Today’s gospel opens up with someone walking up to Jesus
and ask him a question and it ends up with this comment: “And no one dared to
ask him any more questions.” [Cf. Mark 12: 28b to 34]
People are still walking up to Jesus and asking him
questions.
So the title of my homily is, “Do You Have a Question?”
We’ve all been at talks - when they have a Q and A
session after the talk - and someone gets up and goes on and on and on. And the
person running the Question and Answer period finally asks,“Do you have a question?”
Sometimes the person does and sometimes they don’t.
The title of my homily is, “Do You Have a Question?”
When I’m preaching the thing I worry about is that people
have questions - but I’m probably not answering them in my homily.
FOR EXAMPLE
For example are you going to say something about the
Bishops and Priests and Church’s problem with sexual abuse of minors - as well
as cover-ups.
For example: are you going to say something about the
Pittsburgh killings or the elections or the march or voting next Tuesday orwhat have you?
For example: what does that comment about Babylon in the
first reading mean?
CLEMENT JEDRZEJEWSKI
In the early 1970’s I was stationed in a retreat house in
Long Branch, N.J. and we used to say Mass in the morning at another retreat
house - also on the Atlantic Ocean. Neat spot.
In this other retreat house - run by the Sisters of Peace
- an old man - Clement Jedrzejewski - got a room there.He was the only man in the place and he
didn’t have a car - and this was way before Uber or Lyft.
I once said to him, “Clement if you ever want to go
shopping - or go to the drugstore and you need a lift, just ask me. Maybe you
want toothpaste or what have you.
Well he took me up on it - and it became a great move.
While driving I asked him what he did before New Jersey
and he said he was a professor at a small college in Brooklyn: St. Francis
College.
He said he taught teaching methods.
On one trip I told him I did about 15 high school - 3 day
retreats - each year and did he have any suggestions.He asked a few questions and said, “Let me
think about it.”
On another trip to a drugstore he said, “When the kids
arrive, let them check out the whole place. A dog when it comes to a new house
sniffs everywhere.”
Then he said, “Get their questions. Say there are no
stupid questions, just stupid answers.”
Then he said, “Hand out pieces of paper. Have them by
themselves write down all the questions they have about their life: the future,
work, family, relationships, school, drugs, booze, what have you.”
Then tell them, still by themselves, put a circle around
the top 3.
Then put that piece of paper in your pocket.
Next do the same thing with one other person - a whole
page of questions - then the top3.
Next do that with 4 or 5 others - whole page - circle top
3.Tell them to pick 4 or 5 friends or
people you know - not strangers.If you
want this retreat to go beyond the 3 days - pick people you hang with.
Then do this with the whole group. Large pieces of paper
on the wall - then agree on 3.
This took two hours that first evening, but we had 3
areas they agree upon.
Then for the next 2 days, we tackled those 3 questions.
QUESTION
Try it. Jot down or put on your electronic pads and
computers all your questions - then pick out your top 3.
What are your top 3 questions about your life, your
future, your past - and talk them over with your closest people.
Questions are great. They are shaped like fish hooks - and
if you want to go down deep below the waters: fish.
Jesus walked around Palestine and began by catching 4
fishermen.
Abraham Heschel wrote, “It is not enough for me to be
able to say, `I am’’ I want to know who I
am, and in relation to whom I live. It is not enough for me to ask
questions; I want to know how to answer the one question that seems to
encompass everything I face; What am I here for?”
Alexander Eliot wrote, “Personal answers to ultimate
questions. That is what we seek.” Alexander Eliot
I jotted down in my quote book,
a great quote from Betty Friedan. It’s in her book, The
Feminine Mystique, 1963, “Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As
she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate
peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and
Brownies, lay beside her husband at night—she was afraid to ask even of herself
the silent question -- `Is this all?’”
Didn’t Peggy Lee have a song way
back then, “Is that all there is? my friend. Is that all there is?”
TODAY’S
READINGS
Today’s readings trigger the big
question: “What am I supposed to do with my life everyday?”
As I began, we find the scene in
today’s gospel - where a scribe - that’s someone who could write - comes up to
Jesus with a question:
"Which is the first of all the
commandments?"
Jesus replied, "The first is this: Hear, O Israel!
The Lord our God is Lord alone!
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
with all your soul,
with all your mind,
and with all your strength.
The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
There is no other commandment greater than these."
This was something people went to Rabbi’s with all the
time - as well as wisdom teachers - in all the religions and philosophies of
our world.
CONCLUSION
What is your question?
Start with a page full…. Narrow
it down to 3.Narrow it down to 1.
Then get answers.
You’ll find them everywhere.
And when you ask the best
question and you get a great answer, hear Jesus say, “Do that and you shall
live - really live.”
It used to be a custom - that folks would visit
cemeteries on All Soul’s Day.
People didn’t have to travel that far - way back then -
way back when - so folks were buried in
local cemeteries - often church cemeteries.
We’ve all been there - to cemeteries.
We’ve all experienced the death of loved ones.
Drive down any road, we’ll see cemeteries.
Go into any mind. There are the different lobes - the hills
of our brain. There are the memories -
the tomb stones in our memories. And those tomb stones trigger stories of those
who have gone before us - buried.
Moments at grave stones …. Memories …. Memorials….
The question of this homily is: What are your cemetery
stories?
