JOHN O'DONOHUE

Poem for Today July 14, 2014

FOR AN ADDICT

 On its way through the innocent night,

The moth is ambushed by the light,

Becomes glued to a window

Where a candle burns; its whole self,

It dreams of light and all desire,

Trapped in one glazed gaze;

Now nothing else can satisfy

But the deadly beauty of flame.

When you lose the feel

For all other belonging

And what is truly near

Becomes distant and ghostly;

And you are visited

And claimed by a simplicity

Sinister in its singularity,

No longer yourself, your mind

And will owned and steered

From elsewhere now,

You would sacrifice anything

To dance once more to the haunted

Music with your fatal beloved

Who owns the eyes of your heart.

These words of blessing cannot

Reach, even as echoes,

To the shore of where you are,

Yet may they work without you

To soften some slight line through

To the white cave where

Your soul is captive,

May some glimmer

Of outside light reach your eyes

To help you recognize how

You have fallen for a vampire.

May you crash hard and soon

Onto real ground again

Where this fundamentalist

Shell might start to crack

For you to hear

Again your own echo.

That your lost, lonesome heart

Might learn to cry out

For the true intimacy

Of love that waits

To take you home

To where you are known

And seen and where

Your life is treasured

Beyond every frontier

Of despair you have crossed.

© John O’Donohue

page 128-129
 in Benedictus,

A Book of Blessings,

Bantam Press, 2007

I AM A PART  OF  ALL 

THAT  I  HAVE  MET  

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time is, “I Am A Part of All That I Have Met.”

That’s a line from a poem, Ulysses, by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

I heard that line in that poem in high school and for some reason I have never forgotten it and have said it to myself many times.

“I Am A Part of All That I Have Met.”

TODAY’S READINGS

Those words by Tennyson came back to me last night as I sat down to work on this homily for this morning.

I say that because the first reading and the gospel talk about words as seeds planted in the field of our memory or our brains.

The first reading from Isaiah 55:10 -11 begins with the image of God watering the earth with rain and snow to make it fertile and fruitful. In doing this the earth gives seed to the one who sows and then bread to the one who eats.

Then Isaiah says that God also sends down words from his mouth and that word will be fruitful. It will not be void – or empty. It will do God’s will. He has God saying, “I will achieve the end for which I sent it.”

Those words are very clear. Get it? Got it?  Good!

If you’ve ever been to Israel and Palestine – or if you look at the TV background on many a story about fighting going on over there – you know that the earth can be dry desert like.

Today's gospel -  Matthew 13: 1-23 - presents his wording of the Parable of the Sower which is also very clear – even if one is not a gardener or a farmer.

Jesus pictures himself as a farmer sowing parables and wisdom and stories like seed on our world. Then he says there are 4 kinds of people who are the recipients – just as the seeds the sower is tossing land on all kinds of soil and earth.

Some people are rock deaf and dumb and dense. Some people are shallow. Some people are good listeners – get and love the message – but they have too many other things in their minds. Some people get the message, grow, and become fruitful – 100, 60, 30fold.

Jesus understood what every preacher and teacher and parent knows.

Best of luck – keep trying – keep nagging – keep advertising: “Please! I don’t want to be the only one around here who empties the dish washer every time.”

Some people don’t hear. They just don’t get it. It’s like talking to the sidewalk. 

Some people listen lightly and nothing really hits home.

Some people have depth, but they have too many other things going on in their lives. They promise, promise, but we are only 1 of their 100 promises.

Some folks get it and go with it and grow with it.

THIS HOMILY: 3 RAMIFICATIONS OF THIS REALITY

There are many ramifications to today’s two readings – including today’s second reading as well. Let me give just 3.

ONE: TRUST THE PROCESS

I was taught years ago the slogan: “Trust the Process.”

When I first heard it, I might have said, “Great!”  But I really didn’t get it.

At 49 - my brother gets cancer, Melanoma – Irish Skin -  and is told from Day 1 – “You have 18 months to live." And that’s what he got. I asked him Day 1, “How are you going to deal with this?” He said, “I’ll let you know.”

