I resemble everyone
but myself, and sometimes see
in shop-windows
despite the well-known laws
of optics,
the portrait of a stranger,
date unknown,
often signed in a corner
by my father.
The title of my homily for this 5th Monday in Ordinary Time is,
“Touching the Edge of God.”
Obviously we are here in this church to touch and be touched by
God.
When we meet each other, we touch each other - a hand shake,
a hug, a nod, a word, an eye to eye look - a smile.
When we have a moving experience, we say at times, “I was touched.” Or, “How touching!”
Sometimes we touch our own heart - when we talk about being touched.
TODAY’S READINGS
Today’s Gospel from Mark 6: 53-56 tells of crowds of people
moving towards Jesus after he landed at Gennesaret - wanting to see him -
wanting to be healed by him - and then comes the word, “touch”.
Listen to the last sentence again: “Whatever villages or
towns or countryside he entered, they laid the sick in the marketplaces and begged
him that they might touch only the tassel on his cloak; and as many as touched
it were healed.” [Mark 6:56]
Hapto is the Greek
word used here: to fasten, to cling to, to have fellowship with, to be in
communion with, to adhere.
Kraspedon is the
Greek word used here - and it means the edge, the border, the hem, the tassel
which could be part of a pious Jew’s garment.
The title of my homily is, “Touching the Edge of God.”
These people were there to try to get in touch with God to
be healed.
Today’s first reading from the First Book of Kings brings us
into the temple
of Solomon - the temple
that David failed to build. We move from the tent to the temple.[Cf. 1 Kings 7:1-7, 9-13]
That’s the history of so many churches and temples - moving
from the temporary to the permanent.
Notice in today’s first reading - all the symbols and stuff
of the temple - the ark and the angels, the stone tablets and the clouds. I’m
assuming that’s the clouds of smoke probably from censors - but I’m not sure
about that for sure.
SO WHY DO WE COME
TO CHURCH?
So why do we come to Church - temple - Holy Place?
I’m assuming the answer is absolutely basic: to touch at
least the edge of God and to have God touch us.
To have an edge….
I always remember a family getting out of their car when I
was getting out of my car - here at a 12:10 Mass. I had never seen them before.
I saw them inside. They looked worried. They said they were not from around
here - but were just up at the AnneArundelMedicalCenter and their mom was
dying and they asked up there for the nearest Catholic Church.
They were doing just what the folks in the gospel were
doing: needing to touch God - and be touched by God in return.
I didn’t have time to research the meaning of the last part of today’s first reading - the
comment about the dark cloud.
Let me repeat it. Let me read it again:
When the priests left the holy
place,
the cloud filled the temple of the LORD
so that the priests could no longer minister
because of the cloud,
since the LORD’s glory had filled
the temple of the LORD.
Then Solomon said, “The LORD intends to dwell in the dark cloud;
I have truly built you a princely house,
a dwelling where you may abide forever.”
I can imagine that. I can picture that.
It also struck me that folks come to God more in times of
dark clouds - than in bright clouds.
Having thought that I heard God laughing and saying, “Hello,
it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
CONCLUSION
The title of my homily is, “Touching the Edge of God.”
A prayer:
God the Father, we are here today
to touch and be touched by
you.
God the Son, Lord Jesus Christ,
we are here today to touch
not just the edge of your garment,
but to receive you in communion
that you
come into the center
of this temple, called me.
God the Holy Spirit, be the cloud -
always over me in both bright times
and in
dark times. Amen.
O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O
NOTES: Painting on top: Standing on the Edge by Denise Shea
JUST ME
Poem for Today - February 10, 2014
SELF-PORTRAIT
Last Sunday morning,
Sitting on the tram
I found myself beside a priest,
A fat and gloomy man.
I looked over his shoulder
And I read “Nunquam”.
Now I happened to be reading
“Les Amours de Madame”
And even though he scowled at me
I didn’t give a damn.
And that just shows you
The sort I am.
