YEARNING

Poem for Today - May 19, 2014

THE ANALYSIS 

OF YEARNING (Garod)

I know the dark need, the yearning, that want,

in the same way the blind man knows

the inside of his old home.

I don’t see my own movements

and the objects hide.

But without error or stumbling

I maneuver among them,

live among them,

move like the self-winding clock

which even after losing its hands

keeps ticking and turning

but shows neither minute nor hour.

And dangling between darkness and loneliness

I want to analyze this want

like a chemist

to understand its nature and profound mystery.

And as I try

there is laughter

from some mysterious tunnel,

laughter from an indescribable distance,

from an unhearable distance.

A city sparrow with a liquid song

changes its ungreen life

Into music from an unechoing distance,

an unhuntable distance.

And words start hurting me

as they mock, echo from the unhuntable distance,

the merciless distance.

I walk from wall to wall

and the sound of my steps

seems to come from far away

from that merciless distance,

that impossible distance.

I am not blind

but I see nothing

around me, because

vision has detached itself

and reached that distance

that is impossibly far,

excessively far.

I run after myself

incapable of ever reaching or

catching what I seek.

And this is what is called

Want and longing or “garod.”

© Barouyr Sevag,

from Colorado Review.  

Translated from the Armenian, 

© 1978  by Diana Der-Hovanessian.

Found in Language for a New Century,

Edited by Tina Chang, Nathalie Handal

and Ravi Shankar, pages 110-112

THERE’S  MORE  THAN 

ONE  WAY  TO  SKIN  A  CAT!

 INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “There’s More Than One Way to Skin a Cat.”

Have you ever used that saying somewhere and some time in your life?

Someone wants you to do something their way – or the expected way – and you do it a different way – or you want to do it your way. And so you say, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

LOOKED IT UP

I looked it up and found out that nobody is that sure of the origin of that old proverb.

Researchers found people saying that saying - as far back as 1678 – but they are still not sure where the saying comes from. It could mean just what it says. Picture 5 taxidermists removing the skin of an animal – removing stuff - then restuffing it with different stuff – and then putting the skin back on. I would assume taxidermists - or hunters - or butchers - would remove an animal's skin differently. Then someone applied that reality to everyday life and said, "There's more than one way to skin a cat." People do things differently. Hello!

Others say it refers to skinning a catfish. Others say it refers to doing a gymnastic trick differently.

Since it’s still a common saying – someone came up with a cute list of 50 different ways to skin a cat. Some were quite funny.  Some of the 50 are gross – and I have to work on being PC correct. Better PCC – Politically Cat Correct. Here’s 4  ways from that list on how to skin a cat that I think could be mentioned in church:  
# 17: “Suddenly and severely frighten the cat you want to skin.  Try sneaking up and clap cymbals in its ears.”  
# 22:  vote yes on proposition 98. (the cat skinning law) 
# 42, “Tie one end of string to doorknob, other end to cat's skin. Slam door.” Ouch!                
# 46: Accuse cat of murder. Collect skin as evidence.”

OOPS – THE REASON FOR THIS SERMON

It’s the thought that hit me when I read today’s 3 readings.

In today’s first reading we hear about structural – organizational - changes in the Early Church.

Things are getting busier and people are being neglected. We need to reorganize.

We heard in today’s first reading that the Hellenists – the Greeks in the Early Church – complained against the Hebrews in the Early Church. Their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. Some folks were needed to serve at table; some folks were needed for prayer services.  So after discussion 7 men were chosen for a special ministry.

Reorganization has been the history of every organization – and that includes the Christian Church. Priests, bishops, deacons, other ministries developed as the church expanded and grew. These titles don’t mean exactly what they mean today.

Pope Francis has recently set up his super committee of 8 cardinals. Was it to bypass the curia or other power groups?

As we move into the future, there will be changes in Church structure and organization. What those changes will be – gives material for many magazine articles.

As we look at the past, cardinals weren’t always the sole voters on picking a new pope. That didn’t take place till 1059. Before that emperors and others got in on the pickings.

So the history of cardinals could be a case study in church organizational change and development. Some say our first reading  - with this story of these 7 men being picked by name was the beginning of the idea of cardinals. Others say it’s the idea of the deacons. These 7 were chosen as consulters – and by the 4^th century - these consulters of the Pope were called "Cardinals".  The word has the Latin root "cardo" meaning "hinge".

