LABOR DAY

Poem for Today - September 1, 2014

A POEM FOR 

THE LABOR DAY LABORERS

Lowering Your Standards for Food Stamps

Words fall out of my coat pocket,
soak in bleach water. I touch everyone’s
dirty dollars. Maslow’s got everything on me.
Fourteen hours on my feet. No breaks.
No smokes or lunch. Blank-eyed movements:
trash bags, coffee burner, fingers numb.
I am hourly protestations and false smiles.
The clock clicks its slow slowing.
Faces blur in a stream of  hurried soccer games,
sunlight, and church certainty. I have no
poem to carry, no material illusions.
Cola spilled on hands, so sticky fingered,
I’m far from poems. I’d write of politicians,
refineries, and a border’s barbed wire,
but I am unlearning America’s languages
with a mop. In a summer-hot red
polyester top, I sell lotto tickets. Cars wait for gas
billowing black. Killing time has new meaning.
A jackhammer breaks apart a life. The slow globe
spirals, and at night black space has me dizzy.
Visionaries off their meds and wacked out
meth heads sing to me. A panicky fear of robbery
and humiliation drips with my sweat.
Words some say are weeping twilight and sunrise.
I am drawn to dramas, the couple arguing, the man
headbutting his wife in the parking lot.
911: no metered aubade, and nobody but
myself to blame.

© Cheryl Luna

Poetry Magazine

Photo: Workers 

at Lunch Time, 

1932

THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “The Way of the Cross.”

The cross is a theme we reflect upon during Lent – but here it is in today’s readings – especially today’s gospel.

So a few thoughts on the cross for a homily for this 22^nd Sunday in Ordinary time.

JESUS’ EXPERIENCES OF THE CROSS

What triggered – and what thoughts – did Jesus have – for him to come up with his teachings and thoughts about the crosses of life?

Did he see men hanging from crosses – dying a slow execution - along the roads he traveled on in Galilee? The Romans used that form of warning and execution in the land of Palestine which they occupied.

I assume it would be like a little kid seeing a head severed from a body in Iraq or Syria today – and stuck on a pole. How will that atrocity effect the whole future of that kid?

People had more kids in Jesus’ day than today – and the death rate for kids was much, much  higher that today – except for the very poor places on our planet.

As a kid - did Jesus ask Mary and Joseph, “What’s going on next door? Why does everyone look so sad? 

Bruce Malina and Richard Rohrbaugh in their book, Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels state:  “Infant mortality rates sometimes reached 30 percent. Another 30 percent of live births were dead by age six, and 60 percent were gone by age sixteen. Children always suffered first from famine, war, disease, and dislocation, and in some areas or eras few would have lived to adulthood with both parents alive.”

What were his thoughts about other kids with blindness - or crutches  - or deafness – or leprosy – or without parents – or who lost various brothers and sisters?

When did Joseph die?

Then when he got involved with teaching and preaching and speaking out – he experienced attacks and envy and jealousy and the loneliness that comes with being and seeing differently.  Did he see what every teacher and preacher sees: the yawns and the looking elsewhere – the obvious silent rejections – the boredom or non-interest.

Did he have a similar experience that Jeremiah had – the thoughts he had in today’s first reading. Jeremiah is called by God to speak out – but when he did – he experience what prophets experience: Rejection! Did Jesus yell to the Father, “Why did you do this to me?” Rejection hurts. Did he then have second thoughts –like Jeremiah had - that God’s will for the world was like a fire burning in his heart – imprisoned in his bones – even though he grew weary of it at times and felt he couldn’t endure it.

Hopefully God becomes hot – burning within us – in our bones – that we have fiery moments with the Spirit of God. 

Please God we hold onto those memories – those moments  – when we find ourselves  experience the Way of the Cross.

Then Jesus  was arrested that night – after betrayal by someone he personally chose. Judas betrayed him. Did he notice Peter denying him or was Jesus so turned inwards from all this pain – that he didn’t notice Peter at the moment.

Then the crowning with thorns – the beating – the being made fun of – the mock trial – the crowd that screamed praise for him just a week earlier – some were now in the crowd screaming for his death.

Then came the way of the cross to Calvary – the falls, the sights, the tears from his mother and others.