The title of my homily for this 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time -
Year A - is, “Impact.”
I M
P A C T! - “Impact.” I M P A C T!
That’s the theme that hit me when I read today’s readings.
“Impact.”
WE KNOW WHAT
IMPACT MEANS
We know what impact means.
When we walk into a room - something happens - well not always.
Better: when we walk into some rooms - something happens.
When we come home - up the driveway - into the office - into the
classroom - into the doctor’s office - into church - down the aisle - something
happens.
I call it the “Oh yes!” or “Oh no!” vote. I'm sure none of us want to get the "What a jerk!" or worse vote.
Through the years the 1/3-1/3-1/3 rule has always helped me.
1/3 like you; 1/3 don’t like you; 1/3 don’t care.
I was kidding myself with that rule - because I just read in The Tablet, a British Catholic magazine
different numbers. In a letter to the Editor a Father Terry Martin was
replacing an outstanding priest. He was telling another priest that this appointment made him
nervous - that is, till this other priest said, “Terry, five per cent of the people will
love you, five percent will hate you and the other 90 per cent just want to
come to Mass.” [1]
I like those numbers better. So here we are at Mass and my homily is
about “Impact.” May Jesus impact 100% of
us today.
FOR STARTERS: OUR
WORDS HAVE IMPACT
I remember a priest saying out loud: “I was walking down the aisle - as
the singing began - and I heard someone say, “Oh no!”
I guess one of the 5 per centers was loud that day.
Then he said, “I heard those two words for the rest of the Mass.”
And I thought to myself, “You’re still hearing them!" Bummer.
Maybe there’s an advantage to having poor hearing.
When I heard that comment I remembered a poem by Countee Cullen called,
“Incident”.
INCIDENT
Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart filled,
head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean
Kept 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.[2]
For starters, words have impact.
I remember a moment during a men’s weekend retreat - from around the
year 1980. It was Saturday evening and we were having an open forum. There were about 85 men were in this big room. I don’t
remember what triggered the following - but I remembered the words that
followed.
An old guy in the back of the room - raised his hand - stood up and
said: “There we were at the kitchen table - many, many years ago. My older
brother and I were in grammar school. We were sitting there - with our dad.”
“My dad said to my older brother. ‘You’ll be graduating from grammar
school next June and we’re going to get you into a great high school. Then you’ll
graduate from high school and you’ll go to a great college and then you can
become anything you want. You’ll be a great engineer, doctor, lawyer. You’ll
going to do great things with your life.”
And the man then said, “Hearing that I said to my dad, ‘Dad, dad, what’s
going to happen to me?’"
“And my dad turned to me and said, ‘You? You’ll never amount to
anything.’ And pointing to his shoe, my dad said, ‘You’re not worth the sole of my
shoe.’”
Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence filled the room. And the man was crying. Then
he said, “And my dad was right. I never amounted to anything.”
More silence.
The impact of that moment has stayed with me some 30 plus years now. I’ve often
thought about that man and those men. I’m sure that was the most powerful
retreat moment in their years of coming on retreat - well for some of them - I hope more than 5
per cent of them.
I know that made me revisit the old saying we heard as kids: “Sticks and
stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”
Obviously, the opposite is true. In fact, words might hurt more than sticks and stones.
So take some moments this week and reflect upon the words of your life -
the words that have impacted you.
What was the worse thing anyone ever said to or at you? What was the nicest thing anyone ever said to you? How did that impact you?
Why come to church? Isn't it to bring into our ears the words of Jesus - to bring
into our being Jesus who can heal us? Isn't it to walk out of this church after Mass today and make an impact for good
in our world this week?
TODAY’S READINGS
Today’s first reading doesn’t
talk about impact directly.[3]
Today’s gospel talks directly about
impact.[4]
Today’s first reading talks about sharing our bread with the hungry, sheltering
the oppressed and the homeless, clothing the naked and not turning our back on our
own.
