Saturday, April 20, 2019


April    20, 2019 

Thought for today: 

“Life is an adventure in forgiveness.” 

Norman Cousins, 
Saturday Review
April 15, 1978

Friday, April 19, 2019


THE  BROKEN  CRUCIFIX


She could hear them tell each other -  that she - this lady - their mom - their sister -  in this deathbed - had only a short time to live.

She was happy they were there - at her bedside - her three kids - 2 sons and a daughter - as well as 2 brothers and a sister - whom she had not connected enough through the second half of their lives.

The priest had been there. At least a half-dozen of her closest friends - had been there. The priest had anointed her forehead and the palms of her hands with the sacred oil and the sacred prayers.  The friends had anointed her with their sacred stories - a few funny things that happened on a few bus rides - as well as when they worked together in the Altar Rosary Society - 2 terms - 6 years.

But what she really saw was the broken crucifix on the bare light tan wall above her bureau on the other side of the room from her bed.  It had fallen three times. It was broken three times. It was glued back together three times - each time by her.

The first time it fell was when she was 11 years old. Her father was dying and the emergency rescue squad was called to their house and in moving him out on a gurney - one firefighter got squeezed in the maneuvering - into the wall - his helmet hitting the crucifix. It fell. And the small 18 inch plaster statue of Christ on the wooden cross broke into 4 pieces when  it hit the wooden bedroom floor.

The rescue squad  kept moving - down the tight staircase - to the front door - with dad strapped onto the gurney - oxygen mask over his mouth - out to the ambulance - and off to the local hospital. The live body was more important than the broken body of Christ

Upstairs she picked up the broken crucifix - the broken Christ.

She kept it in her and her sister’s room.

That summer - after her father’s death - she put the pieces of Christ’s broken body - back together - with white paste glue - that she used in art class - at school.  It worked. She was meticulous and made the 4 broken pieces of the broken Christ fit exactly back together.

After two days - after it had dried - after she got it  firmly back together - the wooden cross with the plaster Christ - she put it back again on her parent’s bedroom wall.

Down through high school years, she would semi-consciously spot that crucifix many times when she got home from school or sports or work and walked up the stairs to her and her sister’s bedroom on the second floor.

When her mom died - when they were asking who wanted what from the house, she said, “Number 1:  I’ll take the crucifix in mom and dad’s bedroom.”

She got it and put it in her bedroom - in her house - on the wall - that she was facing when she was sleeping.

It fell two more times in the years to come. Each time she repaired the broken Christ - each time with better and better glue: Crazy Glue - then Monster Glue.

And now it was her time to die …. In a bed room - facing that crucifix.

She was happy she was dying at home - unlike dad and mom. Dad died in the hospital that night - the night  the rescue crew came to their house and the crucifix fell for the first time. Mom died in a nursing home - but only two weeks after she went there.  The plan was to bring the cross to the nursing home - but death was arriving too soon.

“Good thing,” she realized.  “Maybe it would have got lost in the events of  mom’s death.”

Now - those around here bed were  nervous quiet - making nervous comments - as she lay there dying in her own bed.

She felt joy and sorrow - not enough glory - some light - looking back at these series of mysteries called life.

They figured she was in a semi-conscious space and place - figuring the morphine had pretty much knocked her out.

She was talking to Christ - her broken and her mended Christ - on her wooden cross - on her bedroom wall.

She was saying and praying for her kids, “Father forgive them because they don’t know yet what they are doing.”

She figured only her youngest would want that cross like she did - when her mom died. This last one -  was still going to church - along with her 6 kids - sometimes reluctantly.

She knew her other 3 kids were not broken enough yet to know how Christ shows up in the pages and rosary beads of our lives.

“When we need him.”

She prayed for all 4 of her kids - hoping they will find the right glue - called redeeming healing  - when they realize their broken spaces.

She prayed for her ex - long gone - far away and she thanked our Lord for teaching her forgiveness. It took her at 10 years to move from Jesus words on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”  to her favorite prayer and words from the cross, “Father forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing.”

