Laetare learning

17 Mar

gas gauge

The trick is to rejoice over learning something that you think you should have known a long time ago.

Advent and Lent both have a middle Sunday on which the Mass vestments are rose-colored. Each has a “rejoice” Sunday half way through the season. The names of the Sundays are Gaudete and Laetare, I know. But which was which puzzled me every six months. When I mentioned that to a much younger priest friend, he said, “That’s easy. Lent starts with an ‘L’ and so does Laetare.” Forty years a priest and it had never dawned on me that it was that easy.

The trick is to rejoice over learning something that you think you should have known a long time ago.

I was in a rental car. Pulling into a gas station, I grumbled that I did not know what side the gas tank was on. My passenger said, “That’s easy. Look at your dashboard.” As I looked at him and then at the dashboard, “Do you see an icon, a symbol of a gas pump? Is there an arrow by the pump? Which way it is pointing?” When my thumb pointed to the left, he smirked. I had never known that.

Did I rejoice over learning something that I thought I should have known a long time ago? Not really. The first three people I asked, “Do you know how you can tell which side of the car the gas tank is one?” answered, “Yeah, there is a little gas tank on the dashboard by the gas gauge, and there is a little arrow …” I quickly learned something else – that I was not rejoicing over learning what I thought I should have known all along; I was looking to find someone who didn’t know  what I knew.

The trick is to rejoice over learning something that you think you should have known a long time ago.

A man was blind since birth. Wanting to see something that, literally, he had never seen before, he went to Jesus for the grace. Jesus gave him sight. Now seeing, he saw many things that he had never seen before, that he “should” have been able to see a long time ago. No doubt he also learned something about himself that he had never known. And he certainly learned something about Jesus who had been right in front of his eyes all along!

In  this Laetare week, if you ask God for the blessing, you might be given the grace to learn something about yourself or about God that has not dawned on you until this week.

The trick will be to rejoice over learning something that you think you should have known a long time ago.

The key is to rejoice, not to be disappointed in yourself that you never noticed it, not to be embarrassed because you think that you should have seen it or known it a long time ago. The key is to rejoice.

May God give you this Lenten week the grace of a Laetare learning.

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واحد, إثنان, ثلاثة , waaHid, ithnayn, talaata (left to right read)

24 Dec

Sitting in my den at 8:21 a.m. on what my mother called “Christmas Eve day,” my mind and my heart, my thoughts and my prayers wander to the Middle East, and more specifically to Palestine, and more specifically to Bethlehem, and more specifically to Beit Jala, adjacent to Bethlehem.

It is Beit Jala that warms my Christian heart and sustains, what others have called, my Palestinian soul. I have fallen hopelessly in love with Beit Jala with a love full of hope which longs for peace for my friends, no, my family, in Beit Jala.

On Facebook I found a post by my (our) friend Waseim. From Arabic his name translates as “Handsome,” which has given the two of us many smiles since I first teased him, “Something certainly gets lost in translation!” I asked him to post it on YouTube, so that I could copy it and embed it here. Within hours of his waking in Beit Jala on Christmas Eve, he honored me and my request, as he always does, and so it appears below.

The countdown is obvious to our ears, however different the sound of the numbers. The feel of Jingle Bells is the same, no matter the language. And we join in singing the “Gloria in excelsis Deo” like we (and they) will sing those words in our hometown churches, here in the little town of Milford and there in the little town of Bethlehem.

Fireworks, of different kinds, are a common occurrence in the area surrounding Beit Jala, some set off in celebration and some set off in conflict. On this occasion, however, as during the celebrations of weddings, graduations and baptisms, the fireworks are explosively joyous. At the end of the video the noise of the fireworks overtakes the singing of “Glory to God in the highest.” We all live in hope that one day soon the song of the angels will overcome all military firing, and Beit Jala and Palestine and all the region will live in peace with justice with all her neighbors who deserve and long for the same freedoms and rights.

May Beit Jala know the peace the angels sang about during that mid-night on which Christ was born.

Twice Waseim turned the camera toward his parish church, Annunciation Catholic Church in Beit Jala, where I first met “my five (grand) children” – Issa, Mary, Ranim, Tamara and Tamer – back in 2003, and where Waseim worships every Sunday with Father Faysal, the parish priest, with the families of Beit Jala, with Suhail, the principal, with the teachers and students of the Latin Patriarchate School, and with the seminarians of the attached Latin Patriarchate Seminary. To all of them my heart will turn, as I turn my prayers to God at Midnight Mass for them.

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Day 14 of Advent: warm the frozen

13 Dec

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Andrew: Advent Adventure

30 Nov

The First Sunday of Advent is always the Sunday nearest the Feast of St. Andrew, November 30.

