WORLD WAR I POEM # 2

August 19, 2014

IN THE TRENCHES

From the trenches he heard the blast
of bombs booming in the near distance,
saw the heavy clump of black smoke
twisting like a tornado;
and thought of life back home:
a wife and kids full of love and concern.

It was once the picture of the perfect life-
the dog bathed on Sunday mornings,
the pop-corned ice cream visits to the park
by evening. But now, as he huddled there
under the raised mount of protection,
he looks around at the new family:
hard-faced men dressed
in heavily-clad war drab,
holding cold, hard metal, firing;
ready to die yet hoping, remembering
the family they left back home. 

© Nicholas Damion Alexander

3 THINGS  TO  THINK ABOUT  

FROM  TODAY’S  3  READINGS  

INTRODUCTION

The title of my thoughts for this 20th Monday in Ordinary Time is, “3 Things to Think About from Today’s 3 Readings.”

Today’s readings have several issues that all of us need to make decisions about.

1^ST  ISSUE: HOW GOD OPERATES?

Does God take away our loved ones?  Does God zap people? Does God cause bad things to happen to good people? Does God go bad things to bad people? Does God try to teach people by sending them troubles? Does God tell people not to cry – not to feel the death of loved ones?

In today’s first reading from Ezekiel 24: 15-24, he says he heard God saying: “I am going to take away the delight of your eyes.”  This is his wife – who soon dies.

Then he hears God saying, “Groan in silence, make no lament for the dead.”

Then Ezekiel hears God saying that the people are going to be whacked and zapped and punished for their sins and evil doings.

If you are over 21 or 35 you’ve thought about how God operates and you probably have told others how you see God’s will working in our lives.

How do you see how God operates?

In the Our Father we say every time to God, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.”

We’re praying that God’s kingdom come, God’s will be done.

How specific do we make God’s will to be?

It seems that much of life happens whether we’re alive or whether we exist  or not. Life has been going on for a long time now. The sun rises; the sun sets.  People laugh and people cry. People celebrate births and scream at deaths. I had a funeral this weekend of a 45 year old – who died of complications from alcoholism and the death of an 101 year – due to old age.

Of course exercise and good eating and living habits work better for good health than if we overeat or overdrink or over couch potato ourselves.

Of course, we hear about great athletes falling over dead – sometimes after getting a great medical checkup or what have you – and an autopsy shows it’s genetic or what have you.

So the first issue is how God works: what does God’s will mean? How deeply is God involved in every specific event that happens in life? Does God cry when a baby dies? If God is all powerful, why doesn’t he prevent blindness and car accidents and cancer and killings and wars and random nuttiness?  If we want to be able to drive a car and it has a steering wheel – and we get distracted or fall asleep and we veer into the opposite lane and hit another car – is it God’s job to grab that steering wheel? What about people who enjoy a drink and they drink too much this specific night? Is it God’s job to notice all these things and to elbow someone else to notice it as well and get them to take away someone’s car keys?

We have to factor into our answer: mystery, freedom of choice, various scripture quotes that present contradictory answers to this question – and various other considerations.

2^ND ISSUE: DOES GOD GET ANGRY AT THOSE WHO FORGET HIM?

Today’s Psalm response is not from a Psalm in the Psalm book – but from a poetic hymn from Deuteronomy 32.

It’s saying that there are repercussions when we forget God.

Of course. But are the repercussions the ones we hear in today’s reading from Deuteronomy 32?  Does God get filled with anger and loathing? Does God provoke people – and get them to become filled with anger?

3^rd ISSUE: NOT LETTING THINGS POSSESS US

Today’s Gospel - Matthew 19: 16-22 - talks about a young man keeping the commandments – keeping the Golden Rule by loving his neighbor as he loves himself – but thinks there is more for him to do to be perfect – so Jesus tells him to  drop everything – give up everything – and not let things possess him.

Do we have here the heart of the matter – of what is the Good Life – that when things possess us – we walk around sad? In fact, when we pursue possessing stuff as well as possessing or controlling others – and not God concern for others, we will find ourselves feeling sadness – as opposed to gladness. Is this how life works?

CONCLUSION

When we hear the readings at Mass – are they read to provoke us – challenge us – get us thinking in certain ways?

LISTENING  FOR 

THE UNDERNEATH, 

UNDERNEATH THE  UNDERNEATH.

