Monday, November 16, 2015

November 16, 2015

BELIEVE IN WHAT?

I’m taking my walk through the Naval Academy - to get my 10,000 steps 
per day- for my health.

Hundreds and hundreds of midshipmen and women 
run by me - as I keep on walking, walking, walking.

One guy runs by with a T-shirt that says in the back, “Believe.” I immediately start to think: “Believe in what?”

To beat Army, there is a God, human beings are basically good, kindness triumphs over meanness, love one another.

Then another young guy runs past me - and his T-shirt simply says, “Just do it.”


© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2015

CONTINUING  EDUCATION 
LEARN  A  LESSON  FROM  
THE  FIG  TREE.

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 33 Sunday in Ordinary Time [B] is, “Continuing Education: Learn a Lesson from the Fig Tree.”

MESSAGE

“Learn a lesson from the fig tree.”

That’s a message from Jesus from today’s gospel.

“Continuing Education….”

There are two types of people. Those who are still learning and those who have stopped learning.  Those who have open minds and those who have closed minds.  Those who see the whole world as a classroom and those who graduated from learning.

Jesus was a teacher….

If you know people who have given up on religion - especially those with Christian roots - Jesus Christ - God - faith - tell them to at least see Jesus as a great teacher. Check Jesus the Rabbi out as a Wisdom Figure Read his parables and his sayings.

Tell them to grab a Bible - dabble in it. Read the gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Mark it up with a magic marker.

Continuing education - Learn some lessons from the Bible.

THE WEDDING GIFT

I’m sure you heard the story of the uncle who gave his niece a Bible - a nice bible - in an expensive box - with white tissue wrapping - as a wedding gift.

Every time he saw her,  he’d make a tiny comment, “How’d you like that Bible I gave you.” 

And she’d always say, “Unck, thanks for that nice gift. My husband and I read it all the time.”

And he would always smile.

Years and years later his niece’s daughter was in high school and she’s doing her homework and she comes up to her mom and says, “Do we have a Bible anywhere? I need one to look up some stuff for class tomorrow.”

And her mom says, “Oh year, Uncle Jack gave us a Bible when we were married. I think I know where it is.”

So she goes to a hall closet - gets a chair - stands on it carefully - and fishes it out - a box from the back of the top shelf. “Here it is.”

And her daughter says, “Thanks!”  And she goes back to the dining room table to continue her homework.

A minute later her daughter comes running to her mom - excited - and  says, “Mom there is money in this Bible. Lots of money. All 20 dollar bills.”

Her uncle had but a 20 dollar bill at the beginning of each book of the Bible.

There’s an advantage of the Catholic Bible over the Protestant Bible. The Catholic Bible has 73 books and the Protestant Bible only 66 books.

Continuing Education: Learn a Lesson from your wedding gifts.

APPOINTMENT WITH LOVE

I’m sure you also heard the story called, “Appointment with Love” or “The Rose.”

It’s a story written by S.I. Kishor. It appeared in Collier’s Magazine in 1943. I’ve seen it in one of those Chicken Soup for the Soul books as well. I found it on line. Here it is.

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose.

His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding.

Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting — 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel."

So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. A young woman was coming toward him, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably he made one step closer to her, and then he saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.

The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. He felt as though he were being split in two, so keen was he desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. He did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful. He squared his shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while he spoke he felt choked by the bitterness of his disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"

The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!" 

That’s the story as is....

Continuing Education:  Learn a Lesson from the Writing in the Library Books.

THE CHIP IN THE DISH

I was living in Lima, Ohio, where I worked out of for 8 ½ years, before I came here to Annapolis. For about 25 weeks a year, Tom, the priest I was working with, and I, would head for a different parish - to spend a week there preaching a parish mission.

It was a wonderful experience learning about mid-America, soybeans, corn, rural life. The big 3 were: family, religion and sports.

Well, one Saturday afternoon Tom and I are traveling from Lima to Leipsic or some other small town in Northwest Ohio. I’m driving and Tom is sitting next to me as we headed for another small town - another small parish. He says, “I’m preaching at the 5 PM Mass and I have 3 stories. Which of these three should I use.”

So he reads out loud the 3 stories. I screamed when he finished: “The second one - obviously.

So at that Mass I heard him tell the story about the chip in the dish a second time.  I thought it was a great story. It goes somewhat like this.

Two women - both farm wives would sit down once a week and have a cup of tea - and share stories about their lives.

This one Thursday afternoon the visitor just happens to look into the dining room and notice that it’s all set up for company.

“Ooops,” the visitor says, “I didn’t know you were going to have company tonight. I’m out of here.”

“No. We’re not having company. Once a month we have a fancy family meal and I pull out all the stops. Come into the dining room and let me show you this great collection of old plates that I have.”

“Why keep them in a cabinet  behind glass?”

And she explained the origins of all kinds of plates - one going back to a great, great, great grandmother.

At the end of the table - where she would sit - was a plain while plate. “And this is my favorite plate of all.”

Her guest seemed puzzled - because the plate was so plain - and it had a chip in it.

“Let me explain my favorite plate. I was 17 at the time and my 3 brothers and my dad were out haying and one of my brothers had a friend with him - a good looking guy - whom I had never met before.”

