JUDITH: 

DO  THE  MATH 

Judith was 63.

She used to be a math teacher - but when she was teaching in a Catholic school in Chicago - she secretly always wanted to be a religion teacher.

But she was good in Math - really good in Math - and was appreciated big time at her Elementary School  - by parents and kids alike. Parents knew Math was a key key to life - getting a good job - what have you. Do the Math - know what the best paying jobs were.  Religion - not everyone thought of that as a key key to life.

When she retired,  she and her husband Jonah moved closer to their three kids - all of whom lived relatively near each other - in and around Atlanta, Georgia. So it was a logical move. Besides that Jonah was from near Atlanta and still had lots of family down there.

Jonah was a Baptist - big on the Bible - and taught Judith a good bit of Bible stuff all through their marriage. Both went to their respective churches - at times one going to the other’s church - and both agreed Baptist preachers were much better than Catholic preachers - but spoke longer.

Having moved to the Atlanta area and having their parents nearby was wonderful - especially for their kids.   

Obvious first reason, the kids would have a chance to experience this set of grandparents.

Second reason: instant baby sitters.

Third, but less obvious reason, the kids would get a chance to have grandma, Judith, or "JuJu"  - as the 7 grand kids called her, to help them with their math homework.

Judith and Jonah soon discovered what lots of grandparents were discovering: their kids were not going to Church - so that also  meant their grand kids were not going to church either.

And their 3 kids had a Catholic education in grammar school, high school and college.

What to do?

Well it happened by accident - it really did - but maybe this is the way the grace of God works - by accident - at times.

Judith was babysitting this Saturday. Jonah was fishing the whole weekend off Savannah with two brothers-in-law - one of whom had a neat power boat. Their daughter Jane - was at a wedding in Chicago with her husband.

Jane’s youngest granddaughter Jessica asked her grandma to tell her a story. She was an only child. Judith asked Jessica, “Do you have a story book with you?”

“Nope. I left all my story books at home.”

Judith spotted her husband’s Bible just sitting there next to his small beer and TV remote table. She opened it up and the first page she opened to was Luke 10: 25-37. It was the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Sitting there on their big comfy couch - with Jessica snuggling into her grandma - Judith heard Jessica say, “Okay, ready now, start reading!”

JuJu  started reading.  Jessica loved the way her grandma could tell a story. She would add and multiply as she went along.

She smiled to herself - thinking, “I love doing this. Finally I’m teaching religion - but OKAY - I also love Math.”

“That’s a serious story,” said Jessica. “Wow! Do people still beat up and rob people and leave them half dead?”

“Yep,” said Judith. “Sorry to say, ‘Still yep.’”

Then Judith said to Jessica, “Let’s go for a walk. Do you want to go to the park?”

As they walked down the street, an ambulance went flying by - with it’s lights flashing and horn blowing.

Jessica said, “Look, there goes a Good Samaritan bringing someone to the hospital.”

Judith - said to herself. “Wow, she picked that story up fast.”

Judith continued talking to herself as they walked to the park, letting Jessica, climb the different bars and steps and slides there.

Judith then thought, “Maybe teaching kids the parables of Jesus is the first place to start when teaching religion.”

Then Judith added, “And our grand kids are not getting any religion.”

After they got back home, after they had lunch, Jessica said, “Grandma how about another story from Jesus?”

“Okay,” said Judith.

This time she opened to Luke 15 and she read the story - the parable - of the lady who lost one of her 10 coins.  She searched everywhere for it - under the couch, behind the couch, in her bedroom, down the cellar, in the garage, till she finally found it.  And she was so happy she threw a party.

Jessica said, “That’s silly - a party - for just finding a lost coin!”

“Yep,” said grandma. “Just for a coin. That tells us how much God loves us.”

“Wow,” said Jessica. “Wow.”

During the week -  following that first weekend of reading,  Judith was telling Jonah, her husband, about that story of the lost coin and how she wondered about that too. Kind of strange, throwing a party for finding a lost coin.

“Well,” Jonah said, “When I was a kid, I once heard a Baptist Preacher telling us that it was a wedding coin. Brides used to sew the coins they received at their weddings onto their special dresses and gowns and cloaks - and headbands. The more coins - the more important she was.”

“Oh,” said Judith. “Wait till I see Jessica again. She’d love to hear that.”

And Judith started telling not just Jessica, but her other 6 grand kids, James, John, Joseph, Jan, Judith Jr, and Jennifer,  the parables of Jesus.

And her grand kids started getting religion - slowly - and two of their kids got back to church as well.

Hey do the Math.

One of the parables Judith read to her grand kids was,  The Parable of the Seeds. Jessica got it. It still made sense.

