TIME, TALENTS, AND TREASURE

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A -  is, “Time, Talents and Treasure.”

One of the titles of this Sunday is, “Stewardship Sunday.”

How are we using all 3: our time, our talents and our money?

Obviously, the Church wants all three. Obviously others want all three from us. Obviously, we want all three: Time, talents and treasure.

All three can tax us. All three can wear us out. All three can worry us.

Then in today’s gospel – the stress is that God wants us to use all three well – our time, our talents and what we have and what we treasure.

HOW MUCH TIME DO I HAVE?

We can guess, we can estimate, but we don’t know how much time we have left. However, we can figure out how well we use the time we have.

I remember a job I had for 9 years: that of being a novice master.

I would have a class of young men hoping to become Redemptorists.

I would have them for a year and a day. Then they moved on or moved out.

Looking backwards … looking into the rear view mirror … looking at where we’ve been … we learn much of life.  And then we use what we saw – as we drive into our future.

Looking back on my job or role as novice master, I learned that some novices could do 30 things in a week and think they did nothing; others could do 3 things in a week – and they thought they were overworked.

Obviously, working with others, we learn how others work – or don’t work.

Sometimes we might be surprised.

Eric Hofer – a practical philosopher and down to earth writer about life – talks about brick layers. He discovered that sometimes the young guy who looks like he laid 1000 times more bricks in a day than older brick layers – actually did less. Some people are all about motion and commotion.

That triggers for me a years and years ago comment and life lesson that Jimmy Brown the football player said live on TV at a half time – of a pre-season game.  “Watch the young players who tackle me? They tackle me. Then they struggle to get off me. Then they run fast back to  play defense – to get ready for the next play. Watch me. I learned to just rest there on the ground till everyone gets off me. Then I slowly walk back to be just in time for the next huddle and next play. Then watch me move on the next play.”

Question: how well do I use the time I have?

Question: am I having the time of my life?

Question: do I know how to run a smart game, a balanced life.

Question: what have I learned and noticed about time in my lifetime so far?

TALENTS?

The English word “talent” comes from today’s gospel – from this story Jesus told about 3 types of people.

The Greek and Latin words were talentum [Latin] and talanton [Greek]. They were the words used for a unit of money in New Testament times. A talentum or talenton was worth 3000 shekels in Palestine or 6000 drachmas in Greek areas. The English word chosen to translate these words into our English New Testament text was “talent”.

The key message is not what a talent was worth – but the question: how well am I using the talents I have?

Before texting that text into our brain, a key life question is: what are my talents, skills, and gifts?

Remember that book that was popular a few years back, What Color Is My Parachute.  People out of work – looking for a job – or a career shift - would take the surveys and tests in that book – then  try to name their gifts – and then look at  job possibilities that need those gifts and skills.

One of the values of school is that we learn our gifts and skills – our talents – in comparison to others.

Is there such a thing as a math gene? If there is one, I didn’t get it – or at least the algebra gene.

Of course teachers help. Stick-to-it-tive-ness helps – but in the long run we discover in classrooms and in schools – by marks and others – the other gal or guy is better in sports or writing or drawing or music than I am. I also learn that I am better than others in history or hop scotch in the playground.

May we all have teachers and coaches – in our life – who spotted talents – and gifts in us that we didn’t know we had. And looking back may we  look them up and if we can locate them, call them or send a note of thanks.

Then there are those like that third person in today’s gospel story. They are the ones  who buried their heads and their talents in the sand and life passes them by.

Sometimes they are the ones who grind their teeth – as today’s gospel puts it – because they feel teachers and coaches were unfair. And God is unfair. And life is unfair – because they think they are getting the short end of the stick – whatever that means.

In the early 60’s when I was in the major seminary – we had well over 100 students for the priesthood. We had some great professors. One prof pushed for a major building renovation. Looking back I learned I didn’t know electricity or plumbing. Others did – and did big time work that saved lots of money. I was a painter – and I liked best doing trim work. It’s slower. It called for precision and patience.  It was me. I learned that not in the classroom – but painting classrooms and doorways – and wood work.

