BACK TO SCHOOL 

Poem for Today - August 16, 2014

A  LESSON  IN  HANDWRITING 

Try first this figure 2,

how, from the point of the pen,

clockwise it unwinds itself

downward to the line,

making itself a pedestal to stand on.

Watch now. Before your eyes it becomes a swan

drifting across the page, its neck so carefully

poised, its inky eye

lowered in modesty.

As you continue, soon,

between the thin blue lines,

swan after swan sails beautifully past you,

margin to margin, 2 by 2 by 2—

a handwritten swirl of swans.

Under them now unroll

the soft, curled pillows of the 6's,

the acrobatic 3's, the angular 7's,

the hourglass 8's, and the neat tadpole 9's,

each passing in review

on stilts or wheels or platforms

in copybook order.

Turn the page, for now

comes the alphabet, an eccentric

parade of odd characters. If at first you tangle,

now and again, in a loop or a twirl,

no matter. Each in time will dawn

as faces and animals do, familiar,

laughable, crooked, quirky.

Begin with the letter S. Already

it twists away from the pen like a snake or a watch spring,

coiled up and back to strike. SSSS, it says,

hissing and slithering off into the ferns of the F’s.

Follows a line of stately Q's floating

just off the ground, tethered by their tails,

over the folded arms of the W's

and the akimbo M's. Open-eyed, the O's

roll after them like bubbles blown away.

Feel how the point curls round them lovingly

after the serious three-tongued E's.

See now how the page fills up

with all the furniture of writing—the armchair H’s,

the ladders and trestles of A's and Y's and X's,

the T-shaped tables and the upholstered B's.

The pen abandons a whole scaffolding

of struts and braces, springs and balances,

on which will rest eventually

the weight of a written world, storey on storey

of words and vows, all the long-drawn-out telling

that pens become repositories of.

These are now your care, and you may give them

whatever slant or human twist you wish

if it should please you. But you will not alter

their scrawled authority, durable

as stone, silent, grave, oblivious

of all you make them tell.

Tomorrow, words begin.

© Alastair Reid

Pages 381-382

In The New Yorker

Book of Poems,

Selected by the Editors

Of the New Yorker,

Morrow Quill Paperbacks,

New York, 1974

ASSUMPTIONS: 

WE  ALL  HAVE  THEM! 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my short homily is, “Assumptions: We All Have Them!”

Today is the feast of the Assumption – and I assume we all know it means the Assumption of Mary into heaven – after her time here on earth.

It’s an amazing assumption. It’s an act of faith – that there is resurrection – life after death.

I was visiting a lady in hospice the other day – whose husband once said to me that he doesn’t believe in life after death. I didn’t bring that up the other day – as I sat with both of them and with their kids on their back porch.

Resurrection – life after death – is the big assumption – the big hope – the big act of faith.

I would stress faith and hope – because there is no proof – in life after death – just faith and hope – and a belief in the charity and love of God that Christ is the one who will be the bridge that will take us into heaven.

ASSUMPTIONS: WE ALL HAVE THEM

The title of my homily is, “Assumptions: We All Have Them!”

We would go crazy without assumptions. We assume the water is good. We assume the pilot can fly the plane. We assume that the other people in the cars around us are not about to fall asleep. We assume that those who say they love us, love us.

We have assumptions about there being a tonight and a tomorrow – and a next week and a next year.

Tragedies, accidents, abuse, terrorism, can destroy our trust in others as well as life.

Goodness and kindness and love and presence can firm up our trust in others – especially those around us.

MARY: MODEL AND MOTHER

I assume this is where Mary fits in. Her presence in the Christian Vision – helps us build up our faith and our hope and our assumptions about life and eternal life.

I think one of the blessings of being a Catholic is our assumptions about Mary – as a model and a mother. She lived some 2000 years ago. Yet she is more than that. The Christian assumption is that after her life, she was taken up to heaven by Christ ago. And like those who have gone before us, she is someone whom we can pray to. She is someone who we know by faith is with God – and so we can pray, “Hail Mary full of grace…”  We give her that compliment  - then we ask for help.

