"Where One's Treasure Lies": Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

Homily for Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God
(Second Draft)

This past week
I stopped in at “Auctions by Maggie”
just down the street in Cheviot.

It was the first time I visited the place.
On the afternoon that I stopped by,
workers were busy…
setting up chairs for the evening auction.
So I went ahead and made myself at home.
I browsed among old kitchen chairs
and livingroom couches;
peered into glass-covered display cases.

There were hundred of items, all were neatly,
if incongruously, arranged:
a cement Buddha was flanked on each side
by tall, ceramic roosters;
a silver crucifix rested alongside a military canteen;
a hunter’s crossbow aimed its lethal arrows
at a troop of dancing, Dresden figurines.

There was quite a hodge-podge of stuff.

After awhile, a woman named Joy introduced herself
and asked if I needed any help.
I told her I was just looking.
Then I asked if she had worked there long.
Fifteen years, she said.

I asked her what’s it like when a house is sold
and the belongings of a lifetime go on the block?

She told me that some families have a difficult time of it.
“They forget,” she said, “that it’s memories, not things,
that are important.”

“Do you like your job?” I asked.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes!” she said.

“What’s the best part?” I asked.

She thought for moment.
“I love it,” she said, “when a relative calls in
and asks if we’ve found something.
It's usually something small.
They’ll say,‘Did you come across a bracelet…
a small, blue-stone bracelet?
My grandmother always wore it on her left arm.
Did you find it?’"

She smiled.
“When I say yes, that person is so happy.
The item is usually of little monetary worth,
but to that individual, at that moment,
it’s everything!”

It was a pleasure meeting Joy
and I’m glad I stopped by and take a look around.

What compelled me to visit an auction barn?

I’m not sure, but I think it had something to do
with New Year’s Eve.
This weekend, as you all know,
we’re saying goodbye to ’05 and hello to ‘06.
For some of us,
saying goodbye to the old year
involves sorting through old memories;
it’s bit like a stroll down the aisle of an auction barn.

You pick up this item, then that item,
and feel the weight of memory in your hand.

What are your memories of 2005?

For many people, unfortunately,
’05 is not a year to remember.

Consider this experience of a man from New Orleans
named James Jackson.
I came across an article about his return to his flood-damaged house the other day.
Here is how a reporter describes end-of-the-year inventory
confronting Mr. Jackson:

James Jackson tosses his family portrait onto the trash pile [on the sidewalk in front of his house]. The family picture lands on an heirloom Bible whose pages are decayed back to pulp. Nearby are ruined videos - of Thanksgivings, his daughter's birthdays, trips to Disney World - and old records that he had danced to with his wife. He was able to make out the label on only one, Stevie Wonder's album called "We Can Work It Out." It almost makes him smile.

What a year: 2005.

A year of overwhelming destruction,
beginning with tsunamies and ending with hurricanes.
A year of wars, troop deployments
and loved ones spending Christmas oversees.

And that’s just the stories in the national news.
Each one of us here
have personal stories to recall as well.
In my own life,
this was the first Christmas
without my Dad.
(So, you’ll have to forgive me
if my perception of this past year
carries with it
a shade of melancholy a bit deeper than usual.)

I know that many individuals and families
in our parish community
are in a similar situation; a sitatution of grief.

It’s a bitter-sweet place in which to find oneself:
a place of conflicting emotions.
And because of those emotions,
the end of the year leaves you feeling torn
between wanting to leave this year behind for good...
yet clinging to certain memories for all you’re worth.


Actually, this a normal reaction to have…
and a very human thing to do.

But I’m here to tell
that it is also a very spiritual thing to do.

In times of transition, confusion or sadness,
the tender memories we are drawn to
provide momentary opportunities for grace.

We are all drawn to cling to certain memories
because of the grace those memories contain.
memories of love and inspiration
that sustain us and us hope.

Let’s take today’s gospel reading as an example.

Is this not what we see in today’s passage
that tells us that Mary “treasured in her heart”
the amazing things that transpired
during a difficult and uncertain time in her life?

Think of that chaotic night
on which they arrived in Bethlehem…
only to end up in a barn!!