Just before he died he said, “I’m glad I didn’t wait till now to smell the roses.” Then he said, “Thank God, mom and dad gave us the gift of faith. Without faith in God, I don’t know what I would do.”

So moms and dads, trust the process. You’re here. Maybe your kids ain’t – but trust the process. If they saw you here, if you prayed at meals and an Our Father or whatever at home with them - or you said a prayer in your car whenever you went on a trip, you planted that in the field of your kids.

It’s in them. Trust the process. Time has a wonderful way of coming home to us.

TWO: WHO SAID ELEPHANTS HAVE THE BEST MEMORIES?

We humans have great memories. 

Someone mentions South Korea or the Southside of Chicago and a memory something that went south years and years ago bops up from out of our depths.

I was taking a 5 hour car trip once. Since I would be with myself, I grabbed  some old cassette tapes – from 25 years ago. My car now had a CD player – so I grabbed a cassette player – put new batteries in it – and off I drove.

I’m listening to this tape – and I say, “Woo!” The speaker, a Jesuit, gave this great example. And I say out loud in my car to myself, “Oh that’s where I got that from – and I thought I was so original.”

Is our brain a tape recorder? Nope. But I do remember all these years a book I read by Doctor Wilder Penfield – a Montreal Canada neurosurgeon.

In treating epilepsy and doing brain surgery – to avoid doing big time damage – he did brain mapping – keeping the patient somewhat conscious – so as to know what parts of the brain triggered stuff in other parts of the body. This was in the 70’s – and his brain mapping is still used. Accidentally he discovered that in some patients – touching a specific part of the brain, triggered memories. Other brain surgeons have not been able to replicate this – and it was only in 5% of his patients.

However, when news of this got out, it became the stuff of imagination. Who needs waterboarding, just open a person’s brain and tap, tap?

That book by Dr. Wilder Penfield told me that we have a lot in our brain – amazing. It told me what one reads from time to time, that we have only just got to edge of the exploration of the human brain. Talk about Mars and outer space. What about the inner space of the brain and the soul and spirit of us people?

Stick around to 2492. Some Doctor Christopher or Krista Columbus of will discover whole new worlds in the human brain.

So no wonder when Jack says Blue – Jill thinks of seeing the Blue Angels in Annapolis in 2014.

THREE – GARBAGE IN, GARBAGE OUT, SO TOO BEETHOVEN AND BACH

If all this is somewhat true, if we are like soil, earth, and seeds are planted and they grow – especially if they are watered, then the obvious message is: Plant the good stuff; avoid the weeds.

Work a garden. Listen to good music. Watch good movies. Read good books. Walk in beautiful places. Sit and pray in quiet afternoon churches. Try listening prayer.

We all remember the saying from years ago, “Garbage in; garbage out.”

You reap what you sow.

In this homily, I'm throwing out seed  ideas. I'm hoping some will take root, but I heard what Jesus said about different kinds of listeners.

If you're listening, then know that you don't have dementia yet. 

But if anyone is still listening – I failed, because I see preaching as triggering stuff folks can go off on – to listen to your own stuff that you need to tend to and stop listening to the preacher.

However, if anyone is still listening, you should have some questions - about memories.

Here are a few possible ones - with comments.

What do I do with my past sins? I confessed them – I regretted them – but they are still bothering me from time to time.

Response. Welcome to the club.

Response – the good news is that you don’t have dementia – but a good long term memory.

Response – our sins can keep us humble.

Response – our sins can help us to understand others. I  never forget Hawthorne’s story where in a New England town there is this lady who spends her time, “Tch, tch, tch", other people.  So this other lady says, “Why don’t you go out and commit a really good sin and maybe then you’ll understand the rest of us.”

That story was worth the price and the reading of the whole story.

Response – all this should get us thinking - how we were formed - where we got our ideas from - and also get us thinking about not drinking poison.

