Monday, July 21, 2014

BECAUSE OF FRIENDSHIP 

Poem for Today - July 21, 2014



THE PLAN

My old friend, the owner
of a new boat, stops by
to ask me to fish with him,

and I say I will - both of us
knows that we may never
get around to it, it may be

years before we're both
idle again on the same day.
But we make a plan, anyhow,

in honor of friendship
and the fine spring weather
and the new boat

and our sudden thought
of the water shining
under the morning fog.


© Wendell Berry
page 22 in
Collected Poems
1957-1982

Sunday, July 20, 2014

EXPECT  WEEDS


INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)  is, “Expect  Weeds.”

I knew a couple who had a perfect front lawn – not a blade of grass was out of place. It could have been a great green for the 18th Hole at Augusta.

Their house was perfect – inside and out.

Once inside, everything was just right, neat, and always clean. There wasn’t a nick in any piece of furniture – nor a speck of dust on any knickknack.

Then they had children: 4 boys to be exact.

I noticed early on they had one of those folding fences – at the entrance to their living room. That wooden squeezing fence was a reminder to their boys that this room was out of bounds territory.

Then one day that wall was left open. 

Mom and dad had calmed down. 

They had learned to relax about nicks in the furniture as well as footballs and water guns left next to the legs of a chair in a living room. In fact, that room, finally became what it was called to be: "A living room"- a room lived in by all the family.

If you get that story, you get this homily.

TODAY’S GOSPEL - MATTHEW 13: 24-43

Today’s gospel tells the story of the wheat and the weeds.

Do you get this story?

Being a slob – I love this gospel.

Being a priest – and being myself – I know everyone has weeds, mistakes, sins in their story.

Expect weeds.

Let him or her without weeds or dust, cut or mess, cast the first sneer. [Cf. John 8:7]

So as the parable goes: "A man sowed wheat seed in his field.” 

That was during the day.  


Then at night while everyone was sleeping, as Jesus tells the story, an enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat.

I never thought of weeds having seeds.  I just thought weeds happened - sneaking into the picture in the night.

If you can't picture that, can you picture  hackers out there in the middle of the night planting viruses in computers – just for the heck of it – as a game -  just to prove they can do it – or to gain money or information or they are nosy or what have you?  How many people have turned on their computers in the morning and said, “Oh no!” and felt just like the guy in the gospel and said, "An enemy has done this."

Seeing both wheat and weeds growing together in the field his servants ran to tell the farmer to tell him what happened. 

Then they asked him if they should pluck out the weeds.

"Nope," said the farmer – "you might uproot the wheat as well. Let them both grow till harvest time – and then I’ll say to the harvesters, 'First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barns.'” 

As I read that I said to myself, "Easy for him to say that…."

The gospel also talks about leaven and about the mustard plants – but today let me concentrate on the wheat and the weeds.

Last week I preached on the human reality that we are part of all that we have met.  This week I want to continue on that theme – and say that all of us are like a field that has both wheat and weeds.

I’ve heard that even the neatest person there is – always has some bottom drawer, some closet, some spot that is quite messy – a place they don’t want anyone to know about.

I love to say: show me the trunk of your car and I’ll tell you who you are.

Some people are neater than others. Some people have less weeds than others. Some people have more.

You’ve heard this gospel. You know it’s message.

HOMEWORK: RELEASE YOUR INNER ARTIST

For homework, even though it’s summer time, get out a piece of paper and a box of crayons and draw yourself as a front lawn, or a garden, or a field.

What do you look like? What do you want growing in your garden or field? What does it look like now? Do you admit to any weeds? Do you picture yourself as the perfect garden? Do you have any weeds growing up next to your white picket fence? Are there any weeds growing in the cracks of the sidewalk leading up to your front door?

Draw a picture of your soul?  What do you see in yourself? Have you ever made a mistake?  What does your inner room look like – that real self Jesus tells us to enter into every once in a while. It’s that place where only you see? Is it ever opened? Is it neat or messy? Is the furniture filled with dust? [Cf. Matthew 6:6]

Wheat or weeds? Which is more me? Or am I both? What are the percentages: 75-25? 50-50? 63-33?

A Servant in Shakespeare’s King Richard the Second, Act 3, Scene 3, line 44, says,
“our sea-walled garden, the whole land
Is full of weeds; her fairest flowers choked up,
Her fruit-trees all unpruned, her hedges ruin’d,
Her knots disorder’d, and her wholesome herbs
Swarming with caterpillars.”

Now if you drew that scene with your crayons – would that be the real you?

Ooooooh…. Oooooh. What would it feel like if the garden or field or front lawn of your soul was full of weeds – with unpruned trees, hedges ruined, and crawly, crawly caterpillars crawling and eating away at your best herbs?