Yet, eventually, into the cold air of that drafty cave
blew the warm grace of God...
and once things settle down, the grace was everywhere that Mary looked:

steady and confident grace evident
in the care of good and solid man named Joseph;

soft and tender in the smooth skin of the infant
lying in her arms;

and, especially highlighted in today’s reading:
the amazing grace in the astonished faces
of shepherds taken by surprise…
those rough fellows rushing to the cave
and tripping over their words
as they try to get across
what they just went through out in the field,
an experience of angel music falling about them
like stars from the sky...

imagine the look on their faces…
a scene that Mary would never forget…
the moment when expressions of tenderness
came upon the weathered features of rustic field hands,
tough cowboys stumbling over water troughs and pitch forks
then falling on their knees at the sight of the bundled infant
resting on her lap.

Never would she forget the expressions
on the faces of those men.

(And can you see her smile?...A smile
that would visit her face
each time that memory was retrieved…
that memory of grace barging in
on her family on a cold winter night
at the end of a long and disconcerting year?)

That’s part of what this gospel is teaching us today:

The grace is there. It’s always there.
Beneath the memories. Next to the heart.

Sometimes it barges through the door
like field hands giving a whoop and a holler.

Sometimes it’s a soft as moonlight light streaming
through a bedroom window.

Other times, it shows up in e-mails and answering machines.

That’s what I experienced just the other day.

The past Wednesday
there was a message on my answering machine.
The voice was that of a good friend name Michael Barga:

"Father,” he said, “Gwenn had the baby last night.
It's a boy. Levi David.
Call us when you get the chance."

Well, what a good way to start the new year!
I can’t wait to meet Levi David.
The memory of that phone message makes me smile.

But, of course, the good news doesn’t replace the bad.
I can’t deny the sorrow that 2005 brought to me….
My dad is gone and no one will ever take his place.
There is no way to gloss over that pain.

Yet the gospel today assures me
that grace remains.
And God’s promise remains…
His promise that someday,
in that place called heaven,
healing with take hold
and all that is wrong in life
is going to be set right.

So, I put my trust in that promise.
It’s not always easy,
but I have to say Mary, our Blessed Mother,
helps me to do so.

She treasured the ways in which God’s subtle grace
imbued her world.

She received God’s grace
and was filled with grace
and no winter night without a bed
would keep her from seeing it.

And in years ahead,
no fear of angry crowds,
no taunt of Roman soldiers
would shake her faith in God’s promise to save us.

She is telling us today
that the memories that crowd in on us
at the end of the year
are less like those of an auction barn
and more like those of a stable..

that stable in Bethlehem wherein
the promise of humanity’s salvation
was heard in the cry of a newborn child.

Mary is reminding that it’s amazing,
just amazing,
all the places and all the ways
that amazing grace appears.

I hope the grace in your life
is as evident as the grace in mine:

”Father, it’s Michael.
It’s a boy! His name's Levi.
Call us when you get the chance."

"Long Train Coming": Christmas 2005

CHRISTMAS HOMILY: "A Long Train Coming" – 2005

(Revised)

I don’t know much about railroads,
but I do know that here in Cincinnati
“Christmas” and “trains” seem to go together.
I’m not a native of Cincinnati,
but it’s my understanding that, for generations,
children have gone downtown
--to the Cincinnati Gas and Electric Building--
just to see the model trains
chugging their way through the winter landscape
displayed in the windows.

Christmas Trains aren’t just a Cincinnati tradition, however.
For a lot of folks, trains are right up there
with sleigh bells, eggnog and snowmen.

But, unfortunately, times change.

Cincinnati Gas and Electric Company
is now called Cinergy.
And the kids who peer into the windows
of the downtown office building
are more enthralled with computer games like Final Fantasy…
than they are with the power of locomotives
or the mechanics of a round house.

But, you know what?
Trains still run… kids still take note.
Even kids with ipods clamped to their ears.

Why?

Well, there’s just something about trains
that captures our imaginations.
And when something takes hold of our imagination,
there’s no letting go.

Let me give you an example.

A couple weeks ago
a retired gentleman from our parish
asked if I would to accompany him
to the Railroad Museum of Cincinnati.

I said yes.
And what I encountered was truly amazing.

