ARE YOU NUTS?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Are You Nuts?”

Different people use that phrase, “Are you nuts?” or “Are you crazy?” or, “I don’t believe you.” or “No way!” or “Muy loco!”

Today’s readings have the great theme of resurrection or life after death. The theme is put here this Sunday because next Sunday is Palm Sunday which begins Holy Week and then Easter – when we celebrate Christ rising from the dead.

FIRST READING

Today’s first reading is an excerpt from the great scene from the 37th chapter of book of the Prophet Ezekiel. He finds himself in the middle of a big valley filled with dead bones – skeletons – and God tells him to walk up and down among the dead bones. He sees that they are quite dried up. God tells him to prophecy over the bones that they come back to life – and they do. If you have time today or this week, read the 37th chapter of Ezekiel – or go to a cemetery and walk around the grounds. Think of the bones beneath the stones.

And then God tells Ezekiel, “This is Israel. The people are dead. Call them back to life. Tell the people to come out of their graves – and I will put a new spirit in them.” And Ezekiel does that and they come back to life.

The message is twofold: here and hereafter people are dead. God calls people here and hereafter to rise from the dead – to have a new spirit – to come back to life.

Ezekiel’s stress is on the here and now. The Gospel of John is a stress on both here and the hereafter. I tend to stress the here more than the hereafter. What about you? Is it a question of age?

To me the message is obvious: people are dead. People are sleep walking. People need to hear “Alarm clock words!” People need to hear, “Wake up everybody!”

POST OFFICE

I always remember a moment when my niece and I were to meet my brother, Billy, in New York City. He worked for the post office out of Washington DC and he was working on changing a procedure in the main New York office – over near the Old Penn Station. We went in and met him. Then he took us into this big room with about 40 desks – with someone at every desk. There was a big clock on the wall and it was at 3:55 and he sort of whispered to us, “Wait till you see what happens at 4 o’clock. It’s finishing time. The bell will ring and if anybody doesn’t believe in resurrection from the dead, they should be standing here ever afternoon at 4 PM.”

TODAY’S GOSPEL

In today’s gospel we have the great story about Lazarus – who has been dead 4 days. He and his two sisters were good friends of Jesus – so when Jesus gets there – they are crying. They are wishing he had come sooner, because then Lazarus would not have died. When Jesus sees how sad Martha and Mary are, he too cries. Then after Jesus speaks they remove the stone that locks the tomb and Jesus cries out in a loud voice into the tomb , “Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus comes out – tied hand and foot – with burial bindings. His face is wrapped in cloth. And Jesus says, “Untie him and let him go.”

It’s a great scene to picture. It’s one of the key stories in the gospel of John – right in the center – and it can evoke all kinds of theological themes.

Each main character in the gospel of John is us: Nicodemus, the man born blind, the woman caught in adultery and people want to stone her to death, the man at the pool of Siloam who is sick and stuck for 38 years, and this Sunday, Lazarus.

We hear these stories and we pray that Jesus calls us, heals us, hears us, saves us, enlightens us, challenges us, changes us.

We hear the story of Lazarus and we pray that Jesus will raise us from the dead – both here and hereafter.

POEM

I’d would like to read a poem that I love. It’s by the Swedish poet, Ingemar Gustafson. It’s where I got the title of my homily for today, “Are You Nuts?”

LOCKED IN

All my life I lived in a coconut.
It was cramped and dark.
Especially in the morning when I had to shave.

But what pained me most was that I had no way
to get in touch with the outside world.
If no one out there happened to find the coconut,
if no one cracked it, then I was doomed
to live all my life in the nut,
and maybe even die there.

I died in the coconut.
A couple of years later they found the coconut,
cracked it, and found me shrunk and crumbled inside.

“What an accident!”
“If only we had found it earlier.”
“Then maybe we could have saved him.”
“Maybe there are more of them locked in like that …”
“Whom we might be able to save,”
they said, and started knocking to pieces
every coconut within reach.

No use! Meaningless! A waste of time!
A person who chooses to live in a coconut!
Such a nut is one in a million!
But I have a brother-in-law
who lives in an
acorn.

To me the poem has the same message as today’s first reading from Ezekiel and today’s gospel from John.

