WHAT ARE
YOUR BUTTONS?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “What Are Your Buttons?”

Do you know your buttons?

What are those words, those people, those situations, that when pushed, you start reacting?

The image, the metaphor, of pushing a button is very clear. You hit the elevator button and sometimes a light goes on in the button itself and the elevator starts moving – hopefully. But sometimes paradoxically, elevators push people’s buttons when they seem so, so, so slow – or so, so full.

What are your buttons? Do you know your buttons? Do you know who, what, when, where, why and how your buttons are pushed?

COMMUNICATION SKILLS

This is Holy Family Sunday – so I assume the homily should trigger thoughts about how we can make family life better.

And a key way to make marriage and family life better is to put into practice better communication skills. And one of the ways to be a better communicator, is to know our buttons – what sets us off.
That would be the logic of my sermon – or the drift of my homily for today.

I would hope that it’s worth taking ten minutes on this topic on a Sunday morning?

Is better family life on your wish list for 2008?

Moreover, these last few days of December is the time we look at the past year and evaluate it and we look to this new year coming, and we make resolutions. One possible resolution is to be aware of one major button that we have – and to ask ourselves, “Do I want to respond the way I usually respond when that button is pushed or is there a better way that I would like to respond in this coming new year?”

Our buttons could be sloppiness around the house – or someone always on the phone or computer or someone is text messaging during a family meal – or people disappearing without telling the others or money or food wasting or kids not wanting to go to Mass or what have you.

What are your buttons?

SECOND READING
I thought of this topic because of today’s second reading.

Today’s second reading has a button. It’s the word “subordinate”.

It says, “Wives, be subordinate to your husbands, as is proper in the Lord.”

If this text is a button text for you, you might have noticed the brackets in the missallette – that mean, the reader doesn’t have to read it.

If the reader reads it, does your motor start revving?

The message I would like to stress today is this: in marriage and family life, be aware of buttons. Keep calm. Avoid automatic reactions. Count to 10 or 100 when someone does the same thing that bothers us for the 100th time. Say “Jesus Christ” in prayer rather than in anger. Some of us might remember going to the doctor and he hits us on the knee with a tiny hammer – and we jump - hence the phase, “knee jerk” reaction.

Some people were aware that this second reading is coming up for this Sunday – two or three weeks ago. I have heard of people in other parishes calling up the rectory and asking that this reading not be read in full – or be switched.

Having heard that, when I was looking at today’s readings to prepare this homily, I reacted with an “Uh oh!”

So it’s a button for me. I’m preaching on it today. I’m facing it head on. I’m pushing its button – so I can understand it better.

Before Mass, the lector sometimes asks the priest, “Do I read the whole reading or what?”

If asked, I usually say, “Whatever you want?” I believe that there is such a thing as the ministry of lector at Mass – and that person is an adult and has the power of choice in these matters.

THE WORD “SUBORDINATE”
Some people think we should just eliminate it.

I don’t. It’s there and we can learn and think about – and those who don’t like it or get irritated by it can choose not to get hot and bothered about it.

St. Paul said what St. Paul said.

When it comes to women’s rights and children’s rights, we certainly have come a long way from the world he lived in.

And the Christian scriptures certainly treat women a lot differently than women were treated in other writings of the time.

If Paul was here today and was asked to explain what he meant, he might do a good job or he might hit buttons or he might say he’s iffy about what he’s saying or he might say he’s not that clear about all this. But he’s not here – so we don’t know his mind or the context of what triggered him to say what he said.

I like the principal, “A text out of context is a pretext.”

We’ve all had the experience of having a long car ride conversation with someone and they take just one thing we said in the midst of many things and zing us about it.

Paul’s statement was made in a letter to the people of Colossae – now in modern Turkey, some 30 or 40 years after Christ.

What was the background experiences that formed Paul’s theology and vision of marriage and family life?

What were Paul’s parent’s marriage and family life like? If he had brothers and sisters, who was the oldest and who was the youngest and what was their growing up together like?

Was Paul married? Some make the case that he was married; others make the case that he wasn’t. So we don’t know for sure.

Were Christian couples in those days much more loving and equal to each other or better than couples that never heard of Christianity?