“Well, all came in for supper and they put him right next to me - knowing I’d get nervous.”

“Then they were giving me the eye - trying to make me blush.”

“They told me once to fill his glass with water - because they were going back out for two more hours of work after supper. So I filled it nervously - not wanting the ice cubes to come flying out and causing a splash.”

“Well, as I was putting the heavy water pitcher back down on the table I banged my plate and caused this chip.”

“I said, ‘Oops!’ hoping nobody noticed that I chipped the plate. I moved the water pitcher right next to the edge of my plate.”

“I thought I got away with it, till the moment the men were about to go back to the fields. One of my brothers said, ‘Aren’t you going to say, “Good bye” to Frank.”  Well as I shook his hand,  he placed in my palm the small chip that had come out of my plate.”

Then she said, “Well, that chip is upstairs right now in my jewelry case. It’s the most precious thing in there. And a year later we were married.”

Continued Education: Learn a lesson for chipped or broken dishes.

THE RIPPED MISSALETTE

My last story hasn’t been written yet. It goes something like this.

I was walking down the side aisle of St. Mary’s Church the other day and I spotted this missalette.



Take a look at it. It’s a disaster - no front of back cover. It’s missing some back pages. And some pages in the back are folded.

I picked it up and said to myself, “There’s a story here. There’s a lesson here.”

It made if from last Advent till today - 2 weeks before Advent. Why is this one so beaten up and others are still perfect?

What are some possible messages? You can’t tell a book by its cover.  Even though it’s all beaten up - some people still saw it’s the same as a perfect one and used it Sunday after Sunday after Sunday. Anybody who has kids know that kids mess up furniture - and break things - and I’m sure many a missalette kept many a kid busy for a Mass.  Did someone come to Mass with a dog?  Was it used as a door stop? Did anyone refuse to use it. It has the same insides - except for some heavy duty aging and rips - as the neat dark red rose covered ones?

Does everyone want to be with the beautiful gal in the light green suit?
What do I look like after a life time of use? Am I like this crushed ripped missalette or like those still neat inside plastic almost brand new missalettes?

You can’t tell a book by its cover.

Continuing education.... What’s the lesson of the ripped missalette?

CONCLUSION



The title of my homily and the theme of my stories for today is: Continuing Education: Learn the Lessons from all that surrounds me in this classroom called the World.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

November 15, 2015


DEEP  GRAY  BLUE  OCEAN

I have meditated most while standing
at the railing of a big ship looking down
deep into the grey, blue ocean, below.

Moby Dick, lost big ships, the Titanic,
sharks, giant squid, a million billion tiny
forms of life squirming and swimming below.

Are they right - those who say - we’ve
evolved from out of the sea. Quite possible since
the ocean takes up from than 70% of this planet.

And who was it who said, marriage and the ocean
are the two main metaphors for You our God?
Meditating, I ask, “Which do You prefer my Love?”


© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2015

Saturday, November 14, 2015

November 14, 2015

EYE TO EYE

As priest I have been blessed
to be standing  there - less than
12 inches - a ruler distance away -
when  couples look each other
eye to eye - when they take and make
their vows to each other in marriage.

As priest I have been doubly blessed
to be standing there  - looking at a
couple looking each other in the eye -
at their 25th or 50th wedding anniversary -
renewing their vows to each other in  marriage.

As priest, I have been 100 times blessed
to see couples almost on top of each other
when saying goodbye - looking at each
other eye to eye in a nursing home -
when one has to go home alone for
the night - or one is going home for good.
        

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2015

Friday, November 13, 2015

November 13, 2015 - Friday the l3th.

PICKING MY SKIN

I’m a skin picker.
How about you?

I won’t let my skin heal.
The scab itches - so I
pick and itch the scab.

I know this has a technical
term: “Dermatillomania.”
I like "scratchatosis" better.

Do you think this is bad?
You should meet people
who keep picking the skin
of their souls for mistakes
they made 30 or 50 years ago.


© Andy Costello, Reflections 2015


Thursday, November 12, 2015

November 12, 2015

STEPS

Steps:
as in dancing
or in learning to play the piano
or in recovering from an addiction
one step at a time.

Steps:
to make sure 
I see the step I'm on -
because people sometimes do fall
if they look too far ahead or too far behind.

Steps:
to be grateful 
for getting to where I am
right now - this far - and to say
"Thank you" to those who helped me
to get to this step in my life. Amen.

(c) Andy Costello, Reflections, 2015

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

November 11, 2015



NOVEMBER HEADING FOR DECEMBER

It's November 11th - Veteran's Day -
and I can picture so many veterans
sitting on the edge of nursing home beds -
all alone - all alone - lonely and moaning
for visitors they can tell their story too....

I sit and listen to their war stories for a while
and then move on - and I wish that guy in 
Room 113A and that other guy in 78B could 
be near the front door watching visitors
coming and going - none with a familiar face....

None with a listening face - none with time for
them. Life in a wheel chair or walking with a walker is tough enough. The November of our life heading heading into the December of 
our life should not be seen and listened 
to away from home and alone. "Oh no!"



                                                                    © Andy Costello, Reflections 2015