The word “monsignor” also has an interesting history. Pope Francis didn’t reward anyone with this title when he was Archbishop and then Cardinal of Buenos Aires – and wants to cut back on titles and awards  - telling priests to avoid careerism.

I love the last part of the last sentence in the English Translation of today’s first reading: “The word of God continued to spread, and the number of the disciples in Jerusalem increased greatly; even a large group of priests were becoming obedient to the faith.”

There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

So expect in our lifetime more structural changes in the Catholic Church.

Today’s second reading from 1 Peter says the key to any structure is Christ. The building can take many shapes, but make sure Christ is our cornerstone. Make him our rock.

So Christianity has many forms – and has had many splits – and hopefully we keep on working for Church Unity – aware that we all don’t see the same way. Hopefully, we all hear that final sentence and statement in today’s second reading: “You are ‘a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own, so that you may announce the praises’ of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”

Today’s Gospel has Jesus telling us that he is the way, the truth and the life. Today’s gospel also has Jesus telling us that there are many dwelling places in his Father’s house.

Down through the centuries there have been many descriptions of what heaven is like. We have to die to find out – and I don’t hear most people dying to find out. Different religions also give different descriptions.

There are jokes and amusing stories about up there. I’ve heard about 5 versions of the person arriving in heaven – and being shown to their room – and St. Peter says as the new person goes by several doors – “Shish – those are the Catholics, they think they’re the only one’s here.” “Shish those are the Baptists, they think they’re the only one’s here.”

Will every mansion on the street be different? Will there be gated communities – with Golden Gates and Golden cobblestones?

CONCLUSION: IN THE MEANWHILE

The title of my homily is, “There’s More Than One Way to Skin a Cat.”

I think that tiny trivial statement – can bring us a lot of peace.

I think Thomas is a great gift of a person to have in the gospel readings. He says things we all need to say at times. For example, from today’s gospel: “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?”

Then Jesus says to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

To me that’s like ordering “Cobb Salad” when at a restaurant.

My good friend Tom and I were preaching in Ohio – where Bob Evan’s Restaurants started. The priest in the parish took us out to Bob Evans every night – he didn’t like to shop or cook. Every night – Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I got Cobb Salad.

As a result whenever I see Cobb Salad on a menu – except if it says it has fish in it – I order Cobb Salad to see how they make it in this restaurant.

That’s the act of faith. I make it.  In the meanwhile I wait to see what’s going to appear 10 minutes later.

Life – we have to make lots of acts of faith. We know there are lots of ways to skin a cat – lots of ways to live our faith – lots of ways to do life – and we make acts of faith in each other – and in our judgment - and in God – and we just hope what happens after our waiting– it was all worth the wait.

Of course we have hesitations. Didn’t the risen Lord – on that Lake called Galilee – have fish on a fire for the disciples  – for breakfast - one of those first mornings after Easter? I hope to get to heaven after I die, but if I meet him waiting for me on the other shore of death  cooking something up for me when I arrive, I hope it's not catfish.

VENICE  -  FIREWORKS 

Poem for Today - May 18, 2014

THINKING  OF  GALILEO

When, during a weekend in Venice while standing

with the dark sky above the Grand Canal

exploding in arcs of color and light,

a man behind me begins to explain

the chemical composition of the fireworks

and how potassium-something-ate and sulfur catalyze

to make the gold waterfall of stars cascading

in the moon-drunk sky, I begin to understand why

the Inquisition tortured Galileo

and see how it might be a good thing for people

to think the sun revolves around the earth.

You don't have to know how anything works

to be bowled over by beauty,

but with an attitude like mine we'd still be                   swimming

in a sea of smallpox and consumption,

not to mention plague, for these fireworks

are in celebration of the Festival of the Redentore,
or Christ the Redeemer, whose church on the other           side

of the canal was built after the great plague

      of 1575 to thank him for saving Venice,

though by that time 46,000 were dead,

and I suppose God had made his point if indeed he           had one.

The next morning, Sunday, we take the vaporetto

across the lagoon and walk along

the Fondamenta della Croce, littered

with the tattered debris of spent rockets

and Roman candles, to visit the Church of the                   Redentore

by Palladio. The door is open for mass,

and as I stand in the back, a miracle occurs:
after a year of what seems to be nearly futile study,

I am able to understand the Italian of the priest.

He is saying how important it is

to live a virtuous life, to help one's neighbors,

be good to our families, and when we err

to confess our sins and take communion.