THOSE WHO REACT TO THE WORD

The question I ask – usually to myself – is this: Why do some people react to this text and some don’t?

Do those who react to this word “subordinate” have an experience of abusive husbands, fathers, work place, organizations, parishes, priests or what or who have you?

These are the questions of communication. These are the questions to bring to the table.

Here at St. Mary’s when couples get married, they go through a pre-marriage inventory as part of the preparation of getting married.

On the series of questions and responses on the matter of finances, I ask, “Who’s better with money management?” Sometimes I get an immediate pointing to her or him. We then talk about money questions.

I assume that a couple today will work things out knowing who’s better with what and then work things out for the best as partners.

I also assume that a couple today who have power problems – will discover that it doesn’t make any difference where the problem shows up, the standard major three areas being money, sex and in-laws. It’s the awareness of the underneath problem – having been treated unfairly in the past, having feelings of inferiority, baggage, not being able to be aware of what’s really going on, and if aware, not being able to communicate it – or what have you.

When it comes to buttons, it’s often not the elevator. It’s a problem of patience – not liking to have to wait – or it’s a problem of not being allowed to take the elevator – or someone got stuck in an elevator or was made to take the stairs or what have you.

As they say in counseling, the presenting problem is never the problem.

What are your buttons?

If you can name them, then you can tame them – that is, if you take the cover off and look underneath – to try to see how things work – and why some things get stuck.

COMMUNICATION

So good communication starts with oneself – a willingness to look in the mirror – to do homework.

Sometimes a person can’t deal with someone at work, so they take things out with those at home.

Why does this person at work drive me crazy – and he or she doesn’t bother anyone else – or they bother everyone else – but some handle the situation much better than I do? What’s their secret? What’s their tricks? Can I learn them? Can I put them into practice?

These are the things we need to reflect and pray about.

How come one person can walk into a room and fill that room with great joy and another person walks into that same room and sucks all the air out of that room in one minute?

Doesn’t everyone know it’s the nature of a dysfunctional person to get everyone constantly talking about him or her? They push buttons. they consume lots of personal energy.

Doesn’t everyone know that someone once said, if you want to change a person, you have to start with their grandmother?

Doesn’t everyone know the secret of dealing with button pushing is to know one’s buttons and then learn to laugh about them?

Communication is all about taking the time to talk about situations – not for the sake of whining or tearing down another – but to understand another or others – as well as ourselves.

The other person might be a Herod – and the best move is to escape to Egypt – like Joseph and Mary did with the child Jesus in today’s gospel.

So with some people, in the long run, the secret might be to avoid traveling in the same elevator with them.

But in marriage, we often have to take the same elevator.

Couples who have to go through life in the same elevator might need outside help to talk things out. And sometimes, unfortunately, things can’t be worked out.
The other person might be pushy and unable to treat a spouse right and always needs to be right – and bossy – and never willing to be subordinate to the other as Paul says.

The other person might only see what they want to see.

Take today’s second reading. The statement, “Wives, be subordinate to your husbands” is only 6 words. Maybe someone doesn’t see the next 6 words “as is proper in the Lord.” The life of Jesus is a life of subordination to his Father. Maybe a study of the life of Jesus will give new insights into what subordination could mean. Maybe a husband who is very bossy misses the next 10 words, “Husbands, love your wives, and avoid any bitterness toward them.” And maybe everyone misses the whole paragraph of words in front of these 6 words – words that are not in brackets.

CONCLUSION
In fact, let me conclude this sermon on “What are Your Buttons,” with Paul’s words opening words in his second reading: “Brothers and sisters: Put on, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another, as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do. And over all these put on love, that is, the bond of perfection. And let the peace of Christ control your hearts, the peace into which you were called in one body.”

Now that would make for great family life and a great marriage. Amen.