Some seed falls on rock - and doesn’t grow - but some seed lands on good soil - and produces, 30, 60 and 100fold.

Do the Math.

-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-

This is a story I wrote this morning for today's Mass - the 27th Monday in Ordinary Time - Readings Jonah 1: 1-2: 2, 11 and Luke 10: 25-37.

Next it hit me to write up a possible plan for Grandparents as Catechists - using the parables. So here goes:

         -O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-

GRANDPARENTS AS 

STORY TELLING CATECHISTS

Using a couch as a classroom, sit down on that couch with a small grand kid or two and read a parable - only one at a time -  using each of the following 12 Parables.  Don't hesitate to paraphrase - put it into a modern setting - or two or three versions - making sure the kid is getting the story or parable.

As a result the kid or kids will be become familiar with a Bible - and remember the old adage: the teacher always learns the most.

The Lost Coin  - Luke 15: 8-10

The Lost Sheep -Luke 15: 4-7

The Lost Son - Luke 15: 11 - 31

The Good Samaritan - Luke 10: 25-37

The Workers in the Vineyard - Matthew 20:1-16

A Man Had Two Sons - Yes and No - Matthew 21: 28-32

The Man Who Wouldn't Forgive - Matthew 18: 23-35

Lazarus and the Rich Man Luke - 16: 19-31

The Pharisee and the Tax Collector - Luke 18: 9-14

The Sower and the Seed - Luke 8: 5-8, then 11-15

The Barren Fig Tree - Luke 13: 6-9

-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-

© Andy Costello, Might Work this into a book or article or pamphlet.

GETS  ONE THINKING

My sister Mary told me that one of the 58 killed in Las Vegas had a name like mine.  Got me thinking ....

Years ago there was a story of a guy who had the same name as I have and he took a bump on a plane out of Chicago - which crashed. Got me thinking ....

Andrea Castilla

Photo

Andrea Castilla.Creditvia Associated Press

It seemed like the Route 91 Harvest Festival would be the perfect place for Andrea Castilla, a sales associate at Sephora in Huntington Beach, Calif., to celebrate her 28th birthday. Her sister, Athena, would be there with her fiancé, and Andrea and her boyfriend, Derek Miller, decided to join them.

And there was to be a surprise, according to People.com: Mr. Miller had been planning to propose.

He never had the chance. Ms. Castilla was killed in the attack, according to a text message from her aunt, Marina Castilla Parker, who posted photos to Facebook of Ms. Castilla beaming at the festival with her sister and their partners.

In an interview with People, Athena Castilla said she and her fiancé tried to keep Ms. Castilla from being stepped on after she fell. Athena said that strangers had helped put Andrea into the back of a truck for the drive to the hospital.

“I was holding onto her head and trying to keep her from losing so much blood, talking to her, kissing her, telling her she was going to make it,” Athena Castilla said. “We all did our best to help her get through it. We did the best we could.”

October  9, 2017

EXPERIENCES

It’s not whether you experienced it;

it’s the feeling of knowing - being 
present - to the feeling you had - when
you experienced it. Namely: celebrated, 
honored, singled out, betrayed, hurt, 
rejected, succeeded, failed, loved, 
cancelled out, forgotten, cheated on, 
stolen from, tricked, won, lost, 
avoided, not been forgiven, lied to,

challenged, welcomed at a front door.

Name and admit those experiences.

Now we can talk to each other.
Now we can be one with each other.
Do you know, now we can really get
to know each other. Did you know that?

 © Andy Costello, Reflections  2017

A  BUNCH  OF  GRAPES 

A bunch of grapes hung there tight and together on the vine.

They enjoyed the sunshine  - and they enjoyed the rain.

They liked talking to each other - laughing - watching sunrises and sunsets.

They liked it when a sweet wind swung them back and forth in the breeze - hanging together in a rich looking cluster of grapes - like kids on swings in the park or on a ride in the amusement park.

Not a bad gig - this being a grape.

“Hey,” grapes would say to each other, “beats being a rock or a clump of hard dirt.”

Grapes liked it that people bragged about how great they were - and the great future ahead for grapes - some becoming grape jam but in this vineyard becoming the best wine money can buy.

And fine wine was in. It used to be that beer got the most cheers - but now it was wine. Even men toasted with it - clinking see-through wine glasses together during football games. Imagine that?  Football games…. Wine!

Time rolled on. The vineyard owner and his wife, along with their two teenage sons and two teenage daughters - and all their workers looked forward to harvest time.

It would be soon - very soon.

All the grapes from one end of the vineyard to the other end of the vineyard - from top to bottom - from row to row - if you listened carefully - after everyone went to bed - would be singing, “Soon and very soon….” Then they would croon in harmony as a background refrain: “Soon. Soon. Soon.”