Then the hanging on the cross for a few hours – with just his mother, a few disciples and faithful women friends  - all down below.

Based on his comments to Peter in today’s gospel Jesus saw this happening long before it happened,

Based on today’s gospel Jesus knew crosses, Based on today’s gospel Jesus knew the secret of life – is denying self – dying to self – so others can live.

Living is giving. Giving is living.

Jesus taught us the meaning of life – when each of us Christians – realize Jesus gave us the secret of life at the last supper and at each Mass –when he says – when we say to our world, “This is body…. This is my blood…. I’m giving my life to you today.

Based on the gospels we know Jesus learned the meaning of the unwritten gospel of creation: seeds need to come out of their pods and bags – be planted in the earth. They must die in order to start growing in the soil. They must be cut and then crushed to become wheat flour. They must be cooked and burnt in the oven to become bread. Seed, wheat, flour, bread – preach the gospel of selflessness.

So too grapes – growing out there in the burning heat of day or the cold night air – and then are crushed to become wine – to bring a smile to a face – a toast at a dinner table or a wedding banquet.

Jesus knew mother’s felt great pain in bearing and birthing a baby – and then that was just the beginning.

Jesus knew the next layer of life – and from life’s experiences.

Forgiveness is central.  People do a lot of things without  a clue to the what and they of what they do.

So he was able to say from the cross: “Father forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing.”

How many people have learned that lesson – from others who were with them in their mistakes and sins and dumb doings? I know that message has helped me live with and learn from other priests.

So he was able to say from the cross: “When hanging in pain – whether it’s on a cross or in a bed of pain – seeing – spotting others – forgetting self – thinking of others – takes some of the pain away. So he said on the cross: “ “Woman behold your son!” and to John, his beloved friend, “Behold your mother.”

THE WAY OF THE CROSS

By reflecting on the cross, we get why it became the Christian symbol.

By reflecting on the cross, we see the tiny cross at the head of each rosary – and the gigantic cross in the front of this church and the one gigantic cross in the back of St. Mary’s Church.

The way of the cross is the way of life. 

THE STATIONS OF THE CROSS

Our churches can be cluttered with statues and stuff – but it seems every church has a set of The Stations of the Cross on their walls.

I have never heard of bishops and chanceries getting involved in details for stations of the cross – when churches are being built. I have seen them do so for where tabernacles are and what have you – but I’ve never seen edicts and jumping in when it comes to the Stations of the Cross on the Walls.

Yet they only began to be developed since the 1300’s up to the 1500’s years of our church’s history.

Why not get paper and pencil and draw your 14 stations of the cross of your life: deaths and disasters, falls, many falls, times you had people crying for you, times you were stripped of a title or an image people had of you. Were you ever nailed to a cross – to an obligation – to taking care of an aging parent or brother or sister – because nobody else was willing.

14 stations, 15, stations, 8 stations, 11 stations – everyone has some hanging on the walls of their lives.

I was there at the death of my dad, mom, brother, sister, nephew – and so many others. I saw a man once shoot himself in the mouth – in a cemetery – standing under a statue of Mary.  And I was the only one there. Woo. It has always given me pause. It has given me understanding – when as priest I’ve had to be there for a suicide. Ugh. It has gotten me to say what Jesus said on the cross: Father forgive him for he does not know what he was doing.

I have heard Jesus say from the Cross, “Hang in there!” and I’ve wondered if that’s the origin of that life saying.

I hear the Passion Account of Jesus’ last days and the various characters in the drama….

I have been Pilate, Simon, Mary, Judas, the Good Thief and Bad.

I have been like Peter in today’s gospel. At time I don’t want this side of life to happen to anyone – including myself. And I have heard Jesus say to me when I’m thinking this way, “Get behind me Satan. You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings.”

Of course, I’m thinking as any human would think.  I don’t want hurt or horror – but hurt and horror are part of life – more or less – and so I need to hear Paul tell me in today’s second reading – to learn how to change my mind – change my thinking – and think as Christ thinks, as God thinks.

CONCLUSION

Two things to do this week as homework.

First: Make sure you have a crucifix somewhere on some wall or some desk or book shelf in your life. Pick it up – dust it off – kiss it and say, “Help!”