Since today is November 30, and since today is a Sunday, this is as close as the First Sunday of Advent every gets to the Feast of St. Andrew.

For Catholics throughout the world today is also the beginning of the Year of Consecrated Life. And for us at St. Andrew it our patronal feast day.

Here is what I said after the Gospel at this morning’s 8 o’clock Mass in Milford:

Here is the text and the music of the song we sang at the end of Mass – and which we will sing on every Sunday during Advent and often during this year of consecrated life:

Andrew Advent Adventure WAKE UP song words

This is the official soundtrack of the song:

You gotta love this smile and that scarf:

Andrew Advent Adventure SCARF

Don’t miss the words of Francis at the bottom of the picture. 

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Abouna Sleman in Milford – day 2 – shopkins?

23 Nov

Saturday evening after a Thai dinner I was walking (and gawking) around my house with Abouna Sleman. In what used to be the room where my mother slept when she visited, I showed him the chair in which mom loved to sit when she prayed her morning prayers and her rosary. It is next to the window which looks out on the Mary grotto behind the rectory. I enjoyed going through my mom’s funeral program with him, showing him the pictures of the family and of some of the people and the things that were important to her. He smiled and reacted most when I turned around the Christmas ornament of my house that mom had painted for me, “Ahhh. Nice.” It was the grotto of Mary outside the window by which he was standing. Sleman HOPE 05 On Sunday morning Abouna concelebrated the 11:00 a.m. Mass which included the baptism of baby Ryan Joseph. During the Eucharistic Prayer, at the consecration I stepped aside, so that Abouna could chant the words of Jesus in Arabic, as he lifted the bread and the chalice from the altar. Arabic is the language presently spoken that is closest to Aramaic, the language that Jesus spoke. We heard the words of consecration chanted in the tone and inflection close to what the apostles heard from the lips and heart of Jesus at the Last Supper. You can hear the at minute 47:00 at this link: Words of Jesus in Arabic.

This morning when Abouna was speaking to his mother on the phone before Mass, I wanted him to thank his mother for giving him to us. Her response? “I did not give him to you. I gave him to God … (pause) … God can give him to anyone He wants.”

After speaking with his mother Abouna was arguing on the phone with someone. When he hung up, I asked him what that was all about. It was his 8 year old sister, asking him over and over what he was going to bring back for her from America for Christmas. At the end of Mass, I asked the people to give him some ideas as to what he should take home to her. He was told about paints and markers and art books. He heard about teddy bears and dolls. 

There was a lunch later in the church hall that was ready for his visit. Sleman HOPE 02 The event was about peace, love and hope. Sleman HOPE 03 And sure enough, in midafternoon, when we got back to the rectory from the luncheon, there was a bag hanging on the doorknob of breezeway door. One little girl, 8 year old Izzy, didn’t just give him an idea; she conned her dad to take her to buy something.  Sleman HOPE 04

When I got back in the house I went directly to google “Daesh” and “Erbil and oil” to learn a little more than I had known before.

And then I turned on a football game and fell asleep. 

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Abouna Sleman in Milford – day 1 – goetta within 24 hours

22 Nov

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It is a pleasure to have Father Solomon in my home for a few days. He is in town for a wedding of his cousin. We get him first.

His arrival at CVG was a half hour early, but we made up for the early arrival by sitting on I-275 for more than that, waiting, me impatiently, he patiently, for “all” of the traffic to exit on the first of the two Milford exits. At the second exit a tractor trailer truck had over turned and the highway was closed.

In the evening we went to the west side to Judy and Bill’s home. There he brought smiles to 20+ faces. Teachers and friends of HOPE gathered for appetizers, drinks and dinner. Judy and I shared a Palestinian Taybeh “White” beer. It was like being back home in Palestine.

After a long, long, long, needed sleep, Abouna awoke. I told him that I had two surprises for him at breakfast. He would not find out what they were until we arrived at our breakfast place. One surprise was that the owner of the restaurant was originally from Abouna’s home town in Jordan. Conversation revealed that the old gentlemen knew Abouna’s grandfather and his father. It is a small world. You should have seen the smiles on the faces of the two of them as they made the connections. The second surprise was ….. drum roll …. goetta! Within 24 hours of his setting foot in America for the first time, he tasted goetta. That will hard to top. He liked it a lot.

What makes him smile in the next photo is not the goetta. He is speaking with his mother back in Jordan.

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Abuna Sleman in Beit Jala and in Fuheis

22 Nov

This week my friend, and friend of HOPE (Holy Land Outreach for Peace Education), is with me (and us) in Milford.

In the days ahead there will be photos of his visit. As he stirs upstairs in my rectory, after his first ever sleep in America, a very long sleep indeed, I post a few photos from when we met. 