TODAY’S SECOND READING

In today’s second reading from Romans Paul says we have the choice to live by the flesh or by the Spirit.

The obvious call is to live by the Spirit.

The Spirit of God is in me – in these bones called “me”.

Am I living in the Spirit? Or am I living like the man in the poem cramped and crumbling inside a coconut? Am I all wrapped up in myself – small and tiny – when I could be so much more alive and spirited?

HERE AND NOW

Here and now – don’t we all hear the call to new life – from time to time – the call to a deeper spirituality – especially during Lent – to be a better Christian, a better worker, a better mom, dad, wife, husband, kid, servant?

Friday I was driving to Pennsylvania to go to my grandnephew Benjamin’s confirmation. He asked me to be sponsor. How about that? But I had to get a letter indicating that I was a practicing Catholic. While driving I was listening to a talk by John Shea on a CD. I had heard the talk in person – and didn’t really hear till yesterday something that I found very interesting.

Looking at his own life, John Shea, the speaker, said something like this: “When it comes to adult education, I find that I go through different periods. Sometimes the window is closed and I’m not learning anything. Sometimes I need to read and eat all I can. Then I need other periods to digest things. Then I become silent for a while. Then looking back I realize I put some of those new learnings into practice.”
I said to myself: “That’s so true.” Then I said, “Where am I right now in my growth process? – in my adult ed process?”
Where are you?

We’re nuts or crazy if we’re not growing.

MICHAEL HIMES

I was watching a video tape this week by Michael Himes, a theologian, who was giving a talk on today’s readings. Plagiarizing an image that he uses in his talk, he says that today’s gospel reminds him of a baby in the womb – comfortable, living a leisurely life, being fed as is, being told, there’s another world you’re going to have to enter one of these days and it’s going to be exciting. You’re going to experience all kinds of new adventures and the baby says, “I’m perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.”

Then we’re born. The doctor yells out, “Come forth!” and surprise we meet faces and tears, smiles and celebration. “Welcome to a new world.”

He says that’s a glimpse of what eternity will be like.

Looking back I’m sure the baby would say, “Are you nuts? I’m satisfied being just where I am right now.”

We never hear what Lazarus’s thoughts are after he comes back.

We do know that Israel fought Ezekiel’s call to new life.

CONCLUSION

I see Jesus going around calling out our name. He sees right through our hard shell, our mask, the walls of our tomb, our barriers and he keeps knocking – hoping that the person we are called to be will come out to play – come out to pray – come out to live life to the full.

And we say, “Are you nuts? I satisfied to be who I am and where I am right now.”

And Jesus laughs and cries and keeps knocking on our skull, on our coconut shell. “Is there any body in there?”

What would it be like to die – as an acorn – only to find out we could have been an oak tree? Now wouldn’t that be nuts?

LAZARUS*

Down, on the ground,

unnoticed,

buried in a crowd,

surrounded

by so much similarity –
thought dead at times –
yet we’re all so different - so different.
The few who see us
know us by our edges,

but, who but God,

really notices us?

Yet it’s March,

and wind and rain,
resurrection and Spring,
mean hope - new life.
We’re Lazarus
begging at doorsteps
and graveyards
and Jesus keeps calling us
from death to life.
Celebrate!
God will green us again.

God will Easter us again.

*Cf. John 11:1-54;

Luke 16:19-31
© Andy Costello

JUST STANDING THERE

At times it’s good to just stand there,
to stop,
to be rooted deep

in the soil of one’s life,
watching the sun set,

feeling the cold,

seeing a reservoir in the distance,

realizing the entanglements

and the cling that are part of my life,

to know dead leaves don’t mean death.

There is tomorrow. There is Spring.

There is green Resurrection and hope.

To stop….

To laugh at limber youth

and how there was no hesitation

in the risks I took back then,

those timesI swayed in the wind,

a young tree –but an old tree

has many circles –

and the others will really only know them

when I’m cut down – a fallen tree,

a wooden casket planted in the ground –
me somewhere else. O Lord ….
Somewhere else, O Lord.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2008

38

Thirty-eight years:
now that’s a long time
to be stuck in one place.

Thirty-eight years seeing people
coming and going –
but not me – not changing –
not being able to overcome
this problem of mine.
Never mind!

I just can’t change.
I just can’t do it.

Never.