Perhaps we should also reflect upon next Sunday's gospel - Jesus' parable of the wheat and the weeds - the one in which the farmer says let both grow till harvest time. Pull them out now, you might do damage to the good stuff growing in your field. [Cf. Matthew 13:24-30]

So the following gets me thinking.  I love shoot-em-up movies. I loved the Bourne Movies and Kill Bill I and 2 – and they are rated R for violence.  I still have no desire to kill any of the priests I live with. How about you? If you feel that way, maybe you shouldn’t be looking at those movies.

CONCLUSION

When you come up for communion this morning – say, pray, “Jesus, I am a part of all that I have met. Thanks for the good. Help me to learn from the bad.”

Then pray, “Jesus come into me today in communion and help me to bring you out into our world today and tomorrow – so those who meet me, meet you. Amen.”

LEARNINGS 

FROM  THE  JOURNEY 

A Poem for Today

ULYSSES

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd  greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known,-- cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honor'd of them all,--
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. 

I am a part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
to whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,--
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me,--
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads,-- you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. 

© Alfred Lord Tennyson

JUST  3  WORDS: 

“HOLY, HOLY, HOLY” 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 14th Saturday in Ordinary time is, “Just 3 Words: Holy, Holy, Holy”.

“Holy, Holy, Holy” are the words – that Isaiah hears – in today’s first reading. [Cf. Isaiah 6:1-]

Isaiah is in the temple – where he has a God experience. He hears the angels – praying and praising God: “Holy, Holy, Holy.”

The scene is where we get the Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus – the Holy, Holy, Holy, of our Mass.

It’s why we have all these images of angels here in our church – at the old altar, in the Mary Ikon, in the stained glass windows, up there in the ceiling and at our Holy Water fonts in the back.

SUGGESTION

Find yourself saying that 3 word prayer – “Holy, Holy, Holy” - when you are having awful experiences – that is, experiences of fullness of awe – completeness, wholeness, experiencing the Holy – experiencing God.

Put that prayer – simply saying, “Holy, Holy, Holy” into practice.

The Hebrew word for Holy – and Holiness -  is “QODES” or “QADES”.

It becomes “Hagia” in Greek and it becomes “Holy” in English.

Be aware of the sounds each of us makes when we experience awe or the holy.  These sounds often have an “ah” or an “oh” in them. Amen.

We often make the sound “Oh” or “Ah” or “Ooooh!” whenever we are in an awful moment.

Listen to others and to ourselves and hear the words we use when we experience something awesome – or we’re surprised. We hear, “Wow!” or “Woo!” or “Oh” or “Uooh!” or we say, “Holy” or “holy cow” “holy mackerel” or “Holy God.”

KEY INGREDIENTS OF HOLINESS ARE

The key ingredients of holiness are: fullness, completeness, awesomeness, the spectacular, beauty.  Surprise!

The opposite of holiness is split, the wrong, graffiti on the sacred walls or beautiful fences, tossed garbage, broken, incomplete, sin, curses, division, the ugly.

Yet paradoxically, holiness means separate. So Sunday is a holy day – separate from the ordinary days of the week. So we wear the more beautiful in holy moments – like vestments, Sunday best, wedding attire…. So a church, a synagogue, a temple, a mosque, is a different building – a holy place.

SOME HOLY, HOLY, HOLY MOMENTS

Here are some Holy, Holy, Holy moments – moments to say those 3 words: "Holy, Holy, Holy" … when they don’t come naturally.

Make it a practice to enter churches we've we’ve never been in before. Try the door. If open, enter. Hopefully it’s a beautiful place. Stand, sit, kneel.  Then, pray, “Holy, Holy, Holy.” May your prayers rise with all the prayers ever said in that holy place.  Some people make their 1 wish  - whenever they enter a church they have never been in before and say three Hail Mary’s.  Others say 1 Hail Mary and make 3 wishes. This second practice is the one I was brought up with.  Whichever way you choose, I’m suggesting, say those 3 words, “Holy, Holy, Holy.”

Whenever you go by a cemetery say, “Holy, Holy, Holy.”

At times walk through your house and stop and say those 3 words at the holy places: the kitchen table, the dining room table, your marriage bed, a screened in porch, a window that has your favorite outside spot to see, a screened in porch, a garden….

