RECOVERY

Poem for Today - March 22, 2014

VESSEL OF WHOLENESS

Fractured
cracked
held together
in wholeness
completeness
by the air of the Spirit
the putty of trust
the glue of friendship
the cement of Scripture.
Serving a purpose
Beautifying the world
Testifying
to the power,
strength,
and possibilities
of limitations embraced.

(c)  Imelda Cooper

Painting, "The Pitcher"

by Brad McLean

ENVY KILLS

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Envy Kills.”

Envy itches the skin of our arms and our chest. 

Catch yourself when you are feeling envious. See if you scratch your arms and the back of your hands or your chest – just under your heart – or if your a lefty, on your right side.  I don’t know if that’s true,

but it’s something I wonder about. Check it out.

CAPITAL SIN

Envy is one of the capital sins. It’s a biggie. It means coveting. It means wanting. It means desiring – what others have and we don’t have.

Envy causes resentments – loss of skin – loss of soul – loss of energy – loss of time – loss of inner peace.

The title of my homily is, “Envy kills.”

Envy is often interchanged with the word “jealousy”. It happens so often that the argument that jealousy has to do with fear of losing what we have and envy is wanting what others have – doesn’t hold.

Yet I still like that distinction between envy and jealous.

TODAY’S FIRST READING

Today’s first reading from Genesis puts the issue of envy up front and personal. [Cf. Genesis 37: 3-4, 12-13a, 17b -28a]

Parents, teachers, grandparents always tell us that they don’t have any favorites. 

Let me tell you: they are lying.

Today’s first reading begins with the flat out statement that Jacob loved Joseph best of all his sons. His dad even makes a special coat just for him – the so called “coat of many colors”.

How’s that for a topper.

Joseph was smart later on in life – but when he was a teenager – he let his brothers know he knew he was daddy’s favorite. He told his brothers his dreams and in his dreams he’s #1.

He let them know he was top dog – the Hot Dog!

No wonder they wanted to kill him.

Envy kills.

And Joseph is almost killed.

Instead he’s sold into Egypt for 20 pieces of silver.

Hint, hint, the price of living has gone up by the time Jesus rolls around – when he’s sold for 30 pieces of silver.

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Today’s gospel from Matthew gets right into one of the main motives for killing Jesus. It’s envy. And Envy Kills. [Cf. Matthew 21: 33-43, 45-46.]

Jesus was drawing the crowds.

Jesus was giving insights, wisdom, “Aha Statements”.

Jesus was giving religion of the heart – inside stories, inside stuff, and the chief priests knew down deep they didn’t have it.

Killing Jesus, removing Jesus, would remove these terrible feelings of envy – eating at their insides.  If they could kill Jesus, the heir, the favorite Son, they would have the whole Vineyard for themselves.

Envy kills.

PRIESTS

I’ve heard a few times the comment, “Envy is a priest’s disease.” 

It is. But it’s also an everybody’s disease.

The other person has better skin, is in better shape. The other person gets better recognition.  The other person has a better car and a better looking car, spouse, children.  The other person has a better wedding, funeral, front lawn. You name it and I’m envious of it, because I don’t have it.

Name your poison.

Name your desire.

Name your envy.

LITTLE GIRL STORY

I had a neat experience a few Sunday’s ago.

It was the baptism of the second child – another beautiful little girl.

Well, we’re standing there after the baptism and the newly baptized baby is in her daddy’s arms – just after getting all that attention.

Her older sister – 2 years old – sees her sister in daddy’s arms and wants to be held by daddy.

I don’t know if this is what’s going on – but this was what I was seeing.

She starts whining – loudish whining – wanting to be in daddy’s arms.

He’s just looking at his youngest.  Well, the 2 year old turns and sees me and comes over and wraps her arms around me.

It was a nice moment – never having kids.

Snap. Snap. Picture. Picture.

And I picked her up into my arms to mirror her daddy with his youngest daughter in his arms.

And she turns to face her daddy with a great look.

Hey guy. Look at me. Eat your heart out.

Snap. Snap. Picture. Picture.

Was this a picture of what goes on for much of our lives?

CONCLUSION

The title of my homily is, “Envy Kills.”

What’s a woman or a man to do?

Here are 3 solutions for now – first draft thoughts. I picked 3 words beginning with A - and tomorrow I could pick B's or at least C's.

First of all: Acceptance.  It behooves us to learn how to accept our age – our realities – our lives – as is – at any given moment – especially when envy itches us – and learn to laugh at ourselves.

Secondly: Appearance. It behooves us to remember that appearances are tricky. The grass is always greener in the other person’s yard. Or as they said years ago: “The grass is always greener over the other persons septic tank.”

Thirdly: Affirm others. It behooves us to affirm others about the stuff we envy in them or about them. This is part of how virtues grow - going against its opposite - the vice. Say, “Hey you have great skin.” “I love you car!” “Now that was the best wedding I’ve been at in years.”  "That's an interesting tie." “That’s a beautiful dress. Where did you buy it? Best dress at the wedding.” 

OOOOOOOOOO

Painting on top: Envy by Eva Hoffmann

BLESSED ARE 

THE POOR IN SPIRIT

Poem for Today - March 21, 2014

OH, TO BE SO  POOR

She lived life out of a wheelchair.
Barely hearing. Almost blind.
At worship today
Christ's Supper was offered to her,
but she thought the plate of broken bread
was the offering plate.
Bewildered, she said a bit too loud,
"I don't have anything to give."
Poor woman, they all thought.
Not so.
Through any disorientation, we have everything
in the Christ who gives his life for us.
Through our deafness, he hears for us.
Through our blindness, he sees for us.
Through our trembling hands, he will take
the bread and cup for us.
We hear Christ's words:
            Let not your heart be troubled.
            I will hold it.
            I will feed you.
            I will drink the cup for you.
            I will fill you.
            I will be your world.
Oh, to be so poor.

