December 27, 2018 

Thought for today: 

“In the old days, we would go out in pairs and take care of the Widow Jones who had no bread or the Widow Smith whose rent was due. But now, the poor are a swarm all around us. We can't go out to them. How could you go to sixty homes? How could you go everywhere at once? We have to be ready when they come to us.” 

Words of Wisdom from 

Father Horace McKenna

“GRR” THE SOUND

OF REMEMBERED ANGER

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “’GRR….’ The Sound of Remembered Anger.”

G R R - “Grr” the sound of remembered anger.

What inner sounds do we make when so and so enters the room?”

“Grr” is one such sound.

ST. STEPHEN

Today is the feast of St. Stephen….  As we heard in today’s first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, when St. Stephen walked into a crowd,  some people got angry. [Cf. Acts 6: 8-10, 7, 54-59.]

Acts puts it this way: “When they heard this, they were infuriated, and they ground their teeth at him.”  They got angry at what he was saying in public in his preaching.  He was making Jesus sounds - preaching Jesus words - especially about forgiving one another.

In today’s gospel from Matthew 10:17-22, we hear about people hating Jesus and anyone who tells  his good news.

Notice the first two letters of the word “ground” or “grind”: “Gr”.

The title of my homily is, “’GRR….’ The Sound of Remembered Anger.”

NOTICE YOUR TEETH

Notice jaws. Notice teeth. Notice when we make the “Grr” sound.

There are people who annoy us. There are people whom we bother.

Catch what your mouth does when people who annoy us - or bother us - when we spot them in the room or walking into a room

Saki, the writer said,  “Women and elephants never forget an injury.”

Is that true? I’d assume that it’s both men and women who can’t drop rocks or hurts. Moreover, it’s often an “it all depends”.

Do elephants grind their teeth? I don’t know.

I know humans and dogs do.

Years ago in our house in Washington D.C. the rector had a German Shepherd dog named Bernadette.  Bernadette was also stationed here in Annapolis.  Bernadette was a friendly dog. Father Franny Salmon kept him  on a long, long rope - in the back yard - where the cars were parked. He was there to bark when strangers came through the back lot.

Father F.X. Murphy - who was also stationed here at St. Mary’s - was heading out of our backyard in our place in Washington D.C. In backing out his car, somehow the rope got stuck on the back fender of his car - and he dragged the dog about 6 blocks. People spotting this dragged dog. They were yelling and pointing to Father F.X. for all 6 blocks - before he noticed this.  He put the wounded Bernadette - with sore paws - in the back seat and came back.

I heard that Bernadette would go, “Grrrrrrrrrr!” every time F.X. pulled out in a car from that back lot - for years.

Father Tizio has Wilbur the pug - a pug - who remembers every person who ever gave him a treat.

Question: Do people make any inner sounds - grr - when we walk into a room - because of something we did or said 10 years ago.

CONCLUSION: HOPEFULLY

Hopefully when we walk into a room, people make “happy” sounds and they let their teeth and jaws have a rest.

Hopefully, when people get angry at us, we give them forgiveness smiles, sounds and words - like St. Stephen.

Amen.

December 26, 2018

MEAGER

Meager: now that’s one description

I don’t want ever to hear about myself.

I want abundance  - plenty - an ice

cream cone with at least 2 ½ scoops.

I want people to feel  I am not rushing

them - that I’m listening to them.

God is never meager. Try counting rain

drops or snowflakes or ocean waves.

Try counting leaves and stars and

the shades of every color.

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2018

ST. STEPHEN 

AND FORGIVENESS

INTRODUCTION

Today, the first day after Christmas, is the feast of St. Stephen, the first deacon.

It has always been a special day in the Church, a free day from work and school, all through Europe.

It’s also in folk songs, especially Christmas folk songs. “On the feast of Stephen, when the snow lay on the ground.”

A HOMILETIC REFLECTION

For a homily, for our reflection and consideration, I’d like to offer two thoughts on forgiveness.

FIRST: REPUTATION OF BEING A FORGIVING PERSON

First of all, wouldn’t it be nice to have the reputation of being a person of forgiveness. “He’s so forgiving.”

This is the reputation that surrounds St. Stephen. It’s like an aura that surrounds or envelops him.

As he was being stoned to death, he was able to say, “Lord, don’t lay this sin against these people.”

He is simply giving his version of Jesus’ last words from the Cross, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.”

I’ve read in several places that forgiveness is the # 1 theme of Christianity.

Of course, others have said that it is charity or giving or loving. Christmas is the season of giving.