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 20th Monday in Ordinary time is, “Listening For The Underneath, Underneath the Underneath.”

Welcome to all of you St Mary's High School Teachers and Staff - and a special welcome to all of you who are here for the first time. On our high school retreats, if a kid says this is his first year here, I always ask in one to one situations: "Have the other kids made you feel welcome?" 

So once more the title of my homily is, "Listening For The Underneath, Underneath The Underneath."

This is certainly a theme that we find in today’s first reading from Ezekiel the Prophet – who used many strange props and preaching and teaching tricks – to get underneath the underneath in people.

This is certainly the theme we find in today’s gospel  - when this young man comes up to Jesus and addresses him as “Teacher!”

Then he asks Jesus the secret? He asks Jesus: “What’s the good I must do to possess eternal life?”

I assume the text is here to get folks underneath the 10 commandments – and to go much, much deeper – into what’s possessing us.

What’s the bottom line? What’s underneath? What’s really going on here – underneath the underneath?

This is certainly a theme and a thought you think about many, many times with many, many kids – “Where is this kid right now? She’s certainly not here? Is it something going on at home? Or in a relationship? Or what?

What’s underneath this person’s underneath?

My original title for this homily was, “Answering The Call!”

That’s the theme a team came up with for this new year of religious education for our parish education programs.

“Answering The Call.”

I began asking myself, “What’s underneath that message?”

It’s 3 words – like last year’s theme – easy to bannerize – easy to titleize.

I began wondering – who’s calling?

I began wondering, “Is there a problem here at St. Mary’s that people are not answering calls?”

I sense this line of wonderings got me to come up with the title of my homily this morning: “Listening For The Underneath, Underneath the Underneath.”

SO A FIRST QUESTION THAT I WANT TO ASK:

“Do themes work?”

I know I asked that question to myself at this time last year – when a team came up with the theme for 2013-2014: “Every person matters.”

I don’t know about you, but that theme worked for me. I found myself listening better. I found myself looking people in the eye more. I found myself giving others more attention from my command center in my brain than I had been doing.

I heard that theme in several homilies and on retreats and in several talks.

I sense that theme resonated with faculty and people around here.

I sense that theme – “Every Person Matters” - a quote from Pope Francis -  had more impact than themes from other years.

Then I began going underneath a bit more….

I wondered if the team – or the folks who came up with last year’s theme – did any polling or soft research – on the impact of that theme?  Was it better than previous themes? How would one measure that? Did we need to stress that theme more than other themes?  Were their folks around here who felt they didn’t matter? If asked on the street – could 37% of our kids state what the theme was – or what a theme was? What would be the percentage? Is there a successful percentage?  How about teachers – staff – parishioners?  If asked what the theme was in December – would more know what it was – than in September? How is it broadcast – advertised?

UNDERNEATH THE UNDERNEATH

Next I began wondering if everyone has a basic theme – underlying their life?

I thought of Hillary’s comment that was in the news a few weeks back when she criticized Barack about his foreign policy plan – that it was no plan.

She said his plan: “Not doing anything stupid” – or “Not doing stupid things” -  is not a plan.

I am glad that conversation was started – because it got me saying to myself: “Not doing stupid things is a very wise plan.”

Then underneath that thought,  I said to myself, “That’s my foreign policy plan.”

I also thought that my basic motivation – my basic life plan – to be perfectly honest is: “I do what I do to be liked.” 

Then having admitted that to myself, I added, “Does anyone do things to be disliked?”

I don’t think so, but sometimes when I see people I judge to be odd – doing odd things – doing stupid things – doing things others think are nutty – I wonder.

I also realized others might not have as their major goal in life – to be liked – they have something else as their major goal or plan: to be comfortable or to be in control.

It was after these thoughts I said to myself:  “Underneath there has to be multiple plans going on – all at the same time – one predominating all the time or most of the time.

So awareness would be a first step. Seeing other possibilities would be the next step. Decisions to change or remain the same would be a third step. Changing and practicing new behaviors and ways of thinking would the fourth step.

Last night I heard during a football game that Michael Jordan worked on one specific skill that he thought he needed – or needed improvement on – every off season – say a jump shot from a specific spot – or what have you.  The commentator had said that of some football player on the field – had worked on footwork or something in the off season. Did he take ballet lessons or tango dancing lessons or what?

