Blasphemy Ain't What It Used To Be

Yes, I know there ain't any such word as ain't, but due to colloquial acceptance of the word, the expression, "ain't what it used to be," has become so familiar that correcting ain't to isn't, grates on the ears.

What once was, ain't no more.  I'm talking about a sin against the second commandment.  Back in the day, it was almost socially acceptable to hear God's name taken in vain.  It seemed the conversation was peppered with Christ!  I even remember a comedian saying that until he went to school and everyone used the name his mother gave him, he didn't recognize it because he thought he was Jesus Christ.  That's because every time his father saw him, he'd yell Jesus Christ!...

I used to think that maybe the habit arose because people were used to praying pious ejaculations and when surprised or something needed emphasis, they'd absentmindedly exclaim Mother of God!, or Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!  How about, "Oh, for Christ's sake!" I can see where these punctuated expressions could also be used as prayerful ejaculations during the day and since these expressions of prayers were so readily on your lips, they shot out unexpectedly.  Yes, I give people the benefit of doubt. 

But they were considered blasphemous because you were using God's name in vain and/or disrespecting sacred persons.  Not so today.

I contend that nowadays, in our very secular society where God is barely on one's mind, using His name in speech isn't thought of, even using the name in vain.  It's like God never existed.  He's out of sight; He's out of mind; His name is not even used to blaspheme.  It's strange. Bad words like ain't are "in" and sacred names are "out."  Correct English isn't a consideration any more than God is.

Historical Trail

One of my "cloistered brothers" was telling me about a possible ancestor of his.  I was curious.  So I googled.  My "cloistered brother" is black and I was searching for a black woman who started a school for black children around 1800.

Actually, she was easy to find because she was on television news a few days ago.  Evidentally, there is a proposal to put up a monument to her.  I am talking about Dinah Whipple.  She married Prince Whipple at age 21 in 1781.  Dinah was an avid reader and evidently loved learning.  She held classes in her home, which is credited to be the first school for black children in New Hampshire. 

Laudable as this is, what interested me more, was her husband, Prince.  He was a slave and his owner was named William Whipple.  As Mr. Whipple's property, he also was called Whipple.  For his first name, he was given the name Prince.  It seems that slaves were given names like King, Ceasar, etc.  The times are the beginning of our country and William Whipple was in the thick of it.  When the Revolutionary War broke out, William Whipple was a colonel in the First New Hampshire Regiment.  Prince accompanied him.  Tradition even has Prince Whipple rowing the boat that took Washington across the Delaware. This is doubtful because Colonel Whipple was attending Congress in Philadelphia and Prince Whipple would have been with him.  But there is a black man rowing Washington's boat.  Is that because the artist wanted to represent all men who were fighting?

Surprise!

When I am surprised by the first flowers I see on my plants I always think of them as presents from God. It’s about midway between the winter solstice and spring equinox. So the surprise of flowers brings an expression of delight to my face.

The first time I noticed a flower was when I was watering my dish garden. I saw a white leaf- a strong healthy stem and when I turned the pot I saw that it was not a leaf but rather a flower. So I looked around my other plants and saw one flower on my cactus. Just now a few days later, I spotted a flower in my purple shamrocks.

God is good.

Saved Through Water

Lectio:     1 Peter 3: 18-22 Studium

Beloved:
Christ suffered for sins once, 
the righteous for the sake of the unrighteous,           

that he might lead you to God.
Put to death in the flesh, 
he was brought to life in the Spirit.
In it he also went to preach to the spirits in prison, 
who had once been disobedient 
while God patiently waited in the days of Noah 
during the building of the ark, 
in which a few persons, eight in all,
were saved through water.
This prefigured baptism, which saves you now.
It is not a removal of dirt from the body 
but an appeal to God for a clear conscience, 
through the resurrection of Jesus Christ,
who has gone into heaven
and is at the right hand of God, 
with angels, authorities, and powers subject to him.

Studium:

This letter was most probably read and circulated among the faithful.  This is a catechesis teaching of the meaning of Christ's life.  People who are suffering can take heart when they hear this reading.  Jesus suffered, too, and He didn't have to.  He was righteous.  Yet He suffered for us who are not.  We entered into this redemption by our baptism.  Baptism's symbol is water as was Noah's ark in water.  Both us and Noah were saved by water. And so begins our Lenten journey, especially those catechumens hoping to become baptized at the Easter vigil.