Different grapes started wondering more and more - where they would end up.

Would it be at the table of a millionaire or some governor or  mayor or movie actress?

It was the first day of October - when they heard the news. It was harvest time. They heard the tractors getting closer and closer  - pulling wagons with neat bright white plastic boxes.

“Chug …. Chug …. Chug….

“Chug …. Chug …. Chug….

“Snip …. Snip …. Snip….

“Snip …. Snip …. Snip….”

That hurt - being a cluster of grapes - snipped off the vine with a sharp, sharp, silver cutter and then thrown into a big while plastic box. 

“Uh oh,”  one grape said. “It looks like a coffin to me.”

And then the lid was closed.

Then the tractor chuged, chugged,   four white plastic boxes over to a big truck  that already had about 15 plastic boxes of grapes on it.

When the truck was filled with these white plastic boxes of grapes it was brought to a big cinder block building with a big sign on the outside, “WINERY”.

The boxes were taken off the truck and stacked inside in a damp - cold - room.

The grapes were now quite nervous - wondering what was next.

They were being kept in the dark - and they wished for one more day - of sunrise and sunset.

The next day - it was well after sunrise - but they didn’t know that - they were poured out - all the grapes were poured out - into a big wooden round vat. It was called a wine press.

“Oh no,” different grapes thought, seeing this big wooden round press - like a plunger coming down on them. “We’re finished.”

The squeeze was on.

Every last drop of grape juice was squeezed out of them.

Then they were tasted, tested, blended, mixed with add ons and all that.

Then they were put in barrels and lined up in storage.

And all was silent.

It was time for them to ferment - to become wine.

Time rolled on.

From time to time they could hear barrels being moved.

They had aged.

How do I look? They wondered.

Then they were bottled and labeled and shipped.

Once more the question came up: “Where will I end up?”

Fast forward - it was years now - since all this happened - but different wines were bragging where they ended up.

They bragged about being at weddings  and banquets. They bragged about being wined and dined.

But there was this one bottle - that was very quiet.

And everyone wondered why.

Then this wine told those close by.

I have been chosen to become altar wine.

I have been chosen to go into a chalice at Mass.

I have been chosen to become the Blood of Jesus at Mass.

I have been chosen to bring people together in Holy Communion.

And the others were amazed - this was Hall of Fame stuff - in the world of wine - but not everyone knew this - but the different types of wine knew.

And you could hear at times - wines singing on the vine, "Holy, Holy, Holy, some day - some of us - will become the blood of Christ. Amen."

October 8,  2017

October 8, 2017

WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING AT

If you live near mountains, rock

mountains will your poems be.

If you live at the edge of the desert,

empty deserts will your poems be.

If you live near the coast,

sand and sea will your poems be.

But as for me, it’s people, there the

ones I do my wondering and writing about.

© Andy Costello, Reflections  2017

THE BEST LAID PLANS 

OF  MICE  AND  MEN 
AND  WOMEN

SUB-TITLE: ON BECOMING

A BUS PHILOSOPHER

AND A SIDEWALK THEOLOGIAN

[This is sort of a story - a reflection coming out of today's readings for the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time - when vineyards don't work - and plans for the future go sour and get crushed.]

Justin was having a tough year.  His wife walked out on him and he lost his job.  As I was saying, Justin was having a tough year.

He got a new job.  It was in Washington D.C. and he discovered  that buses from and to his new apartment was a great way to get to and from work. The bus drivers weren’t singing - especially in the early morning commute - “And leave the driving to us.”

What to do on the bus on his way to and from work? 

It was the same bus at the same time every morning: 6:57 A.M.  It was the same bus at the same time every afternoon:  4:14 P.M.

He began to notice there were 4 different small communities on the bus - and he could overhear conversations and comments about sports and weather, politics and public policy.  Hey a lot of these men and women were government workers. He got to know different voices and different laughs and different exclamation points. He got to know who were loners and who Noah’s ark type folks - liked to travel two by two - and who were groupies.

He was a loner.  He was new to all of this.

He was still in a funk over his failed marriage. Thank God they didn’t have any kids. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about life and family - what’s new and where you’re  from?

So with book in hand - or newspaper - or magazine - and always a window seat - he remained quiet - giving signals,  “I prefer quiet right now in this ride to work or this ride home from work.”

He found it hard to read. He found it easier to just sit there and think.

Looking out the bus window, he saw a poster or an ad for something - that featured the statue called, “The Thinker.”

And so he started to see himself as “A Thinker”.

Then he changed that image and that title to, “The Philosopher” or “A Philosopher.”

