sentence: “Lent: 40 days to a more powerful _________?”

Would that word be “me” or “Christian” or “father” or “mother” or “brother” or “sister” or “spouse” or “worker” or “friend” or “neighbor” or “driver”?

TODAY’S READINGS

The readings at Mass during Lent can be very helpful.

Today’s first reading from Genesis has God establishing a covenant with Noah and his children after 40 days and 40 nights of rain and destruction. The sign of the covenant is the rainbow.

Have you ever experienced a 40 day or a 400 day or 4,000 day time of destruction in your life – a time when cancer claimed a family member – or a divorce wiped you out – or the loss of a job – or someone in the family messed up totally – and the problem goes on and on and on?

You were flooded with pain and hurt and anger and emptiness – and then one day the sun shone – or a bird chirped at the right moment – or you were at the beach or a mountain – or out fishing – and the light in the morning or the evening was unique – or the night sky was just right – or you saw a rainbow as Noah and his family saw in today’s first reading and you felt the call for a new beginning.

That’s some of what today’s first reading is getting at.

Today’s second reading is a very strange text. Depending on the translation from the Greek – readers get different takes on the text. Some thought Peter was voicing Jesus’ mission to not only reach out to the living – but also to the dead – as we say in the Apostles Creed – the old translation being, “He descended into hell” now the translation is, “He descended to the dead.”

Whatever…. We believe that Jesus is Savior and Redeemer of all!

Jesus comes to us when we feel dead or we’ve been to hell and we want to come back. Jesus comes through all barriers and walls and says to us what he said to the disciples filled with fear when they locked themselves up in the Upper Room, “Peace!”

Today’s gospel has Mark’s two verse description of what happened to Jesus during those 40 days, “The Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert, and he remained in the desert for forty days tempted by Satan. He was among wild beasts, and the angels ministered to him.”

Matthew and Luke will take that text and develop a rich theology and imagery of the 3 temptations of Jesus in the desert.

Then Jesus came out of that desert with a vision and a message: to proclaim the Gospel of God: “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in the gospel.”

HIDING OUT IN THE 40 DAYS

Most of us can’t take 40 days and find a desert to hide out in. We have to work and do our everyday family stuff.

But we can buy a $2.95 cent 9 1/2 inch X 6 inch spiral note book or create a new folder on our computer and start jotting down life’s big questions and then write down our answers, our wonderings, our further questions, as well as other people’s observations to life’s big questions.

There are no stupid questions – only stupid answers.

Today’s gospel talks about Jesus in the desert for 40 days.

A word that might jump out is the word “tempted”.

What are my temptations? In Matthew and Luke there are 3 – and preachers have a time trying to clarify them. Maybe Mark by being open ended challenges us to come up with our big 3 or our big 13 or just one temptation.

The 7 capital sins could help: gluttony, greed, lust, laziness, anger, envy, and pride. If you’re a computer buff, use Google to clarify these sins and where they hit you.

What is my predominant fault? What is my Achilles heel? What is my weak spot? What is my nemesis? There’s a word for a more powerful vocabulary. “Nemesis: the Greek goddess that inflicts retribution or vengeance on what rivals or opposes us.” What is my downfall every time? How do my mistakes and bad decisions come back at me a dozenfold?

Lent is a good time to reflect, figure, clarify.

The Gospel talks about wild beasts. Please, no cuffed comments or elbowing the person next to you on the old retreat discussion question: “If I were an animal, what animal would I be?” The group also makes us an animal. A bull, a bear, a snake, a bird, an elephant, a puppy, a poodle, a monkey, a gorilla, a parrot, what have you?

The gospel talks about Satan and Angels.

Who are our angels - those who have given us challenges to new paths - challenges - to new ways of seeing - new ways of being - new ways of doing life?

What about devils or The Devil?

Do I believe in Satan – translation, “The Adversary!”?

What / who / how is the devil?

Eric Hoffer defines the devil as, “Anything that dehumanizes.”

There is a Dutch saying, “When the devil gets into the church, he seats himself at the altar.”

There is a saying that appears in French, German, Spanish, Dutch, “The devil lurks (or sits) behind the cross.”

Those are interesting and scary comments. I assume that the Devil hangs around churchy stuff. After all here he is in today’s gospel with Jesus. Is this what Daniel Defoe was implying when he wrote, “Wherever God erects a house of prayer, / The Devil always builds a chapel there; / And ‘twill be found, upon examination, / The latter has the largest congregation.”? [The True-Born Englishman (1701)]

But beware: the scriptures imply he wanders around the world sometimes like a roaring lion – sometimes as a sneaky snake.