What stories are triggered by just going by a cemetery or
visiting a cemetery.
I hold that death cards are like cemetery stones. I hold that many a person has a small prayer
book with death cards in it. It’s like a portable cemetery and some people
visit their dead every day.
A change is coming with these flyers with pictures you
are handed or you pick up at funerals.
What are your cemetery stories?
Here are a few in my collection. I repeat them so as to
trigger your cemetery stories in your collection.
Share them with each other.
Listen to each other.
I think of the opening scene of Doctor Zhivago - where a
little boy is standing with a crowd - at a burial of a loved one - and that’s
how he begins his autobiography.
I think of going up on an elevator to the 4th
floor of an apartment house size mausoleum at St. John’s Cemetery in Middle
Village, Queens, N.Y. for the burial of
the first serious death in our family: my dad: June 26, 1970. He’s buried in a vault up near the
ceiling - and I remember hesitating with the burial prayer. It said we consign
the body of the deceased to the ground.
It felt funny saying, “into the wall.” Yes - someone put a deck of cards
in his casket. In time, mom was once more next to him - also with a deck of
cards and a rosary. She was killed in a hit and run accident on April 7, 1987.
I think of my nephew Michael - buried in Staten Island, N.Y. The first cemetery and
grave spot he was in, got flooded too often, so his mom and dad had the body
moved to Resurrection Cemetery. Now his dad is buried there too - along with
other family members and friends.
I think of our cemetery at our old major seminary: Mount
St. Alphonsus Cemetery, Esopus, New York - where many Redemptorist Brothers and
Priests are buried. I lived there 14 years of my life. When I had the job of
Novice Master, each November we would go out to that cemetery and we would say prayers for Redemptorists buried
there. In old manuscripts we
were able to find poems from of the deceased and we would read one of their
poems at their grave that day.
I remember giving a priest retreat for the priests of New
Orleans and one morning I was walking outside around 7:30 going through my talk
for 9 AM. A car came into the property from off the road. I spotted the driver
as I walked. He was wearing black pants and a white shirt. I figured he was one
of the priests making the retreat and going out for a paper. I waved to the
guy, but didn’t get any response. As I was walking towards the cemetery at the
place - an old school, I spotted the person’s car - parked under a trellis at
the entrance to the cemetery. As I walked towards this man I saw him standing
under the statue of Mary. As I got closer he put a gun to his mouth and killed
himself. I ran towards him. I blessed
him - since I didn’t have the sacred oils for a final anointing. I ran into the
lobby of the building where the retreat was going on. I yelled to some priests standing
there, “Does anyone have the sacred oils? A guy just killed himself in the
cemetery.” A guy went running out to his
car and then headed for the cemetery and the statue of Mary to anoint the man
who had just shot himself. I said I’m calling 911. I told someone on the other end of that phone
that a man just shot himself. I told the attendant where I was. When I said,
“Suicide” the person on the other side said, “How do I know it was suicide?” I said,
“I was just there and I saw it.” The person repeated, “But how do I know?” I said, “Oh,
okay!” The attendant was good. He
kept me on the phone till he said, “Okay we have a police car there now.” I
found out later the man who killed himself wasn’t a priest. He was a former
student there - but I never found out really, who he was, and what happened. Someone said he was a 48
year old lawyer and father of 2.
I once went to my brother’s grave - Gate of Heaven
Cemetery - in Silver Spring, Maryland with his best friend, Marty. It was a
while since my brother’s funeral. We
stood there and prayed. After saying the Mourners’ Kaddish , Marty who is
Jewish said, “Sorry I don’t believe in life after death.” Ugh. That hurt. Well, I guess we have to die
to find out. That moment strengthened my belief in life after death. I just
went to Marty’s funeral - in a nearby Jewish cemetery - where he was buried
with his wife - who died some two years ago or so.
I think of Luther A. Palmer Memorial Cemetery - on a traffic island on West Street
in Annapolis, Maryland - where it meets Riva Road. We did a burial there once -
of a Palmer. It’s in a tough spot to park a hearse - take out the casket - put
it on the grass and then move the hearse from the road. It has 77 plots.
Cemeteries are sometimes in interesting places. This was quite unique - on a
busy Street.
I think of a burial at St. Mary’s Cemetery here in
Annapolis. The deceased had given his body for research. Then when his wife got
the remains, which were now cremains. I stood there with his wife and two
little sons - and we said the prayers. Before the burial of the box that
contained the box of his cremains - his wife put a piece of paper in the
plastic “casket”. Being nosey, I asked her what was on the paper. “It was a
sonogram that I received from the doctor this morning.” She was expecting. I’ve
had a lot of burials at our cemetery there - but that one is triggered every
time I go by it.
This has gotten too, too long.
So my last cemetery story is from a small cemetery in Ballynahown, Ireland -
where lots of our relatives are buried. My brother-in-law and two sisters were
there. Our Aunt Nora walked us to the cemetery. It had an odd swinging gate -
so cows couldn’t get in there. Well, evidently, there was a breach in the
walls, because my sister Peggy, Sister St. Monica Costello, IHM, stepped in you
know what.
Life.
Death.
What are your cemetery stories?
November 2nd, 2018
REMAINS
Your touch - your finger and
your voice prints - remain on
me and in these rooms and on this porch and in this car
