Monday, June 30, 2014

STUMBLING  BLOCK 
OR 
STEPPING  STONE? 

Poem for June 30, 2014


BAG OF TOOLS

Isn't it strange how princes and kings,
and clowns that caper in sawdust rings,
and common people, like you and me,
are builders for eternity?

Each is given a list of rules;
a shapeless mass; a bag of tools.
And each must fashion, ere life is flown,
A stumbling block, or a Stepping-Stone.

© RL Sharpe

Sunday, June 29, 2014

THE  GDCZUKESIS  BROTHERS 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “The Gdczukesis Brothers.”

Gdczukesiks – spelled “G D C Z U K E S I S” - Gdczukesiks .

Don’t worry about the spelling – nobody ever got it right – probably starting with U.S. Customs Agents at Ellis Island, New York City - when they met the first Gdczukesis – two brothers - arriving by boat from Eastern Europe way back in 1895.

Don’t worry – you probably won’t be able to pronounce their last name either. Just say, “One of the Gooks.” Yes, that often became their and their descendent’s nickname in every generation – and most laughed – once they became used to people being unable to pronounce their intriguing last name.

THE BANQUET

There must have been about 3,500 hundred people at the big banquet – in a big downtown – big city hotel. It was the 100th anniversary of a men’s big Catholic retreat house just on the edge of the city.

The banquet hall was filled with mostly men – middle aged to old men – most with suits and ties on. Hey it was the 100th anniversary. And yes, some of the men were there with their wives – but it was mostly men.

It was banquet food – chicken for everyone. There were probably a few vegetarians in the group – but nobody was P.C. correct. Okay, there were string beans – good – sprinkled with peanuts – with no worry for anyone with peanut allergies.  The men – many with rather large bellies - asked for seconds on the bread – at almost every table. Men do that – and as the waitress went for more bread - they shouted an extra comment: “And bring plenty of those tiny packets of butter  - cold butter, please!”

There were lots of speeches at the banquet. There was lots of history spoken. 100 years is a 100 years. The keynote address – was good – but just good – not excellent – giving lots of names from the past.

Then came the moment - the fascinating moment. One of the sub speakers – got to the microphone – and said, “I was thinking as I looked around the banquet hall this evening – that many of us would not be here today - if it wasn’t for the Gdczukesis’ brothers – Peter and Paul Gdczukesis – of happy memory.”

The speaker continued, “Way, way back, they came on a weekend retreat. They enjoyed it so much - that on the following Monday morning – they talked about how good it was – that other men said, 'Next year if you go on that retreat, let us know.'”

Sure enough – next year – a good contingent of men from Peter and Paul Gdczukesiks’ parish – and some from work - went on a weekend religious retreat – and as the years flowed by, the numbers kept increasing – all because of these two brothers.

As the sub speaker was saying this – men around the room started standing up spontaneously. Men would signal to other men – “Hey stand up – you’re part of this!” They were indicating, “You’re here,  because if you traced it back – you went on a weekend retreat – because of Peter or Paul Gdczukesis.”

Surprise about 500 men out of the 3,500 people in the room stood up.

The sub speaker – stopped in amazement – reached down – and picked up a glass of water from his table spot on the dais – and said into the microphone, “To Peter and Paul – the first Gooks – who got us to make a weekend retreat.”

All cheered. All smiled. All laughed. All celebrated.

PRIEST IN CHICAGO

The other day I noticed in The National Catholic Reporter a homily for this feast of St. Peter and Paul. I read it, because I was wondering what I would preach on this Sunday.

This next part of my sermon has no connection with my first part – my story about “The Gdczukesis Brothers” – other than their name being Peter and Paul.

The priest, the author of a homily entitled, “Christ Is Alive” is a Father Roger Vermalen Karban – pastor of Our Lady of Good Counsel Parish in Renault, Illinois. He begins his homily this way, “Someone once said that a connoisseur of classical music is someone who can listen to Rossini’s ‘William Tell Overture’ and not think of ‘The Lone Ranger.’”

I’m not a connoisseur of classical music – but I got that insight – and I think of the Lone Ranger every time I hear that musical piece.

Then this preacher and pastor from Renault, Illinois said that a real connoisseur of Scripture is one who can listen to today’s gospel and not think of the Papacy of today.

I did think of our modern popes – so I’m not a connoisseur of Scripture either. However, his comment hit me and I found it worthy of reflection for this feast day.

Father Karban stresses  - yes Peter is the Rock – but what was key to Peter’s life – was that the rock had been moved away and Christ  had risen from the dead – and lives amongst us.

Hence his sermon theme and title: “Christ is Alive.”

Then he stresses not the Papacy and trappings – but the call of the church is to discover Christ alive in our everyday life.

That’s what Peter and Paul did.

IF PETER AND PAUL WENT ON A TRIP

Next, as I thought about all this and that,  I began thinking what would Peter and Paul see in our Church today?

If Peter and Paul went on a trip – what would they see and think about what happened to our Church down through the centuries?

If they came into our parish – what would be their comments?

If they sat down at our table or on our couch in our home – what would be their impressions?

If we sat down with them – what would be our questions?