This museum, you see, isn’t housed indoors.
It’s located across the river in Latonia, in the corner of a rail yard.
And every Wednesday and Saturday a hefty corps
of retirees get together in that train yard
and work to restore locomotives, cabooses,
freight cars, club cars, sleeping cars…you name it!

Even in winter, these guys show up to work.
They converted some cars into machine shops
and inside, the air rings with the sound of hammers and blowtorches.
The stripped-out cars are cluttered with tools and tables
and warmed with the pungent smell of kerosene stoves.

Stepping into those cars that day
was a bit like stumbling upon Santa’s workshop.
But it wasn’t toys that those fellows were building,
it was history that they were working.

A history you can touch with your very hand.

In the company of those railroad buffs, that day,
I sat in the seat of an observation car
that once carried people across the Plains into the Rockies
and on to California.

I stood on platforms
from which politicians addressed the citizens of this land.

I saw a state car with brass fittings and leaded glass
and touched the rusted controls of a once-powerful locomotive.

I squeezed my way down narrow hallways
and gazed inside cars that carried troops off to war.

* * *

No doubt about it,
there’s something about trains that fascinate us!

But what connects trains to Christmas?

I’m not exactly sure.
But I know it’s not just The Polar Express.
Some people might brush it off as nothing more than nostalgia.

But I disagree.

I think it involves something called reflection,
maybe even meditation.

After all, travel by train…you get some time to think.
Travel by train and you’re no longer in control.
Travel by train…and life gets slow.

Trains take people to new places
but they take their time doing do.

It’s a reflective experience.

Trains allow travelers time to view the land and the cities
through which they travel.
Trains afford people the opportunity
to introduce themselves to fellow travelers along the way.

It’s a shame that more people don’t travel by train these days.
But, fortunately, there’s another place we can go
to have a similar experience.

Why, if you ask me, stepping inside a church
--especially on the Feast of Christmas--
is a lot like stepping onto a train.

Think about it:

Sometimes the pews are worn
and the accommodations less than comfortable.

But, just look around, there are a lot of people to meet!
Fellow travelers making their way through life---
just like you!

Old folks, young folks, babies…young couples in love.

Like travelers on a train, we get on board…
we bring our lives…we bring our baggage.
Most of all, we bring our hopes and dreams
and everyone of us here is going someplace…
someplace special.

We settle into our seats,
glance at our watches.
and wonder how long it’s going to take…

None of us is sure when we’ll arrive at our destination.
But one thing’s certain: we traveling along
…and we’re traveling together.

The Church is more like a train than we realize.

You see, these days, most folks who ride trains
don’t fret about where they're going
or when they’re going to get there.
For them it's the journey itself
and the people they meet along the way that’s important.
They're looking for some friendship, a warm body to talk to.
People don't rush on a train, because that's not what trains are for.

People who love trains
love what they represent.

So, what does this have to do with Christmas?
How does this involve my family today?
My life this year?

Well, let’s go back downtown for a minute.

Think back to what transpires
when you and your kids gaze at a winter landscape
of hillside villages and pine-wood forests.

Put yourself there. What do you see?
Small houses aglow with yellow light?
A miniature train chugging across a tressel?

Maybe person next to you nudges your arm.
“Do I know you?” she asks.

You don’t recognize her,
but you tell her you’re from Bridgetown.

“Do you go to St. Jude’s?” she asks.

“No,” you say. “I go to St. Al’s.”

She nods.
Then the two of you go back to looking at the train
and the villages and the winter scene.

You are, after all, strangers to each other
yet there is something that connects you.

1) You’re both from Bridgetown.
2) Evidently, you’re both Catholic.

But there’s more than that.

It’s not nostalgia that connects you.
It’s not just geography that connects you.

It’s that winter scene of a village and a train…

a wonderful scene…
a vision of a perfect world
where trains run on time
and villages are quaint
and children are safe
and every grownup has a decent job.

And we’d like to go that place
but a thick glass stands between us and that fantasy.

And, besides--you glance at your watch--
you got to get moving,
there’s more shopping to be done
and there’s basketball practice to catch.

But you can’t leave.
Not yet.
(As I said, when something grabs our imagination,
it’s hard to let go).

And that’s why we can’t quite stop staring at that scene
of a time and place
where life was slow
and communities were strong.

And it sounds so quaint…and so past-tensed.