Meditatio:

"He also went to preach to the spirits in prison."  Jesus loves sinners.  He became one of us because of the prisoners to sin.  He did not come for the righteous, but for us.  We can follow this example of Love by being baptized.

Oratio:

Lord, this is good news.  Our baptism brings us into Your family.  The water cleanses us from Original Sin and brings us into Your Church.  I pray our catechumens freely choose to come to You.

Contemplatio:

Lord, I pray for the priest who baptized me.

Boys Will Be Boys

The kids weren’t really bullying him.  At least, he wasn’t  taking it that way.  The kids constantly put-down everyone like that, even themselves.  Think of it as derogatory teasing:

You’re a wimp.
You’re such a baby.
Is that shirt your sister’s.
You have a face only your mother would love.

But today Paul couldn’t think of anything appropriate to respond.  He wasn’t in the mood.  So Paul shrugged off their teasing and turned the corner to go home.  As he passed the bank, he did a double take.  The shades were down.  His mother is a teller in that bank and she told him that the shades being drawn meant that there’s a robbery going on.  The employees were told not to go in and to call 911.  Paul tried to look in.  He didn’t want to call 911 for nothing.  His friends would rag on him forever if he called the cops and the shades were down because they were being dusted or some other stupid reason.

But he did take out his phone and dial 911.  A dispatcher answered.  Paul said, “Hi, I think there’s a robbery going on in the Essex Street Branch of the Pelham Bank.”

“Who’s calling, please?”

“Ah, why do you want to know my name?”

“To verify your information.”

“Oh, OK.  Paul Reardon.”

“Spell the last name, please.”

“Last name, please.”“My mother is in that bank.  Can you hurry up?”

“How old are you?”

“What? Why?”

“You sound like a child.”

“Well, I am 12.  Look we’re wasting time.  Can’t you just send a police car, to check?”

“The police will be there momentarily.”

“Oh, ok, my last name is R-e-a-r-d-o-n.  My address is 16 Granite Street.”

Just then he heard a lot of sirens.  They were coming closer.  Paul didn’t even bother to say “Goodbye;” he just shut off his cell.

His friends came running to him just as the police cars drove up.  “What’s up?”  Paul hoped there really was a robbery because he was going to be the target of all their jokes if he called the police for nothing.

“I think there’s a robbery going on.”  Swarms of police came out of the squad cars.  Some had pistols drawn.

“Get out of the way.  Get out of the way.  Make way.  Keep back.”

When the cops opened the door and rushed in, Paul tried to see in.  He looked first at his mother’s desk.  His heart dropped. She wasn’t there.  And that was all he saw because the cops were swarming everywhere.  Paul felt like crying.

The kids asked him, “Do you know what’s going on?”

“I called the police.”

“You did?”

“My Mom, my mom…”  Simultaneously, as Paul tried to explain, his friends’ eyes widened; they understood.  Paul’s mother was inside.  Immediately, they put their arms around Paul and that’s when he allowed himself to cry.  They felt his pain.  They, themselves, started to pepper the police with questions:

“Is everyone OK?  Was anyone shot?  What’s happening?  Is Mrs. Reardon OK?..”

No one answered the boys.  Finally, one policeman approached the group and asked, “Are any of you boys, Paul Reardon?”  Paul raised his hand.  “What alerted you to the face that a robbery was going on?”  However, instead of answering, Paul asked his own question.  “My mother works in this bank, is she OK?” The cop ignored Paul’s question and asked his question, again. “How did you know about the robbery?

Paul started to sob uncontrollably.  His friends tightened their circle around him and accusingly told the cop, “Leave him alone.  He needs to know if his mom is OK.”

The cop looked surprised and then understanding crossed his face.  “Wait a minute.”

In a minute, Paul’s mother rushed out to him.  Her embrace of Paul circled all the boys. “I’m fine.  I’m fine.  The bank was robbed.  The robbers took the money that was open cash.  We couldn’t open the safe because it’s on a timer, so while we all waited for the safe to open, the robbers tied everyone up. I pulled down the shade while they were busy tying others.  I was hoping that Paul would notice the drawn shade and remember to call 911.”

Mrs. Reardon’s explanation was interrupted by the robbers being led out of the bank, handcuffed.  There were three of them.  The boys automatically walked backward away from the procession. 

The policeman that first questioned Paul, was listening to Mrs. Reardon.  When the robbers were secured in police cars, he asked Mrs. Reardon to step back inside the bank so he could take her statement.  To Paul, he asked, “How does it feel to be a hero, son?”

The other boys’ jaws dropped open.

