Father Rocco's homily today included a story.
A monkey was riding on the back of a panda. They were comfortable ambling along, when the monkey asked the panda, "Is the destination more important than the journey?"
What do you think?
Well, the panda replied, "Neither."
"It depends on the companion."
When I arrived home, there was a package waiting for me. It was from an old friend, that used to belong to my hikers' group, Lowell Whitlock. He sent me the above Dominican Cross. It was such a surprise that I'm still marveling over it. I haven't seen Lowell for a few years. He was in my Spanish class and cribbage class, at the Senior Center. Then he moved to Texas--never to be seen or heard from, again. So I thought, until this morning.
Isn't it a godsend to hear from old friends?
My son came for lunch, carrying a Christmas kissing ball. It smells wonderful.
The characters in Walker Percy's "The Moviegoer," are the first time I've never liked any of them. None of them had any redeeming features. Well, what do I know. It's only a story.
The main character, Binx, was a dud. I keep thinking that there should be more to this story but if there were, I missed it. It was an easy read. I liked the descriptive detail, especially when Percy was describing a person. His diction is precise. I really got a flavor of the south in the 1960s.
I guess that's why this book is considered an existential classic.
Lectio:
2 On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 2 Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples. 3 When the wine ran out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” 4 And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” 5 His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”
6 Now there were six stone water jars there for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons.[a] 7 Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. 8 And he said to them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast.” So they took it. 9 When the master of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom 10 and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine. But you have kept the good wine until now.” 11 This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.
12 After this he went down to Capernaum, with his mother and his brothers[b] and his disciples, and they stayed there for a few days.
Studium:
2:1 The Third Day. Interesting. Jesus for the first time will manifest His glory on this "Third Day," as He manifests His glory three days after His death. Why three days? The third of these wedding celebrations? Three days after calling some of His apostles?
Also note that John doesn't call Mary anything other than the Mother of Jesus. And why would she be so concerned about running out of wine? Who would notice that? Well, a relative of the wedding party would, wouldn't she?
And I've heard many times that Jesus calling His mother, "Woman," 2:4, was not rude. It just would be rude today.
2:5 Mary knew Jesus would do whatever she asked, her tone is assurance. "Do whatever He tells you." are the last recorded words of Mary. One of my "cloistered brothers" calls this incident the first catechism, i.e., just obey Jesus!
2:10 Jesus transforms water into wine, just as He transfigures wine into His Precious Blood at every Mass.
Finally, Jesus' attendance at this wedding is the basis for sanctifying a wedding into the sacrament of marriage.
Meditatio:
Wowza! Jesus starts His public ministry giving us a sacrament and an introduction to Mary, changing water, and impressing everyone, especially His disciples. But Mary knew He would. Does she feel sorry that this is His beginning of leaving her?
Oratio:
Thank you, Jesus, for sanctifying marriage. Thank you, Jesus, for changing water into wine to prefigure the Eucharistic celebration. Thank you, Jesus, for showing us that this wine looks forward to the marriage supper of the Lamb.
Contemplatio:
I am awed by Your care for us.
Resolutio:
I will work towards spreading the glory and power of God.
Let's face it, these are tumultuous times for all of us. Time in which I find myself often gazing from my cell window and wondering, what it might be that you yourself are seeing from your own window? For me, I see a co-mingling of sorrow and joy. The leaves are changing and so are we. Colder weather is moving in, and the ways in which we now interact with one another are dramatically altered. So much suffering abounds, often it is difficult to know how best to help. Many have become cynical, fearful, disillusioned, and stress and anxiety and frustration can get overwhelming. I get it, I have my moments too. However, the longer I gaze out my window, the more deeply I feel drawn to go deeper within myself.