She opened her eyes one last time - before she died that Friday  afternoon - she looked at the broken Christ - her broken crucifix - and smiled - and every one of those around the bed told the following story for years to come.

“Mom opened her eyes one last time before she died. She smiled as she looked at me. Then she closed her eyes and died. She had such a peace filled look. Amen.”

April 19, 2019


THE ONGOING
FLOW OF  BLOOD

The blood dripped and dropped
off his body - hands, feet, side -
down to the hard dirt below….

The hard dirt below became mud
and rain as the blood sunk deeper
and deeper into the dirt and earth.

Does it ever end? Did it ever stop?
Is his blood somehow upon us
and upon our children?  Hope so.

So we walk up aisles. We walk up to
the cup and sip the blood of Christ and
then we bring ourselves to each other.


  © Andy Costello, Reflections 2019

Painting by
Matthias_Grünewald
1470-1528




April    19, 2019  - Good Friday



Thought for today: 

“What does the apotheosis of the Cross mean, if not the death of death, the defeat of sin, the beatification of martyrdom, the raising to the skies of voluntary sacrifice, the defiance of pain.”  

Henri Amiel, Journal, 1882

Painting on top:
Yellow Crucifixion
by Paul Gaugin [1848-1903]

Thursday, April 18, 2019

April 18,  2019



April    18, 2019 

Thought for today:

“My father died 
many years ago, 
and yet when something special 
happens to me, 
I talk to him secretly 
not really knowing 
whether he hears, 
but it makes me feel better 
to half believe it. 

Natasha Josefowitz, 
Is This Where 
I Was Going? 
Warner 1983

April 18, 2019



LIMITS

Accepting limitations ….
Is that one of the secrets of happiness?
Tires wear out ….
Plates have edges ….
Wallets can only hold so much ….
Skin ages … wrinkles … flakes ….
The clock ticks ….
Does the sky out there ever end and edge?

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2019


HOLY THURSDAY

The title of my reflection  is, “Holy Thursday.”

We priests and lots of other people are probably wondering if the dramatic and devastating fire in Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris  - will bring even more people to Holy Week and Easter services and liturgies this week around the world.

This morning I’d like to reflect out loud on a few possible reflections for Holy Thursday - and its meanings.

Holy Thursday we celebrate Christ gathering with his disciples for the Passover Meal.  It’s the last meal Christ has with his disciples before he passes over from this life to the next.

What are the last words we want to say to those we love and those whom we have spent our life with?  As priest I’ve heard a lot of those words at bedsides with dying people.  If you want to hear the last words of Jesus, read the Last Supper words of Jesus around the table - especially in the Gospel of John.

Continue this week with his words in the garden - Could you not stay awake with me for 1 hour? Continue this week with his words from the cross on Good Friday.

Today reflect on all the care those we know and love gave to us and we to them.  At the Last Supper Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. At the service tonight our pastor and thousands and thousands  of priests around the world will wash the feet of Christ’s disciples.  Reflect also  on all those in hospitals and nursing homes - and everyday homes who care for those who are sick - for those who are dying - as well as babies and those who need care and daily washing.

Today we reflect upon bread and wine - the Mass - the Meal - and all the tables of the world - where and when people feed each other.  We reflect upon all the love and all the work and all the effort that goes into a meal. The shopping, the preparing, the cooking and the cutting - paid for by the workers of the world.

We pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.”

We pray for those out of work.

We reflect on the meaning of food.  Farmers, manufactures,  truck drivers, time for wheat to grow in our fields and wine in our vineyards.  The poetry and the mystery of animals - lambs - including the Pascal Lamb - dying to give us life and nourishment.

Today - Holy Thursday - we also  think about priests and the need for priests that parents and siblings and parishioners to encourage priests.

Good stuff to think about.

So we need churches like those recently torched in Louisiana - as well as Notre Dame - as well as this church building and St. John Neumann - for people to come and pray and be reflective - like us this morning and this evening - and many more mornings and evenings in our lives. Amen.