Whenever you see a funeral hearse or a wedding limo going by – say, pray, that those in those cars have a Holy, Holy, Holy moment that day.

Close your eyes – and picture all the beautiful places in the world you’ve been in: art museums, gardens filled with spectacular flowers, the Ocean, lakes, rivers, mountains, canyons, ball parks with great crowds…..

Then there are musical concerts – music of all sorts – rock concerts, folk music, rock-n-roll, orchestras, or musicals. Like last night over in Marian Hall our little kids put on an hour’s concert of the music and dance they learned and practiced in the annual PAC – Performing Arts Camp.   I heard lots of clapping and “Ah” or “Oooh” moments.

Savor the taste of butter and salt on your next ear of corn – corn on the cob – or the taste of watermelon – a great beer on a hot, hot day – as well as your next ice cream cone or apple or blueberry pie – enjoying the moments with family and friends.

Then there are sunrises, sunsets, waking up to a new day, going to sleep after thinking of the 3 best moments of that day: Holy, Holy, Holy.

CONCLUSION

And on and on and on…. Holy, Holy, Holy, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

And at this Mass – this day – when we come to that prayer  - let’s say that prayer with great spirit.

And may each of us have at least 3 “Holy, holy, holy” moments this day. Amen.

WILFRED OWEN

WORLD WAR 1 POET

Poem for Today - July 12, 2014

FUTILITY

Move him into the sun —
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds —
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved, — still warm, — too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
— O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?

© Wilfred Owen

OTHERNESS: 

LEARNING  TO  LIVE  WITH  OTHERNESS 

INTRODUCTION 

The title of my homily is, “Otherness: Learning to Live With Otherness.”

Today is the feast of St. Benedict – and looking at his life – as well as today’s readings – there are various comments and various themes and issues one can talk about and think about.

The theme that hit me last night was a theme that I spend a lot of time thinking about and learning about – and you do too.

It’s the question, the issue, the theme, the reality of otherness.

Other people are different from me. It's their otherness that intrigues - surprises - irritates - and enlightens me.

I consider talking about other people to be the # 1 topic of conversation for all people – most of which takes place under one’s own hood. Yes we talk about weather and sports – but nothing compares with those ongoing questions and conversations we have with them and most of the time they don't know it. They  all have going on inside our brains all the time.

I'm saying: most of the time we’re talking to ourselves about someone else – about their motives – about their behaviors – about their comments.

It’s their otherness that pushes our buttons - and energy flows and flies.

If we sit down in a seat in the mall and watch people going by – we’ll see a lot of different faces, mannerisms, costumes, jewelry – tattoos, shoes, cellphones – so many people different than ourselves.

There are over 7 billion people on the planet – and we’re all different.

We’re all other with our otherness from each other.

FOR STARTERS

Today’s gospel is from Matthew.  Mathew is different from Mark, Luke and John.

Today’s first reading is from Hosea. He is different from the prophet Amos whom we had last week – and both are other than all the other prophets.

Today is the feast of St. Benedict. He is different from other saints – like St. Alphonsus or St. John Neumann or Saint Gemma Galgani or St. Rose of Lima or St. Francis of Assisi.

Our present pope chose the name Francis. Our last pope – who is still alive – chose the name Benedict.

Both popes are different – very different from each other. 

For example, take their shoes. You’ve never seen Francis wearing red leather papal shoes.  Paul Vallely in his book, Pope Francis, Untying the Knots, makes some comments about his shoes. They are only anecdotes – but they are  telling stories. Jorge Mario Bergoglio arrived in Rome from Buenos Aires wearing “an extremely shabby pair of plain black shoes….”  Just before he left, some friends chipped in some money  to get him a new pair. Nope! The ones he had were fine. [Cf. page 149; 170.)

Different shoes are, different faces, different takes on life.... 

This homily is different. I'm simply bringing up the human reality of otherness - so as to trigger your thoughts and experiences on how well you are dealing with others and their otherness.