No how.

Impossible.

Thirty-eight years.
It took me thirty-eight years
to hear him say,
“Do you want to be well?”
“Of course,” I answered,
but then came my excuses –
the circumstances,
the what if’s and back then’s,
and the names of the people
I blame for me being who I am
and the way I am – and this and that.

He laughed.
He healed me.
It took him less than 38 seconds.
He didn’t even plunge me
into the deep waters,
into the pool,
into some long program,
so I could be healed.
He just said, “Stand up!
Get off the mat. Walk!”

And that was that – just like that.

Poetic Homily for 4 Tuesday Lent

BLIND

[For our Children's Liturgy / Family Mass, I like to write a story triggered by something in the readings for the day. This is a story for the 4 Sunday of Lent A.]

Blind? What’s it like to be blind? Ask Billy Beekeeper. He’ll tell you.

Billy was born blind, but when it comes to hearing, he’s the best.

Billy, now age 42, has this amazing ability to hear. Like Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles, he learned to play the piano at an early age – and wow can he play. While other kids were playing football, soccer, baseball or lacrosse, Billy Beekeeper played music – by practicing, practicing, practicing. But he did exercise. He loved to walk – and walk fast. He’d bump into things at times – but in time he developed this uncanny way of knowing something was in front of him – a shopping cart or a tree. His two sisters’ shoes – now that’s a different story. If they left them lying around on the floor near the TV couch, that was a no no – because Billy would often trip on them while growing up in the Beekeeper House.

No, Billy’s dad was not a beekeeper, but they figured 5 generations back – that would be his great, great, great grandfather in southern Germany – probably was a beekeeper – and obviously, they think that’s where their last name came from. And they loved their last name. It always got comments. It always got, “Now how do you spell that.”

“B E E K E E P E R – Beekeeper.”

And the other person would suddenly say every time, “Oh, Bee Keeper.”

When his parents found out Billy was born blind – they were shaken up. Now what? They didn’t expect this. After a long nine month pregnancy, hoping for a boy after two girls, only to find out, their new born baby was blind, “Oooh!” That was an “Oooh,” if there every was an “Oooh!”. “Woo,” they thought. “A whole lifetime ahead and this their third child – their only boy – was going to have to go through life – not being able to see.”

They took Billy to every specialist – every doctor – every eye center they heard about. No luck. This was before Google – and before so many advances in medicine.

So Billy grew up blind.

It wasn’t all that bad. He was very smart – very clever – and as I already said, “When it comes to hearing, Billy was the best.”

If anyone was to go through life blind, Billy would be a great choice – because he had a great disposition.

He could hear in another person’s voice worry, sadness, doubt, faith, jubilation or celebration. He was able to really console his dad when he came home one evening and told the family after supper, “I lost my job today. The company is downsizing, but don’t worry, everything will be okay. They gave me some leads.”

His mom and his two sisters didn’t hear what Billy heard – a 42 year old man worried – worried big time – that he might be too old to get the kind of job he thought he needed – a job that could pay the mortgage payments, food bills, schooling, and teeth straigtheners that both his sisters had. The Beekeeper girls were pretty, but their teeth took a long time to be in place. They needed help with wires and rubber bands – and those kinds of wires and rubber bands were expensive. So Billy went to his dad in the garage after the announcement, after supper, to console him – and tell him, “Not to worry.”

When it came to school Billy had no problems. Of course, being blind he couldn’t read or see blackboards and all that. But he listened. Billy listened and his teachers were amazed. He always got straight A’s.

If he overheard it a hundred times, he overheard it a thousand times, teachers being amazed at how smart he was – would say, “I guess if we lose one gift, another gift gets better.”

When Billy was a kid he had to resist listening in to gossip – on the school bus – amongst his sisters’ friends when they were over to the house for a slumber party on a weekend – or when sitting in a restaurant with his family. He could hear people on other tables. He knew what waitresses were pushing – when they didn’t even know they were pushing the special of the day – because the restaurant owner told them to push the lentil soup or the Neapolitan Salmon.

Now, what to do and what to be when he grew up?

His first thought was music. He was in a band – playing the piano. He also played at the Youth Mass in his parish of St. Didymus.