FAKE DOG,

REAL LIFE

[I have writen a Christmas story for the past 14 years in memory of a Redemptorist priest I was stationed with named Father John Duffy. He used to write a Christmas story every year for his niece in Boston. Mentioning at breakast that he had just finished his Christmas story, I asked if I could read it. He hesitated, but I pushed and that's how I found out about his custom of writing a Christmas story for his niece. He wasn't a good typist, so I retyped it on computer. The following year he came with a hand-written Christmas story and asked if I would type it up for him. Great story. Then I was changed to Ohio and that December 24th we got the notice that "Duff" had died. So in memory of "Duff" I've been writing a Christmas story every year. People have come up to me afterwards and said, "I don't get it." After saying, "Oops," or "Sorry", I say, "Well, at least I hope you get THE Christmas story." So here is # 14, entitled, "Fake Dog, Real Life."]

Once upon there was this fake dog. At first, it didn’t like being a fake dog – but that was its destiny. That was its life. In fact, this fake dog is still around – while real dogs come and go.

And this time of the year, Christmas, is his favorite time.

This fake dog is a golden retriever. It’s about 30 inches high – and 12 inches wide. It weighs about 45 pounds. So it’s heavy. It’s made mostly of wood and shellac – lots of shellac.

And like every dog, it is not an it. He has a name. In fact, because several people owned this dog, he has had four names down through the years: Ginger, Woody, Doggy, but that was only for a short time, and right now, Louis.

Two times he was a Christmas gift. Life with the first two owners was a joy. Now, with his third owner, life was not too good at first. Then Christmas came and times really changed for the better.

So let me tell you the story about Ginger, then Woody, then Doggy and now Louis.

Robby was the youngest of four kids – three boys and a girl. The girl, Becky, was the second youngest.

The Nance family always had a dog – as far back as anyone could remember. When Robby was about 4 – their dog at that time was a golden retriever named Buster. And Buster was a buster. He could knock Robby over every time – especially when little 4 year old Robby tried to climb on him. He would bark too much, but everyone got used to that. He would slide too much on the tile kitchen floor of the Nance home – but everyone got used to that too.

But when Buster died very suddenly – nobody in the Nance house got used to it. Buster was only 9 years old. This really wiped out little Robby. It was his first real experience of loss. It was his first experience of death.

Mr. and Mrs. Nance decided they better get another dog – and so they bought Buster-Two – also a golden retriever – and Buster-Two brought back joy and smiles into the Nance family’s home – but especially to Robby.

This lasted for three years – when Buster-Two broke loose one day from Robby and shot out into the street and was killed by a car.

“Woo!” This was déjà vu all over again.

Robby’s parents decided, “If we get another dog, we won’t name it “Buster-Three.”

They held off getting a new dog for almost six months. They didn’t want to go through this a third time. Besides all the kids were now in school. And nobody but Robby ever rushed to take the dog out for his walks and to do his doody each day.

It was December. Robby kept asking, “Is there any chance for us to get a new dog for Christmas?”

All was solved when Mr. and Mrs. Nance were visiting some friends, the Trevers, for a Christmas party around December 15th. There it was – a beautiful fake dog – just inside their good friend’s home. It was a wonderful, beautiful, maintenance free golden retriever – fake dog. Cost, they found out, $195 dollars – made mostly of wood, epoxy, resin and shellac – lots of shellac.

“But would Robby like a fake dog?” Mrs. Nance said to Mr. Nance.

“Of course,” said Mr. Nance to Mrs. Nance. “You heard Robby complain that he was the one who always got stuck having to take Buster-One and then Buster-Two out to do his doody every morning and night – especially when it was cold outside.”

So they bought a fake dog for Robby – hoping he would like it – knowing, “Well, at least this dog won’t run away. This dog won’t die. This dog won’t break hearts. And this dog doesn’t have to go to the bathroom.”

Surprise! Robby loved it when he unwrapped it and saw it on Christmas morning.

He took off his Raven’s hat and put it on him. He put a scarf he didn’t like that he got from his grandma around his neck – and immediately named him, “Ginger!”

Being so heavy, Robby realized he couldn’t carry Ginger into the kitchen, down the cellar, into his bedroom, which he shared with his two brothers – all three who complained their sister had her own room. So Robby decided Ginger must be kept next to his favorite chair – in the living room – where he sat while watching television.

Ginger ended up loving this – not because of what Robby watched on TV – but because of what Mr. Nance watched on TV late at night – the old movies, movies like Casablanca and Key Largo – movies without commercial breaks. Ginger hated commercials. Who ever heard of talking dogs or talking ducks?