There is an old saying, “The devil is not always at one door.”

There is a German saying, “Once invited into the house, you’ll never be rid of the devil.”

Read C.S. Lewis classic, The Screwtape Letters – and he will get you in touch with the devil and how the devil tempts and operates.

Speaking of Postwar Germany, Helmut Thielicke said, “There is a dark, mysterious, spellbinding figure at work. Behind the temptations stands the tempter, behind the lie stands the liar, behind all the dead and bloodshed stands the 'murderer from the beginning.'”

You might have seen or read Elie Wiesel’s comments the other day about how his foundation lost a lot money in the Madoff scam – and he blurted out in anger how evil Madoff was. Or you could read Elie’s Wiesel’s story Night or about his experience in the concentration camp horror – and realize people do evil things.

CONCLUSION

Each day we all have to wrestle with good and evil – to lie or not to lie – to be attentive or to be lazy – to give of ourselves or to be self-centered or selfish – at home or at work.

Lent is the time to face this serious stuff – and to ask, “How am I doing with patience or generosity or laughing or singing or being creative or hard working or giving good example?”

Lent is the time to go to our inner room – and check out what it looks like. Is it empty? Is it a disaster area? Is it a chapel? Is it beautiful? Are we at home with ourselves?

Imagine the example we would give each other if a kid saw mom or dad sitting in a quiet place in the basement or upper room – reading a spiritual reading book or the scriptures or writing down some good journal stuff – or at times kids seeing both mom and dad praying or reading scriptures or a spiritual reading book together?

People are in book clubs. Others say, “I have no time for that.” What a book club that would be – mom and dad – husband and wife – doing a book together. Kids – the couple themselves - would reap big time dividends down the time line of their lives. Amen.

[Top Photo from 5000 Color Photos - Delux Edition]

RAINBOWS

&

RATTLESNAKES

Once upon a time there were two brothers: Robbie and Ralphie.

Ralphie – aged 18 was twice as old as his younger brother Robbie – who was only 9.

Robbie, the younger brother, liked his older brother, Ralphie.
Ralphie, the older brother, didn’t like his younger brother, Robbie.

Ralphie was an only child – that is, till this younger brother, his surprise brother, Robbie, came along.

Ralphie and Robbie: they were as different as rainbows and rattlesnakes.

Robbie was an optimist; his brother Ralphie was a pessimist.

Robbie was smile at you; Ralphie was snap at you.

Ralphie was half asleep till 11 o’clock every morning – probably because he spent time late into every night listening to strange music on his red I-pod, playing his electronic games or drawing strange ballpoint pen drawings of Aliens – hundreds and hundreds of ballpoint pen drawings of Aliens – sometimes on motorcycles, sometimes on skateboards – sometimes with sunglasses on the top of their heads.

Robbie went to bed every night when he was tired – but woke up every morning – completely alive – with a bounce and a fascination in his step and in his smile. “Hey, it’s a new day of life!” “Hey, each day is a new adventure.” This annoyed Ralphie – that is, if he noticed it.

Robbie saw God and God’s goodness everywhere.

Ralphie didn’t see God anywhere. In fact, he liked to shock his parents, his friends, but especially his younger brother by saying, “I don’t believe in God.”

Ralphie’s parents said to themselves, “It’s just a stage. He’ll get over it. When he’s married and has kids – especially teenagers, Ralphie will start praying and asking God for help and thanking God for each new day of life.”

Robbie, the younger brother, prayed for his older brother, Ralphie.

Robbie and his parents didn’t know that Ralphie sometimes was angry with God. Two girl friends dropped him – just like that – just like uncooked eggs hitting hard cement sidewalk. That hurt! Also he prayed and prayed to make the lacrosse team - and didn’t make it – and he remembers standing there as a 10 year old kid on September 11, 2001 and seeing all those people killed on the TV screen – and last year 3 seniors were killed in a car crash on a late Saturday night. “Why God, why?” “Why?”

Ralphie could be sour – surly and sort of half moving much of the day.

Robby – 9 years old – loved everything and everyone – swimming pools – zoos – soccer – his buddy Timmy from across the street who had a neat border collie named Blue Cheese. He liked chess, NASCAR Racing, the Blue Angels, the Ravens, the Redskins, the Capitals and the Nationals – and also the Orioles – and also math and spelling and 6 Flags. He loved to go to yard sales – because he could find buttons with interesting words on them to add to his button collection.

Robby loved summer vacations with his parents. Ralphie was glad, glad, glad 10 times over because he was going to college and get away from his parents and his nerdy brother Robby – and hopefully never have to go camping with his mom and dad and younger brother any summer ever again. Camping: boring, boring, boring.

