Friday, August 15, 2014

ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT MARY

Poem for Today - August 15, 2014


SONNET 41

In Mary's body miracles took place
Expressions, Yahweh, of Your holy plan.
She danced in You before her life began,
Conception sweetly clean, without a trace
Of sin or imperfection, full of grace.
As conceived, so conceived in Anne;
So conceived the way the Son of Man
Would enter time, would join the human race.
In Mary's body, normal flesh and blood,
A spirit lived unburdened, free to love.
Normal soul and body, hand in glove,
She was as You intended: simply good.
Singularly normal in this wise,
She bridged the gap from earth to paradise.



© Christopher Fitzgerald
Painting: Virgin With Child
Mikhail Vrubel,
detail of Mary's Face


Thursday, August 14, 2014



ST.  MAXIMILIAN KOLBE


1894 - 1941

Here is a painting of Saint Maximilian Kolbe by a friend of mine, Al Pacitti.

St. Maximilian Kolbe was killed in 1941 in Auschwitz, Poland. It was by lethal injection. Notice his prison uniform.

He was a member of Conventual Franciscans. Notice his religious habit.

He spoke out against the Nazis - and was imprisoned.

In July of 1941 - 3 prisioners disappeared  - and the German camp commandant chose 10 men to die by starvation. One of the 10, a Franciszek Gajowniczek screamed out that he had a wife and kids. At that Max Kolbe volunteered to take his place.

"A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends." [Cf. John 15:13]





IMAGES 
SEEING THE IMAGES, 
MEDITATING ON THE IMAGES - 
THE GRASP OF MEDITATION 

August 14, 2014

MEDITATION

Collect your mind’s fragments
that you may fill yourself
bit by bit with Meaning:
the slave who meditates
the mysteries of Creation
for sixty minutes
gains more merit
than from sixty years
of fasting and prayer.
Meditation:
high-soaring hawk
of Intellect's wrist
resting at last
on the flowering branch
of the Heart:
this world and the next
are hidden beneath
its folded wing.
Now perched before
the mud hut
which is Earth
now clasping with its talons
a branch of the Tree
of Paradise
soaring here
striking there—cacti moment
fresh prey
gobbling a mouthful of moonlight
wheeling away
beyond the sun
darting between the Great Wheel's
star-set spokes, it rips to shreds
the Footstool and Throne
a pigeon's feather
in its beak
or a comet
till finally free of everything
it alights, silent
on a topmost bough.
Hunting is king's sport,
not just anyone's
pastime
but you?
you’ve hooded the falcon
-        What can I say? –
Clipped its pinions
broken its wings …
alas.


© Sana’i (Persian Sufi poet)

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

ON THE BORDERS  
OF ENLIGHTENMENT 

Poem for Today - August 13, 2014


SOUL

When we are able to place
ourselves inside the wings
of the butterfly and feel its
fluid motion,

When we are able to enter the
head of the ant and see through
its eyes, and to feel the
burden of the bread that
lies upon its back:

This is the time when we are
enlightened
and only begin to
touch upon the borders
of the eternal spirit
the borders of the soul.

© Eamon J. McEneaney,
Page 32 in
A Bend in the Road,
Poems by Eamon J. Mceneaney

Cornell University Press

Tuesday, August 12, 2014


WE BECOME 
WHAT  WE  EAT 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 19th Tuesday in Ordinary Time is, “We Become What We Eat.”

That’s a 5 word bumper sticker truism if we ever heard one.

“We Become What We Eat.”

TODAY’S FIRST READING

Today’s first reading from the 2nd and 3rd chapters of the Prophet Ezekiel triggers this homily. 

Ezekiel is told to take and eat.

So he takes the scroll – which has writing on both sides – eats it – digests it – then speaks it out in his homily. I get that. I do that.

We get that image – because we do this very thing every day. Take and eat. Take and read. 

So we’re familiar with Ezekiel’s words – because we’re familiar with this everyday reality.

We’re all ears. We’re all mouth. We're all eyes.

We spend our days taking it all in - digesting it - processing it - being effected by everything.

We become what we read. We become what we eat. We are the evening news. We are Morning TV shows. We are our conversations. We are our coffee breaks. We are our comments and our gossip. We are our phone calls. We are our e-mails. We are out everyday conversations.

We are what we eat. We still remember those words we heard years ago: “Garbage in – garbage out.”  “Good stuff in – good outcome coming out.”

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Today’s gospel - Matthew 18: 1-5, 10, 12-14 -  has Jesus telling us to become like little children.

Children hear English coming into their ears and English comes out their mouths. So too Chinese – so too Russian and Arabic.

We are formed by our environment - our surroundings - the atmosphere we breathe in - each moment.

Children hear love coming into their ears – and the outcome is love.



Movies in, movies out.  I keep chewing on that scene in the movie, 42 – the life of Jackie Robinson – when the little kid goes out to the game to see this new player on the national scene – he goes out with excitement – and then he hears his father screaming “Nigger” at Jackie Robinson. It shocks the kid – a possible hero is crucified on the infield at Crosley Field, in Cincinnati. And then the kid - in imitation of his dad, also yells out, “Nigger”.


We become what we eat; we become what we hear; we become our parents; we become our teachers and out TV personalities.

Movies move us. News nudge us. We become what we see, and hear and touch.

Listen to people and you’ll hear reruns of the news.

THE MASS

So we get the Mass – that’s why we’re here. We’re  here to hear. We’re here to eat. We’re here for communion with each other and with the Lord. We’re here to eat. We’re here to digest. We’re here to chew. We’re here to become one with Christ and the Body of Christ.

So at each Mass we hear words and they become us. We eat bread and drink wine and they become us.

We talk to ourselves about what we hear at Mass and at Mass we talk to ourselves about what we heard last night – or today – all being digested in the belly of our minds – as our belly is still digesting food from our tables.