Ginger became a neat looking piece of furniture and whenever relatives or friends came over, they always loved to pet Ginger or make comments about Ginger.

Of course, Ginger loved this arrangement. The Nance family didn’t know this. Robby didn’t know this. Ginger kept such things to himself.

Ginger stayed in the Nance home for the next 30 years. Ginger became as familiar as the dining room table or the dining room cabinets for the expensive plates and silverware.

Then one day, Ginger sensed he was in for a change. Mr. and Mrs. Nance were all by themselves and loving it. Kids would come by on a regular basis. There was Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and birthdays. Then, Mr. and Mrs. Nance decided to sell their house and move to a much smaller place – a small condo in the city.

They asked their kids; “Who wants what piece of furniture or what have you?”

When Robby looked around the house, he only asked for Ginger. But it was not for himself. His father-in-law was in a nursing home – and really missed not having a dog – but dogs were not allowed in his nursing home. And it was Christmas time – and this would be a great gift. “We’ll put a Santa hat on him – and he will be the talk of the nursing home.”

That’s how Mr. John Rosetti, Robby’s father-in-law, became the proud new owner of the fake dog – which was about to get a new home and a new name.

When a friend dropped into his room to see the dog, he asked, “Does your dog have a name?”
Mr. Rosetti, paused for a moment and said, “Oh, that’s Woody. His name is Woody.”

Ginger didn’t like the new name at first – but soon got used to it.

Nurses and nurse’s aids, friends in wheelchairs or in walkers, when they would walk by or wheel by Mr. Rosetti’s room, often stopped in to pet Woody – and each time it would bring a smile to the person’s face – especially because Woody wore a series of different hats and caps. First it was that Santa Claus cap, then a Ravens cap, then a Redskins cap, and then an Orioles cap. When someone offered a Yankees hat, Mr. Rosetti said, “No way! Woody would never be a Yankee fan.”

All this certainly brought joy to Woody. More importantly, he was getting the attention he used to get 30 years ago when he first arrived, brand new, in the Nance home.

It brought back warm memories every time Robby and his wife with their kids would visit her dad at the nursing home.

Time moves on and Mr. Rosetti began to fail – and two summer’s later, died.

Death, as Robby knew, is always a tough part of life.

What to do with Woody? What to do with this fake dog?

Robby’s wife said to the head of the nursing home, “We already have a real dog, and my husband bought a similar wooden dog a few years ago, so if anyone wants it, it’s theirs.”
Good thing Woody didn’t hear this.

Well, right after that decision, a local pastor was visiting the nursing home and the head of the nursing home asked him, “Would you like a fake dog?”

“Sure,” said the priest.
He had seen it a few times when he visited Mr. Rosetti at the Nursing Home.

“Wow,” he said to himself, “this is heavy!” as he carried it to his car. He put it in his trunk and it stayed there for three weeks.

Finally, one Saturday morning, he took Woody and placed him over in the corner of his garage – near an old lawn mower and some cinder blocks that were there forever.

And Woody sat there all alone for a few months – in the quiet of the garage – missing all the action – all the stuff he saw in the nursing home – and before that in the Nance family living room.

Well, it was almost Christmas and a parish committee was setting up the crib in the church and all was perfect till someone knocked over the plaster donkey who banged into a plaster sheep and both were broken big time.

“Uh oh, we’ll never be able to glue all this together or to get a new donkey and a new sheep on December 23nd.”

Just then the pastor came into the church to see how things were going with the Christmas decorations. The man who had broken the two statues sheepishly walked up to the pastor and said, “I just broke a donkey and a sheep.”

The priest paused for a moment. Then came a great smile on his face. “I have just the solution.”

He headed back into his house, grabbed a large blue bath towel, and headed for his garage and the fake dog he had put in the corner.

Woody was feeling depressed – but hearing the pastor singing a Christmas song, said to himself, “I guess it’s Christmas time – and Christmas time has always been a blessing for me.”

The pastor cleaned Woody from head to foot with the big blue bath towel. Then he carried Woody – who by now – was wondering where he was going - into a church – a Catholic church. He smiled and said to himself, “This is the first time in my life I’m in a church. It must be Christmas!”