Second: Take a look around any Catholic Church you’re in and study the 14 stations of the cross. A woman once told me she does this and discovered which station was her key station – and that’s where she sits under every time she comes to Mass. Wouldn’t that confuse a priest saying Mass or anyone else – when they came into a church and everyone was sitting in the side aisles – under their station of the cross?

A  CROSS

Poem for Today - August 31, 2014

A CROSS IN MY POCKET

I carry a cross in my pocket
A simple reminder to me
Of the fact that I am a Christian
No matter where I may be.

This little cross is not magic,
Nor is it a good luck charm
It isn't meant to protect me
From every physical harm.

It's not for identification
For all the world to see
It's simply an understanding
Between my Savior and me.

When I put my hand in my pocket
To bring out a coin or a key
The cross is there to remind me
Of the price He paid for me.

It reminds me, too, to be thankful
For my blessings day by day
And to strive to serve Him better
In all that I do and say.

It's also a daily reminder
Of the peace and comfort I share
With all who know my Master
And give themselves to His care.

So, I carry a cross in my pocket
Reminding no one but me
That Jesus Christ is the Lord of my life
If only I'll let Him be.

 ©  Verna Mae Thomas

MERCY

Poem for Today - August 30, 2014

GOD-FULL-OF MERCY, 

THE PRAYER FRO THE DEAD 

If God was not full of mercy,
Mercy would have been in the world,
Not just in Him.
I, who plucked flowers in the hills
And looked down into all the valleys,
I, who brought corpses down from the hills,
Can tell you that the world is empty of mercy.
I, who was King of Salt at the seashore,
Who stood without a decision at my window,
Who counted the steps of angels,
Whose heart lifted weights of anguish
In the horrible contests.

I, who use only a small part
Of the words in the dictionary.

I, who must decipher riddles
I don't want to decipher,
Know that if not for the God-full-of-mercy
There would be mercy in the world,
Not just in Him.

© Yehuda Amichai,

translated from the Hebrew

by Barbara and 

Benjamin Harshav

Note:

The painting on top is the 7 works of Mercy.  Here are  notes I found out about this painting on line.

"The Seven Works of Mercy (Italian: Sette opere di Misericordia), also known as The Seven Acts of Mercy, is an oil painting by Italianpainter Caravaggio, circa 1607. The painting depicts the seven corporal works of mercy in traditional Catholic belief, which are a set of compassionate acts concerning the material welfare of others.

The painting was made for, and is still housed in, the church of Pio Monte della Misericordia in Naples. Originally it was meant to be seven separate panels around the church; however, Caravaggio combined all seven works of mercy in one composition which became the church's altarpiece. The painting is better seen from il "coreto" (little choir) in the first floor.

The titular seven works/acts of mercy are represented in the painting as follows:

Bury the dead

In the background, two men carry a dead man (of whom only the feet are visible).

Visit the imprisoned, and feed the hungry

On the right, a woman visits an imprisoned man and gives him milk from her breast. This image alludes to the classical story of Roman Charity.

Shelter the homeless

A pilgrim (third from left, as identified by the shell in his hat) asks an innkeeper (at far left) for shelter.

Clothe the naked

St. Martin of Tours, fourth from the left, has torn his robe in half and given it to the naked beggar in the foreground, recalling the saint's popular legend.

Visit the sick

St. Martin greets and comforts the beggar who is a cripple.

Refresh the thirsty

Samson (second from the left) drinks water from the jawbone of an ass.

American art historian John Spike notes that the angel at the center of Caravaggio’s altarpiece transmits the grace that inspires humanity to be merciful.

Spike also notes that the choice of Samson as an emblem of Giving Drink to the Thirsty is so peculiar as to demand some explanation. The fearsome scourge of the Philistines was a deeply flawed man who accomplished his heroic tasks through the grace of God. When Samson was in danger of dying of thirst, God gave him water to drink from the jawbone of an ass. It is difficult to square this miracle with an allegory of the Seven Acts of Mercy since it was not in fact the work of human charity."

THE BEHEADING 

OF JOHN THE BAPTIST 

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “The Beheading of John the Baptist.”

It certainly triggers all kinds of thoughts with the recent beheadings in the Middle  East. I’m sure you’ve seen news reports of the beheading of the journalist Jim Foley and the Syrian soldiers and so many others.