He smiled because he remembered being tempted in college to take a course called, “Philosophy 101.”  He took 2 classes and then switched over to a history course of Southeast Asia instead.

“I wonder,” - he thought - “maybe I should have stayed with the philosophy.”

He bought a medium  spiral note pad - blue cover -  the ones with the wire along the side - 150 blue lined sheets - 9 ½ inches by 6 inches.

And to and from work he became a philosopher - jotting down life issues - like, “The Secret of Happiness,” - “The Meaning of Life” - "Sour Grapes and Vinegar" - “Suffering and Loss” - “Success and Failure” - “Men and Women”.

With those titles and themes on the top of the page - he then jotted down thoughts and questions that he philosophized about on his trip to and from work.

One day, on the top of a page -  he put down a title, “The Best Laid Plans”. He remembered that from high school - that it was part of a poem by somebody.  Sure enough - he was close. It was, “the best laid schemes”. It was part of a poem by the Scottish poet, Robert Burns - from way back in November 1785. It was about a farmer plowing  his field and ruining  a mouse’s house - and changing a  mouse’s  schemes for “What now?” "What's next?"

Smiling for the first time in a long time - he said to himself, “I’m becoming a philosopher. That’s me. When she left me - my whole life - all my plans - have changed. My nest and my next was ruined. Wow - imagine what all these people in Mexico, Puerto Rico, Florida, Houston, Southeast Asia - have to go through when their plans are ruined?”

Sometime while slowly becoming a philosopher  he slowly began to become a theologian. This was not from the bus - but from the sidewalk.

It was Spring and the weather in Washington was becoming beautiful -cherry blossoms were springing from the trees and flowers popping up from the ground. Resurrection and new life were appearing everywhere.

Instead of eating lunch at his desk - he decided on getting outside - feeling and sensing the sun and the spring light breezes. And he found a favorite bench - on the mall and he sat there - eating his sandwich - and an apple - and watching the world go by on the sidewalk.

Without knowing it, he was about to become a theologian. He saw two blocks down a church - and he could see folks going in and out - every once and a while.

So one Friday - he walked down the sidewalk - crossed an avenue - came to the church - walked up the steps - opened the door - and found himself in the semi-darkness.

He put his hand into the holy water dish. “Must be a Catholic Church,” he said to himself. “I haven’t been in one of these since my marriage.”

He walked down the side aisle - and slipped into a bench - and tears came to his eyes.

He began to pray - well just a one word prayer - “Help. Help. Help!”

In time it would become, "Christ, where are you?"

He sat there that first time in church in a long time - for a good 22 minutes - till he realized he should be back at work.

He ran - walked - ran - and snook into his desk - a good 15 minutes late - but nobody noticed.

That afternoon - he opened up his spiral pad - and wrote on a fresh page - just one word, “God!”

He jotted down two or three pages of words about his God Life” - but then he smiled and said to himself, “Wrong book!”

Getting off the bus he walked into a supermarket where he shopped. He  picked up some groceries, a shepherd’s pie for supper, and a medium size spiral pad - this one with a red cover - 9 ½ inches by 6 inches - 150 sheets - blue lines.

After supper he wrote on the top of  page one the word, “Theologian.”

He remembered he signed up in college for a course on Theology 101 - and he dropped out of that course after two classes as well.

He remembered the professor saying that Theology came from two Greek words, “Theos” meaning “God” and “Logos” meaning “word”. 

So under the word “Theology” on the top of page one he wrote a sub-title, “Words About God.”

And that professor said, “Philosophy comes from two Greek words, ‘Philos’ meaning ‘Lover’  as in ‘Philadelphia - City of Brotherly Love’  and ‘Sophia’ meaning wisdom.”

He got up and got out his other spiral pad and wrote on the top of page one, “Philosophy” - Subtitle: ”Wisdom Lover.”

Now he had those two books - one blue one red - that he kept in his small backpack - which he traveled with to and from  work.

He was a neat nick - the writings he did on the bus - he limited himself to wisdom and philosophy and the writings he did on his favorite bench and church near the mall, he limited himself to words about and with God.

He had a plan.

But in time - plans and schemes and subtitles change. He found himself back in church - on a regular basis - on Sunday mornings.

And oh yeah, he met this nice gal - on the bus - and time will tell when and what he’ll write again and what happens next.

October 7, 2017

FOUNTAINS

Who made the first fountain?
Who was the first kid who splashed
another kid with water from a fountain
and both laughed and laughed and laughed?
Who decided,  "Let's put a fountain
right here for  hot days like this one?"
Who came up with the idea of water
in the first place? Well, whoever you are,
"Thank you!"

© Andy Costello, Reflections  2017