THREE STORIES

INTRODUCTION

[I had a different homily - a story called "Lost Sheep" for this morning. I didn’t sense it had a grab - so I decided to present the 3 Stories in  today’s gospel - Luke 15 - in other words. Let me see if this has a grab. I’ll be watching your faces and trying to get a sense of where you are this evening.]

THE PARABLE

OF THE LOST TEETH

[This first story I call "The Parable of the Lost Teeth." I present it as a matching story for the Parable of the Lost Sheep - which we heard tonight.]

It was my first assignment as a priest: Most Holy Redeemer Parish - Lower East Side of Manhattan, New York City. The job I found the most interesting as a priest was Bingo: being in charge of Bingo - every Wednesday night. What a cast of characters! What a wealth of stories.

It was Thursday morning and Tessie - one of the lunch ladies over at our school - where the Bingo was played - called over to the rectory and asked, “Father did anyone find a pair of teeth in the kitchen last night at Bingo?”

I answered, “No Tessie.”

“Well,” she said, “I forgot there was Bingo and I never work school lunch with my teeth in. I keep them in a Styrofoam cup in a napkin on a shelf - and I left my teeth there by accident.”

“I’ll be right over,” I said.

I figured one of the Bingo workers in the kitchen simply scooped up the Styrofoam cup and tossed it in the garbage.

I went out the back way - over to Fourth Street where our school was - and said, “Oh no!”

I spotted a garbage truck up the street and they will be at our garbage bags in minutes.

I ran into the school - spotted Tessie in her white kitchen uniform and told her to grab at least 10  big empty plastic garbage bags.

That’s about how many full bags of garbage I saw on the sidewalk - just outside the school.

We began opening them up one by one. You should see the stuff that’s in garbage bags on a Thursday morning after lunch the past 3 days and Bingo the night before.

“Look into every Styrofoam cup!” I said.

Too late the garbage men were there.

“What are looking for Tessie?”

With tears in her eyes - along with a laugh in her toothless mouth - she said, “My teeth. There in here somewhere.”

“We’ll help!”

They turned off the motor and the search continued.

On the fourth bag, one of the garbage men, with work gloves pulled out her teeth - waved them in the air - and screamed to Tessie, “Got em!”

She moved towards him with a big embrace - took the teeth and said, “Come on it boys! Let me get something to eat!”

And we all went in to help her celebrate. She must have washed her teeth, because she came out with her teeth in place and some delicious chocolate sheet cake and sodas or coffee for all.

LOST COIN

[This second story I wrote today to match The parable of the Lost Coin.]

It was a 1964 John F. Kennedy silver 50 cent piece.

His dad had given it to him on a Sunday evening - when he was 5 years old - just after they said prayers together - just before he went to bed.

His dad kissed him good-night and said, “I’ll see you when I get back next Friday.”

His dad was leaving early - early the next morning - for a business trip to Montana.

His dad was killed in a car accident in Montana that Tuesday afternoon.

The little boy held that 50 cent silver piece in his hand all through the funeral - and then all through his life - taking it out - holding it tight - when he needed his dad’s strength in tough times. It was his connection to his dad. He never lost it. He simply kept it in his side pocket - but that day  it must have slipped out when he was changing pants.

That day their house caught fire. It was burnt to the ground. Nobody was hurt “Thank God” - but as he stood there in the street surrounded by fire trucks - and his wife - he reached in his pocket for the 50 cent piece. It wasn’t there.

“Ooops,” he thought. "Oh no! It must have fell out this morning."

When things cooled off the search began. Everything was burnt - pictures and keepsakes - everything was burn - and destroyed - but he kept looking and looking and looking - in their bedroom area.

There it was - darkened by the fire and the burn - but there it was - and once more he knew everything would be all right.

“Thanks Dad!”

THE LOST SON

[This third story is a story poem I wrote years ago. It's in my book, Cries .... But Silent - which has around 160 of these short pieces. This matches the Parable of the Prodigal Son and is called, "The Lost Son".]

Two brothers:

one stayed home,

so the other moved on.

But paths cross,

parents die,

and we all must meet each other

from time to time.

As the younger brother

was standing there

to the right of the casket,

his older brother

came in -- came in

and refused to shake hands

with either his hands

or his eyes.

Then the younger brother

turned to the casket,

turned to his father,

needing another embrace,

crying at the loss

of what might have been,

remembering the time

their father

tried to get them

to eat the fatted calf together.