The decoration committee laughed when they saw the dog.

The pastor, whose name was Father Princebury, was all smiles. The committee said, “You’re not?”

The pastor said, “Yes we are!”

And the fake dog fit perfectly up there in the stable in the front of the church – just behind the baby Jesus. He was able to see everything that Jesus sees. And Woody wanted to pinch himself as he thought, “Wow, wow, bow, wow, this is going to be great.”

Woody loved Mass – because the lights would be on and the church was filled and he was able to see all kinds of faces – faces that changed during the Mass – smiles, yawns, puzzlement, watch watching and prayer.

He loved the music, especially the Christmas music. Everyone was singing.

Mass was a new experience for him. He finally figured out something he wondered about – the meaning of the word “Christmas”. “Da,” he barked to himself, “Christ’s Mass… Christmas.”

Woody loved being in church – up front, but not central. He didn’t know it, but he was to be the hit of the Christmas season

People from all over the county came to see the church that had the Christmas stable with the fake dog in it – and many people would put a dollar or two or kids some coins in the poor box on the way out.

After Mass on the Sunday after Christmas, a little girl asked the pastor, “Father Princebury, what’s your doggy’s name?”

He had to think quickly. With a great laugh he said, “Ho, ho, ho. You already know its name. You just said it. It’s ‘Doggy!’”

“Oooh,” thought Woody, “another name – and ‘Doggy’ – what does he think I am, a puppy?”

Well, Doggy even brought people back to church – because kids asked their parents, “Are we going to see Doggy again this Sunday?”

The pastor kept the crib up till almost the end of January.

Then he had to take it down. But instead of putting Doggy in his garage, he brought him into his living room – and placed him right next his favorite chair – his La-Z-Boy Chair – facing the TV set – where he loved to watch old movies – late into the night.

The two of them were now all alone.

Then this priest, whose favorite movie was Casablanca, remembered the last line of the movie. He sat there, put his hand on Doggy’s head and baptized Doggy with his fourth name: “Louis” – saying and laughing at the same time, “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

LOOKING FOR A SIGN

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Looking for a Sign.”

I think that theme can sum up today’s readings, as well as sum up this moment – Christmas is almost here. I’m not worried about repeating myself because I don’t have to come up with another homily for Christmas – less than two days away. For the past dozen or so years I write a story for Christmas – instead of a homily.

So for this 4th Sunday of Advent, a homily on the theme: “Looking for a Sign.”

TO BE HUMAN

To be human is to look for signs.

Kids have been looking at presents in the corner or hidden in the closet – looking at the size of the box – wondering what’s behind that wrapping – shaking them – and some surely try to peal away the tape to get a peek at what’s inside.

To be human is to look for signs.

Parents look for signs that their new born baby is okay – normal – healthy – has 10 fingers and 10 toes.

Parents look for signs that their kids are moving along the right way – so that’s why we celebrate that first smile, that first roll over, that first word, that first step.

Parents look for signs that their kids are doing well in school – that they are athletic or artistic or can get A’s – or are happy, joyful, wonderful – but you better be hardworking if you’re a B student – and if a kid is autistic – that they get the best care possible for their child.

Parents look for signs that their teenagers are hanging out with the right kids – doing the right things, etc.

Parents look for signs that their teenager can handle a car okay.

Parents better be looking for signs from their kids!

Parents look for signs that this person their college or post college kid is serious with – is the right spouse for their child.

When married kids drop in or are dropped into for Christmas, their parents are looking for signs all is well.

Husbands and wives look for signs – consciously and unconsciously – all the time – that things are good, better and best in their relationship.

Husbands and wives get nervous when their parents look like they are slipping – and they wonder about their driving – their forgetting things, etc.

Men worry about prostate and women about lumps, etc. etc. etc.

When someone is sick, we look for signs they are getting better.

Our reporters, our talk show folks, our pollsters, are looking for signs who’s going to win in Iowa and New Hampshire – and then in all the states that follow – and the rest of us are looking for signs that it’s going to end.

Retailers are looking for signs how the economy is going – whether there is a recession going on or about to happen or what have you.

We look for signs of peace for our world.