From this vantage point, the window of my heart, my Advent journey is beginning. I can see that many of us have grown older, more infirm, are struggling to make ends meet, and are wrestling with the innumerable uncertainties life now challenges us with. Many more of us are also grieving the losses of both loved ones and the way life used to be. In the windows of my own nostalgic moments, I fondly recall your face and the many memories we share from our vibrant Bethanian communal days. It is the memory of your face, like a shining star to me, that brings me both solace and hope. Comfort knowing that we may be separated, but we are far from being apart.
For a few moments, I had wished to turn back the hands of time. Then a realization struck me, Advent calls us forward, not backward. We have grown since last we met, and each of us is on a journey now to transcend who we are at this moment. Like the Wise folk of old, who took a risk, took off their masks, and dared to follow that bright shining star into an uncertain future, so too are we called to do the same, to step out in faith. Advent journeys are about learning to trust, and about learning to see through the darkness and into the Light. Often it is one baby step at a time. Advent feeds us the nutrients we most need to bring new life in us. Christmas dispels the dark, transcends the fear, in the humble gathering where we meet once again at the manger of Christ and together are fed. May we be starts for others along the way to the Celebration. See you at the manger of Love! Your "cloistered brother," Phil.
And to play the part of Mary in the Annunciation, here she is again.
So I readily identify was Lana, the main character, who couldn't get pregnant, in Her Daughter's Mother by Daniela Petrova. Lana chose to have an egg donor fertilized with her partner's sperm. The only problem is that her partner left her. Lana chose to continue.
When reviewing the donors, Lana saw a picture of a young, healthy egg donor who had the same ancestry that she had. That's why she chose her.
One day, coming home she saw the egg donor on the train and decided to follow her to learn more about her. Lana by this time was pregnant. Well as fate would have it, they met and became friends.
Not much later, the egg donor, the mother of the baby Lana was carried was murdered. Or was she?
There's no dearth of suspects: Lana's partner--the sperm donor, the psychologist, a jealous boyfriend, and a few more. Lana does her own sleuthing and there are some thrilling scares. This novel is entertaining and a bit different.
Come Gesu, anch'io ti amo fino a morire.
https://spiritdaily.org/blog/news/well-known-priest-father-aniello-dies-from-covid
I've mentioned this priest numerous times. He is the one who introduced me to the Holy Spirit.
Pray always for purity and love
The Grandkids are learning about Mass. So far, we've got behavior in the church down--entering and taking a seat.
We enter the playroom and dip a finger in the holy water font and bless ourselves. Then we look around for the sanctuary light, otherwise, this playroom chapel might not be Catholic.
Ah, there's a red sanctuary light.
There's a little brouhaha between the altar servers over who's going to light the Sanctuary light, but I assured these little acolytes that there's work for everyone.
And here's the Tabernacle:
We in the congregation need to know where the Tabernacle is (on top of a trunk) because we genuflect facing the Tabernacle, then bless ourselves and go into our pew. The pew is pretty full of stuffed animals, dolls, and puppets, but they are polite and make room for us.
That's as far as we've got. Next week we'll learn about the Liturgy of the Word.
What's inside this Tabernacle? Why didn't you know? That's the best part. There's a covered bowl that my niece Christina gave me from Austria. We are using this as our ciborium.
We are using chocolate for hosts. What's better than that? Money? Yes! How about chocolate covered money!
What a nightmare--falling in love with your enemy. That's what happens in Julianne MacLean's novel, A Fire Sparkling. The plot goes deeper. Vivian even is tortured by the man she thought she loved. Events were so terrible that Vivian never talked about them.
The story unfolds when Vivian's granddaughter, Gillian sets out to find out what happened to the people in Vivian's past. The past is WWII London and Paris. So this is a historical novel.
At first, Isabel Wilkerson's book, Caste, reminded me of Rene Girard's Scapegoat, but once Caste became personal, I fell under its spell. Wilderson proves her point. The USA has a caste system and black Americans are the lowest caste.
Just about all the examples she gives, I remember. I also remember my indifference to the events and the people involved in them--I am ashamed to say. The most powerful chapter in the book is the last two chapters; she ends with a bang.