But, as you walk back to your car
and head back to Bridgetown
it dawns on you that the place you come from
got its name from the railroad.

Good ol’ Bridgetown.

The bridge is long gone
and the trains that once crossed that bridge are long gone…
but the memory remains.

And, with it, a vision of a good place
with good neighbors
and lots of relatives close by.

It’s the memory of your home
and how you were raised
and the love you were given
and the faith in which you believed…
the faith that gave you the vision of a good world
where the hungry were fed
and kids were safe
and everyone was afforded respect.

That place seems to have slipped away…
like a train into a tunnel.

But you’d like to get back to that place,
wouldn’t you?

Where is that place?

Well, it’s not in the downtown windows of the Cinergy building.
It’s here inside this church!

It’s here at St. Al’s where,
Sunday after Sunday, families of young and old alike
gather to hear chapters from a story that is very ancient and very new…

a story that assures them that we human beings
are indeed on a journey…and we’re traveling together.

I’m talking about communities of faith.
I’m talking about parishes like St. Al’s and St. Jude and St. Martin.
I’m talking about churches…
churches full of people chugging their way to heaven.

Places where children are prized
and babies are baptized!

Your good ol’ neighborhood parish
where you can light a candle and hang your heart…

Parishes where young people look to the Cross of Christ
for inspiration. Then, with energy and courage
they take their Holy-Spirit-filled dreams
and turn them loose on the world!

Places where senior citizens play cards and pray the rosary.
And attend daily Mass, doing their part to keep this world
from slipping from God’s hands.

I’m talking about this parish…
and what it’s like to belong to a parish.

I’m talking about communities
that challenge you to be
the person God made you to be!
Communities of compassion and conversion.

Here, in these churches of ours,
where angels are real and miracles happen!

Here, where the lost are found, the sick find healing
the hungry get fed!

That’s what you get when you join up with Christ.

That’s what you get when you come to a place like St. Al’s.

"Do Not Be Afraid, Mary.": The Fourth Sunday of Advent

Well, I'm late posting this week's homily. My apologies! You'll find a first draft following the opening comments. Please post any helpful suggestions you might have on the discussion board or e-mail them to me directly at jms48@fuse.net.

ESTABLISHING A POINT OF ENTRY INTO THE TEXT

This week's gospel text is the scene of the Annunciation to Mary (Luke 1:26-38). I plan to focus on Gabriel's words to our Lady: "Do not be afraid, Mary."

To help me prepare, I interviewed several mothers and an OB-GYN nurse. My goal was to inquire about the fears and apprehensions that new mothers and mothers-to-be tend to experience within various stages of pregnancy and the initial days of motherhood. Their comments were most helpful! Here's the first draft:

HOMILY FOR THE FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT

I had lunch with a group of mothers this past week,
some of whom also happened to be nurses.

We talked about Christmas.
We talked about Advent.
Most of all, we talked about one particular verse
from this Sunday’s gospel:

Do not be afraid, Mary.

Now, I realize, that for us Catholics,
this is not the verse that normally
gets our attention.
To focus on any other words in this passage
is a bit like...well,
it's like talking about a lamp instead of the light;
it’s like talking about darkness instead of the dawn.

Why do I say this?
Well, for anyone who honors and admires
the Mother of God,
the highlight of this passage
is found within the words of Mary,
not those of Gabriel.

After all, it was Mary’s courageous words
that welcomed the divine presence
and clothed the awesome mystery of God
in the warm cloak of human flesh.

“I am the handmaid of the Lord,
let it be done to me according to your word.”

We love the sound of those words
and we love the woman who uttered them.

But don’t rush by the words of the angel.
Don’t, for a minute, think that Gabriel’s words
were no longer hovering in the air.

Do not be afraid, Mary.

As any mother or nurse will tell you,
fear and worry are heavy things.
They fall on the heart
like groceries from a torn bag.

Do not be afraid, Mary.

How can a mother or a mother-to-be not be afraid?

Nine months of pregnancy means nine months of worry.
Will the child be healthy?
Will the child be strong and happy?
What about amniosantesis?
What about collick and jaundice and ear infections?

Do not be afraid, Mary.

What about fevers?
How do I take a baby’s temperature?
When I nurse the child, how will I know if he or she
is getting enough of my milk? Enough nourishment?

