Saturday, July 5, 2014

TO BE 
JUST 
SO SWEET, 
SO DELICIOUS 

Poem for Today - July 5, 2014





This Is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold 


© William Carlos Williams

Friday, July 4, 2014

WHO ME?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 13 Friday in Ordinary Time is, “Who Me?”

MAD MAGAZINE

I’m sure some remember Mad Magazine starting in the 1950’s and their picture of Alfred E. Neuman and his words, “What? Me Worry?”





There he is - this scrawny freckled face kid with big ears – a missing front tooth – and one eye lower than the other eye – but he does have a smile on his face.

What? Me Worry?

I always liked that picture. It was a picture that appeared on greeting cards – t-shirts – cartoons of Alfred up there on Mount Rushmore – or running for president – etc. etc. etc.

I also liked that Mad Magazine character – because I see him representing every person – every me everywhere.

EVERY PERSON COUNTS

I liked St. Mary’s Parish and Schools' theme and motto for this past year: “Every Person Counts.”

It was a theme found in the comments of Pope Francis.

We got good mileage out of that theme - and I heard from teachers and staff in both our schools - that kids showed more respect to each other this past year.

"Every Person Counts."

Alfred E. Neuman counts. I count. You count.

The title of my homily is, “Who Me?”

Yep, me, I count.

Yes me? 

Little old me.

Who Me? 

Yes me. Well if I count -  then based  on that - should follow the comment, "What Me Worry?

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Today’s gospel - Matthew 9: 9-13 - has the famous scene of the call of Matthew.

When I read about  this call in today’s gospel from Matthew - I thought of all kinds of things – starting with the “Who me?” question we all make when we hear someone calling us – followed by Alfred E. Neuman’s “What me? Worry?' slogan.

As I read the gospels, I hear Jesus seeing good in every person – especially people others didn’t think counted – the beggar on the street – the little children – the Alfred E. Neuman’s of the world – as well as the tax collectors – and all those people who tax all the other people in the world – and drain them.

Who counts? 

Everyone.


Who counts? 

Jesus does.  He counted 99 - but wait a mintue - one is missing - so as a Good Shepherd - he went looking for that one lost sheep.

Jesus does. He counted 1 person with leprosy - who was healed - and came back to say, "Thank you!" - but where are the other 9?"

Jesus does. She lost 1 coin - had the other 9 - but went crazy till she found her 1 lost coin.

Jesus does. The Prodigal Son came home - but where is that older brother of mine? Why wouldn't he come to the banquet for his lost brother. He counts. 

Wait a minute.... Which brother are you talking about here?

Both - both count.
CARAVAGGIO'S MATTHEW - THE COIN COUNTER

I think of a day – just one day in Rome – 2 years ago – and I was with two wonderful old ladies – Winnie and Mary - who were part of the cruise I was on. 


We spotted this Church  - about 2 1/2 streets away from the Piazza Navone with its Fontana dei Quatro Fiumi - the Fountain of the Four Rivers - by Bernini. 




The church we spotted was – San Luigi dei Francesi Church – just one more of the hundreds of churches one counts in Rome.


Surprise! Inside it had 3 Caravaggio’s. I was especially moved by his painting, “The Calling of Saint Matthew.”


There’s Jesus pointing at Matthew – and there’s Matthew at this table in this tavern – pointing at himself – as if to say, “Who Me?” or “What me?”


 Surprise!

“Yes” Jesus is pointing at Matthew and calling Matthew.

"You count coins Matthew, well I have a friend who counts fish - and who now counts people. And I'm calling on you. I'm counting on you  - to also stop counting coins and to start reaching out to all sorts of people - and let them know, "They count!"

“Who me?” Isn’t that what all of us would say if we heard Jesus calling us.

“What me? A sinner and a tax collector! You’re calling me a tax collector?”

“Should I worry?”

Matthew stands up – leaves everything – and follows Christ.

In celebration the throws a dinner that night at his house – inviting Jesus and all his friends.

And the self-righteous – can’t believe this. How could Jesus eat with tax collectors and sinners. They don’t count for nothing.

And Jesus makes his famous comment. “Who needs a doctor? Healthy people don’t. It’s the sick ones who count – when it comes to me.”

ATTITUDE

In this homily I am stressing that every person counts.

In this homily I am stressing that God is aware of every person.

In this homily I am stressing that we should worry about every person – especially the great unwashed and the great unknowns and the ignored and those nobody thinks matters.

An overflow from this type of attitude is that we respect all people. If we have that respect for all folks, we’ll pay attention to the waiter or waitress, the check-out lady at the supermarket – the old person or the little person – the stranger and the strange rangers of our world.