"The Heart Is the Last Frontier," and the "Epilogue: A World Without Caste," meant the most to me. I learned that regarding people as people gives one empathy for each other and that knocks down preconceptions. Wilkerson waxes dreamily of a world without bias, where we enjoy everyone's talents and we are one people looking out for each other. (Didn't Jesus say that?)
Personally, I think the solution is intermarriage. If everyone has DNA from Asians, Africans, etc., and everyone has someone in their family who is gay or trans, etc., only then will everyone be free of prejudices.
But that's a reach, no?
However, I also remember from Girard's Scapegoat, that the human being needs to blame someone. The most common question asked when anything happens is, "WHO did this?", not "How do we fix this?"
Adam blamed Eve. Eve blamed the serpent. Who's going to get blamed next?
I do think of my grandmother when I garden. She had a green thumb. She was in her 70's when she had a stroke while climbing one of her fruit trees. She died then. I'm that age now, so I don't climb up too high.
1. We walk through the doors.
2. We bless ourselves with water from the holy water font. Dipping our fingers into the water, bless ourselves and say, "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
Another Soul
So many roads traveled,
Dulled days sleepless nights
living in a world that never felt right
looking for a cure to still the mind
as the world slowly passes, left behind.
Seeking refuge in a cold empty church,
sitting in a pew confused and hurt.
What to do where to go, would the lord accept it,
if it ended now?
Living on an island surrounded by souls,
never felt connected, always outside the fold.
Round and round and round it goes,
slammed with torment out of control.
Seeking answers at the bottom of a bottle,
nothing to be found just pain and trouble.
A ticket to the asylum on the way to prison
broken hearts, family division.
Lights shining now from those who have gone,
sending living souls to help us along,
Days not so dull now, not as many sleepless nights,
moving forward, trying to make right.
God's Peace. October/20/2020@6pm
All The Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy is a cowboy novel. It's fairly modern in its setting though because radios, cars, and trains are referenced. The hero, however, John Grady Cole is an anachronism. He would have been more at ease a hundred years earlier. He also would have fit in a more chivalrous era. He's a cowboy's cowboy, always doing the correct thing and damn the consequences.
John Grady and a friend leave home and travel south to Mexico. The two teenagers meet another teen, Blevins, and they become a threesome. Although, the last kid causes a tragedy. He is afraid of lightning and leaves his horse and runs off and hides. The horse runs off, too. Someone picks up the horse and when Blevins finds it, he is accused of horse stealing and shot for it.
The Lighthouse by Michael D. O'Brien is a study in loneliness. Well, it is about a lighthouse keeper. The reader sees his life. O'Brien has you feel the isolation. The lighthouse keeper is Ethan McQuarry. He had a sad childhood with no father but he trudged on the best he could.
He has few visitors but one does stick; a young man who is some kind of oceanographer. The thing is, they are very much alike. They bond and learn how to trust and understand and forgive life.
This is a short, easy read and interesting.
T'was a time before CORONA
when I started out with coffee and cremora.
My lipstick and makeup was perfectly put on
and met with friends in group liaisons.
The times were carefree, fun and so merry
my cheeks wore blush and my lips cherry.
T'is now however, everything is different
no public places that I used to frequent.
Why wear blush, mascara and lipstick
with masks we all look like we're sick.
Nothing to do but eat all day,
watch TV and look for games to play.
COVID weight has given me a little belly,
that shakes when I laugh like a bowl full of jelly.
T'will this pandemic never end?
T'aint any fun with no friend.
T'would be better to fratenize
T'won't be so lonely by and by.
Till then I'll sit and play solitaire,
do my nails and wash my hair.
The image of Our Lady of Siluva jumped out at me. Our Lady of Siluva is Our Lady of Lithuania, you know. I love her. Being 64% Lithuanian, I am proud to claim her. So it was a blessing for me to see her.
The Nobel Prize in Literature 2020 was awarded to Louise Glück "for her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal."