Do not be afraid, Mary.

When do I send my child to school?
Do I enroll my child this year or wait until next?
Will my child have friends?
What will I say when others make fun of my child?
How can I entrust my child to strangers
who can’t possibly kiss away the hurt
as good as I do?

Do not be afraid, Mary.

Can I teach my child to cherish
the important things of life?
Will my child rejoice in the world of color
and exult in the beauty of snow?
Will my child dive into water and swim and laugh and play?
And will my child be brave?
Will my child grow up to save the life of someone who is drowning
or defend the rights of someone who is shoved aside?

Do not be afraid, Mary.
Do not be afraid.
The power of the Most High will overshadow.
Your child will be called the Son of God.

And so new life in Mary was conceived…
and the story of the salvation of the world commenced.

It began in fear, but the fear did not flee.
It never completely left.

It tugged at her heart
and showed in her eyes
each time the baby’s cry turned shrill,
each time he ran from the house
--as little boys do--
only to come back with a swollen lip
or blood matted in his hair.

It was always there, as it is for every mother.
Sometimes in the background,
like the knock of a hammer
or the sound of a saw in the carpenter shop out back.

Other times the fear was as sharp and loud
as the cries of the crowds that began to gather
on the shore of the sea to hear the words that he would speak.

This son of hers,
this child she carried in her womb
now cradling lepers with open sores
now lifting children into lap…

This son of hers
now going down to the river,
now going out to the desert
now going to the sea
to pull in nets of fish with strong arms bronzed with the sun.

This son of hers who one, she knew
as only a mother could know,
she knew blood would string down those arms
and nails would pierce the hands she once washed
because his words were strong,
too strong
way to strong
and soldiers would come…
she knew they would come for him.

Do not be afraid, Mary.

If only she could stop them.
If only she could take him home.
If only she could hold him.

Do not be afraid, Mary.

If only she could be with him…

Do not be afraid.

on that day…when it would it happen,
when they would come for him.
…
…

Do not be afraid.

Mary…remember…the Power of the Most High...
God holds you; God himself enfolds you...

Do not be afraid.

__________________________

[Note to Preachers: Final drafts of recent homilies are now posted on the St. Aloysius Parish Website. I urge you to compare the first drafts (located in this blog) with the revised ones (located on the parish website; link appears at top of this page). A side-by-side analysis will reveal how transitions were improved, cumbersome paragraphs jettisoned, conclusions tightened, etc.]

Captives on an Island called Advent:The 3rd Sunday of Advent

[Readers, please note: this is the first draft of a homily that draws upon a teenage discussion of the movie, The Truman Show. Before I deliver the homily this Sunday, I would benefit from knowing your reactions to it. I'm especially interested in knowing whether or not it appeals to a adults as well as adolescents. Feel free to post your comments on the discussion board or directly to me at jms48@fuse.net. Thanks!]

The Third Sunday of Advent

Last Sunday a group of teenagers,
a couple of other adults and myself
got together in the Tekulve Room
and watched some clips from The Truman Show,
a movie starring Jim Carey.

The movie is about a gigantic movie studio
built beneath a dome on the coast of California.
Set within this dome is the community of Seahaven,
an alternate world centered on Truman Burbank,
a happily married insurance salesman.

An alternate universe that is broadcast to the whole world
as The Truman Show through 5,000 miniature cameras.

Everyone in Truman’s life is in on the hoax.
Everyone…his wife, his mother, his best friends are, in fact,
actors in one very large and very expensive entertainment project.
24 hours, 7 days a week, billions of people
tune in to watch what’s going on in Truman’s idyllic life.
All without Truman’s knowledge.

The movie centers on Truman’s realization that his world is not real
and his attempts to escape a perfect world
that is built on lies.

It requires extraordinary persistence and courage
for Truman to escape his very comfortable captivity.

So, what does this movie have to do with the readings
from the Third Sunday of Advent?

Well, the first reading from the Prophet Isaiah,
says that the Messiah of God will come to earth
to release prisoners and set captives free!

Now, when I pointed that out to the teenagers last Sunday night,
they suddenly found themselves engaged.

After all, what teenager doesn’t long for freedom?
Who desires freedom more than an adolescent?

