December 6, 2017

NO LIMITS

Inner  and  outer limits….

Are there any?

How far can we go into inner space?

How far can we go into outer space?

Is there a wall, an edge, out there

beyond which we cannot go?

Is there a within, the deepest within,

within which, we cannot go?

Will a new Columbus arrive

thinking she or he has sailed

to the border of the within or without

and they end up at the beginning

of the opposite 

of where they thought they were?

Circles do reappear.

God is everywhere.

© Andy Costello, Reflections  2017

WHAT WOULD YOU 

LIKE TO SEE?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this First Tuesday in Advent  is from today’s gospel, “What would you like to see?”

In this gospel text from Luke, Jesus turns to his disciples in private and says, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.” [Cf. Luke 10: 23-24.]

What would you like to see?

We often watch the evening news from Baltimore at 10 PM on WBAL. It regularly  begins with two murders and one fire. I would like to see instead news about a new park - and hear about a night without murders and fires.

I would like to see news about a new vaccine for overcoming cancer.

I would like to see the Koch Brothers or other big donors giving money to double teacher’s salaries in poor neighborhoods rather than that money being given to political parties.

I would like to see that the Catholic Church make some of these possible changes in the annulment process and divorces that Pope Francis talked about.

I would like to see an end to abortion and more people who have had abortions giving those children for adoption.

WHAT ISAIAH SAW

In today’s first reading from Isaiah 11: 1-16 we have some of the great visions that Isaiah saw.

He saw a stump - the remains of a sawed down tree  - but he saw a shoot coming out of that stump and blossoming.  What looked dead is not dead.

Two people looked at the ground. One saw a stump; the other saw a shoot.

Isaiah saw the Spirit of  God coming down on people who seemed dead. Instead out came a spirit of counsel and of strength, a Spirit  of knowledge and of fear of the Lord .

He saw people not judging by appearance or hearsay.

He saw Justice arising.

Then his imagination takes over and he says he see the wolf being the guest of the Lamb, the leopard lying down with the kid, the calf and the young lion browsing together.

THE PEACABLE KINGDOM

It’s the vision of the Peaceable Kingdom painted from Isaiah’s words  - by Edward Hicks.   He did 62 versions of that scene.

I’d like to see one of those check off lists - like people have for all the Major League Ball Parks - and in time people would travel to get to be in at many as possible - so I’d like to see lists for all the Edward Hicks paintings of the Peaceable Kingdom - and people would try to get to see as many as possible.

How about having the same idea - having lists for all the National Parks etc.

CONCLUSION

Today make lists of what you would like to see.

For family, for beauty, for the world, for this parish, for this Christmas.

For example, for beauty, I’d like to see Newman Street - which goes straight down to the water from St. Mary’s front door cleaner.  Ooops: Foot in mouth. Maybe I should be the one to clean it.

December 5, 2017

BADCOME

How come the word, “badcome”

never came into our vocabulary?

How many times have we shown up

and everything went bad, sour, south?

How come a welcome went wrong

and became in the long run a badcome?

© Andy Costello, Reflections  2017

Painting on top: The Hurricane,
a mural painted by Edward Kingman,
at East Providence, R.I. Post Office, 1939

FROM  A  DISTANCE

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this first Monday in Advent is, “From A Distance.”

That’s the thought that hit me when I read today’s gospel [ Matthew 8: 5-11].

The centurion asks Jesus to cure his servant from a distance.

He tells Jesus, “You don’t have to enter under my roof, just do it from here.”

And Jesus - after telling everyone around him - that this guy has great faith - the best he’s seen so far - good thing his mother was not around to hear that -  Jesus heals this man’s servant from a distance. It’s not mentioned in today’s gospel what happened next - maybe because the next sentence has one of those being turned out into the dark where there will be weeping and grinding of teeth [Matthew 8: 12.] But Matthew says, “And the servant was cured at that moment.”

I added, “From a distance.”

INTERESTING

I began thinking about that.

I don’t have time to do research - to find out if we humans are the only ones - besides those above us, “angels and God” - who are able to fathom “from a distance”.