Back in June 2012 then-deacon Sleman (Solomon) helped our group of teachers and pilgrims from the Archdiocese of Cincinnati celebrate Mass in the olive grove of Cremisan valley on the edge of Beit Jala. That is when we first met him. 

Cup 03 Cremisan JoAnne (4)

You see in the photo above that I am using a ceramic chalice. This chalice was signed on the bottom by all the teachers and pilgrims who attended that Mass.

That same evening I presented that chalice to Deacon Sleman.

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To this day that chalice is used every Friday afternoon, when the parish priests of Beit Jala celebrate Mass at that place in the Cremisan valley.

In June 2013 I went to the Holy Land, this time by myself with no pilgrims or teachers in my care, thanks be to God. The purpose of this trip was to attend the ordination of Sleman in his home parish of Fuheis, Jordan. During the  ordination ceremony, after the bishop, in his case the patriarch, lays hands on the deacon being ordained a priest, all the priests who are present process to the man and lay hands on him as well. 20130624-091123.jpg

A little later in the ceremony all the priests return to the newly ordained priest to offer him a sign of Christ’s peace. As I watched the Latin patriarchate priests approach him, I saw that they were kissing his newly ordained hands. I found it to be a lovely custom, and did the same after I said, “Peace, Abouna (Father)”

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After the ceremony the newly ordained does not walk to the dinner-reception. He is carried, as seen in this video. Notice the fire works going off.

The next day he returned to his home parish, in which he was ordained the day before, to preside at his First Mass of Thanksgiving. What a  surprise for me to see him riding into the courtyard of the parish grounds on a white horse! He told me just yesterday that it was a surprise for him, too, and that he had never been a horse before that ride.

This is probably my favorite photo of the day of his first Mass.

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 Welcome to Milford, Abouna Sleman (Father Solomon).

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Agatha and Melithon

16 Nov

Whenever I meet a Sister of Charity of Cincinnati, I tell her that I am a “charity case,” meaning that I was taught by the Sisters of Charity when I was in grade school at St. Jude. The Sisters of Charity, those sisters who taught me in grade school, are partly responsible for me being a priest today, especially Sister Mary Agatha and Sister Melithon. The other day I went to the Motherhouse cemetery in Delhi to find the graves of the two of them. P1070090 As I stood over each, I simply said, “You were the one who said that I might make a good priest. So, help me to be one now.”

Sister Agatha was my seventh grade teacher. When it came time to bid farewell to the eighth graders a year ahead of us, someone decided that we would do a “funeral” for the soon to be graduates, complete with casket, mourners, dark candles and dirges. Sister Agatha decided that I would be the minister, apparently doing some sort of subtle type casting. I remember that I wore the tux of the father of one of the girls in the class. Years later I was doing a chaplain internship at Good Samaritan Hospital. On the list of my visits one day was Sister Mary Agatha. I went into her room, with Roman collar and white hospital jacket, to find out from her that she had cancer. However many times I told her that I was not yet a priest, she kept insisting on calling me, “Father.” We kids remembered her as very strict. We would have said “mean,” remembering a tale, whether or not true I have no idea, that she gave a kid a bloody nose. All we knew for sure was that he left classroom with her in a hurry and came back in with a bloodied tissue held to his nose. Certainly, she had clobbered him, we knew.

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Sister Mary Agatha, “You were the one who said that I might make a good priest. So, help me to be one now.”

Sister Melithon was the principal when I was in the fifth grade. After school one day all the boys who wanted to be servers were in the same classroom. Sister Melithon looked over the group and told the nun in the room with her, “Sister, everyone is okay, except those two boys back in the corner by the window.” She pointed to me and the kid behind me. Somehow she had decided that I would not be a server. Even though no one questioned Sister Melithon, I have assumed that it had something to do with my liking to tease the girls. Sister Melithon has a lasting place in my vocation tale, as I boast that I thought at that moment, “I’ll show that nun! I’ll invite her to my first Mass.” In three years she changed her tune a bit. I was one of the eight grade boys that she waned to visit the seminary for a tour and a lunch of hot dogs and baked beans. As a seminarian, we used to refer to those days of visits of little kids, “zoo days.” I am cluless as to why she shifted from thinking that I could not serve the priest at the altar to thinking that I could be the priest at the altar.

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Sister Melithon, “You were the one who said that I might make a good priest. So, help me to be one now.”