I also took care of horses for six years – and I learned that job called not for talents – but for time – and it gave me the joke – that I learned how to shovel horse manure in the seminary and that skill has helped me ever since – especially at meetings and in the pulpit. In time I also got to kiss the Blarney Stone.

TREASURE

Treasure is money.

In today’s gospel - talents refer to amounts of money.

Question: what have I learned about money and its use from life so far?

We grew up poor – but we didn’t know it. My sister Mary told me that she was talking to her kids once and she said that our dad in his whole job life at Nabisco – never earned more than $100 a week. A grandson heard that and said, “What?” I often wonder if he ever thought about that after that. Next time I see him, I’ll ask.

We learn a lot about money from our parents – without knowing we are learning. It’s the first anniversary of my sister Peggy’s death. I was just up to her grave near Scranton Pennsylvania with my sister Mary. We decided when we got back to her house, we’d look at the funeral service on CD or DVD that they made of the funeral – a wonderful idea. In the eulogy my sister gave, she said that in the late 1930’s my dad was making $9 dollars a week. At the same time, my mother said to my dad when he came home from work that day, that she just bought our house. My sister Mary then said, “You do the math.”  She said that our mom knew how to work with money and make money work.

What are kids learning when their parents get them to put the envelope or a dollar in the collection basket?

What are kids learning when they hear from their parents one of life’s most important words to hear and learn, “No!” – especially when it comes to things they want – because someone else has one.

What are kids learning when they see their parents give a good tip to a waiter or waitress along with a personal thanks? 

What are kids learning when they experience their parents splurging and taking them for ice cream as a family on a summer night?

What is our take on money?

I once learned a key message about money from a lady named Tessie Hoffmeister. It was on my first assignment as a priest – at Most Holy Redeemer Parish – Lower East Side of New York. Tessie had a great New York accent. Bird was “boid” and her boid’s name was Tippie. Bathroom was pronounced “toil-let”.  I was in charge of Bingo and Tessie did the books and the money counting on Wednesday night bingo. During the day she worked for the newspaper – The New York Daily Mirror. Doing what? Of course woirking in the money counting room.

She said, “Andrew watch out for money. It’s funny. It does tricks on lots of people – from big shots to little shots.”  She said, “I woirk in this big gigantic caged room with about 50 desks. Money from newspaper stands from all over the city would come into that room.”  Then she said, “From time to time the suits would come into the room and walk to a certain desk. They would tap a poirson on the shoulder – whisper something in their ear. They would turn red. Then they would clean out their desk. Never to be seen again.

Question: what about you and money.

The New York Daily News once had someone say, “The Three Biggest Problems in Marriage are: ‘Money, Sex, and In-Laws.”

What’s your take on money?

CONCLUSION

The Church, this parish, along with the organizations, and family we  belong to, need our “time, talents and treasure.”

We need ushers and money counters, Religious Ed teachers, Eucharistic Ministers, readers, singers, people to visit the hospital and shut ins – and a lot of other jobs that take time, talents and gas money. We are grateful for those who have done these jobs in the past as well as the present.

We also need money – your money. It seems always. I’m glad I was never a pastor.

Thank you for your generosity – and if there is anything parishes have to talk about from time to time it’s that: money.

Check the bulletin and our Web site for more information on Faith Direct – and all kinds of other requests.

Someone complained once about a parish to a pastor: “All I hear about here is give, give, give.” And the pastor said, “Wow what a great definition of Christianity.”

Taken rightly, it is.

If it gives ammunition to stop going to church, “Money, Money, Money. All they ever talk about money.” That has to be looked at as well.

Amen. A few comments about “Time, Talents and Treasure.” 