I don’t know about cat and dog memories and brains.  Elephants are supposed to have great memories, but I haven’t seen anyone walking a pet elephant on their front lawn. Smile they don’t make plastic bags that big. Oooooh. Horrible thought. So I don’t know what elephants or dogs or cats or laboratory rat brains can do from a distance.

We see on the evening news at times - feel good  stories about dogs remembering their masters and mistresses when years separate them.

So I better not make comments about “animals and distances”.

Yet we humans - have a whole world of “from a distance” - thinking about and praying for sons and daughters away at college - in Afghanistan - or in San Diego - worrying about their lives or their marriages.

We spend a good bit of time talking to and about people in other rooms and in other parts of the country - all from a distance.

Faith can move mountains - so we pray for all kinds of people and intentions  - alive and dead people - from a distance.

Are we the only ones who can do that?

That’s a question this text triggered.

SONG

There is a song that Bette Midler sang - and I’ve heard it at funerals etc., “From a Distance.”

That song voices concerns about hope and harmony, no guns or bombs - no disease or “No hungry mouths to feed.”

O would that….

The song mentions  God watching us “from a distance”. 

Now that’s an act of faith.

That makes us different than animals.

That’s the faith this centurion had.

CONCLUSION: YET

I could go on and on, but let me make one major conclusion.

First of all, it’s at the reality of from a distance compared to up close where we can get into big trouble. From a distance - is where we have our expectations - our pictures - our imaginings of what an ideal family, spouse, kid, other is. Then when we compare that to what we actually experience  under our roof, it’s there that we go bananas and berserk,

Next, it’s in the up close - in the place where the tire hits the road - that we have to work - sweat - and struggle to bring about what we hope for from a distance. Yes love exists from a distance - but up close is where the words become flesh.

Yet we humans also want a faith that brings people together under roofs - a faith that  gets people to approach each other - because faith that doesn’t show up with love up close - under roofs - is not faith.  Faith is up close  - in close to body and soul of others - isn’t love.

December 4, 2017

INTERGENERATIONAL

I heard suicide is intergenerational.

Oooooooooh! Well, if that’s true,

how about love, visiting an old aunt

or uncle, laughter and playing cards?

How about grandkids and grandparents

dunking chocolate chip cookies in milk?

© Andy Costello, Reflections  2017

HAS ANYONE 

EVER WAITED FOR YOU?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this First Sunday in Advent is, “Has Anyone Ever Waited For You?”

One of the main themes for Advent is, “Waiting.”

Advent has these great W words: Waiting, Watching, Wondering, as well as Worry.

I was tempted to preach on the word “Watch!” because it’s so loud and clear in today’s gospel from Mark 13: 33-37.

However, I began thinking about this season of Advent, for starters, I began thinking of the theme of waiting.

Christ has already come - some 2000 years ago - yet we Christians celebrate this feast every year: the coming of Jesus Christ.

FOR STARTERS

For starters, for some reason, I found myself being asked, “Has anyone ever waited for you,  Andrew?”

I don’t think I ever heard or asked myself that question.

“Has anyone ever waited for you, Andrew?”

I laughed, because at every funeral and wedding, those in the sacristy are asking: “Where is he?”  I like to cut it close - getting to the church just in time. Why waste time?

But here I’m asking the question in a different, a deeper sense.

Has anyone ever waited for us?

The obvious answer for most of us is, “Of course, my mom waited for me for 9 months.”

What was that like?  I never asked my mom that question.  Yet pregnancy is a waiting period - 9 months.  She was used to this - I  being the 4^th child - and last. Thank God they had 4. Thank you, mom. Thank you, dad. Thank You God.

I love the comment that the last child is always the best child - because they finally got one right.

But what was that like - to be a submarine - under water - for nine months - with a mom waiting for us to break water?

Question: has anyone ever asked their mother that question?

I’ve never asked my mom that - nor my dad.

Question:  does any mom or dad remember their thoughts when they became and were pregnant?

If they do, I’m sure those thoughts are more aware and more acute for their first child.

I know some moms write down their thoughts in a journal.

Oldest kids got the most photos. How about journals?

If you kept a journal, please pick some good moments to share that with your kid - no matter how old he or she or you are.