THADDEUS HUBL

We read out at supper time at St. Mary’s the deceased Redemptorists whose anniversary is the next day.

Today in 1807 a Redemptorist named Thaddeus Hubl died in Warsaw, Poland. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here today. He’s part our story. He and a guy named Clement Hofbauer were studying in Vienna, Austria with the idea of becoming priests.

Well, when the government changed the requirements for students that they needed 6 years of studies, these 2 headed for Rome – with the idea of maybe becoming priests down there. They heard the sound of church bells from San Giuliano’s church in Rome and they went there with the idea of going to Mass. It was simply a call for community prayer.

Well, they were impressed with the priests and brothers and expressed interest in joining. They were handed an application – but only Clement signed immediately. 24 hours later Thaddeus Hubl signed. They made a 5 month novitiate – then they made their vows – and were ordained priests 10 days later and they sent back over the Alps to start the Redemptorists there.

Vienna didn’t work – so they tried Warsaw, Poland – where they had some success – especially at our Redemptorist starting place: St. Benno’s Warsaw.

In time they ran into trouble with the government and hostile forces to what they were doing. In 1807 Thaddeus Hubl was beaten up and died at the age of 47.

I tell this story – because they both matter in my story – also being a Redemptorist. If they hadn’t answered that bell call – if they hadn’t gone down to Rome – if they weren’t ordained – then we would never come to America – because this was the group that sent Redemptorists to America in 1832. .

CONCLUSION

The moral of the story is that every person counts – every person is called to become a great human being.

Who me? Yes.

What me? Worry – about all this.


Yes – if we answer that call from God.
YOUR LIFE 
IS YOUR LIFE 

Poem for Today- July 4, 2014



THE LAUGHING HEART

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.


© Charles Bukowski

Thursday, July 3, 2014

MOM AND DAD

A Poem for Today - July 3, 2014




My child,

When I get old,
I hope you’ll understand
and have patience with me
in case I break the plate,
or spill soup on the table
because I’m losing my eyesight,
I hope you don’t yell at me.

Older people are sensitive,
always having self pity
when you yell.

When my hearing gets worse
and I can’t hear what you’re saying,
I hope you don’t call me ‘Deaf!’
Please repeat what you said
or write it down.

I’m sorry, my child.
I’m getting older.

When my knees get weaker,
I hope you have the patience
to help me get up.
Like how I used to help you
while you were little,
learning how to walk.

Please bear with me,
when I keep repeating myself
like a broken record,
I hope you just keep listening to me.
Please don’t make fun of me,
or get sick of listening to me.

Do you remember
when you were little
and you wanted a ballon?
You repeated yourself over and over
until you get what you wanted.

Please also pardon my smell.
I smell like an old person.
Please don’t force me to shower.
My body is weak.
Old people get sick easily
when they’re cold.
I hope I don’t gross you out.
Do you remember when you were little?
I used to chase you around
because you didn’t want to shower.

I hope you can be patient with me
when I’m always cranky.
 It’s all part of getting old.

You’ll understand when you’re older.

And if you have spare time,
I hope we can talk
even for a few minutes.
I’m always all by myself all the time,
and have no one to talk to.

I know you’re busy with work.

Even if you’re not interested in my stories,
please have time for me.
Do you remember when you were little?
I used to listen to your stories
about your teddy bear.

When the time comes,
and I get ill and bedridden,
I hope you have the patience
to take care of me.

I’m sorry if I accidentally
wet the bed or make a mess.
I hope you have the patience
to take care of me
during the last few moments of my life.
I’m not going to last much longer, anyway.
When the time of my death comes,
I hope you hold my hand
and give me strength to face death.

And don’t worry…
When I finally meet our creator,
I will whisper in his ear to bless you.
Because you loved your Mom and Dad.

Thank you so much for your care.

We love you.
With much love,
Mom and Dad


© Don’t know
the author

of this piece.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

THIS IS MY LETTER 
TO THE WORLD

Poem for Today - Wednesday July 2,, 2014


441

This is my letter to the World,
That never wrote to Me - 
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender Majesty

Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see; 
For love of Her, Sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly -  of Me 


© Emily Dickinson

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

FAITH  AND TERROR 
SEEM  TO  MIX! 



INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 13th Tuesday in Ordinary Time is, “Faith And Terror Seem To Mix.”

Hopefully – faith comes when we’re feeling terror.