We look at the weather report for December 25th. Some hope for a white Christmas – while others hope for a dry, clear, blue skies, good driving weather Christmas.

To be human is to look for signs.

TODAY’S FIRST READING

Today’s first reading from Isaiah – whom we heard from every Sunday this Advent, takes place roughly between 750 and 700 B.C.

Isaiah, the Prophet, is trying to convince Ahaz, the King of Judah – southern Israel, – not to enter into an alliance with Assyria – who’s leader is the powerful king. Tiglath-Pileser III. I love that name.

In the meanwhile Ahaz is being attacked by the tribe of Ephraim and Syria or Aram. So war is going on – and he needs to make an alliance. He looks around and it hits him to reach out to Assyria.

Isaiah asks him not to do this.

He won’t listen to Isaiah. He won’t ask God for a sign to indicate that Isaiah is correct.

So Isaiah says, “The Lord will give you a sign: the virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel.”

In the Hebrew text, there is a word, “ha alma”. The translation you heard this morning translates it into English as “virgin”. The normal word for “virgin” is “betula” – but that is not the word used in the Hebrew text. Well, according to some scholars the better translation for “ha alma” would be “young woman”.

Some scholars think it refers to King Ahaz’s wife. Isaiah promises Ahaz, if he follows his advice, his wife will get pregnant – and your dynasty will be preserved. The Davidic dynasty, the House of David will continue.

Obviously, when wars are going on – and they always seem to be going on in Israel and Palestine – people are always looking for signs.

Aren’t we all looking for signs in Iraq that the Sunni’s and Shiites will work this out. Aren’t we looking for signs that Al Qaeda is lessening?

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Matthew in today’s gospel takes that text from Isaiah and applies it to Jesus.

Maybe that’s the reason they translated the Isaiah text we heard this morning using the word “virgin” instead of young woman.

Notice he let’s us know that Joseph is also from the House of David.

Notice Jesus is born in the town of David – Bethlehem.

Notice that Matthew is telling us that Jesus is a sign from God – a sign that things are about to change – that Jesus is Emmanuel – God with us.

LOOKING FOR SIGNS FROM GOD

To be human is to look for signs from God.

If there is a television news report that Mary has appeared in southern New Mexico or southern Italy or southern Belarus or southern Argentina, some people would be buying tickets immediately to get there as soon as possible.

To be human is to look for signs from God.

IN CONCLUSION
People hearing a sermon look for signs when the sermon is going to end. That’s why I like to say, “In conclusion”.

However, as we all know, speakers and preachers might say “in conclusion”, but it might not happen. They might just be warming up – and take forever to get to their real conclusion – which is what I am going to do right now. Sorry.

The Christmas message is that Jesus has already appeared - being born in Southern Israel – Bethlehem.

Christmas is the great sign from God.

That’s the message of the gospels.

That’s the message of Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans – which is today’s second reading.

This past year several books came out – announcing there is no God.

This Christmas and every Christmas – as well as the millions of people who go to Mass – every Sunday – are announcing that there is a God.

And we all know Christmas means Christ mass – no wonder most Catholics go to Mass at least once a year: Christmas.

Who but God could up with the idea that his son is present in the bread and the wine – in hopes not only of nourishing us each Mass – but also to remind us to eat together – and be in communion with each other.

Who but God would come up with such a story: a young girl in one of the smallest villages in Israel, some 2000 years ago, becomes pregnant – without a male? Angels talk to her and Joseph. And then just before she’s to have the baby, Joseph has to get to Bethlehem for a census, etc.

Why did God decide to come as a baby?

We all know that everyone is comfortable with babies.
We all know that babies stop us in our tracks.

We know that babies reach out to the good, the bad, and the ugly.

We all remember Marlo Brando in Godfather I and the scene with his little grandson in the garden. Here is this godfather grandfather who had to kick and kill and connive to get to the top – being a little kid again

Remember the scene in the 1987 movie, “The Untouchables” when a lady with the baby carriage is on the stairs. It’s the wrong place at the wrong time – but somehow we know everything is going to work out – even if bullets are flying – and she let’s go of the baby carriage. Andy Garcia runs and slides under the baby carriage and throws a gun to Kevin Costner – at the same time and saves, mother, baby, and the situation – and the bad guys lose.