Billy wasn’t sure. One advisor in his high school senior year suggested going to Georgetown – and get a degree in foreign service. Billy was great with languages – being able to speak Spanish and German. He also dabbled in Russian.

Since Billy could hear tones in voices, a high school teacher, who had worked for the CIA before he retired, knew about a blind woman who had worked for them. She was a better lie detector machine than lie detecting machines.

But Billy decided to go to college for psychology – family psychology. Since he couldn’t see, maybe he could help families see things they weren’t seeing.

And that’s what Billy Beekeeper got his degrees in. It took a lot of time, but he became a Family Psychologist – and wow was he good. Teenagers and kids were not scared of him. Husbands and wives could say things to each other – after sessions with Dr. Beekeeper – that they never said or saw before. Dr. Beekeeper could ask the best questions – questions that could get to the heart of the matter – why kids were acting out – trying drugs – not wanting to study or do homework – why families were fighting. He could hear things parents were saying that they didn’t know they were saying.

If he heard it a hundred times, he heard it a thousand times, he heard people during time with him say, “Wow am I blind?”

Then there would come the “Oops,” every time. And both Billy and the person who said it would laugh.

Billy never married. Oh he dated a few gals – and one time they were very serious, but Billy sensed down deep, there was something else he had to do with his life.

There was.

It happened one Sunday morning, on the Fourth Sunday of Lent, and the gospel story was about the man born blind.

He had heard that story before – and he liked that story and several other stories about blind people in the gospel stories about Jesus. But that Sunday the story overwhelmed him.

Billy heard the call to be a priest. Yes a priest. “But,” someone said, “They won’t ordain a blind priest.”

“Why not?” said Billy.

And the priest he talked to also said, “Why not?”

And it took time – but that’s what Billy became, a priest.

Everybody loved going to confession to him. He couldn’t see who they were – but wow were they surprised when he would ask quick, simple questions, darts of thought that often changed people’s lives and they too would say, “Wow was I blind.”

But his sermons were the best. People would come from miles around, just to hear his sermons. People would say, “I never listened to sermons all my life. I have no idea what priests are talking about, but Father Billy Beekeeper helps me to see things I never saw before. He’s the best. He’s a keeper.”

DO YOU HAVE A RABBI?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Do You Have A Rabbi?”

On Wall Street, where people can lose a job just like that, [snap fingers], a person who has just lost their job is often asked, “Do you have a rabbi?”

Translation: do you have someone you can call – someone who knows the street, someone who has influence, someone who can get you another job?

“Do You Have A Rabbi?”

TODAY’S READINGS

Today’s gospel and today’s readings have many things to explore.

I would like to explore the theme that Christ is our rabbi. Christ is the one we are following. Christ is the one who knows the streets of the human heart, the one who knows what’s going on. Christ is the one we can call upon, rely upon, who is the central influence in our life. Christ is the one to look to for the next step. We who follow Christ are following a person – not a principle. This does not mean we don’t have principles.

In today’s first reading, Samuel goes to Jesse who has many sons – because the Lord tells him to do this. The Lord had said, “I have chosen my king from among Jesse’s sons.”

It’s a great story – well crafted – and as you heard it read today, I’m sure you can picture the scene – as in a theater. I’m sure it was acted out dramatically over and over again.

As Samuel sees Jesse’s sons, he thinks, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is here before me.”

The Lord responds back, “Do not judge from appearance or looks. In fact, I reject all these sons. God does not see as humans see. Humans judge by appearance; the Lord looks into the heart.”

Great message. And we know after interviewing all 7 sons, Samuel asks, “Are these all the sons you have?”

And Jesse replies, “There is the youngest, who is tending the sheep!”

Samuel says, “Send for him!”

And when Samuel sees him – his youth, his looks, his appearance, he hears a voice say, “There, anoint him, for this is the one!”

How’s that for a great contradiction? How’s that for a theater laugh? After hearing the Lord say, “I don’t judge by appearance”, the reading seems to say God and Samuel both judge the 8th son by appearance and look.

Great scene. Great story telling. And surprise, David will surprise everyone starting with his brothers – and then Goliath and on and on and on.

Samuel anoints him in the presence of his brothers and it’s only then that we hear his name: “David.” And then the great line, “The Spirit of the Lord rushed upon David.”