TODAY’S GOSPEL – MARK 6: 17-29

It was a hot, steamy, muggy, humid, sweaty evening after a hot, steamy, muggy, humid, sweaty day, when John the Baptist was beheaded.

We really don’t know what the weather was like or exactly what day it was when John the Baptist was beheaded, but we do know that he was killed by Herod Antipas, around 33.

We know this from Mark and from the Jewish historian Josephus.

Today, August the 29^th, the Church marks his death. It memorializes it. I don’t like to use the word “celebrate” We would not celebrate the anniversary of the death of J.F.K. or Martin Luther King, Jr. or Bobby Kennedy’s death, but we might mark it or memorialize it.

We can reflect and learn from deaths or the experiences of life. We can spend time in prayer with them.

That is what the Church is stressing, I believe.

Movies: Whenever I read this gospel - I see movie scenes of the beheading.  I see a drunken and then a troubled Heros  hiding behind the grill work - going through all the emotions: jealousy, lust, loud mousiness, and fear - lots of fear.

Paintings: In Vienna and Rome and New York and Washington D.C. art museums, I’ve noticed that this gospel scene is a favorite of artists - like the painting by Caravaggio on top of this blog piece.

It's a painting that artists would definitely attempt  -  like paintings of Judith with the head of Holofernes.

If you saw a painting of this scene, what would you reflect upon?

If you read this Gospel passage in prayer and meditation, what would your thoughts be?

What would be your thoughts as you look at those who actually executed him? What were their thoughts and questions in doing it? What did they think as they walked into the party with the head of John the Baptist on a plate? Did they look to see what  was happening in Salome’s face? Looking at Herod’s jaw, seeing Herod’s face, what would you think? What would your thoughts be? What would your wonderings be?

What were the thoughts of those in town who heard about what happened? What were the thoughts of his disciples?

4 POINTS

I took some time to think about it and came up with 4 possible areas for thinking about:

1) Would you reflect on the power of grudges, that Herodias harbored this grudge against John the Baptist, waiting for the time she could get even with John the Baptist?

2) Would you reflect on the various John the Baptist’s in the history of the world who were thrown in prison for speaking up about unjust deeds? Millions have had the courage to speak up and speak out and as a result are in prison and even execution.

3) Would you think of all the people who messed up their lives by stupid statements and actions at parties, things that changed their life, because of booze or lust or both and spoke words and then did things they lived to regret? Lust and wine (or drugs or other forms of alcohol) are powerful activators.

4) Or would you reflect as I did on Herod as a weak man. He’s the one that Jesus called “The Fox.” Today the word is okay in referring to beautiful Sports Illustrated bathing suit types, but in the scriptures, fox is a negative word. In the Hebrew and Greek Bibles, the word for “fox” also could be translated “jackal” - SUAL in Hebrew. ALOPEX, in Greek, a member of the dog family. That Herod was a fox or jackal or a scavenger. A fox is solitary. A jackal is more an animal who travels in a pack.

Herod disliked his first wife. While on a trip to Rome, he went after his sister-in-law, who was also his niece.

He ended up paying for his sins, because his first father-in-law, beat him in battle in 30 A.D. and when he ended up in exile in 39 A.D. people said that it was because of what he did to John the Baptist.

Jesus refused to speak to him.

To save his face, he cut another’s head off.

He was an animal.

He was unable to say publicly, “I was wrong.” or “I am sorry, folks, I really didn’t now what I was saying there. I spoke too soon. I was bragging. I shot my mouth off. I want to take back what I just said. It was a misjudgment. I blew it. I was afraid of criticism, but I am still wrong.”

CONCLUSION

To reflect on our own  life....  See this gospel as a mirror. Are I unable to say, “I was wrong.” – for example because of something I did at a party.  

Do I harbor grudges?

I picture Herod for the rest of his life harboring a grudge, a regret, staying there in the hot weather in his jockey shorts saying to himself, “Boy, was I was stupid.” I picture him as a man who had trouble sleeping, not just because of hot, humid, muggy, sweaty weather, but because of what he did in his life, especially to his first wife as well as to John the Baptist.

Reading today’s gospel, about the dance and Herod’s putting his foot in his mouth, and ending up having John beheaded, what can we learn?