Well, St. Stephen’s, the next day, is the season of forgiving.

Then others say that part of loving is forgiving.

Whatever.

We can simply be grateful that the first feast after Christmas features St. Stephen the patron saint of forgivers.

He is the first person to die in the spirit of Christ and he certainly died in his spirit.

Forgiveness is so central to Christianity.

I’m not saying, “forgetting”. I’m saying “forgiving”.

I’m not saying that we don’t admit our hurt, and feelings of hurt. Stephen was hit by rocks. Rock hurt. They cut. They kill.

I’m not saying that we don’t have feelings of anger and emotional inbursts about someone who hurt us, who said the wrong thing, who ruined our life or our reputation.

I’m saying, “Forgive!”

SECOND HOMILETIC THOUGHT

My first homiletic point is the idea that forgiveness is central to Christianity.

My second thought for today is less. It’s more self-centered. It’s this. When we forgive, we receive peace. We benefit from forgiving.

It’s sort of like making a poster that says: “Want peace; learn to forgive.”

This is the beautiful thing about the Christian life. In giving, we receive. In forgiving, we receive peace. We benefit from forgiving.

This is the message of so many who have done this.

For example, St. Ignatius said, “In giving we receive. In dying, we are born to eternal life.”

This is the paradox -- called Christianity, called “The Pascal Mystery.”

CONCLUSION

So that would two homiletic thoughts for the day.

Let me close with a poem by William Blake, which says what I just said, but much better. Amen.

A POISON TREE

by William Blake

I was angry with my friend; 

I told my wrath, my wrath did end. 

I was angry with my foe: 

I told it not, my wrath did grow. 

And I watered it in fears, 

Night and morning with my tears: 

And I sunned it with smiles, 

And with soft deceitful wiles. 

And it grew both day and night. 

Till it bore an apple bright. 

And my foe beheld it shine, 

And he knew that it was mine. 

And into my garden stole, 

When the night had veiled the pole; 

In the morning glad I see; 

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

December 26, 2018 

Thought for today: 

“The greatest undeveloped  resource of our nation and of our world is the poor.” 

Words of Wisdom from Father Horace McKenna

MERRY CHRISTMAS 

TO ONE AND ALL. 

CURIOSITY

[Every Christmas  since 1993, I’ve written  a story for my  Christmas homily. I do this in memory of a priest I was stationed with - Father John Duffy. He wrote a Christmas story every year  for his niece in Boston. I found out  he did this - when he mentioned at breakfast one December morning -  that he had just finished his Christmas story. I nagged him to see it and he finally let me read it. Great story teller. Horrible typist. So without asking,  I typed it up on my computer and told him any changes would take seconds. We  did that. The following year he asked me to type up his handwritten copy of his latest  Christmas story. It was about a dad trying to get home to his family for Christmas in a snow storm. I did that. While typing that story I looked out the window to see how high the snow was. There was no snow. I realized at that moment the power of story. Then when he died  - December 24, 1993,  I decided to write a Christmas story in memory of Duff. This is Number 26. Here goes. It’s called “Curiosity.” And every Christmas - I’m curious what story will be born in my brain and how it goes. “Curiosity!”]

He woke up that Christmas morning having had a strange dream during the night before Christmas.

“Come to think about it,” he was telling me this years after all this happened, “I hadn’t had a dream in years - at least - a dream  that I remembered.”

Being curious, I listened. In fact, most of the time - people don’t open up their whole life to total strangers in rocking chairs - in nursing homes - but “Wait a minute,” I thought, “sometimes people do - so I better listen. It sounds like this guy -  still has his mind and his wits.”

I didn’t tell him that I was a retired brain surgeon and also a behavioral psychologist.  People had opened up their whole lives to me - that was one of my jobs - but  I really didn’t know this resident on corridor C - between rooms 68 to 98 - in Blue Meadow’s Nursing Home - as he was telling me his life story.

We were both old men - residents - widowers - with aluminum walkers - spending the last few years of our lives here in Blue Meadow.

“Well, I’m curious,” I asked, “tell me about that strange dream you had that night before Christmas years ago?”

He looked both ways - down the corridor and up the corridor - and then he began -  sort of whispering.  I turned my hearing aid up a bit.

He began quite dramatically: “God appeared to me - in my dream - well sort of!”

Silence.

He continued, “Now I wasn’t a big God person nor a small God person.  I was just a BMW car salesman in Atlanta, Georgia. Most years I’d go to church for Christmas and Easter - weddings and funerals - and at other times, sometimes. We didn’t have any kids - sorry to say.