Well, it was vacation time once more and Ralphie’s dad begged Ralphie to want to come on one last vacation as a family – before he went off to college. His dad begged him, “It will mean a lot to your mom.” He answered back, “Dad, boring!” “Well,” his dad said, “It will mean a lot to your younger brother Robbie.” “Double boring, dad. Double boring.”

But Ralphie went. This year they would drive down to Tennessee and go camping in the wilderness for just a week. They loaded up their SUV with two tents and sleeping bags, backpacks and plenty of food – and all the necessary stuff for camping.

Robbie couldn’t wait. Ralphie couldn’t wait till it would be over and he could be off to college.

The second day on vacation a horrible thing happened. Robbie was bit by a rattlesnake. His dad didn’t know what to do – but he sucked where Robby was bit and spit out the poison – and then washed his mouth out with bottled water and spit some more. Fortunately, they had cell phones and called the police who had an ambulance there immediately and off Robbie went to the local hospital.

Well, for the rest of their week’s vacation Robbie’s parents and Ralphie were not in tents – but in a motel and in a hospital.

Well, the next afternoon at the hospital, Robbie still unconscious, Ralphie, seeing his mom and dad, exhausted, worried, scared, told them to go back to the motel and take a good nap and he would watch and wait – and if anything happens, if things get worse, he’d call them immediately.

His parents thought that was thoughtful and took him up on his suggestion.

Robbie was semi-conscious as he lay there.
Ralphie was worried – worried that his brother might die – and how tragic that would be for his parents.

Ralphie found himself praying – praying for the first time in years – other than just going through the motions when saying grace before dinner. In fact, he got down on his knees by the side of Robbie’s bed and prayed and prayed and prayed to God to get his baby brother better.

A nurse came in and was surprised to see this 18 year old young man kneeling by his brother’s side praying. She went out and told the other nurses how wonderful this other brother was – having such faith in God – praying for his brother.

Well, as Ralphie was begging God for help – as Ralphie was saying to God, “I’ll go to church for the rest of my life, if you get my brother better,” he just happened to look out the window and he saw this perfect rainbow – this great big beautiful colorful rainbow. He stood up and walked to the window and looked out at the rainbow. And Ralphie knew his brother was going to get better.

When his mom and dad showed up 2 hours later, he told his mom and dad, “Robbie is going to be okay.” His mom said, “Did the doctor come in and say something?”

“Nope! I just know!”

And sure enough that evening Robbie woke up and a day later was released from the hospital.

And surprise – that moment changed not only Ralphie’s life, but also Robbie and his mom and dad’s life.

And Ralphie told mom and dad and Robbie all about the rainbow – on their drive back from Tennessee.

Their family was always a family – but now they were much more a family.

Robbie and Ralphie’s mom and dad pinched themselves every time they came to church – thanking God for two wonderful sons – “Okay God,” his mom would pray, “as different as Rainbows and Rattlesnakes.”




[This is a story for our Kids' Mass - for the First Sunday of Lent -Year B - and I took the image of the rainbow from the first reading and the wilderness theme from the gospel. I couldn't figure out what age group this story would be for.]

DEATH & RESURRECTION

The title of my homily is, “Death and Resurrection.”

Serious topic – obviously.

Lent begins with ashes – a symbol of death and end – and ends with Easter – resurrection.

Ashes – the house, the forest – is burned down – and that’s all that remains – ashes – so too skeleton and dust.

Resurrection – rebuilding – reforesting – the sound of hammer and nail – a new house rising on the ruins of a former house – the sight of buds and new trees – new life – rising to new life – resurrection – Monday morning in eternity.

For the Christian, Lent can be a good season of challenge and spiritual growth.

Lent – 40 days: Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. This year, February 25th till April 12th.

Moving from winter into spring – dark empty branches – slowly budding – breakthroughs.

Surprise – waking up one of these days in March to see those empty branches now breaking forth in green leaves.

Death to resurrection.

Emptiness to new life.

We who live in the northern hemisphere – with our homes and landscape in 4 season geography – get to see all this happen year after year after year – coinciding with Lent – moving towards the Spring of Easter.

Geography impacts us.

It makes a difference in how we think and feel, see and sing. It does depend on where we live. Those who grow up in South Florida or the Caribbean can have a different attitude towards life than those who grow up experiencing, spring, summer, autumn, winter, especially cold winter and empty trees – and then spring and on and on and on.

Whom we live with makes a difference. Whom we interact with makes a difference. What we eat, read, see, experience, become us.