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restoration on route 50

24 Oct

 Two photos, one in the hotel parking lot Day 04 01 P1070027 and one in the parking garage at the St. Lois Arch Day 04 02 P1070081 indicate I have a certain parking preference. Is it an indication of being too attached to stuff or of taking care of things. Maybe it is both/and, and not either/or, as are most things in life.  At the St. Louis Arch the trees were lovely, Day 04 04 P1070047  Day 04 03 P1070028 but most else was “under construction,” many walkways were taped off, and the two reflecting ponds were empty of water. Does everything – and everyone – always have to be under construction? Doesn’t anything or anyone ever get finished? I tried to stand right under the arch and look up, but got dizzy. The only way to do it was to lie on the ground. Give it up! No one else is doing that. I am 65 years old. Oh, what the heck! Not a good photo. Day 04 05 P1070036 A better photo would be of me on my back taking the photo. Maybe someone else has that one.

On the way to buy my friend a St. Louis mug at Starbucks, I just happened on the Old Cathedral. The Old Cathedral is the oldest building in St. Louis, the first cathedral west of the Mississippi. I smiled as I heard mom Mississippi spelling two ways, “M I double-S I double-S I double-P I,” and backwards, “I put pepper in Sister Susan’s eye, she said I mustn’t.”  Day 04 06 P1070050 I was taken by a statue of Jesus and Saint Margaret Mary Day 04 07 and I lighted a candle. Day 04 08 The cathedral has been “under construction” too, but this one in this 180 year old worship placewas not as irritating to me. Removing the carpet from the floor revealed a beautiful maple floor, with a wide crack right up the middle of the center aisle. All the wood in the aisle is original – except the need-to-be-wider replacement plank right up the center.  Day 04 09 P1070055 The split up the communion aisle reminded me of the veil in the Jerusalem temple that kept the people from God and God from the people. That veil split in two at the moment of the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. God and people could get to each other easier and more directly through Jesus. It also made me think of the split (discussions/arguments) in our Catholic Church over who should walk up that communion aisle to receive communion and who should not. Maybe right down the split during the sacrifice of the Mass walks everyone – everyone to God, God to everyone.

The difference between the words renovation and restoration – renovating and restoring – intrigues me. In 1959 “decorative campaigns” the church was renovated. Today it is being restored. Restoring means removing the paint from the wood of the communion rail, removing the carpet from the wood floor in the nave and from atop the mosaic tile of the sanctuary floor. What was under that carpet and paint is beautiful. Give credit to the paint and carpet, however, for helping to preserve it for now. What would it take to restore ourselves and our worlds to original beauty? Removing the paint and carpet that has been layered on as time has passed, but what else? Why do these two words intrigue me so? Day 04 11 Mass was at 12:10 p.m., so I stayed and sat in the front row to enjoy the floor, rail and mosaic. Day 04 10 After Mass I gave $5 to a woman sitting on the street corner asking for money to buy some food, then spent $20 for a beer and a ribeye sandwich that was not very good, and then smiled to but passed by another woman holding a sign for spare change. Go figure.

I will offline and off the road for a few days. No blogs for a couple days. My mind will still spin, for sure, but I am giving up the compulsion to record the spinning in this format.

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day 3 50W: ferguson, missouri

23 Oct

I saw it again early, early this morning: “Receive Jesus.”

On the itinerary today: Ferguson, Missouri; lunch, wherever; Budweiser Brewery, St. Louis.

For the 30 mile drive to St. Louis I was driving through some rougher looking areas of town, down streets where there was not much traffic. It dawned on me. I had the GPS set to keep me off highways. So the byways were my command.

One of the off the normal streets was cheaper gas: $2.63 a gallon.

I arrived at Blessed Teresa of Calcutta Catholic church in Ferguson.

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The good deacon who unlocked a door to the church for me told me that the parish was “founded” just ten years ago, when four parishes were merged. Hence the new almost-Saint’s name. There was a prayer card in the pews, obviously specifically written for this neighborhood.

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In the church I prayed midday prayer, and found a line that kept my attention for a while: “Do not remember the sins of our youth and stupidity.” Children were playing in the school yard outside. All seemed fine for them.

Near the police station was Cathy’s Kitchen.

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Jasmine suggested that I have the Memphis-style gumbo. It was spicy. Kathy herself came to check on me.

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When I asked her which were the crawfish tails, she spooned through my gumbo, at my invitation and with her checking with me that it was really okay, to find none, but soon to return with a small bowl filled with the little things. I was going to have the sweet potato pie, until Jasmine told me that another choice was peach.

About a mile away the boarded up and burned buildings convinced me that I was close to the place where Michael Brown was shot and died. I googled on my phone for the name of the street itself. Finding the name, I hesitated, but thought, “Why not?”

The street memorial remains, very peaceful, and very few people even out on the street. Yes, that is my car in the second photo.

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Budweiser brewery, with tour and samples, was next. The Clydesdales are pretty animals, nicely groomed, strong looking, and camera ready.

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I came away from the brewery amazed at how much beer is consumed in our country.

And right before bed, you guessed it – the commercial. It is real. Look ye here. 

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