I remembered playing a 3 on 3 basketball game once – at Dunwoodie in New York. 3 of us priests would go there every Monday for 3 classes for Pastoral Counseling Skills and then play basketball after lunch for an hour or so. Well I have the ball. I’m out beyond the foul line dribbling the ball – watching and about to make some kind of move or play – and the guy covering me, Neil Connolly, is not in front of me – but to my right – and it was noticeable and while dribbling I said, “Why are you standing there?” And he said, “You can’t go to your left.” And I said, “What?” And he said, “That’s one of the first things I learned in basketball camp as a kid.”  Here I was 33 and never knew that about myself. I couldn’t dribble and go to my left.

I still remember that moment at the age of 74.  What are the things I do and don’t do?  What are things I don’t know I’m doing or not doing?

When it comes to theology and politics I certainly go to the left – and don’t go to the right.

UNDERNEATH

So my question this morning is my title, “What’s underneath the underneath?”

So the title of my homily this morning is, “Listening For The Underneath, Underneath the Underneath.”

So the theme for this year is, “Answering the Call.”

I would assume that underneath that theme is the issue of listening – listening to what’s underneath my skin – underneath my thinking – underneath my talking to myself.

I would assume that we first need to listen to the calls inside of me – before I hear the calls from others.

I hear Mary Oliver’s quote. It’s on one of those cube quote boxes in my room – within eye shot: “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life!”

I would assume there are various calls – underneath the underneaths – of our life and our life plans.

What gets me out of bed in the morning?

What gets me out of bed some mornings faster than other mornings? Is it weekends?

What makes me tick?

Does anyone have a list of basic ticks – motives – calls?

What are the calls I’m hearing?

What are the calls I tend to put on hold?

Do I avoid calling a sister or a parent or a friend – or my God?

While working on this homily – I thought of basic motives – under the letter “C”

Comparisons, contrasts, compassion, competition, control, challenge, cash, Christ….

Why do I teach? Why do I do anything?

Do I take the time to listen to the underneaths underneath my underneaths?

CONCLUSION

Conclusion – a great C word.

So in working on this homily I said to myself: I liked last year’s theme, “Every person matters” better than other year themes.

I like it better than this years’ theme: “Answering the Call.” – yet maybe by next year – I’ll say, “Not bad. I learned a lot from that one.”

Not bad, because I am like this guy in today’s gospel – who didn’t follow Jesus’ call – after he heard it – because so many things were possessing him. Amen. 

WORLD WAR I POEM # 1

Poem for Today - August 2014       

THE GREEN FIELDS OF FRANCE

Well how do you do, Private William MacBride
do you mind if I sit here by your graveside?
And I'll rest for a while in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done.

I see by your gravestone that you were only 19
when you joined the dead heroes in 1915.
Well I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
or Willie MacBride was it slow and obscene?

Well the sun's shining now on these green fields of France,
a warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance.
The trenches have vanished under the plow
no gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.

But here in this graveyard that is still No Man's land
the countless white crosses in mute witness stand.
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
to a whole generation that was butchered and damned.

And I can't help but wonder now Willie MacBride
do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
Did you really believe them that this war would end wars?

Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame -
the killing and dying - it was all done in vain.
Oh Willie MacBride, it's all happened again
and again, and again, and again, and again.

And did you leave wife or a sweetheart behind,
in some faithful heart are you forever enshrined?
And though you died back in 1915
to some faithful heart are you forever 19?

©  Eric Bogle

DEMONS 

[The following is  a  story I made up last night for today’s gospel story of the Canaanite woman – in Matthew 15: 21-28. I’ve always had trouble and wonderings about this story – so writing a story helps me put some meaning into it. I like writing stories – and I know something’s happening when I begin to wonder where the story is going and how it’s going to end.]

She brought her daughter to a half dozen hospitals and clinics in the city and nobody – no nobody - could help her. 

Nobody could heal her. Nobody could hear her daughter’s pain and her daughter’s horrors. 

Like an angry dog her demons barked in the basement of her mind – often keeping this daughter of God awake and crying in the night.

Her mother also brought her to priests and ministers, shrinks and specialists.

It seemed nobody knew what to do. It seemed after a while nobody really cared. Her daughter was an impossible case. 

 Next.

It seemed to her mom that even God had abandoned her and her daughter. It seemed Jesus didn’t care  – every time she brought her daughter to sit with her in her favorite church. Many an afternoon the two of them would sit in a bench -  in the second row  - off to the side – sort of in the dark - near the candles - of this little used Catholic Church – in the big city.