(c) Robert W. Guffey, Jr.

SOMETIMES - SOME 

THINGS COME IN THREES

Poem for Today - March 20, 2014

THREES

I was a boy when I heard three red words

a thousand Frenchmen died in the streets

for: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity – I asked

why men die for words.

I was older; men with mustaches, sideburns,

lilacs, told me the high golden words are:

Mother, Home, and Heaven – other older men

with face decorations said: God, Duty, Immortality

- they sang these threes slow from deep lungs.

Years ticked off their say-so on the great clocks

of doom and damnation, soup and nuts: meteors flashed

their say-so: and out of great Russia came three

dusky syllables workmen took guns and went out to die

for: Bread, Peace, Land.

And I met a marine of the U.S.A., a leatherneck 

              with a girl on

his knee for a memory in ports circling the earth 

              and he said:

Tell me how to say three things and I’ll always 

              get by – gimme

a plate of ham and eggs – how much? – and – 

              do you love me,
kid?

 ©  Carl Sandberg,

Harvest Poems,

1910-1960,

pages 61-62

IS GOD LONELY, TOO?

Poem for Today - March 19, 2014

THEY ASK: IS GOD, TOO, LONELY?

When God scooped up a handful of dust,
And spit on it, and molded the shape of man,
And blew a breath into it and told it to walk -
That was a great day.

And did God do this because He was lonely?
Did God say to Himself he must have company
And therefore He would make man to walk the earth
And set apart churches for speech and song with God?

These are questions.
They are scrawled in old caves.
They are painted in tall cathedrals.
There are men and women so lonely they believe
          God, too, is lonely.

© Carl Sandburg, 

Harvest Poems,

1910-1960, page 83

Cave painting on top 
from Widipedia, 
"In Indonesia the caves 
at Maros in Sulawesi 
are famous for 
their hand prints. 
About 1500 
negative handprints 
have also been found 
in 30 painted caves 
in the Sangkulirang 
area of Kalimantan; 
preliminary dating analysis 
puts their age 
in the range 
of 10,000 years old."

Check out the poem

on creation by James 

Weldon Johnson, 

on this blog

for February 19, 2014

AUTHENTICITY

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this Second Tuesday in Lent is, “Authenticity.”

Now that’s a difficult characteristic to have.

Authentic means the real deal – genuine. What you’re see is what you get. You can trust the label. It’s not counterfeit.

JESUS WAS OFF ON AUTHENTICITY

Authentic comes from a Greek word, "AUTHENIKOS". We find the roots of the word used in the Gospel of John in a few places - for example when Jesus talks about true or genuine worship.[Cf. John 4:23 .]  

If we grasp the gut meaning of the English word "authentic" - if we know it means not being being two faced - then we know this is definitely a theme Jesus was off on.

We know that his prime challenge were the Pharisees. They were externalists. They were in it for the show. They spent their lives examining other people’s consciences – and avoided the within.

Jesus described them as beautiful cemeteries – nice green grass on top – with nice white tomb stones on top of that -  but underneath filled with death.

We heard that again loud and clear in today’s gospel – from Matthew.

EULOGY AND  EVERYDAY CONVERSATIONS

I don’t remember ever hearing someone described as authentic in their eulogy. In fact I don’t remember ever describing someone as authentic. I might have used the word “honest” or “trustworthy” or “transparent” -  but I don’t remember using that word, “authentic” – but it bounced into my mind as I read and re-read today’s gospel.  Today’s gospel - Matthew 23: 1-12 - is near the end of his gospel - before we get to Jesus’ arrest.  We’re getting to motive for the crucifixion here.

I remember hearing in eulogies the following: “I never heard her or him saying something bad about another person.”

I don’t know about you, but whenever I hear that about someone who has died, I get the thought, maybe I should go for that as well. But I don't. I must have realized how difficult that would be – so I never made that commitment in life.

Never in a eulogy, but in a conversation, I’ve heard someone describe someone else as a Phony.

I don’t remember ever describing someone that way.

But I have thought about others behind their backs – and sometimes digs come up out of my grave – describing someone as being lazy, selfish, a Type A driver when driving, doesn’t seem to listen, but keeps cutting people off.... I described people those ways at times.

Afterwards - after  pondering upon it, I realized that’s being a Pharisee myself. Ugh. Bless me Father for I have sinned.

CONCLUSION

So I better leave digs and diggings into others lives to Jesus – and stay out of people’s graves – and death – and decaying inner stuff – and deal with my own stuff – and ask Jesus to come to me as he came to Mary M that Easter Sunday morning – or come to me as he came to Lazarus’ tomb and get me out of death and into Resurrection and new life – each morning – and pray and help me to be authentic this day and each day. Amen.

ONE QUESTION 

LEADS TO ANOTHER 

Poem for Today - March 18, 2014

SOME QUESTIONS YOU MIGHT ASK

Is the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of an owl?
Who has it, and who doesn't?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
                  as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves 
                  into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake 
                  and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting 
                  alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, 
                  and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?

© Mary Oliver

New and Selected Poems,

Volume One, page 65