Today’s first reading talks about removing false accusations and
malicious speech - then …. Then Isaiah says if we do that - our light will
break forth like the dawn - our wounds will be healed - our being whom we are
supposed to be will happen.
Today’s gospel has Christ using 2 images - 2 metaphors about impact.
We know when there is salt on the potato chip or pretzel - just watch people
lick the salt on a big pretzel - and see their smile.
We know when there is a light on in the room.
We know when a car coming towards us in the dark has its bright lights
on. Impact.
We’re flying at 14,000 feet - at night over the ocean - and it’s all
dark down there. But if there are not clouds we might spot a boat with it’s
lights on - or another plane in the beautiful black sky - but if we go over land - we know where the cities
are.
So Jesus tells us in today’s gospel: “A city set on a mountain cannot be
hidden.” Impact.
IMPACT
So Christianity - Christ - Church - wants to have people all over our
world who make an impact for goodness, kindness, giving, all over the world. Earlier I spoke on the power of words. I said I disagreed with the old saying about sticks and stones will break our bones - but names will never hurt us. On the other hand, there is an old saying we all seem to still agree upon. We hear it repeated in our words at least once a week, "Action speaks louder than words."
I love it that salt and light don’t have a mouth.
I love it that they both are silent.
Yet we know it when the light is on. Yet we know it when there is salt
on the table - or the potato chip - or those big delicious pretzels with the
great salt licks on them.
Christ wants every office, every work place, every family, every
classroom, every team, every group, every organization, every bookclub, every
parish, to have at least one Christian.
As Paul says in today’s second reading: It’s me. That person is me. I walk into every room
I enter into proclaiming Jesus by my life. He says that he comes with fear and
trembling.[5]
Exactly - we should fear and tremble because our lives can make a
difference for good or for bad - by the words we say - but especially by the
example we set on the table.
We should have fear and trembling because there are people out there who
are impacted by our words - by our silent example - by our lives - for a lifetime.
CONCLUSION
I was watching the opening ceremonies for the Olympics Friday night. Putin
and Russia
want to make an impact for goodness around the world - for all the people
around the world watching. The TV talked about the negatives …. dogs in the
street - a tough history - buildings not finished - human rights abuses - anti
gay stuff - etc. etc. etc.
They are hoping the Olympic Moment in their country has a positive
impact that outweighs the negatives.
Don’t we all? Don’t we all.
Doesn’t Christ as well?
So this day, this week, let’s be salt and light on the tables in the
rooms we’re in - that people will know without knowing it - that’s what we’re
there for.
Salt and light: there when wanted; there when needed.
OOOOOOO
NOTES:
[1] The Tablet, February 1, 2014, Letters, page.18
[2] Countee Cullen [1903-1946]
[3] Isaiah 58: 7-10
[4] Matthew 5: 13-16
[5] 1 Corinthians 2: 1-5
SECOND CHANCES
Poem for Today - February 9, 2014
THE FISH
I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn't fight.
He hadn't fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
- the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly-
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
- It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
- if you could call it a lip
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels- until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
The first shall be last .... Sorry! The pay is the same, no matter what time you enter the vineyard .... Lost sheep, coins, and children are found .... Rocks and sins are dropped .... When insulted, turn the other cheek ….
When needed, go the extra mile….
Give the shirt off your back ....
Forgive seventy times seven times ….
Sometimes there are weeds
that grow along with the wheat!
Get used to them….
Plant mustard seeds ….
Blessed are the poor in spirit ….
The treasure, the pearl, is there,
so keep searching. If you’re wise,
or if you're blessed, you’ll find it ….
God is not what you expect ….
God starts as a baby …. God is Jewish with a name "Jesus" ....
God ends up as if a criminal on a cross ….
In the meanwhile, God walks around as
a king who washes feet and allows a woman to wash his feet and dry them with her hair .... Now that's different - and add some perfume .... God pushes peace and in the meanwhile don't miss the birds of the air - and smell the flowers in the fields .... Jesus feeds the hungry with bread and fish ….