CONCLUSION: A SHORT  QUESTIONNAIRE ON OTHERNESS?

Besides listening - besides patience - what are 5 life skills needed for dealing with others?

On a scale of 1 to 10 - 10 being the best - how good are my life’s skills in dealing with others and their otherness.

Can I accept that another sees differently than I see – like everything?

In fact, do I realize if I think another is seeing the scene I’m seeing the same way I’m seeing it, I’m being self-centered?

As today's gospel puts it, some people are wolves in sheep clothing; some people are sheep in wolves clothing. Can I tell the difference?  Who  decides?

As today's gospel puts it, some people are shrewd as serpents and some folks are as simple as doves. Thinking about people you know, name some people who fit those labels.

Can I laugh at our differences? Male/female, neat/sloppy, logical/intuitive, liberal/conservative, always late/always early, control freak/a secure person, dreamers/doers, back benchers/front benchers, formal/informal, tall/short, fat/thin, givers/takers, cheap/lavish, conventional/casual, right brain/left brain,  young/old, stuck in the past/stuck in the future, planners/seat of the pantsers, and on and on and on?

Can I ask others what they are seeing or thinking or perceiving?  Then how well do I listen to others?

Do I celebrate otherness – knowing it can lead to better teamwork, new discoveries?

Or am I stuck on myself or in myself?

Do I agree with this quote or statement, “The greatest sin is our inability to accept the otherness of the other person?”

SEAMUS HEANEY 
- AN EXCERPT

Poem for Today - July 11, 2014

WHATEVER YOU SAY,

SAY NOTHING

I.
I'm writing just after an encounter
With an English journalist in search of  'views
On the Irish thing'.  I'm back in winter
Quarters where bad news is no longer news,

Where media-men and stringers sniff and point,
Where zoom lenses, recorders and coiled leads
Litter the hotels. The times are out of joint
But I incline as much to rosary beads

As to the jottings and analyses
Of politicians and newspapermen
Who've scribbled down the long campaign from gas
And protest to gelignite and Sten,

Who proved upon their pulses 'escalate',
'Backlash' and 'crack down', 'the provisional wing',
'Polarization' and 'long-standing hate'.
Yet I live here, I live here too, I sing,

Expertly civil-tongued with civil neighbours
On the high wires of first wireless reports,
Sucking the fake taste, the stony flavours
Of those sanctioned, old, elaborate retorts:

'Oh, it's disgraceful, surely, I agree.'
'Where's it going to end?' 'It's getting worse.'
'They're murderers.' 'Internment, understandably ...'
The 'voice of sanity' is getting hoarse.

III.
"Religion's never mentioned here", of course.
"You know them by their eyes," and hold your tongue.
"One side's as bad as the other," never worse.
Christ, it's near time that some small leak was sprung

In the great dykes the Dutchman made
To dam the dangerous tide that followed Seamus.
Yet for all this art and sedentary trade
I am incapable. The famous

Northern reticence, the tight gag of place
And times: yes, yes. Of the "wee six" I sing
Where to be saved you only must save face
And whatever you say, you say nothing.

Smoke-signals are loud-mouthed compared with us:
Manoeuvrings to find out name and school,
Subtle discrimination by addresses
With hardly an exception to the rule

That Norman, Ken and Sidney signalled Prod
And Seamus (call me Sean) was sure-fire Pape.
O land of password, handgrip, wink and nod,
Of open minds as open as a trap,

Where tongues lie coiled, as under flames lie wicks,
Where half of us, as in a wooden horse
Were cabin'd and confined like wily Greeks,
Besieged within the siege, whispering morse.

IV.
This morning from a dewy motorway
I saw the new camp for the internees:
A bomb had left a crater of fresh clay
In the roadside, and over in the trees

Machine-gun posts defined a real stockade.
There was that white mist you get on a low ground
And it was déjà-vu, some film made
Of Stalag 17, a bad dream with no sound.

Is there a life before death? That's chalked up
In Ballymurphy. Competence with pain,
Coherent miseries, a bite and sup,
We hug our little destiny again.

© Seamus Heaney