LOST GOAT, SON, 

SHEPHERD AND FATHER 

August 29, 2014

AN ARAB SHEPHERD IS SEARCHING 

FOR HIS GOAT ON MOUNT ZION

An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion
And on the opposite hill I am searching for my little boy.
An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father
Both in their temporary failure.
Our two voices met above
The Sultan's Pool in the valley between us.
Neither of us wants the boy or the goat
To get caught in the wheels
Of the "Had Gadya" machine.

Afterward we found them among the bushes,
And our voices came back inside us
Laughing and crying.

Searching for a goat or for a child has always been
The beginning of a new religion in these mountains. 

© Yehuda Amichai

- A Jewish Poet.

Picture on top: 
Goat on a Mountain
in Garm Chasma,
Tajikistan

Had Gadya or Chad Gadya

is a song sung at the end 

of the Passover Meal.

It tells the story of a little
goat that a father 
pays 2 zuzim for it.

KABUL,  AFGANISTAN 

HINDU KUSH MOUNTAINS 

Poem for Today - August 28, 2014

IN THAT PART OF THE WORLD 

The sky here is American like the blue of your eyes;

the folds of your eyelids the Hindu Kush mountain.

The rich vein of the Hindu Kush only a stony ridge

cutting across the parched soil of Afghanistan

on which the primal play of progress comes to pass.

II

Locked in, its people:

nomadic, peasant or simply pleasant,

green-eyed, blue-eyed, brown-eyed or simply wide-eyed.

Its great teacher: Noor Mohammad Taraki,

the proud translator of great works

into Pashto, Dari, Turkic and Uzbek.

Its cities: Herat, Kabul, Kandahar.

III

Assuredly, the pilgrims descend the emerald-strewn

Panjsher valley. They have come to water and tend

a young tree. Time is at hand, for the unhurried

descent of the Western offering,

whose yellow parachute will slow its fall.

And this tree, which will grow underneath the cluster bomb,

will hold up the pomegranate to the blue sky.

IV

The tick tock and whirr of metal and material

in the hidden azure vault of the air

has so far unleashed the American ahistoricality

upon the two tall Bamiyan Buddhas.

Ordained stone must give way to bared rock face.

Grieve not. Rejoice, for the spirit triumphs here.

V

When Kabul was as beautiful as Leningrad,

when our hearts hadn't grown weary,

when Taraki could take a stroll down

the streets of Kabul with a confident smile,

when he could still be Afghanistan's Maxim Gorky,

when our erstwhile bachelor could enjoy

the company of dancing girls like a mogul emperor,

when the way forward was the way forward.

VI

The uncertain exile is never to Rome—

no picture postcards of the coliseum to send home—

but to a mud hovel among other mud hovels

by the edge of the city of Islamabad.

For the uncertain exile has nothing to do

with the divine or with any other kind of comedy,

but with what has remained or with what reminds:

with the trace of terror that persists.

VII

In this part of the world the children know and have desires

to be a martyr, to enter paradise, to leave this life.

Of the twenty-nine different names for the garden,

they know all twenty-nine by heart.

For this part of the world began with a garden and

will end as an open ditch piled up with bodies.

VIII

Grant me Antigone's strength to forbear

for the sun has come unstuck from a blue sky gone black,

stolen for effect, and the veiled moon stands in,

for the mourning women standing next to platters of rice,

signifying the historically sound end of forgetfulness,

returning our agency to mourn

the collaborations of the merchant capitalist class

with the unlistening, ahistorical God.

IX

If only Gandhi's spinning wheel had spun

a million yards of cloth

we would have covered all our war dead.

And as for tents, we would have built

cities upon cities of tents to keep the rain out

for all our refugees. And then and only then

would we have mourned our war dead,

mourned our war dead.

© Raza Ali Hasan,

 "In that Part of the World"

 from Grieving Shias. 

(The Sheep Meadow 

Press, 2006)

Picture on top: 

City of Kabul

 which is 5,900 feet 

above sea level –

 in a narrow valley

 between the Hindu 

Kush Mountains.

Second Picture:

 the taller of the two 

Bamiyan Buddahs

 destroyed by the

 Taliban in 2001.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

August 29, 2014

Searching for a goat or for a child has always been
The beginning of a new religion in these mountains. 

© Yehuda Amichai