I would assume that this image of the rushing in of the Spirit into David is in the mix of the rushing in of the Spirit in Jesus, the Son of David. (Cf. Luke 4:1-44)

In today’s gospel, there is another surprise calling. This time it’s a blind man whom Jesus calls. It too is a well crafted story – surely acted out and developed in an early Jewish Christian community.

It begins by Jesus seeing a blind man and his disciples asking, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Notice Jesus is called, “Rabbi!”

And the story takes us to the central message of Christianity: we are following a person.

Just as the Jews are following Moses, Christians are following Jesus.

Then we can catch a central catch in the story: the followers of Moses got stuck somewhere along the line in principles – for example, keeping the Sabbath.

As we listen to the gospels we’ll hear this inability of the followers of Moses to accept Jesus’ understanding of the Sabbath – as well as Law. Jesus will end up saying, “The Sabbath is for us; not the other way around.” (Cf. Mark 2:27)

As we listen to the stories about Paul in the Acts of the Apostles, we will hear that this was the great insight that will hit Saul – who becomes Paul – after he is struck blind on the Road to Damascus.

He was persecuting Jewish Christians because he thought they were breaking the Law – till he discovered that he was breaking people in his efforts to keep the Law. (Cf. Acts 7:58-8:3; 9:1-30; 22:1-11)

Once we get this, the light goes on.

Paul will make this issue of the Law – the issue that Jesus kept dealing with as well – a central theme of his preaching and letters – whether dealing with circumcision or Sabbath, eating food that was forbidden or what have you. We need law – but Law will not save us. A person saves us. Faith and trust and commitment to that person will save us. (Cf. Romans 1:16 to 8:39.)

When I die I hope to wake up in the embrace of the Father. I don’t expect to be embraced by the cold stone of Ten Commandments because I kept them – or broke them – and experienced forgiveness. (Cf. Luke 15.)

Priests, parents, everyone can be blind on this issue of rules and regulations – and not noticing the people the rules and regulations are made for.

As Paul tells us in today’s second reading from Ephesians, “You were once in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of the light.

We come to Mass on the Sabbath – not to keep the Law – not to avoid Mortal Sin – but because Christ is here – this community is here – we are here.

Jesus was killed on the cross because of this message.

A DRAMATIC QUOTE

Here’s a dramatic quote from Frederic Buechner – a Protestant minister – and I think a very insightful religious preacher and writer:

"Principles are what people have instead of God.

"To be a Christian means among other things to be willing if necessary to sacrifice even your highest principles for God’s or your neighbor’s sake the way a Christian pacifist must be willing to pick up a baseball bat if there’s no other way to stop a man from savagely beating a child.

"Jesus didn’t forgive his executioners on principle but because in some unimaginable way he was able to love them.

"'Principle' is an even duller word than 'Religion'." (Listening to Your Life, Frederick Buechner, p. 174)

There’s a very important teaching right there. We’ll hear in the Letter of James where he says, “You can’t say to your brother or sister who is starving or freezing, ‘Best of luck. Keep warm. Eat all you can get.’ and then you head south without helping them. You have to break your own plans and help the person. (Cf. James 2:14-23.)

It’s the same message in "The Story of the Good Samaritan" in Luke when the priest and the Levite keep walking because they had other plans and left another human being to die on the road – whereas a Samaritan broke his culture codes and stopped to help the neighbor who was beaten up. (Cf. Luke 10:29-37.)

The human call is to help your neighbor if he or she needs your help on a Sabbath. It’s common sense to eat in cornfields on the Sabbath if your hungry and to heal hands if you can do it on a Sabbath. If you hear a sheep screaming in a ditch on a Sabbath, you’d get it out, wouldn’t you? (cf. Matthew 12:1-14)

How many times have we heard this message – that moved this tiny handful of human beings 2000 years ago to a worldwide community of well over a billion people following this person called “Jesus”.

St. Alphonsus said it this way: “The whole sanctity and perfection of a soul consists inloving Jesus Christ, our God, our sovereign good, and our Redeemer." (Introduction to The Practice of the Love of Jesus Christ.)