Finally, something to celebrate in 2020. Louise Glück is a prolific poetess. There is much to choose from her work. But to celebrate her award I will post her poem the Flowering Plum from her book The House on Marshland.
Once we lived in a house with a plum tree. It was so magnificent that the school across the street would bring classes of children to come close to see it. The flowers didn't last, "blossoms afloat in the wind."
Flowering Plum
In spring from the black branches of the flowering plum tree
the woodthrush issues its routine
message of survival. Where does such happiness come from
as the neighbors' daughter reads into that singing,
and matches? All afternoon she sits
in the partial shade of the plum tree, as the mild wind
floods her immaculate lap with blossoms, greenish white
and white, leaving no mark, unlike
the fruit that will inscribe
unraveling dark stains in heavier winds, in summer.
Let me remind you that this is for 10-year-olds.
I don't know what the means. How can I explain it?
The Catholic Children's Dictionary I have defines the Kingdom of God as God's reign of peace, justice, mercy, and love that Jesus taught about and came to establish. We pray for its coming in the Our Father and work to bring it about. The Church is the seed of this kingdom, which will come to fulfillment in eternity.
Better. I understand this one. But for the fifth grade? Do you think they understand eternity? If you have to explain the words in the definition how can you explain the concept?
Can't I just say that the Kingdom of God is heaven? After all these 10-year-olds know the Lord's Prayer. "Thy kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." Matthew 6:10.
But, later, Jesus says, "For indeed, the kingdom of God is within you." (Luke 17:21) I take that to mean that peace and joy are within us, which is like heaven. We have to work to keep this peace within us and that's how we are part of God's Kingdom. But when we die and go to heaven, then we don't have to work at keeping peace and joy because we will be in it.
Lord help me. Holy Spirit come down and grant the children understanding because
I can't explain it.
In the Metro-west Interfaith Book Discussion Group, that I am in, we are reading Isobel Wilkerson's book, Caste, which is about how black people in the USA are treated, thought of, and not thought of, since the first black slave was brought to America.
You have no idea!
My frame of reference and maybe yours is as "privileged whites." The author of the book, Caste, posits that the USA has a caste system not unlike that of India's. Black people in the USA are akin to the lowest caste in India. Blacks are thought of as the "dalits"--"the untouchables."
You may have the urge to protest the author's claim, but that is only because you haven't read the book and more so because you most probably are not black.
Today, the boil over point, was not so much as the police killing black youths, it was the fact that policemen get off, scott free! There's the spur under the saddle. The white cowboy holds on all the more securely. But the black horse under the cowboy can't stand the pain, anymore.
Get down, cowboy! Look. Asses the problem. Remove the offending spur of racial profiling and work to eradicate spurs.
Black Lives Matter is not a new phenomenon. Blacks have been treated as they haven't mattered, for way too long. I have a poem I need to read to you to emphasize the emotion that is evident in BLM,
We all should remember the occasion that inspired the poem. So go back to Los Angeles of 1991. Pretend you are a black male. Imagine the neighborhood you live in, the low-performing school you attended, the high school that kicked you out, the relatives in prison because they couldn't afford to pay good lawyers, lack of opportunities to leave your environment, and get a good job. You are black.
It is now the summer of 1992. Your name is Harry Johnson and you are black. You are trying your best to achieve the "American Dream." This is American; the Land of Opportunity. Right? You work hard to buy a house to move out of the ghetto to have your children go to good schools to become whatever they want.
But back in 1991, Rodney King, a black American was beaten by Los Angeles police. And we saw it happen. We are all witnesses. By the way, if you remember, Rodney King was stopped for a traffic violation.
Harry Johnson was listening to the verdict in the trial against the police officers. Most people were shocked at the verdict, after all we all were witnesses to what had happened. A group of white police officers shot Rodney King with a stun gun, one officer knelt on him to hold him down while other cops kicked him and beat him for fifteen minutes, while more than a dozen cops stood by, watching and commenting on the beating.