So we get the description of the mass as a meal  - with two tables – the table of the word and the table of the Eucharist.  We get that because we talk and listen to each other at tables – as we eat our Cheerios or our meatloaf, eat our bread and drink our water or wine.

 Even those who eat alone – sometimes have a book or a newspaper or a magazine in front of them – or the TV or radio in the background.

We’re always eating. We’re always eating two things: food and words.

CONCLUSION

So we get today’s first reading – about Ezekiel eating the scroll. So we get Jesus’ words about becoming little children. How becoming is that. And we get Jesus ending words in today’s gospel – that all are to be welcomed and celebrated at Mass – the Mass of humanity – as well as the 100th sheep.

As priest if I have digested what I hear grandparents and parents saying – what’s eating them up – is their worry about their lost sheep – who have left the flock.



And what eats God up – It’s the same message. Hear again the last sentence in today’s gospel: What eats God up is: “Just so, it is no part of your heavenly Father’s plan that a single one of these little ones shall ever come to grief.” Amen.


OOOOOOO

Picture on top: Pat Doherty, Plate of Donuts
TANGLED UP

Poem for Today - August 12, 2014




TANGLED UP PUPPET

I'm a tangled up puppet,
Spinning round in knots,
And the more I see what I used to be,
The less of you I've got.

There was a time that you curled up in my lap; like a child
You'd cling to me smiling, yours eyes wide and wild
Now you slip through my arms, wave a passing hello
Twist away and toss a kiss, laughing as you go

You used to say "Read me a story and sing me songs of love"
For you were Princess Paradise like your wings of a dove
Now I chase you and tease you trying to remake you my own
But you just turn away and say "please leave me alone."

And I'm a tangled up puppet
All hanging in your strings
I'm a butterfly in a spider's web
Fluttering my wings

And the more that I keep dancing
And spinning round in knots
The more I see what I used to be
And the less of you I've got

You are a drawer full of makeup and rinses and things
You keep changing your moods like your earrings and rings
But tonight while we played tag for five minutes in the yard
Just for a moment I caught you off guard
But now you write your secret poems
In a room just for your dreams
You don't find time to talk to me
About the things you mean
And what I mean is--

I have watched you take shape from a jumble of parts
And find the grace and form of a fine work of art
Hey, you, my brand new woman, newly come into your own
Don't you know that you don't need to grow up all alone


 © Harry Chapin

Monday, August 11, 2014


REGRETS

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this feast of St. Clare is, “Regrets.”

What are your thoughts about regrets?

The gist of my homily would be this. I was tempted to make it my title – but it’s much too long:  “Regrets: Forget About Them – But If You Can’t Forget Them, Then Learn To Accept Them.”

Easier – said than done.

THE FEAST OF ST. CLARE

Today – August 11th – is the Feast of St. Clare.

Ever since May of 1984 I associate St. Clare with regrets.

Let me explain ….


 I was in Assisi, Italy for one day. I took the train from Rome. After arriving at the train station  I walked up to the gigantic church – the big basilica of St. Francis.

My plan was to walk to the Basilica of St. Clare (Chiara) after seeing and being in the Basilica of St. Francis (Francessca do Assisa.

While at the big basilica for Francis  – I went down to the lower level to get to the crypgt of Francis – and surprise I run into a Mass down there – for a German youth group.

I stayed. It went well over an hour – even though I couldn’t understand a word of German – ooops I also took time to look at all the paintings by Giotta.

After that German Mass I headed out of the upstairs church and then over to the town and up the street to the Basilica of St. Clare.

It was locked. It was siesta time. However, one could see inside the church through the bars of the gate that locked the church.

I stood there – looking in - disappointed. I stood there regretting that  I didn’t get into where Clare’s body or grave was.

I still feel that mistake or choice. I still regret missing out in not visiting Clare’s grave.


 So that’s why I associate the feast of St. Clare with the theme of regrets.

Ugh.

Well, maybe someday I’ll get back there.

REGRETS



Everyone  has them – at least one.

Everyone is hit with original sin – is there something we might call, “One’s Original Regret.”

If you have some time, some space, some quiet, sit and pray and come up with 10 regrets.  Then put them in order of feeling – One being the strongest regret.

To prime the pump….

If you’re married or were married - any regrets?

Children? Any regrets?

The gift of speech? Any regrets.

The use of time: any regrets?

Those who have died: any regrets?

Those who are living: any regrets?

Regrets can be dumb things we did or didn’t do. They could be forgets. They could be sins. They could be missed opportunities.

So what are your regrets?

It’s a good question – because trying to answer questions can force us to face our lives.

FUNERAL THIS MORNING

At the 10:30 wedding this morning the wife of the man who died in his sleep said, “Good thing we talked to each other that last night because he never woke up. That was one thing I was very grateful for.

That triggers the need to look at blessings – besides the regrets of life.

FORGIVENESS

If we have regrets towards another, if we can express the sorrow we feel, great. At other times, sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.

If another is dead, we can talk to the other in prayer.

PHILOSOPHICAL

If we can’t shake a regret, we can become philosophical.

To be human, is to have regrets.

Regrets and angst are part of life.

Regrets are part pf the package, called life.

My dad was very quiet, He did a lot of walking, but very little talking. I have fond memories of going with him  to watch sandlot football games as a kid – but we never talked enough.

In time, I have learned to accept he was a great father – but also a quiet father – definitely – an introvert with a great smile – and now years later – long after his death in 1970 - I’ve wondered what was he thinking – what was he talk

CONCLUSION


So I regret not getting into St. Clare’s Basilica there in Assisi – but I’ll take what I got so far – and if I get a break – I hope to get to the Grave of St. Clare. Amen.