C.S. Lewis discovered this big time – in his comparing Christianity with other religions – saying Christianity proclaims a person behind moral law and creation and suffering – a personal God behind everything. (Cf. Mere Christianity, Book 1, Chapter 5). That’s what Jesus taught. That’s who Jesus is. He wasn’t just a moral teacher. He is the Son of God. This is what Christianity teaches. And he makes an interesting comment about Christianity: “It is a religion you could not have guessed. If it offered us just the kind of universe we had always expected, I should feel we were making it up. But, in fact, it is not the sort of thing anyone could have made up. It has just that queer twist about it that real things have.” (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, pages 47-48)

So it’s who we are about – more than what we are about.

THE BLIND MAN IN THE GOSPEL & BAPTISM

So in today’s gospel the blind man slowly discovers the person behind his getting his sight. The Pharisees don’t. They are blind and don’t know it.

This is a key gospel preparing us for Easter.

Notice the themes of darkness, water, light.

Notice the gospel moves from calling Christ “Rabbi” to the “Light of the world.”

Here in this Church on Easter Eve, those coming into our church and those who come to that long, long service, will sit here in the dark and then the light will come down the aisle and we’ll slowly see the light in the dark – and then our candle will be lit – and then all the lights will go on.

We’ll hear the proclamation sung after the new fire is lit, “Christ Our Light!” “Christ our Light!” “Christ our Light!”

Then folks will be baptized, confirmed, and all of us will be called to renew our baptismal call to follow this person called Christ.

CONCLUSION

As I was preparing this homily I was wondering why they didn’t pick the Genesis story of God forming us out of the clay of the earth – that great text in Genesis 2:7. It would fit beautifully in with Jesus in today’s gospel taking clay and spit and re-creating a blind person’s sight.

That’s what Baptism does. That’s what Confirmation does. That’s what coming to church each Sabbath hopefully does. We are made whole again because we spend time with Christ our teacher, our Rabbi, the Light of our World and Jesus spends time with us.

In the meanwhile, hopefully the Spirit of the Lord that we heard in the actual first reading will rush upon us each time we meet Jesus our Rabbi.

THERE’S MORE TO SEE
THAN MEETS THE EYE

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “There’s More To See Than Meets The Eye.”

I see that as one of the major themes of the Gospel of John.

There’s more to see than meets the eye.

THE GOSPEL OF JOHN

In the Gospel of John we meet big crowds at times, but I also see John introducing us to different characters one by one: John the Baptist, Andrew, the Couple at Cana who run out of wine, Nicodemus who comes to Jesus at night, The Man at the Pool at Bethesda who was sick for 38 years, The Woman Caught in Adultery whom the crowd wanted to stone to death, The Blind Man in Chapter 9, Lazarus, Jesus’ close friend, who had died, Thomas, Judas, Pilate, Mary Magdalene, and Peter. Then there’s the one I bypassed for a moment: The Woman at the Well – whom we meet in today’s gospel. We meet these people in depth – and in these meetings, we can meet Jesus in depth. I think that is a major theme in the Gospel of John.

There’s more to see than meets the eye.

There’s lots of stuff below the surface. There’s much more to the story. Superficial is superficial. Skin calls for us to be more, much more than just skin deep. There’s more to see than meets the eye. There’s more to me than meets the eye. There’s more to you than meets the eye.

Don’t we get angry or down when we are dismissed by another – who just sees us as a label or an old person or young person or a woman or a man or what have you?

TODAY’S GOSPEL

It helps to know the story of The Woman at the Well for our growth in spirituality and for more depth in our relationship with Jesus.

Jesus comes into town. It’s a Samaritan town. It’s noon time. Jesus is tired. Jesus is thirsty. Jesus sits down on the edge of a well. It’s the place where Jacob’s well was. Each item in the story is important.

A Samaritan woman comes to the well for water. Jesus asks her for a drink of water – and the rest of the story is the mystery of meeting.

Aren’t meetings, meetings, meetings, the story of each of our lives?

Well, well, well….

Each of us goes to the well many times.

Each of us has a well down deep inside of us.

What’s in our well?

Is there living water down there? Or has it become foul? Poisoned? Or is it a dry cistern?

What have been the experiences of our life?

Whom have we met in our life?

Whom have been the rivers in our lives? Whom have been those significant people whom we have met – and as we heard in the first reading for today, they taped the rock called “me” and living water flowed?