CHRIST - THE WHOLE 

LOAF  OF  BREAD 

Poem for Today  November 15, 2014

BALLAD  OF THE BREAD  MAN

Mary stood in the kitchen
Baking a loaf of bread.
An angel flew in through the window.
‘We’ve a job for you,’ he said.

‘God in his big gold heaven
Sitting in his big blue chair,
Wanted a mother for his little son.
Suddenly saw you there.’

Mary shook and trembled,
‘It isn’t true what you say.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said the angel.
‘The baby’s on its way.’

Joseph was in the workshop
Planing a piece of wood.
‘The old man’s past it,’ the neighbours said.
‘That girl’s been up to no good.’

‘And who was that elegant fellow,’
They said. ‘in the shiny gear?’
The things they said about Gabriel
Were hardly fit to hear.

Mary never answered,
Mary never replied.
She kept the information,
Like the baby, safe inside.

It was the election winter.
They went to vote in town.
When Mary found her time had come
The hotels let her down.

The baby was born in an annex

Next to the local pub.
At midnight, a delegation
Turned up from the Farmers’ Club.

They talked about an explosion
That made a hole in the sky,
Said they’d been sent to the Lamb and Flag
To see God come down from on high.

A few days later a bishop
And a five-star general were seen
With the head of an African country
In a bullet-proof limousine.

‘We’ve come,’ they said ‘with tokens
For the little boy to choose.’
Told the tale about war and peace
In the television news.

After them came the soldiers
With rifle and bombs and gun,
Looking for enemies of the state.
The family had packed up and gone.

When they got back to the village
The neighbours said, to a man,
‘That boy will never be one of us,
Though he does what he blessed well can.’

He went round to all the people
A paper crown on his head.
Here is some bread from my father.
Take, eat, he said.

Nobody seemed very hungry.
Nobody seemed to care.
Nobody saw the God in himself
Quietly standing there.

He finished up in the papers,
He came to a very bad end.
He was charged with bringing the living to life.
No man was that prisoner’s friend.

There’s only one kind of punishment
To fit that kind of crime.
They rigged a trial and shot him dead.
They were only just in time.

They lifted the young man by the leg,
Thy lifted him by the arm,
They locked him in a cathedral
In case he came to harm.

They stored him safe as water
Under seven rocks.
One Sunday morning he burst out
Like a jack-in-the-box.

Through the town he went walking.
He showed them the holes in his head.
Now do you want any loaves? he cried.
‘Not today’ they said.

© Charles Causley

SCULPTOR

Wheat, flour, dough,

table, pan, bowl, hands,

the struggle to sculpt,

to carve, to mold, to form,

to try to grab and grasp

the formless energy

of the universe, called God,

better: Bread, 
God easy eating bread,

not a God who stands there

on a pedestal - posing as

a rock stone statue, but our God –

Delicious - Divine - Daily Bread,
cut crushed wheat,
becoming flour, kneaded and baked,

slowly rising, slowly sending

forth the sweet smell of bread,

to all – to all in the house -

coming under doors – through windows ….

Come – take – eat - taste - be in

communion with one another.

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2014

WRITING POEMS

Poem for Friday, November 14, 2014

WHAT THE CHAIRMAN TOLD TOM

Poetry? It’s a hobby.
I run model trains.
Mr Shaw there breeds pigeons.

It’s not work. You dont sweat.
Nobody pays for it.
You could advertise soap.

Art, that’s opera; or repertory —
The Desert Song.
Nancy was in the chorus.

But to ask for twelve pounds a week —
married, aren’t you? —
you’ve got a nerve.

How could I look a bus conductor
in the face
if I paid you twelve pounds?

Who says it’s poetry, anyhow?
My ten year old
can do it and rhyme.

I get three thousand and expenses,
a car, vouchers,
but I’m an accountant.

They do what I tell them,
my company.
What do you do?

Nasty little words, nasty long words,
it’s unhealthy.
I want to wash when I meet a poet.