Her mom would pray and pray and pray to Jesus in the tabernacle – in the Blessed Sacrament. Her mom would  beg and beg. It seemed Jesus wasn’t  listening – wasn’t helping. Wasn’t he the one who said, “If you have faith, you’ll keep on knocking on God’s doors?”

Her daughter - with these unspeakable demons – would sometimes yell out in that big empty church. Sometimes she scratch her arms – sometimes to the point of bleeding. Luckily, nobody else was ever in the church.

Her daughter was 21 – had been in several institutions – usually for 2 or 3 days at a time – for observation - and had been dismissed from them all. Nobody could come up with a diagnosis. What to do? Where to turn? What now? What next?

Well, one afternoon, a 56 year old nun – which is young for a nun in many religious orders these days -  just happened to drop into that little used Catholic Church.

Let the healing begin.

She had spotted the church  - when the bus she was sitting in - stalled - right outside that particular church – at  that particular moment.

The nun got up from her window seat in the bus – walked to the front – went down the 3 steps - and carefully slipped by the steam and the smoke that was hissing -  out from under the motor of that bus.

The driver had said, “Sorry! Something’s wrong folks! Better get out of the bus – till I get some help here.”

The nun walked up the 4 stone steps of the church. She opened the big wooden center door. She then opened the inner doors and walked into this big empty church – which she have never seen before.

She knelt  down to pray – in a back bench - first a prayer for the bus driver -  and then for all the passengers – that everyone would be safe and get home to their families okay.

It was then that she heard the girl with the demons letting out a few shrieks of pain – somewhere down front and off to the side in the church.

The nun, Sister Mary Patrick, reached for her bag – and was about to head back out the front door. She heard a woman say, “Calm down honey. Calm down. We’re in God’s house. We’re in God’s house - now.”

All was quiet again.

The nun said a prayer for whomever was yelling or hurting.

Then she heard, “Mom, there’s someone back there. There’s someone in the back of the church. Maybe we should leave.”

Both got up and headed for the back of the church….

Spotting the nun, the mother said, “Hello Sister, hello. Could you say a prayer for my daughter? Could you give her a blessing.”

Pause.

“Yes,” the nun said. Then nervously she continued, “Let’s say the Lord’s Prayer together.”

Surprise, the young girl reached out her hands – one to the nun and one to her mom.

And they prayed the Our Father together.

Then the mother introduced herself and her daughter, Georgia, to the nun. She told the nun that Georgia was named after her dad – who disappeared a long time ago. It was just the two of them.

The nun introduced herself, “Hi. I’m Sister Mary Patrick.”

Then the mother for some reason said, “Sister can you help us?  My daughter and I need prayers and healing.”

And then they sat down in that same bench.  Then they told Sister Mary Patrick the whole story.

Sister Mary Patrick asked the young girl, “Do you have a job?”

“No!”

Then she asked her mom, “Do you have a job?”

“No!” said the mother as well.

“Well,” said Sister Mary Patrick, “I take care of old nuns and I sure could use some  help. I can pay both of you at least the minimum wage and a tiny bit more  - but that’s all I can pay.”

And the rest of the story is a story of healing – a healing that started that day in that tiny little forgotten church in this big city.

The old nuns - the 3 of them began to serve – were bed ridden or in wheel chairs – in a big - 3 story old convent – about 13 blocks away from that church. Good thing it had an elevator.

Georgia, her mom, and Sister Mary Patrick – became quite a team. It was bedpans – lifting – lots of lifting – lots of meals – and lots of love.

The old nuns fell in love with Georgia and her mom – and Georgia found healing and peace – serving the old gals.

They asked about Georgia’s education – which was practically non-existent. Well, that changed. In fact in 2 years time they had Georgia going to a community college – having got her high school equivalency – home school nun style mind you.

This is a story of healing – and it has a happy ending – Georgia eventually met a neat guy in her job as a dental hygienist  – began dating – got married – had 3 kids and a great life together – and her mom – her mom became a great granny. And Sister Mary Patrick – well – she was able to get more help and continued to serve her sisters and from time to time Georgia and her husband and 3 kids – as well as her mom – would drop into see the sisters – and Georgia would say, “This is where it all happened kids – the place where your mom got well.”

Then with a big smile she'd finish, “Well, well, well, as the story goes. Amen.”