I don’t know what Peter and Paul would see – but I do know a few questions that I would ask.

I’d ask both what was their most important message? Would I find that message in the 2 Letters of Peter – attributed to him - in the New Testament – and the 14 Letters of Paul in the New Testament – 7 of them surely attributed to him – and the other 7 - attributed to him at times and associated with him most of the time?

I’d ask both of them: “What was the most important moment of their life? Was it the day they met Christ – Peter at the lakeside in Galilee – Paul on the road to Damascus?”  I’d ask both if their mistakes dominated their lives – Paul being in on the death of Christians like Stephen – and Peter in denying Jesus on the night of his arrest – after the Last Supper?

In other words: what would be most important part of their life, Christ, or their Call or Conversion to Christ? Or are both linked?

Would they ask me: what do you see is your call in life? Would they ask: what have been my conversion moments?

Would Paul ask me: Have I ever fallen on my face – being so blind – that I couldn’t see that I was hurting others?

Would Peter ask me: Have I ever put my foot in my mouth like he did – and lived to get over it – but with more understanding of myself and others because of my mistakes?

If I had some more moments with them, I’d ask them if they knew about the wooden statues here in St. Mary’s – in our old communion rail – Peter with a book in his hands and the keys to the kingdom in the other hand – and Paul with a sword in his hand – indicating the tradition that he was beheaded – and he too has a book in  his hands. 




If I had some more time and they had some more time on their trip, I’d ask them if they knew about Santa Maria del Popolo Church in Rome.



I figure that would catch their attention – being so specific. And when they asked what I was talking about, I’d tell them that way back in 1099 in Rome, Pope Pascal II had a walnut tree in Rome chopped down. It was always populated by scary black crows.  The people in that area of Rome were saying that area was haunted by the Ghost of Nero – and then I’d add, “I heard both of you were killed by Nero in Rome in the 60’s.”

If they asked, “Where did you hear that?” I’d say, “That’s what Eusebius of Caesarea said in the 4th century.”

If they then said, “Okay, but tell us about this church of Santa Maria del Popolo in Rome?”

I’d say that the church was a chapel at first then added onto  – then totally rebuilt – and many of the biggies were in on its decorations – and rebuilds -  names like Della Rovere and Raphael and Bernini.  Then I’d appeal to their vanity and say: “There are 2 Caravaggio’s in that church – one of you Peter and one of you Paul.”

I’d expect both to perk up at that and say, “I hear they are worth millions.”

Then I’d expect them to ask: “How did this fellow Caravaggio picture us.”




I’d tell Paul that you’re on the ground in armor – having fallen off your horse – on your way to arrest and kill Christians. Then I’d add – it’s a perfect picture for Caravaggio – because he loved light – and Luke in the Acts of the Apostles says you saw the light that day.



I’d tell Peter that he’s being crucified upside down – as I heard you requested. Unlike Paul in his armor – you’re like Jesus in a loin cloth – and it seems like you’re looking elsewhere – even though there is this horrible looking nail – right through your hand – into the cross.

I’d wonder what they would think about all these things.

CONCLUSION

I also wonder what you think about Peter and Paul. This weekend we celebrate their place in our faith life. Take a trip in your mind – and see what questions come up – questions you have for them – and questions they have for you. In the year 65 or so - when they were killed - they certainly had no idea what would happen to our world with Christ in it - till the end of the world.

I also wonder about the Gdczukesis’ Brothers – Peter and Paul Gdczukesis. Like Peter and Paul they had no idea what the future would bring. They had had no idea – when they made that first retreat - what would happen in the future of so many as a result.

I think of the generations of Catholics to come – how many of them will stand up in the banquet of heaven and toast us – because – because of us – their faith in Jesus Christ became real.

Amen.



FOOTPRINTS 

Poem for Today - Sunday - June 29, 2014



A  PSALM  OF  LIFE

What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
   Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
   And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
   Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
   Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
   Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
   And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
   Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
   In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
   Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
   Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
   Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
   We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
   Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
   Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
   Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
   With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
   Learn to labor and to wait.


© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Saturday, June 28, 2014

THE  SET  OF  A  SOUL 

Poem for Today - June 28, 2014





THE WINDS OF FATE

One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.
Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
Which tells us the way to go. 

Like the winds of the seas are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life:
Tis the set of a soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.


© Ella Wheeler Wilcox 

Friday, June 27, 2014

MAYA ANGELOU

Poem for Today - Friday - June 27, 2014




PHENOMENAL  WOMAN

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me. 

© Maya Angelou




Thursday, June 26, 2014

RUMI  
CIRCLES 


Poem for Today - June 26, 2014





Inside water a water wheel turns,
The star circulates with the Moon,
We live in a night ocean wondering:
What are these lights?
You have said what you are -
I am what I am.
Your actions in my head,
My head here and my hands
With something circling inside-
I have no name for what circles so perfectly

© Rumi, translation
by Coleman Barks
Published on July 11, 2012



Wednesday, June 25, 2014

JUST DO IT!

Poem for Today - June 25, 2014 - Wednesday





IT COULDN’T BE DONE

Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it;"
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.


© Edgar A. Guest [1881-1959]