They’re Reds, addicts,
all delinquents.
What you write is rot.

Mr Hines says so, and he’s a schoolteacher,
he ought to know.
Go and find work.

© Basil Bunting,

From Complete Poems,

Ed. Richard Caddel

Bloodaxe Books, 2000

THE SNAIL 

KEEPS MOVING FORWARD

Poem for Thursday November 13, 2014

CONSIDERING THE SNAIL

The snail pushes through a green
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth’s dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,

pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell
what power is at work, drenched there
with purpose, knowing nothing.
What is a snail’s fury? All
I think is that if later

I parted the blades above
the tunnel and saw the thin
trail of broken white across
litter, I would never have
imagined the slow passion
to that deliberate progress.

©  Thom Gunn

A PRAYER

An old priest got a  phone call from a high school kid, “Hello!”

“Father I need a prayer?”

“Okay. How about the Our Father?”

“No!”

“Okay. How about the Hail Mary?”

“No!”

[Pause]

“Okay, how about the word, ‘Sorry?’”

“No, that’s not what I need right now.”

“Okay, how about the word, ‘Thanks!’”

“Good, but that’s not what I need right now.”

[Pause]

Old priest: “I’m thinking.” Then old priest says, “Okay, just say, ‘Help!’”

[Pause]

High school kid: “Good….  In fact, Father, perfect. Now how many times should I say this prayer?”

“Once, twice, three times – as many times as you need to say it.”

“Good. Now how do I say this prayer.”

“What? Just say it, just pray it, the same way you go up to your parents and you say, “Help.” Or “Sorry”  or “Thanks.”

“Okay, Father,  sorry to bother you. Thanks for the help.”

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2014

A  GRANDFATHER - 

WHO WAS A  TEACHER 

It’s morning. It’s on the road. A first year high school kid says to his grandfather who drives him back and forth to high school each day, “Grandpa why do I have to go to school every day?”

“Hey, I don’t mind driving you back and forth to school every day. Your mom has to get into work early – and your dad is back in Iraq.”

“Grandpa, I just find school so boring – boring - boring. I’m not a starter on any of our teams and we never win anyway. I hate sitting there in a classroom day after day after day – and I’m not the type who makes the National Honor Society and all that.”

[Fast forward]

It’s afternoon. It’s on the road. That same grandson – says to his grandfather, “Hey! Where we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later they are on the edge of the city turning into a garbage dump.

“Hey! Why are we turning in here?”

“You’ll see.”

“Oooh. It’s ugly in here.”

They stop the car and his grandpa says, “Get the hammer, the big screwdriver and the crowbar I have waiting for you in the trunk.”

“What’s a crowbar?”

“You’ll see.”

His grandfather pops the trunk.”

“The crowbar is right there next to the hammer and the big screw driver.”

Grandpa says, “Follow me.”

They sludge their way through the garbage till they get to an old computer in a pile of old junk.

“Grab that computer,” his grandfather says, “and bring it over here.”

The kid does it.

“Now take the hammer and the screwdriver and crowbar and open up the computer till you see its guts.”

The kid can’t do it.

The grandfather takes the screwdriver – forces it into an edge – hammers the top of the screwdriver – and then takes the crowbar and opens up the computer.

“Wow the kid says, ‘I can see its guts.’”

The grandfather stands there.

“Grandpa what are you trying to teach me here?”

“Look at all these wires inside the works here. This is not spaghetti. This stuff just didn’t happen to come together and bingo we have a computer.  Someone had to go to school to put all this together. Someone had to create all these electronic games I see you playing all the time.”

[Silence]

“Good,” said grandpa, “I can tell by your face you got it.”

“Now let’s get home – so you can do your homework.  And watch out where you’re walking – I just cleaned the rugs in my car after I dropped you off this morning.”

[Silence]

The kid was quiet all the way home.

“Grandpa, one question, I gotta ask: How did you know about that garbage dump?”

“I used to work there.”

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2014