TITLE AGAIN

The title of my homily is, “Has Anyone Ever Waited For You?”

HOBOKEN, NEW JERSEY

It was December 22 or so, 1953.  I went to a high school minor seminary in North East, Pennsylvania. They had them back then. In time, many realized, that’s too soon.  I had wanted to be a priest all through my grammar school years - so I gave it a shot. Most left. It was a long process to the priesthood: 4 years high school, 4 years college, 1 year novitiate, 4 years of theology. Then a final 6 months or so called: Tirocinium.

I got off the train that December 22, 1954 for a 13 day Christmas vacation. It was my first time home since I had left late August.  I left weighing around 130 pounds - a short little pudgy guy with freckles. There are pictures.

I was now about 108 pounds - still short, very short. I looked like an escapee from Auschwitz.  My father was standing there on the train platform in Hoboken, New Jersey, waiting for me.  Then home to Brooklyn.

I didn’t think of this till last night when I was writing this. He’s long dead - but I would  now love to know his thoughts. How long was he standing there.  What was he thinking?

However, I do remember his question - when he saw me - this scrawny little kid - coming home for Christmas: “You’re not going back are you?”

I said, “Yes, of course. I love it.”

I must have looked horribly malnourished.

I don’t remember what my mom or brother or two sisters thought when I got home - if anything - that Christmas - or anytime growing up.

Thinking about this, I’m wondering, “Does anyone really talk to each other?”  “Do people today talk to each other - more than yesterday.”

“Yesterday”  Is that why that Beatle song had such an impact on so many people.

Christmas: what were our Christmases like when we were little?

Yet, I remember Christmas a lot more than any other time growing up.

ADVENT

We begin the season of Advent today.

There are helpful booklets in the back - to read and reflect upon - for this season of Advent.  Take one. I know people say they are very helpful.

Suggestion: this Advent - this Christmas - make it a good time to read, to think about, to talk to each other about, what it was like growing up - what it was like becoming whom we have become so far.

Good question for each other: “Has anyone ever waited for you?”

DOWN DEEP - DEEP DOWN  - VERY DEEP

Does every person down deep, deep down, very deep - wait for God?

Is that what this Christ, Christmas, is all about?

Waiting for God?

Listen to the Christmas songs - starting with “Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel” - and ending up with “Silent Night”.

Listen to the words and hear the theme of waiting: we waiting for God and God waiting for us.

Is every church on the planet a waiting room - where God waits for us?

How many times around our world - every day - do people drop into churches - sit in a bench - and say to God - “Hello” and how many people hear back from God, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

A church is a waiting room.

Prayer is waiting.

Life is people waiting for people.

Type into Google, “Song: People” and listen to the words in this context of waiting.

Whom are the people you waited for?

Who are the people in your life - who are waiting for you to say something?

Who are the people in your life - who you are waiting to hear from?

When was the last time you experienced God waiting for you?

Prayer moments with tears are a hint.

God is not stupid.

God comes as a baby.

God is a helpless baby for starters.

We are stables - messy stables for starters.

We can be dumb donkeys, dumb ox, dumb sheep at times.

But it’s here where Jesus starts.

THE GOSPELS

But the gospels are more than the Christmas stories.

At some point hopefully Christ starts to grow within us - in wisdom, grace, and age.

At some point hopefully the adult Christ walks into our village or to our shore - and calls us to walk the rest of our life with him.

CONCLUSION

The title of my homily is, “Has Anyone Ever Waited For You?”

Life involves lots of waiting: for birth and for death, on lines and in doctor's offices and in traffic, for someone to heal and for someone to recover.

The thought of this homily is that Christ is waiting for us: Christ starting as a baby  - becoming an adult. Amen.

December 3, 2017

I’VE SEEN SOME GREAT SCENES

I’ve seen some great scenes in my life -

babies faces on shoulders in church and

in the supermarket - an old, old couple

walking down the street holding hands -

Chartres Cathedral - the Atlantic Ocean

while on the Queen Mary - the Rockies

in Colorado - a spring rain watering lawns,

and oh yeah, I’ve been to art museums.

© Andy Costello, Reflections  2017