Jesus sits at the edge of our well and he is waiting for each of us – each Lent – each Sunday – each day – each moment.

We just heard the story. We find out the woman has been married 5 times. We find out that the man she is living with right now is not her husband. We discover she becomes an evangelist and brings the members of her town to meet Jesus. We discover that many in that town follow Jesus, first at the word of the woman – but then on their own – because Jesus stays with them two days.

There’s more to see than meets the eye.

A MAIN STREET RESTAURANT

I’m walking by a restaurant on Main Street here in Annapolis. I see a couple eating there almost as a window display. I notice they are not talking. Their forks are in pause. I look at their faces. They seem blank at the moment my eyes look at their faces.

Well, well, well….

As I continue walking, I wonder about the state of their marriage or relationship. Are they still in love? Do they still talk like they talked that whole first year they met – when they couldn’t get enough of each other, couldn’t get enough moments together…?

I continue walking. Maybe they are not married. Maybe they are old friends. Maybe they are brother and sister. Maybe they are on their second date – both divorced – or both lost a spouse. Maybe they are married to someone else.

I continue walking. Maybe they are parents of an only son or daughter who went to the Naval Academy – who was killed in Afghanistan or Iraq a year ago – and the three of them used to eat in this restaurant when he or she was at the Navy Academy – and they are sitting there at this moment doing this in memory of him or her.

There’s more to see than meets the eye.

POEMS OF SEAMUS HEANEY

I think of a poem* and the poems of Seamus Heaney. He’s sitting there writing with pen in hand and his dad is outside digging and digging – farming potatoes – and he reflects that his father is doing what his father did and his father did – and everything is in this moment. His dad is doing more than farming potatoes.

There’s more to see than meets the eye.

Several times I’ve sat down like Jesus at a well and began to drink Seamus Heaney’s words – like I’ve done with the poetry of Mary Oliver and Denise Levertov, and so many other poets and found myself drinking delicious water from deep wells.

I remember reading how Seamus Heaney was amazed at the stories of bodies found in peat bogs from way back in the Iron Age – around the 6 century BC in Northern Europe – all leather – all teeth – all earth – and how he reflected on these bodies. Then as I walked up and down streets and drove by a thousand fields, I thought about all that is buried below my feet – a zillion bugs who were born and flew and bugged and now gone – and dust – faded flowers that bees loved and honeyed and then disappeared – and people – lots of people.

And I look at all of you here in church and I see buried in all of you stories – meetings – husbands – wives – children – relationships – hurts – wonderings. I see all of you as cemeteries – with your tomb stones. I see all of you as libraries – filled with books – poems, travelogues – short stories – fiction and non-fiction. I see you as photo albums with lots of pictures of lots of people and lots of places and lots of moments – the stories of one’s life.

Well, well, well, ….

I see all of you here at this well called St. Mary’s – this well called the Sunday morning 10:30 Choir Mass here at St. Mary’s. I see some of you here this morning as this woman – ready to be surprised – to be filled with living water. I see some of you sometimes coming to Mass at this time – at this moment – because you come to Mass each Sunday – not ready to be surprised – just here to get your bucket filled with water and to go home – over and over again.

I know that because that’s me too – too many times. I’m here because I have to be here – too many times.

Of course, I hope all of us who are here this morning will experience Jesus surprising you – getting you to see that that you might have 5 husbands or 5 wives and the person you’re with now – you’re not married to – that you’re married to your job – or your children – or to your computer – or to the television set – or to the cell phone – or to your groups and the person you’re married to now, you’re not treating as a spouse.

CONCLUSION

So I hope all of you meet Jesus at this well this morning – in the word – in the moments of this mass – sitting here in this restaurant on Duke of Gloucester Street – hearing Jesus say, “This is my Body. This is my Blood. Take and eat. Take and drink.”

And I hope you meet Jesus deep in your well – not just on the edge of your well, when you receive him in communion – down deep – and he fills your well with living water.

And for the next two days at least, I hope you experience Jesus and you say to yourself, “I am your follower Jesus not just because my parents gave me this gift of faith, but because I have met Jesus, like this woman at the well met him.

I think that’s what John is trying to do with this story he told us this morning about The Woman at The Well.

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*Cf. pages 428-429, “Digging,” in For the Love of Ireland, edited by Susan Cahill