Not only are they tied down by family rules
the high expectations of parents, teachers and coaches
close in around them like high prison walls.

At first they didn’t say much,
but they looked at me as if to say,
“You mean Christ is going to come into my life
and get me out of all this?”

I repeated Isaiah’s words
and reiterated my position:
“Yes, the Messiah comes
to set captives free.
If you are a captive, God wants you to be free.”

Hard to imagine, isn’t it?
It’s hard for us adults to imagine
that teenagers who have so much going for them
and so much given to them could feel trapped by it all.
Don’t they appreciate the comfortable homes,
the good educations
and the loving, though not perfect, families God has given them?

Well, I’m sure they do, perhaps in ways they do not recognize.
But what is front and center in their life
is something that needs to be front and center in the lives of all of us:

God wants us to live a life that is real.

And that’s not easy.
And it is very easy for young people to spot that which is fake.

Last week I mentioned a survey that claims that less than 10%
of Catholic youth consider their religion as very important in their lives.

Now, I don’t tend to put a lot of trust in opinion polls,
but I can’t help but suspect that for a lot of young people…
as well as a lot of other people…
religion is seen as just another boring part
of a predictable world and a predictable life.

And, to their credit, that’s what adolescents can’t accept.

So much of their world, you see,
is circumscribed by curfews and credit hours.
Much of their experience of life,
like that of Truman Burbank’s,
comes pre-packaged:

Eat this kind of food,
do these kinds of exercises,
apply to this college,
undertake this course of study
slat yourself into this level of income
buy a house in this kind of neighborhood…

and on and on it goes!

Wear these kinds of clothes,
strike this kind of pose!!

Now, let me ask you something.

Is this why Christ allowed a lance to pierce his side?
Is this any reason for him to give his life for you?

Did he come into our world
so we all could all have a good and comfortable life?

Not according to Isaiah!
Isaiah said the Messiah would come to set captives free.

But I got to say that talk like this
makes a lot of us, myself included, a bit uncomfortable.

But you know what?
It didn’t make those young people last Sunday a bit uncomfortable.

Why?
Well, I think it has something to do with a real aversion to be held captive.

Ask any teenager
and he or she will tell you that they want to be somebody.

They aren’t exactly sure what that entails,
but they know it means that they have a deep need
to be appreciated for who they are,
not the things they do.

But that’s no way to be free.

The world around them constantly tells them
they have to follow this schedule, achieve this award, follow the guidelines.
But they want you to look them in the eye
and see…someone.

And it’s an amazing thing
when the Spirit of God
comes and sets teenagers free.

It’s pure freedom!

It’s pure freedom when they read in the Word of God
and believe the Word of God when it says:

“I have called you by name.”
“Justin, I have called you by name.
Emily, I have called you by name.
Lauren, I have called you by name.
I don’t care what clubs you belong to
or who you hang with
or what college you plan to go to…
I just want you to know that I know your name…
in fact, it’s carved right here on the palm of my hand.”

That’s what the Good Book says,
that’s what the Good Lord means.

Advent is about freedom.
Advent is about salvation.
Advent is about being released from the falsehood of the world
and realizing that your God comes to you walking in sandals,
sandals that you are too unworthy to carry.

If you are sixteen years old and you follow him,
if you are forty-five years old
if you are seventy-seven years old
and have the courage to thumb your nose at the comfortable world
and break through the bubble of family expectations
and middle class expectations...

if you do this and choose to live as a disciple of his,
you will find, at the end the day,
that this Savior who knows your name and who loves you
with every drop his blood...
this Savior will set before you the vision of marvelous future
called the Kingdom of God
and, on the way to that incredible and majestic Kingdom
where the poor are sheltered and the hungry are fed...

on the way to that place you will find that Christ Jeus,
the strong and mysterious Messiah of God,
has taken you places that you would have never imagined…
places that have invigorated you and tested you
and made you feel alive and real.

Then, on the threshold of the Kingdom,
he will do for you what he did that evening on the day
that he gave to us the Sacrament of his Body and Blood;
this Savior, whose sandals you are unworthy to touch,
will kneel in front of you,
remove your sandals to wash your feet.
And then he will looks up at you and say,
“Aren’t you glad you’ve come along?...
Aren’t you glad you followed your heart?”