Yet, contrary to what we all saw, the verdict stunned everybody. Four officers were charged with excessive force and the verdict was "not guilty."
Howard Johnson was so upset that he left work, went home, and composed this poem that I will read to you because it expresses the raw emotions of our current Black Live Matter movement.
News Item: Four white Los Angeles police officers,
following a three-month trial and seven days of jury
deliberations, were found not guilty of using excessive
force on the evening of March 3, 1991, when they subdued
a Rodney King, a black man, by shooting him with a stun
gun and striking him 56 times with their police batons.
Damn! Damn!
Damn! Damn! Damn!
No, I wasn't in the courtroom.
No, I wasn't privy to all the evidence.
No, I didn't see everything the jury saw.
No, I didn't hear everything the jury heard.
No, I am not in a position to second-guess their decision.
Yes, I try to believe the promise of America.
Yes, I try to believe that the rules are fair, that justice is blind.
Yes, I try to believe--God knows, I try to believe--
that America works nearly all the time,
for nearly all the people.
But don't ask me to believe today.
Today, I believe something different.
Today, I believe America lies.
Today, I am disappointed. Shocked. Angry. Enraged.
Today I am a skeptic. A cynic. An unbeliever.
Today, I am not an American.
Today, I am a black man.
Today, I know what the black man has always known.
Today, I know that America--deep in its heart--
doesn't know what to do with me,
doesn't know how to deal with my audacious blackness.
Today, I know that for many white Americans,
slaves forever to the emotional apartheid
that infects their very souls,
I am not different from Rodney King.
Today, I know that nothing that I do--
not the way I dress, not the way I talk,
not the way I comport myself, not the way I invest my life--
will ever make me any different from Rodney King
in their eyes.
Today, I know that nothing I have ever done,
nothing I will ever do--
not the tears that I cry, not the blood that I shed--
will ever make any real difference.
Today, I know that the bruises to my black man's ego,
the pain in my black man's heart,
the scars on my black man's soul
will never heal completely.
Today, I know that I am not an American.
Today, I know that I am a black man,
living at the margin
of a place called
America.
Damn! Damn!
Damn! Damn! Damn you, America!
Once more, you have lied to me!
France was never the same after this Revolution. The Revolution nearly destroyed French civilization. It severely damaged the Church in France and the perceived democracy that the revolution tried to set up never happened.
It was a crazy time. Patriots were guillotined. Relatives betrayed familial bonds. Those in power soon were victims, themselves. Robespierre replaced God with a supreme being that resembled himself. Danton who initiated and supported the guillotine became a victim of it.
This book is a study of the Revolution. the National Convention is exposed as a violent tyrant that terrorized France for three years. The September Massacres of 1792 repulsed even the instigators.
Carroll spends time on what happened to Catholicism in this "Eldest Daughter of the Church." Fortunately, Louis de Montfort and the devotion to the Sacred Heart happened before the Revolution and I think, helped to fortify the faithful during this period.
Governments don't matter. Jesus is always King.
Pope Francis' latest encyclical, Fratelli Tutti uses the words, "intestine conflicts." It made me laugh out loud. What is that? Does it mean "gut wrenching?" Maybe it means, "upsetting one's stomach?"
Here's the complete sentence, " Will the wounded man end up being the justification for our irreconcilable divisions, our cruel indifference, our intestine conflicts?
This paragraph, # 72, is talking about the parable, "the Good Samaritan." So will people use leaving the wounded man as justification for calling the religious people hypocrites? What about the wounded man, being Jewish, have a gut-wrenching reaction to the Samaritan helping him because the Samaritan TOUCHED him? Will the Samaritans accuse the Jews? Will the Jews accuse the Samaritans?
Intestine conflicts???????????
It must be a mistake in translation. Makes me wonder what else the pope has said that was mistranslated.
Father John linked the Old Testament to the New, in this morning's homily. Today's homily was about Mary's visit to Elizabeth....