She modeled how to live life. When she lived her life in Israel – Nazareth, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and on the road, we see that she was full of grace. She spotted those who had run out of wine – a couple at a wedding in Cana of Galilee - and someone who were running out of blood – her son – on the way to his death at Calvary. She told people to listen to her son. She was there after his resurrection – helping the Early Church get off to a good start.

As we heard in today’s gospel [Luke 1:39-56], in the Early Christian hymn, the Magnificat, she proclaimed the greatness of the Lord with her life – her spirit rejoiced in God our Savior.

She was not only a model, but she has become a Mother for our Church down through the centuries. We see her shrine – statues, pictures, etc. in every Catholic Church – and so many Catholic homes. We see so many churches – like this one – named after her.

When I was a kid I was an altar boy and then a candle boy at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church,  Brooklyn, New York, I saw firsthand people visiting Mary’s altar – as well as lighting a candle. We grew up as a family saying the rosary – every evening. It felt like an hour – especially with my mother’s add ons – which I’ve always hated – but all this taught me that there are assumptions here when it comes to Mary.

CONCLUSION

The assumptions are: there is a God. There is the Christ. There is Mary – a model of faith and hope and charity – showing us how to live life to the full. There she is also  a mother – someone whom we can pray to and hear her say: Go to Jesus. Amen. 

ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT MARY

Poem for Today - August 15, 2014

SONNET 41

In Mary's body miracles took place

Expressions, Yahweh, of Your holy plan.

She danced in You before her life began,

Conception sweetly clean, without a trace

Of sin or imperfection, full of grace.

As conceived, so conceived in Anne;

So conceived the way the Son of Man

Would enter time, would join the human race.

In Mary's body, normal flesh and blood,

A spirit lived unburdened, free to love.

Normal soul and body, hand in glove,

She was as You intended: simply good.

Singularly normal in this wise,

She bridged the gap from earth to paradise.

© Christopher Fitzgerald
Painting: Virgin With Child
Mikhail Vrubel,
detail of Mary's Face

ST.  MAXIMILIAN KOLBE

1894 - 1941

Here is a painting of Saint Maximilian Kolbe by a friend of mine, Al Pacitti.

St. Maximilian Kolbe was killed in 1941 in Auschwitz, Poland. It was by lethal injection. Notice his prison uniform.

He was a member of Conventual Franciscans. Notice his religious habit.

He spoke out against the Nazis - and was imprisoned.

In July of 1941 - 3 prisioners disappeared  - and the German camp commandant chose 10 men to die by starvation. One of the 10, a Franciszek Gajowniczek screamed out that he had a wife and kids. At that Max Kolbe volunteered to take his place.

"A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends." [Cf. John 15:13]

IMAGES 

SEEING THE IMAGES, 

MEDITATING ON THE IMAGES - 

THE GRASP OF MEDITATION 

August 14, 2014

MEDITATION

Collect your mind’s fragments

that you may fill yourself

bit by bit with Meaning:

the slave who meditates

the mysteries of Creation

for sixty minutes

gains more merit

than from sixty years

of fasting and prayer.

Meditation:

high-soaring hawk

of Intellect's wrist

resting at last

on the flowering branch

of the Heart:

this world and the next

are hidden beneath

its folded wing.

Now perched before

the mud hut

which is Earth

now clasping with its talons

a branch of the Tree

of Paradise

soaring here

striking there—cacti moment

fresh prey

gobbling a mouthful of moonlight

wheeling away

beyond the sun

darting between the Great Wheel's

star-set spokes, it rips to shreds

the Footstool and Throne

a pigeon's feather

in its beak

or a comet

till finally free of everything

it alights, silent

on a topmost bough.

Hunting is king's sport,

not just anyone's

pastime

but you?

you’ve hooded the falcon

-        What can I say? –

Clipped its pinions

broken its wings …

alas.

© Sana’i (Persian Sufi poet)

ON THE BORDERS  
OF ENLIGHTENMENT 

Poem for Today - August 13, 2014

SOUL

When we are able to place

ourselves inside the wings

of the butterfly and feel its

fluid motion,

When we are able to enter the

head of the ant and see through

its eyes, and to feel the

burden of the bread that

lies upon its back:

This is the time when we are

enlightened

and only begin to

touch upon the borders

of the eternal spirit

the borders of the soul.