We’re about to get into the 100 Anniversary of World War I – 1914-1918 -  when men dug in and felt the terror of trench warfare.  And obviously those in that horror faced their fears – faced life – faced death -  needed God and screamed, “Where are you God in all this mess?”  And we all know the saying, “There are no atheists in fox holes?”

At least back then …. Maybe yes…. Maybe more … There was probably less atheism back then  than there is today. Then again, who knows what lurches in the hearts and minds of others – especially in muddy foxholes of our soul.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD

The history of the world is, “War and Peace – and then war again.

We have the horrors of war in Iraq once more. It’s déjà vu over and over and over again.

I’m sure many are down on their knees – crying to Allah –crying to God -  and surprise we know that both sides are proclaiming God. That’s part of the game – and the stories.

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Today’s gospel tells the story of the storm on the lake according to Matthew [8:23-27].  A sudden storm hits the boat Jesus is in – and in terror they cried out to Jesus to wake up and save them. The Greek describes it as an earthquake [seismos] of the waters. The boat is swamped. Fear takes over.

 We know the story.

Jesus wakes us and says, “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?”

Then Jesus gets up and yell to the winds and the sea and there is a great calm. Then comes Matthew’s message: “They were amazed and said, “What sort of man is this, whom even the winds and the sea obey?”

JANUARY 15, 2000

Reading today’s gospel last night, I reached for a journal – my notes – from a trip to Israel for priests in January 2000.

We got on the boat that morning and the plan was to go across the lake from Tiberius to Capernaum.  That was the plan – but a storm came up and we had to get off at Nof Ginossar. “The name of the boat was ‘Luke’. I saw Matthew, Mark, Mary – and I assume there was a John.”

A slight storm came up – nothing like the one in today’s gospel – but I said great – I’ll use this in a homily someday. Perfect timing.

“We couldn’t dock. It was too rough. We tried 4 times. This other boat just came right in and did it on the first shot and then this guy from another boat helped us.”

Our guide “Steve had read some scripture about the boat crossing on the lake and we sang the hymn, “Be not afraid.”

We weren’t terrified – but it gave us a sense of what happened to the disciples of Jesus that day.”

Terror – storms – earthquakes – wind – wake people up – and like most everyone who sees a sudden something, we all say, “Oh my God.”

That’s one of the most basic prayers. Faith shows up when there is terror and the different.

In that first reading from Amos we heard about the lion that roars.

When the lion roars – the cry for the God in and around us hopefully  also roars.

CONCLUSION

Church moments – prayer moments – help us in terror moments – because it’s moments like this moment at a morning Mass that we are storing up faith.


The title of my homily is, “Faith And Terror Seem To Mix.”
BEHIND  THE  FACE 

Poem for Today - Tuesday - July 1, 2014


THE MASK

We wear the mask that grins and lies.
It shades our cheeks and hides our eyes.
This debt we pay to human guile
With torn and bleeding hearts…
We smile and mouth the myriad subtleties.
Why should the world think otherwise
In counting all our tears and sighs.
Nay let them only see us while
We wear the mask.

We smile but oh my God
Our tears to thee from tortured souls arise
And we sing Oh Baby doll, now we sing…
The clay is vile beneath our feet
And long the mile
But let the world think otherwise.
We wear the mask.

When I think about myself
I almost laugh myself to death.
My life has been one great big joke!
A dance that’s walked a song that’s spoke.
I laugh so hard HA! HA! I almos’ choke
When I think about myself.

Seventy years in these folks’ world
The child I works for calls me girl
I say “HA! HA! HA! Yes ma’am!”
For workin’s sake
I’m too proud to bend and
Too poor to break
So…I laugh! Until my stomach ache
When I think about myself.
My folks can make me split my side
I laugh so hard, HA! HA! I nearly died
The tales they tell sound just like lying
They grow the fruit but eat the rind.
Hmm huh! I laugh uhuh huh huh…
Until I start to cry when I think about myself
And my folks and the children.

My fathers sit on benches,
Their flesh count every plank,
The slats leave dents of darkness
Deep in their withered flank.
And they gnarled like broken candles,
All waxed and burned profound.
They say, but sugar, it was our submission
that made your world go round.

There in those pleated faces
I see the auction block
The chains and slavery’s coffles
The whip and lash and stock.

My fathers speak in voices
That shred my fact and sound
They say, but sugar, it was our submission
that made your world go round.
They laugh to conceal their crying,
They shuffle through their dreams
They stepped ’n fetched a country
And wrote the blues in screams.
I understand their meaning,
It could an did derive
From living on the edge of death
They kept my race alive
By wearing the mask! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!


© Maya Angelou