Those who have already have had the birth of the Christ Child in the manger of their heart know things are going to work out – because they have hoped in Christ – and grown in Christ – through the years.

Jesus is the great sign we’re looking for. Amen.

We who follow Christ are the sign people are looking for. Amen.

[Now that took 7 and a half minutes! Not too bad.]

EVERGREEN

The evergreen tree envied
the attention the other trees
received in the spring, the summer,
but especially in the autumn.
Everyone kept talking about
the bright blaze
in the red, orange, yellow colored leaves,
everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

Then they were forgotten
as they lay there on the ground
in their tan brown sameness,
feeling the humiliation that
decaying leaves must feel,
everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

Time changes what we see;
time changes what we talk about.

With November come
quick cold conversations,
after work, after church,
as we run to our cars.

Some stop to spot
the naked branches of November –
especially in late afternoons,
glove less fingers nervously scratching
darkening skies –
quiet, quiet, quieter,
cold, cold, colder.

Then comes December.
Everyone wants indoors.
Okay, there are the shopping
trips to the stores
and the Christmas parties.

Lights, more and more lights,
keep appearing
in windows and trees.

Then, all of a sudden,
it's December 25th.

December is always a rush.

It's evergreen time.
Every Christmas tree says,
“Look at me! I’m lights. I’m ornaments.
I’m tinsel and silver strings. I’m beautiful."

Then, the Christmas tree
says to itself, "Enough of that."
It knows, "It's not about me!"

Then it adds,
"But under me is the place
people put all these gifts
for those they love.
Under me is the space,
where some put the Stable:
the reason for the season."

Then on December 26th or 27th,
Christmas trees start to get nervous.
Every evergreen tree knows
the story of the leaves.
They have around long enough
to know about life and death.
They know they have been cut down
soon to be thrown out.

Yet there is joy.

Like the leaves
they have done their job.

Silent night - day - night -
and then the long wait for spring:
there will be resurrection,
there will be repeat performances.

© Andrew Costello, Reflections, 2007

CELL PHONE

Whom are all these people talking to
on their cell phones walking and driving by me?

Then the obvious hit me: they are talking to
all these other people talking on their cell phones
walking and driving by me?

Then my next question:

"I don't get it. What are your talking about? "

Then came an answer:

Talk to someone on their cell phone.

They’ll explain it.

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2007

BALLYNAHOWN, GALWAY

Rock walls – many, many rock walls,
low lying rock walls everywhere,
parceling out the land,
all along the up and down, twisting and turning, dirt roads.
I took notice of the yellow green stains in the stones.
Time and weather pockmarks everything,
including the faces peeking out at us
from curtained cottage windows,
“Probably American tourists checking out their roots.”
Our Aunt Nora was taking us down to see our ancestors
in the little cemetery right at the edge of the sea.
Standing there with my two sisters, Peggy and Mary,
my Aunt Nora, my brother-in-law, Jerry,
I was listening to the moaning cows, the wind,
the lapping and clapping of the grey sea.
I was looking at the ever, forever background
of Ballynahown. I began wondering,
“Did mom and dad stand here many years ago,
looking at the cemetery stones, the rock walled pastures,
the dirt roads, and then turn and look to the sea,

dreaming of having a family, us, another life,

on the other side of this rocky, rugged coast?"

© Andy Costello, Poems, 2007

Picture taken by Mary Connolly

in September 1999,

West Coast of Ireland,

right where my parents were born.

QUESTION AND  
ANSWER PERIOD  

Question: “Below, behind, beneath,
under, in back of what counts,
the answer is hidden there,
so why do I remain on my surface?”

Answer: “It’s ME
and it seems you don’t want ME.
I walked the surface once
and you walked away from me.
I reached out once
and you crucified ME.
You buried ME,
so now if you want to rise,
you'll have to find ME,
not only
in the gentle breeze
and the baby's smile,
but also
in crushed grapes and ground wheat,
in the mix and the muddle,
in the mystery of cancer and death,
in breakdowns and breakups,
in the below, behind, beneath,
under, in the back of what counts –
otherwise
you’ll always be a question, period.

© Andy Costello, Poems, 2007