They Know Not What They Do

Once in awhile, I give my friend, Joe, a ride.  He is a disabled veteran.  The left side of his body is affected.  He doesn't drive a car.  He wears glasses with very thick lenses.  His left hand is almost useless and he walks with a stagger.

This morning when I picked him up, he was in a dither.  It seems that earlier in the morning he was walking home from the store and a car full of young men yelled at him.  "Sober up, you drunk!"

Joe was very upset.

If only those idiots in the car who thought he was a drunk knew that Joe was a veteran.  They would be very ashamed of themselves.

The Gospel is NOT Fake News

Here's another Father Chris O'Connor joke.  The pope wouldn't go out to greet the press.  His secretary said, "You have to, Holy Father.  The New York Times is there.  Along with CNN, ABC, MSNBC, FOX news, the London Times, etc.  C'mon, Holy Father."

The pope absolutely refused.  "Why won't you meet the press?"

"They make up the news.  They misconstrue everything I say and do.  Remember last week when I was greeting the refugees who had just crossed the Mediterranean.  A child fell off the boat and was being swept away in the waves.  I walked across the water and rescued him. The next day the news reported that I didn't know how to swim!"

With A Little Help From My Friends

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman is a book club recommendation.  It took me a while to get into it because it seems that lately, all we read about are oddballs.
I wasn't really into the novel.  Eleanor Oliphant was a stiff, literal thinking and speaking, weird lady.  As it turned out, it wasn't the character, Eleanor, that was the problem.  It was me.  Finally, around page 145, I burst out laughing.  I finally got it.  The book is humorous.  It wasn't a serious case study about a damaged life.  Well, it wasn't a serious study.  But Eleanor had a miserable childhood with a pscho mother. 

We meet her when she's in her twenties.  She works in an office and has a lonely and boring life.  Then she meets Raymond.  Raymond turns out to be the best friend anyone could hope for.  He brings her out of her mental and emotional prison.  Actually, her psychiatrist does, but it was Raymond who suggested it and continued to support Eleanor's recovery.

In the end, she's fine--completely fine.  Cute story.

God Lights Our Souls

Today is February 2. The day has been known by different names.  In today’s secular culture, everyone is celebrating Ground Hog Day—a silly custom where a groundhog comes out of his den. The poor creature is probably dragged out. If he sees his shadow he turns around and goes back to his winter sleep. This is supposed to mean that there will be six more weeks of winter.

February 2 has also been known as The Presentation of the Lord. This commemoration is for Jesus being brought to the temple, Luke 2:22-38. This is where Simeon thanks God, “Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace...”. And where Anna, the prophetess, also gave thanks to God and spoke the child Jesus.

BTW, the presentation is a politically correct way of saying Jesus was circumcised. And the feast day was actually called the Circumcision of Jesus.

Today however, I am celebrating Candlemas. It marks the period between the winter solstice and spring equinox. The last of the Christmas decorations are removed. I am taking off the candy canes on my front door. I am cleaning up the last (I hope.) of the pine needles. The fireplace hearth is swept out. And I am celebrating by lighting candles all over the house. Let the light in! Take that Mr. Groundhog!

I am also preparing for Lent. I am starting to think of the best ways to prepare. I have composed a haiku in my meditation.

God Lights Our Souls

Morning light opens
Candlemas melting snow
And our sinful souls.

The Intergenerational Book Club

My town's high school has invited twelve Senior Citizens to join their high school book club in reading You Bring the Distant Near by Mitali Perkins.  They call it the Intergenerational Book Club.  I thought this exchange of viewpoints interesting, so I signed up.  What's another book club?  I already belong to two!

The high school received a grant from the Franklin Education Foundation to do this.  We will meet next month to discuss the book, eat an Indian meal and Skype with the author.  This is the best book club meeting, ever!

Besides the discussion with the teenagers, I'm looking forward to my friend's interaction with them.  Yes, I'm bringing a ringer.  I talked my Indian/American friend, Mary, to sign up.  She is nothing like the mother in the book.  I just hope she speaks up and offers her thoughts.  This should be very interesting.

I couldn't wait to read the book.  I was so excited that I got the book from our library's Minuteman catalog.  It was an easy read.  It is a "young adult" book.  I think young adults will like it.  I'm not going to review it here because I'll be posting the book club meeting, next month.  I'll write all about it, then.

Today, the high school sent the books over to the Senior Center.  Even though I just finished the book, I took the book to review anyway, and think up some questions to ask the author when we Skype with her.  This is going to be so much fun!