The Christian is called upon to be salt and light – to help others to be zestier and brighter.

The Christian is called to make a difference in this world: in the home, in the neighborhood, in the church, how we enter and exit parking lots and stores – and especially how we treat each other in the work place.

Easy and poetic to say – difficult to do.

We are called to put others ahead of ourselves. Less self; more concern, care, kindness towards neighbor – spouse – children –parents – stranger.

We are called to die to self – and rise to new life.

We are called to be joyful Christians – to pray and practice the prayer of St. Teresa of Avila whose statue is here in our sanctuary, “From silly devotions and sour-faced saints, good Lord, deliver us.”

Christians believe in recovery after the disaster – starting again – and helping those who find recovery difficulty – whether its alcoholism, storms, floods, bankruptcy, out of work, depression, divorce, sickness or death.

Arriving at 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100 – and somewhere along the line the graveyard – is not the end of life.

The Spanish writer, Miguel de Unamuno [1864-1936] quoted an old peasant who said, “If there is no immortality, what use is God?”

For the Christian, we have the faith to say, “We are immortal – because of Christ.”

As we say and sing at Mass: “Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.”

The tree of the cross is the tree of the horror of death – the worst we human beings can do to each other. The tree of the cross is also the tree of the seed of hope: resurrection. Christ forgave from that cross. Christ redeemed us from that cross. Christ was taken down from that cross – and many that day, that Bad Friday thought that was the end.

Resurrection is the central act of faith and hope for the Christian.

This is the big Lent to Easter – winter to spring message.

Notice Lent is a season – a period of time. Life is not instant fix.

Conversion – recovery – new beginnings takes time.

So the 40 days of Lent is a model for all of us to realize growth is 40 days, a day at a time, a step at a time, a week at a time.

It’s good to take time out to pray and to fast.

It’s good to give up something for Lent – like fasting from TV one night a week, or the computer one day a week (unless we use one for our job – or we’re doing school work) or fasting from alcohol or bad language or self and my way – and surprise we discover we’re addicted to things and patterns and behaviors we didn’t realize we were chained to.

It’s good to do something extra for Lent – like 5 minutes of prayer per day. Designate a favorite chair as our prayer chair in some quiet place in our home - some inner room - and escape to that prayer chair for time to be with God. I don’t know if there are any more Lenten materials in the back. Use them or the scriptures or say one decade of the Rosary. Father George cut up thousands of little strips of paper. They are in the baskets in the back. Grab one. Put it in your wallet. Look at each day for a moment. See all the things it will say to you this Lent.

Today is Ash Wednesday – the beginning of Lent.

Lent is a good time to have the reality of our life span rubbed in our face.

THE SPAGHETTI SAUCE STAIN

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “The Spaghetti Sauce Stain.”

We’re invited to our sister-in-law’s house for dinner. We’re wearing a bright white wool sweater – brand new – first time wearing it – and we didn’t know it was going to be veal parmesan and spaghetti.

“Ooops!” A small smidgeon of red spaghetti sauce slips off our fork and right onto our bright white wool sweater – right above our belly button.

“Ooops!” and we don’t have a Tide to Go Stick with us.

We cover it with our napkin. The stain is smaller than the size of a dime – but it feels like the size of 12 inch plastic Tupperware cover.

We go to the bathroom – napkin pressed to our stomach – hoping no one saw our tragic accident. Soap and water don’t work. “What did she put in that red spaghetti sauce?” We come back to the table with napkin strategically placed and we sit down for the rest of the meal – hoping our sweater will dry and maybe the stain will go away. Then the host says, “Let’s have dessert in the family room.”

“No!” we scream inwardly.

Dessert is cannoli and spumoni, Napoleons and almond macaroon tarts, but the spaghetti spot is so loud and so screaming we don’t enjoy the cookies or any of the dessert.

Nobody notices the spaghetti sauce stain – but us.

STAINS ARE US

Stains are us. Sins are us. Mistakes are us. Foot in the mouth is us.

And we remember our mistakes for the rest of the evening – some disasters for the rest of our lives.

We don’t forget. We get – we understand, the spaghetti sauce story.

It can be a dumb comment or a car accident – or a parking ticket – or a wardrobe malfunction. There are things we don’t forget.

The baseball pitcher pitches a three hitter – and he remembers those three hits more than the 13 strike outs he pitched.

The basketball player remembers the key missed foul shot and forgets the four three 3 pointers she or he made.

The ice scatter falls on her butt – but doesn’t remember her perfect triple Axel and otherwise flawless performance – just the fall on her fanny in front of thousands – especially her competition.