© Eamon J. McEneaney,

Page 32 in

A Bend in the Road,

Poems by Eamon J. Mceneaney

Cornell University Press

WE BECOME 

WHAT  WE  EAT 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 19^th Tuesday in Ordinary Time is, “We Become What We Eat.”

That’s a 5 word bumper sticker truism if we ever heard one.

“We Become What We Eat.”

TODAY’S FIRST READING

Today’s first reading from the 2^nd and 3^rd chapters of the Prophet Ezekiel triggers this homily. 

Ezekiel is told to take and eat.

So he takes the scroll – which has writing on both sides – eats it – digests it – then speaks it out in his homily. I get that. I do that.

We get that image – because we do this very thing every day. Take and eat. Take and read. 

So we’re familiar with Ezekiel’s words – because we’re familiar with this everyday reality.

We’re all ears. We’re all mouth. We're all eyes.

We spend our days taking it all in - digesting it - processing it - being effected by everything.

We become what we read. We become what we eat. We are the evening news. We are Morning TV shows. We are our conversations. We are our coffee breaks. We are our comments and our gossip. We are our phone calls. We are our e-mails. We are out everyday conversations.

We are what we eat. We still remember those words we heard years ago: “Garbage in – garbage out.”  “Good stuff in – good outcome coming out.”

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Today’s gospel - Matthew 18: 1-5, 10, 12-14 -  has Jesus telling us to become like little children.

Children hear English coming into their ears and English comes out their mouths. So too Chinese – so too Russian and Arabic.

We are formed by our environment - our surroundings - the atmosphere we breathe in - each moment.

Children hear love coming into their ears – and the outcome is love.

Movies in, movies out.  I keep chewing on that scene in the movie, 42 – the life of Jackie Robinson – when the little kid goes out to the game to see this new player on the national scene – he goes out with excitement – and then he hears his father screaming “Nigger” at Jackie Robinson. It shocks the kid – a possible hero is crucified on the infield at Crosley Field, in Cincinnati. And then the kid - in imitation of his dad, also yells out, “Nigger”.

We become what we eat; we become what we hear; we become our parents; we become our teachers and out TV personalities.

Movies move us. News nudge us. We become what we see, and hear and touch.

Listen to people and you’ll hear reruns of the news.

THE MASS

So we get the Mass – that’s why we’re here. We’re  here to hear. We’re here to eat. We’re here for communion with each other and with the Lord. We’re here to eat. We’re here to digest. We’re here to chew. We’re here to become one with Christ and the Body of Christ.

So at each Mass we hear words and they become us. We eat bread and drink wine and they become us.

We talk to ourselves about what we hear at Mass and at Mass we talk to ourselves about what we heard last night – or today – all being digested in the belly of our minds – as our belly is still digesting food from our tables.

So we get the description of the mass as a meal  - with two tables – the table of the word and the table of the Eucharist.  We get that because we talk and listen to each other at tables – as we eat our Cheerios or our meatloaf, eat our bread and drink our water or wine.

 Even those who eat alone – sometimes have a book or a newspaper or a magazine in front of them – or the TV or radio in the background.

We’re always eating. We’re always eating two things: food and words.

CONCLUSION

So we get today’s first reading – about Ezekiel eating the scroll. So we get Jesus’ words about becoming little children. How becoming is that. And we get Jesus ending words in today’s gospel – that all are to be welcomed and celebrated at Mass – the Mass of humanity – as well as the 100th sheep.

As priest if I have digested what I hear grandparents and parents saying – what’s eating them up – is their worry about their lost sheep – who have left the flock.

And what eats God up – It’s the same message. Hear again the last sentence in today’s gospel: What eats God up is: “Just so, it is no part of your heavenly Father’s plan that a single one of these little ones shall ever come to grief.” Amen.

OOOOOOO

Picture on top: Pat Doherty, Plate of Donuts