Previous Pastor's Corners

November 15, 2009

I’ve seen the following story go by several times, most recently just this past week. It’s the story of the Cherokee Indian rite of Passage to manhood.

According to their tradition, a boy’s father takes him into the forest at twilight, blindfolds him and leaves him there alone. The boy is required to sit on a stump the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it.

He cannot cry out for help. And afterwards, he cannot tell the other boys of his experience, because each must come into manhood on his own. Once he survives the night, he is a man.

The boy is naturally terrified. He can sense the wind blowing. He can hear all kinds of noises in the night. Wild beasts must surely be all around him. Maybe even some human who might do him harm. But he must sit motionless through the long hours of the night, never removing the blindfold. Surviving this ordeal is the only way he can become a man! Finally, after a horrific night, the sun comes up and he removes his blindfold.

It is then that he discovers his father sitting on the stump next to him. He has been on watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm. That a very powerful and moving story and we need to keep its meaning and moral always before us. We, too, are never alone. Even when we don’t know it, even in our most frightening and lonely moments, God is there watching over us.

When trouble comes, all we have to do is reach out to Him.

Just because we can’t see God, doesn’t mean He is not there.

P.S.: A special thank you to all who made our Knights of Columbus evening last week such a success. As of last count we will have thirty-three Knights after this coming Tuesday’s exemplification, enough for St. Andrew to have its own council. What’s next? How about a chapter of the National Council of Catholic Women? Why should the guys have all the fun? Watch for a get-together announcement in the next few weeks.

 November 8, 2009

I’m seeing all sorts of Christmas junk in the stores lately so I guess were in the Christmas season whether we like it or not. It’s so easy to forget the awesome event that we are preparing to celebrate. Our Creator chose to show his love for us by becoming one of us. In the first chapter of John’s gospel it says, "The Word became flesh and pitched his tent among us."

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t get to pick my parents. But Jesus did get to pick his parents. He knew that he would be emptying himself out, as St. Paul tells us, and would be totally dependent on them during the early years of his life. Mary and Joseph must have been very special people to be singled out for such an awesome responsibility.

Mary in particular captures our imagination and rightly so. Her image has been painted countless times by generations of artists, at the moment of the Annunciation, holding the infant, Jesus and holding the lifeless body of Jesus after he was taken down from the cross.

For me personally, the moment I find most compelling is Mary being asked if she will accept the responsibility of bearing the Savior. The paintings are beautiful, but I know they’re all wrong. A few years ago, Fr. Killian McDonnell, a Benedictine wrote a moving poem titled "In the Kitchen," describing that moment from Mary’s perspective:

Beilini has it wrong. I was not kneeing on my satin cushion, in a beam of light, head slightly bent.

Painters’ always skew the scene, as though my life were wrapped in silks, in temple smells.

Actually, I had just come back from the well. Placing the pitcher on the table I bumped against the edge, spilling water on the floor.

As I bent to wipe it up, there was a light against the kitchen wall, as though someone had opened the door to the sun.

Rag in hand, hair across my face, I turned to see who was entering, unannounced, unasked.

All I saw was light, white against the timbers, I heard a voice I had never heard before.

I heard a greeting. I was elected. I would bear a son, he would reign forever. I stood afraid.

Someone closed the door. And I dropped the rag.

She stood afraid. She dropped the rag. I don’t know about you, but for me, that poem captures that awesome moment in the way it must have felt for the real flesh and blood Mary that we honor as the Mother of the Savior. And we can’t thank her enough for what she did.

November 1, 2009

I don’t know about you, but I find daylight savings time some thing of a fraud. I agree with the old Indian chief who didn’t think much of the time change either and observed, "Only a white man thinks you can cut 12 inches off the bottom of a blanket and sew it to the top to make the blanket longer."

With or without daylight savings time, our precious hours of daylight are growing shorter as we approach the first day of winter, and those of us who find that depressing have some challenging days ahead.

In this month of November, the Church asks us to remember in a special way all those who have gone before us, those on whose shoulders we stand.

In Rome, I was very impressed by the public display of remembrance, and that display came not on All Souls Day, but rather on All Sints Day, a wonderful reminder that we are all part of the great communion of saints.

The cemeteries of Rome were crowded with tens of thousands of people there to remember family and friends. The streets near the cemetary entrance were crowded with vendors selling flowers.

In Arizona, I saw a similar outpouring of remembrance by the Hispanic community, marking the Day of the Dead. Graves were colorfully decorated and some families had picnics at the gravesites.

Most of us have been raised in an emotionless Anglo society that is wary of public displays of emotion, and when it comes to death and dying, we tend to agree with Woody Allen who said, "I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it happens."

Our parish book of life is a reminder to all of us that we should celebrate and remember those whose lives touched our lives in some way, be they parents. grandparents, spouses or children.

Throughout the month of Novemher, that book will be on the altar, and we will he remembering those people at each and every mass.

October 25, 2009

Some time ago I came across the story of two men in a hospital room, both seriously ill. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. A fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

Days, weeks and months passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths

only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, ‘Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.’

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. We have so much to be thankful for. If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy and thank God.

October 18, 2009

This week’s bulletin in cludes an information insert and contribution envelope for Bread for the World. Whether or not you send them something is pretty much up to you, but I wanted to share with you my impressions of this organization.

Back just over 20 years ago, as they were preparing to move their national headquarters from New York to Washington, I applied for the position of church liaison director. I was one of two finalists for the job, and was flown to New York to be interviewed by the senior staff which at that time included the organization’s founder and then president, Art Simon. What most impressed me was the way they set pay scales. Pay was based entirely on need. The man who ran the mailroom made more than the president. I have first hand knowledge of the outrageous salaries and perks given to "non-profit" executives. I’m willing to bet that Bread for the World still pays its staff based on need. Keep that in mind as you ponder supporting their work. I didn’t get that job, but that just means I wasn’t supposed to.

On another subject... Joe Lentini, Colleen Lentini and I drove three vehicles full of new and recycled clothing to the Operation Stand Down warehouse in Nashville this past week. Thank you for your incredible response to Joe’s spur of the moment announcement after Sunday mass two week’s back. Operation Stand Down is another organization that deserves our continued support. All too often our returning veterans are sent off with little more than a kiss and a prayer by our supposedly "grateful nation."

This organization tells these men and women that some of us really do care and some of us are very grateful for their service to our nation. The Operation Stand Down brochure is on the bulletin board in the gathering area if you care to learn more about their work. Then again, just ask Joe Lentini. He’ll be happy to tell you all about them. Really.