He is speaking words I know: vita, parlare,                       resurrezione.

Later my professor tells me the holy fathers

speak slowly and use uncomplicated constructions

so that even the simple can understand Christ's                 teachings.

The simple: well, that's me, as in one for whom

even the most elementary transaction is difficult,

who must search for nouns the way a fisherman

throws his net into the wide sea, who must settle

for the most humdrum verbs: I am, I have, I go, I       speak,

and I see nothing is simple, even my desire to                   strangle

the man behind me or tell him that some things

shouldn't be explained, even though they can be,

because most of the time it's as if we are wandering

lost in a desert, famished, delirious,

set upon by wild lions, our minds blank with fear,

starving for a crumb, any morsel of light.

© Barbara Hamby (1952-  )

THE SCREAM!

A QUIET POEM

My father screamed whenever the phone rang.

My aunt often screamed when she opened the door.

Out back, the willows caterwauled.

In the kitchen, the faucet screamed

a drop at a time.

At school, they called screaming “recess”

or sometimes “music.”

Our neighbors’ daughter had a scream

more melodious than my own.

At first, Col. Parker had to pay girls

to get them to scream for Elvis.

I didn’t want to scream when I saw the Beatles

but I did. After that, I screamed for even

mediocre bands.

Late in his career, John Lennon

got into Primal Scream.

Many people find it relaxing to scream.

Just as crawling precedes walking, so screaming

precedes speech.

The roller coaster is just one of many

scream-inducing devices.

The ambulance tries, in its clumsy way, to emulate

the human scream, which in turn tries to emulate nature.

Wind is often said to shriek, but Sylvia Plath

also speaks of “the parched scream of the sun.”

Jim Morrison wanted to hear the scream of the butterfly.

With ultra-sensitive equipment, scientists measure

the screams of plants they’ve tortured.

It’s proven, that if you scream at a person

for years, then suddenly stop, he will hear even

the tenderest words of love as violent curses.

And to anyone who speaks above a whisper, he will say:

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare raise your voice to me.”

© Elaine Equi, pages 570-571,

In Post Modern American Poetry,

A Norton Anthology, edited by

Paul Hoover, 2^nd Edition.

Painting on top:
The Scream, The Shrik,
(The Scream of Nature),
Edvard Munch [1863-1944]
Pastel on Board, Oslo.
This version sold for
$119,922,000.

QUIET

May 16, 2014

QUIETLY

Quietly

may the murmur of water falling

fill us,

quietly

may the autumn moon

Float on the ripples of the lake,

quietly

may life’s unspoken mystery

deepen in our still eyes,

quietly

may we, ecstatic, be immersed in the expanse

yet find it in ourselves –

Agyeya, translated by Lucy Rosenstein, from New Poetry in Hindi, Nayi Kavita: An Anthology (London: Anthem Press, 2004 / Permanent Black, 2002) Copyright © by Lucy Rosenstein.

GOD?

Poem for Today - Thursday May 15, 2014

TO GOD

How many things they say about you –

that you created the expanding universe,

or was it that the world’s people

created you? Whose side do you choose?

The rich – who take more than their due

and toss scraps to the poor, and toss you too?

Or the poor – who hope you’ll soon turn things upside down

and so deliver them? But you never do.

In battle, you sit by the victor.

Nietzsche says, you’re dead.
Pascal says, we can’t know whether or not you exist,

but it’s worse to be fooled disbelieving.

These are weighty and deep philosophical questions. I see

a forest behind me, a desert in front of me,

and man in the middle, in his encampments.

and bullock carts hauling heaps of beef everyday.

© Sarat Kumar Mukhopadhyay

Translated from the Bengali

by Robert McNamara and

the author.

BE  STILL

Poem for Today - May 14, 2014

TODAY

Today I’m flying low and I’m

not saying a word.
I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,

the bees in the garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.

And so forth.

But I’m taking the day off.

Quiet as a feather.

I hardly move though really I’m traveling

a terrific distance.

Stillness.  One of the doors

into the temple.

© Mary Oliver, page 23,

in A Thousand Mornings.

Painting on top:
The Purification of the Temple,
1479-1481. It's part of  the
St. Wolfgang Alterpiece
by Michael Pacher (c. 1435-1498)
which can be found 
in a monastery at the end of 
Lake Wolfgang in Austria.