Walk around St. Mary’s Gardens – right outside our church – and compare it to yourself – your soul – your inner you.

Pause………. What am I preaching about today?

THREE BOTTOM LINES

Three bottom lines: I’m asking myself and all of us three questions today:

First of all: what am I really like? Come on. Be honest. We have at least one weed in our cracks.

Secondly: Do I accept myself as having weeds – along with my wheat?

Thirdly: how much?

Jesus is talking about end times – like the final judgment – like at death.

I’m thinking it’s a good idea to do some doodling on what I’m really like – like today – like this weekend – like right now.

The obvious goal is to be more wheat than weeds – to move towards becoming bread, Eucharist, food for others.

Of course for the Christian - the goal of life to say to the world every day: “This is my body, this is my blood, I’m giving my life to you.”

Take me – eat me up – benefit from me.

However, if I’m honest, I have my weeds. I might have even inhaled it – gone to pot – but please Lord, I’m trying – weeds and all – to be a nice lawn, field, meal for others.

CONCLUSION

I don't know how to end this homily, so let me turn today’s three readings into three short prayers:

First reading: 
                     Lord, I’m not you. 
                     You are you.
                     You are my Redeemer. 
                     Don’t condemn me. 
                     Forgive me. 
                     Attend to me –
                     so I can do your good deeds today.

Second reading: 
                     Lord, send your Spirit into me. 
                     You search hearts. 
                     You know me. 
                     You know I don’t know 
                     how to put all this into words – 
                     but please understand 
                     and interpret my groanings
                     and my grumblings.
                     Realize these are 
                     my messy attempts at prayer.


Gospel reading: 
                    Lord, to be honest,
                    I’m a field of wheat and weeds. 
                    Help me to grow 
                    more wheat than weeds. 
                    Then, when I am ready,
                    leaven this mass of
                    wheat dough - the better me.
                    Help me to become 
                    a great loaf of bread so
                    I can share myself and be
                    in communion with others.
                    And Lord, please, 
                    don't forget to provide me 
                    with good mustard. 
                    Hot dog! Amen. O Lord. Amen.
TWO  WOMEN 


Poem for Today - Sunday July 20, 2014



IN  MIND

There's in my mind a woman
of innocence, unadorned but

fair-featured and smelling of
apples or grass. She wears

a utopian smock or shift, her hair
is light brown and smooth, and she

is kind and very clean without
ostentation--

but she has
no imagination

And there's a
turbulent moon-ridden girl

or old woman, or both,
dressed in opals and rags, feathers

and torn taffeta,
who knows strange songs

but she is not kind.





© Denise Levertov

Saturday, July 19, 2014

MARRIAGE 
WITH  A  SMILE  

Poem for Today - July 19, 2014




SCAFFOLDING

Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;

Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

And yet all this comes down when the job’s done
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me

Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall,
Confident that we have built our wall.


© Seamus Heaney

Friday, July 18, 2014

WHAT  WILL  YOU  SAY  AND  SEE 
ABOUT YOUR LIFE 
AT  THE  MOMENT  OF  YOUR  DEATH?




Poem for Today - July 18, 2014

ON THE DEATH OF THE BELOVED

Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
 Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.

Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives,
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.

The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.

Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being,
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.

Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was alive, awake, complete.

We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.

© John O’Donohue
page 184 in Benedictus,
A Book of Blessings,
Bantam Press, 2007


Thursday, July 17, 2014

NIGHT  PRAYER 

Poem for Today - July 17, 2014


THE INNER HISTORY 
OF A DAY

No one knew the name of this day;
Born quietly from deepest night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for itself,
Opened out to offer each of us
A field of brightness that traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to show the way.

The mind of the day draws no attention;
It dwells within the silence with elegance
To create a space for all our words,
Drawing us to listen inward and outwards.

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.

So at the end of this day, we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one.


© John O’Donohue,
Page 175 in Benedictus
A Book of Blessings,
Bantam Press


Wednesday, July 16, 2014

CONFLICT 
RESOLUTION 

Poem for Today - July 16, 2014





FOR LOVE
IN A TIME OF CONFLICT

When the gentleness between you hardens
And you fall out of your belonging with each other,
May the depths you have reached hold you still.

When no true word can be said, or heard,
And you mirror each other in the script of hurt,
When even the silence has become raw and torn,
May you hear again an echo of your first music.

When the weave of affection starts to unravel
And anger begins to sear the ground between you,
Before this weather of grief invites
The black seed of bitterness to find root,
May your souls come to kiss.

Now is the time for one of you to be gracious,
To allow a kindness beyond thought and hurt,
Reach out with sure hands
To take the chalice of your love,
And carry it carefully through this echoless waste
Until this winter pilgrimage leads you
Towards the gateway to spring.


© John O’Donohue
Page 50 in Benedictus,
A Book of Blessings,
Bantam Press