He paused ….

He continued, “My wife was killed in a car crash - not long after we got married - and I was so devastated - that I never got married again. She was the love of my life.”

“Woo,” I said to myself. “I’m rather new to this nursing home. Is this what people talk to each other about in nursing homes: telling each other about their lives?”

I didn’t know this guy yet.

He continued talking, “That Christmas Eve I had the dream. It was around 3 in the morning - when Santa Clause was making his rounds - around the world - and getting his chocolate chip cookies and cold milk. No wonder he was a big boy.  I guess God was also making his rounds -  putting  a letter  in my mail box - and maybe many others - in the different ways God Bethlehems people.

“Relax,” he continued, “I’m not crazy.   God put a letter in my mail box. I heard the shuffle of paper in the metal slot on my front door. It woke me up at 3 in the morning. I went down to the front  door and saw this light brown envelope half way through my mail slot.

“I quickly opened the door. It was cold - but not snowy out there - and I looked up the street and down the street - and didn’t see anyone. No cars were moving.

“I went back inside. I was  in my bathrobe - slippers - and pajamas.

“I sat down in my living room Lazy Boy chair and looked at the letter.

“I opened it up. Sure enough it was signed ‘God’.”

I asked myself, “Well, what do I ask for?

“I thought it was one of those jokes. It said, ‘I have one gift for you this Christmas. But you have to come up with an answer to the gift you want by 3 o’clock this afternoon - that is: Christmas afternoon.”

“Not having a wife …. not having kids …. what do I ask for - whom do I ask?

“Well, obviously  I went  to church that Christmas…. In a way It was like going  for the first time in my life. I prayed to God for an answer to the  question. ‘What should I ask for?’”

“I remembered hearing in church or somewhere - a long time ago - about King Solomon - David’s son - who had the same experience. God had asked him, ‘I have one gift for you. Ask for it and it’s yours.’ And Solomon  asked for the gift of understanding.

“And God gave it to him….

“I wondered, ‘Is that what I really need? Understanding?’

“I kept thinking….

“However,  the word, ‘Curiosity’ kept hitting me - not understanding.

“I said to myself, ‘No way. Nobody asks God for the gift of curiosity.

“But - I couldn’t shake that word out of my brain - and I became very curious. Why curiosity?  Why should that be the gift I ask for?

“So that afternoon - at 2:59 -  I said to God, ‘Curiosity. I want the gift of curiosity.’”

Silence.

Pause.

He continued, “’Wait a minute,’ I asked myself.  ‘I’m curious. It was just a dream. There was no letter in my mail box - in real life -  no letter sitting there in my living room - next to my lazy boy chair.

Silence.

Then came more….

“I still asked God for curiosity - and curiosity changed my life.

“My mom was still living. Funny, she was in a nursing home. I found myself buying a small tape recorder and lots of yellow pads and every Wednesday evening and for a couple of hours every Saturday and Sunday I sat with her and together we wrote her life  - and my dad’s life - and the more we wrote - the more curious we became and it brought my mom such delight that someone was dying to hear her story.

“I became curious about the Civil War and Sherman’s March through the south and everything I could find out about Andersonville Prison Camp in Georgia - and I found out we had a great-great uncle who was a guard there during that horror.

“I became interested in God - God and science - and the power of curiosity and faith.

“I made peace with the Problem of Evil and the Problem of Cancer - and the Problem of people dying suddenly in car accidents - like my wife. I learned that I had to deal with the Problem of Good - why is there so much good in our world? Like split pea soup with tiny chunks of  ham - as well as milk shakes and waffles and volunteers. Oh.  I volunteered to coach Little League baseball and Midget football and I joined the local rescue squad.

“I wondered and became curious about questions like, ‘If we were all blind, how would we discriminate? If we were all deaf, how would we communicate with each other - besides using sign language?  Is there something out there - still to discover?”

“I discovered that curiosity could be a better gift than understanding - because it’s the step before understanding. It’s the step that leads to understanding.

Pause. Silence.

Then this other old man said to this old man, “Wait, I’m talking too much? I’m curious about who you are.  Who are you? What did you do for a living? How did you end up here in Blue Meadow’s nursing home?  Why did they call this place, “Blue Meadows?”

And I said, “I’m curious too, ‘Was that really a dream about God giving you that  letter that Christmas Eve? Or do you think God says to everyone on the night before Christmas: I have one gift I want to give you, but you have to figure out what it is, by 3 o’clock  Christmas afternoon.”