BACK TO SCHOOL #2 

Poem for Today - August 17, 2014

SONNETEERING MADE EASY

I

With hyphens, clip off endings that don't fit;

We call this “Hyper-Technic Line Expan-”

It has a certain rhythmic swing to it

That can't be got with ordinary scan‑

Pentameter, iambic, is the rule

They teach in every other Sonnet School;

But we have found it simpler, if not nea-­

To take occasional liberties with me‑

Three quatrains and a couplet is the length

Of Shakespeare's sonnets, and of those by Mil-

It's standardized, like cheese from Brie or Stil­-

The only difference being in the strength.

So now that we have settled length and ti-

Our Lesson Number II involves the rhy‑

II

You'll note the scheme, “a,” “b,” “a,” “b,” above

In Quatrain One; that's perfectly O.K.

If something different's what you're thinking of,

See Quatrain Three, with its “a,” “b,” “b,” “a.”

For mittel quatrains we prefer to reck‑

With what the Germans, in their “schonnet-sprech-”

Employ: “a,” “a,” “b,” “b;” ja, that's correct;

No German schonnet's e'er been besser sprecht.

So mix your “a”s and “b”s, your “b”s and “a”s

To suit your own convenience; any son-

Will have our professorial blessings on

If it is rhymed in one of these three ways.

The metre, length, and rhyme scheme now are def-

­La porte est ouverte—simply put la clef.

III

The only item still to be discussed

Is subject matter, and we think you'll find

That Love is one that you can always trust

(Though Milton did quite well On Being Blind).

So Love it is, the simplest of all top‑

Like “Frozen Love” or else “Love in the Trop-”

If you feel good, try “Love Is Here to Stay,” 

And if you don't, there's “Love Has Gone Away.”

Love's hot or cold; it moves like a thermom-

­It's in, it's out, it's either up or down;

It's in the country or it staved in town—

A Fair or Stormy, Wet or Dry barom-

So get a pencil and a piece of pa‑

And you're all set to start “The Sonnet Ca-”

© S. B. Botsford

Page 663-664

In The New Yorker

Book of Poems,

Selected by the Editors

Of the New Yorker,

Morrow Quill Paperbacks,

New York, 1974

BACK TO SCHOOL 

Poem for Today - August 16, 2014

A  LESSON  IN  HANDWRITING 

Try first this figure 2,

how, from the point of the pen,

clockwise it unwinds itself

downward to the line,

making itself a pedestal to stand on.

Watch now. Before your eyes it becomes a swan

drifting across the page, its neck so carefully

poised, its inky eye

lowered in modesty.

As you continue, soon,

between the thin blue lines,

swan after swan sails beautifully past you,

margin to margin, 2 by 2 by 2—

a handwritten swirl of swans.

Under them now unroll

the soft, curled pillows of the 6's,

the acrobatic 3's, the angular 7's,

the hourglass 8's, and the neat tadpole 9's,

each passing in review

on stilts or wheels or platforms

in copybook order.

Turn the page, for now

comes the alphabet, an eccentric

parade of odd characters. If at first you tangle,

now and again, in a loop or a twirl,

no matter. Each in time will dawn

as faces and animals do, familiar,

laughable, crooked, quirky.

Begin with the letter S. Already

it twists away from the pen like a snake or a watch spring,

coiled up and back to strike. SSSS, it says,

hissing and slithering off into the ferns of the F’s.

Follows a line of stately Q's floating

just off the ground, tethered by their tails,

over the folded arms of the W's

and the akimbo M's. Open-eyed, the O's

roll after them like bubbles blown away.

Feel how the point curls round them lovingly

after the serious three-tongued E's.

See now how the page fills up

with all the furniture of writing—the armchair H’s,

the ladders and trestles of A's and Y's and X's,

the T-shaped tables and the upholstered B's.

The pen abandons a whole scaffolding

of struts and braces, springs and balances,

on which will rest eventually

the weight of a written world, storey on storey

of words and vows, all the long-drawn-out telling

that pens become repositories of.

These are now your care, and you may give them

whatever slant or human twist you wish

if it should please you. But you will not alter

their scrawled authority, durable

as stone, silent, grave, oblivious

of all you make them tell.

Tomorrow, words begin.

© Alastair Reid

Pages 381-382

In The New Yorker

Book of Poems,

Selected by the Editors

Of the New Yorker,

Morrow Quill Paperbacks,

New York, 1974