The reader at Mass reads the reading perfectly – except for the second sentence where she pronounced one word wrong – and for the rest of the Mass she feels really stupid. She’s still stuck in that second sentence. “Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!”

The grandfather – aged 87 – looking back on his life – remembers that time he cheated on his wife. He had too much to drink at the office party. It was 47 years ago. It was a hug with another woman – and one long kiss in a corner. That was it. As he looks back on a wonderful life, he still can’t see anything but that mistake.

At one point he felt so miserable that he had to tell his wife. She forgave him. It was difficult, but she forgave him. There was still one person who wouldn’t forgive him: himself.

A marine killed 5 Viet Cong in Vietnam – as well as a mother and a child who were in the house – in a nasty fire fight – an ambush on him and his buddies as they came into this small village.

Therapy – a silver star from another incident – a wonderful wife and family – a church goer – 12 years in service for our country – seeing the movie, Saving Private Ryan – couldn’t remove the pain, the wonderings about those 7 people – who couldn’t share the rest of their lives like he could.

Pain and stains are hard to be bleached from our record.

THIS IS BLACK HISTORY MONTH

With Michelle Obama as First Lady – and her husband Barack Obama as President – I, for one, hope for more peace – more forgiveness – more improvement in the stained United States history regarding slavery, bigotry and racism. Obviously, to me there has been great improvements. I look forward to an end to "them and us" and we are simply a we - a true US.

There is a poem by a black poet, Countee Cullen [1903-1946] that has the same message as my spaghetti sauce example. The title of the poem is, “Incident”.

INCIDENT

by Countee Cullen

Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,

And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out
His tongue, and called me, “Nigger.”

I saw the whole of Baltimore

From May until December;
Of all the things that happened there
That’s all that I remember.

This is the way we are. We spot spaghetti stains more than almond cookies.

Parents pick up the report card and see the C in algebra – and miss the A’s in all the other columns.

Twenty five people say, “Good sermon Father.” I only hear the one complaint.

The basketball referee drives home in his car that night – no radio – no music on – just the echo of the boos and nasty chants of the crowd because of one blown call.

PARALYSIS

Today’s gospel has it right. Great use of body language.

Sin paralyzes us. Sin prevents us from enjoying the veal Parmesan and the spaghetti dinner as well as the dessert – as well as the sights and sounds of Baltimore.

We all remember the sordid or stupid comment that someone made at us – years and years ago. And if it was particularly violent, it can paralyze us.

We’ve learned from the child abuse stories – that predators of children can paralyze a person for life.

Then the pain, the hurt, the paralysis of soul and spirit, can be made even worse by someone saying, “Get over it.”

Today’s first reading begins, “Thus says the Lord: Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new!”

Today’s first reading ends, “It is I, I who wipe out, for my own sake, your offenses; your sins I remember no more.”

CONCLUSION: 5 BRIEF OBSERVATIONS

1) Guilt works. It gets us to do a lot of things we might not have done if we didn’t feel guilty because of a mistake.

2) God does not do guilt. We do. God wants to make us new after our offenses. We hold onto old stuff.

3) God doesn’t have scales and books. God doesn’t have a set of scales – good stuff goes on the right and bad stuff on the left – and at the end – whatever side is lower – that side wins. God isn’t Santa Claus – with a book on who’s naughty or nice. Nope, God goes after the one lost sheep and leaves the 99. God is a Forgiving Father who welcomes home prodigal sons and daughters without a, “How could you have done this to us?” Older brothers might. God the Father doesn’t. God just says, “Set up the banquet tables. He’s home! And enjoy the food. Don’t worry about stains.”

4) True friends worry about friends. If a brother or sister has a spaghetti spot on their lower cheek, we signal them, [Signal]. If a brother or sister at work or car pool or family is messing up, a true friend prays over it and looks for the right moment, if that seems the right move, and tries to help a brother or sister from falling off a cliff. If that doesn’t work, he or she gets a few more friends to try to figure out what to do. Today’s gospel has 4 friends in on the healing – and they go through a roof to get him to Jesus. That’s what friends do!

5) This is serious stuff. We start Lent this Wednesday. We get Ashes on our forehead – then we wash them off – and spend extra time in our inner room for Lent. We have 40 days to ponder heavy stuff. Why stay paralyzed by the past, when we can pick up our selves and walk life in a better way? Pick up a piece of Lenten literature from one of the tables in the back. Put a flyer on your car visor to remind you it’s Lent and use your car as a small chapel. Put a Lenten booklet in the bathroom or on your bedside table or read a page at supper out loud and talk about the contents as a family. Lent is a good time to let the good stuff sink into you like good spaghetti sauce.

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