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Pastor's Desk Archive (May 2009)A Good Shepherd (5/3/2009) A Good Shepherd (5/3/2009)There are not many of us who know a great deal about the kinds of shepherds who actually tend sheep. But the people who lived in Galilee and Judea during the public ministry of Jesus included shepherds and those who knew them well. They would have known, for instance, that ordinary shepherds would never leave 99 sheep untended while they went off in search of one lost sheep. So when Jesus told them that that’s the kind of shepherd He was, at least some of them realized that He was giving them a new understanding of God as one Whose priority is seeking out the lost. Since the earliest days of the Church, those entrusted with roles of service—especially its Bishops—have been called to become Good Shepherds in the pattern of Jesus Himself. In the present age, the Church is blessed by the service of many good and generous bishops. These are men, who like our own Archbishop, have striven to place the service of others ahead of their own self interest. Eusebius Beltran was ordained to be a parish priest in the Archdiocese of Atlanta where he served happily for many years. He would have been happy to spend his whole life as priest in that southern diocese among family members and friends. But in 1978, he was quite surprised to learn that Pope Paul VI (just shortly before his death) had appointed him to be the Bishop of Tulsa. Though he knew not a soul there, he obediently accepted this office to serve all the souls of eastern Oklahoma as a good shepherd. After serving 15 years as Tulsa’s second bishop, he answered the call from Pope John Paul II to move down the Turner Turnpike to become the third Archbishop of OKC. Now in his final year before submitting his resignation at age 75 (as required by law), he has served us as a faithful and good shepherd for the last 15 years. For these past thirty-one years, our bishop, Eusebius, has traveled the length and breadth of Oklahoma’s 69,000 square miles visiting its parishes and missions from Boise City to Idabel, from Miami to Hollis—bringing the Good News to all with ears to hear. On June 13th, Archbishop Beltran will lead us in the celebration of the Eucharist during which he will confirm forty of our youth. There will be a reception following this Mass to honor the newly confirmed, but I call upon you to attend and honor our Good Shepherd as well. Take the time to approach him and thank him for his long and faithful service to us. A Baby's Hug (5/10/2009)We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, 'Hi.' He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment. I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. 'Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,' the man said to Erik. My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?' Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.' Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, 'Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo.' Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments. We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, 'You take care of this baby.' Somehow I managed, 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, 'God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift.' I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.' I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, 'Are you willing to share your son for a moment?' when He shared His for all eternity. How did God feel when He put His baby in our arms 2000 years ago? God's Business At 35,000 Feet (5/17/2009)I sat in my seat on a cross country flight. As always, I was buried deep in my work in order to distract myself from the boring drone of the engines and to take me mentally away from the mundane nature of yet another air plane trip. As I sat there I could not help but over-hear the conversation taking place behind me between a father and his son. What a beautiful exchange. The father was explaining the wing of the aircraft and the physics of lift. The conversation continued for almost the entire flight. What struck me was not the content of the conversation but the fact that this father was actively participating in the experience of life with his son. What a beautiful relationship and expression of a father's love. Moreover, the distinction within me, that such a conversation was an exception and not the rule. I was moved by the love in the father’s voice and the excitement in the voice of his son as they shared and exchanged the learning opportunity of this travel experience. I buried myself in my work and continued to my destination. The conference that weekend was wonderful, and I found it necessary to cancel my return flight and spend an extra night providing mentoring for one of the conference participants. Monday morning found me once again settling in, preparing for yet another cross country flight to my next conference. As I placed my bag in the overhead compartment I glanced behind me and low and behold, a few rows back sat the same father and son duo. At that point I experienced that inner twinge, that prompt of the innate, that this was not just a coincidental happenstance. Once airborne and in a position to "move about the cabin" I took three Blue Ribbons from my briefcase and introduced myself to the father and his son. I explained how I had been sitting in front of them on the previous Thursday, and how moved I was by the love and obvious connectivity between a father and a son. I acknowledged the father for his attentive and loving leadership and dedication to his son. I then presented him with a Blue Ribbon and gave him two more and encouraged him to pass on this acknowledgement to two others who made a difference in his life. A part of me wanted to acknowledge his son as well, yet that inner prompting within, told me no. I returned to my seat and 'hunkered down' for the remainder of the flight. A few minutes later, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I looked up from my laptop to see the brimming face of the young boy whose father I had acknowledged. He stood there before me wearing a Blue Ribbon placed proudly over his heart. His eyes were moist yet the beam on his face told me that the moisture was representative of an expression of joy and happiness. "Mister," he asked, "do you have any more of those Blue Ribbons? You see, my dad gave me a Blue Ribbon and told me how much he loved me and how proud he is of me. He told me how brave I am and how much I mean to him and how my being with him has made him strong. Then he gave me this Blue Ribbon." He pointed proudly to his heart and his Blue Ribbon. "Then he gave me the other Ribbon," he said, "and told me to give it to someone who has made a difference in my life." "Well, Mister," he continued, "you see back there in the seats in front of my dad, the lady and the girl next to her? That's my mom and my sister. You see, a while back my dad and my mom decided to separate and were thinking about getting a divorce. My mom and sister went to live with my grandma and grandpa, and me and my dad stayed back home. We came out here last week to ask my mom to come home and see if we can make our family 'work' again." "They said yes, and now we are going back home together as a family." "You see, Mister, I only have one Blue Ribbon left to give away. I can't decide if I should give it to my mom or my sister. I have missed them so much, and I am so happy that they are coming back home with us. I sure would like to give them both a Blue Ribbon. Do you have one more?" I could hardly contain my tears. I reached into my brief case and took out the remainder of the package of 100 Blue Ribbons I had with me. I handed them to the young man and asked him to make sure that he made sure to spread his love to all those who made a difference to him. He graciously accepted these ribbons and returned to acknowledge his mother and sister. A little while later, as I glanced up from my work, I noticed the flight attendant moving past me, with a Blue Ribbon placed over her heart and saw protruding from the pocket of her uniform vest, two more Blue Ribbons. I knew then that the rest of the Ribbons were in good hands. As I turned around to find the young boy, I discovered him sitting between his father and his mother and his little sister sitting on daddy's lap. All of them were wearing Blue Ribbons. As our eyes met, there was a most loving and gracious nod of love and appreciation. The enigmatic nature of this simple Blue Ribbon, once again promoting love and all that is pure and wonderful. At that point I realized that the success of the conference wasn't the only business God had planned for this trip. WHO’S WAITING FOR "Loving And Serving The Lord" (5/24/2009)Have you ever given a lot of thought to what it means “to go in peace to love and serve the Lord”? It refers in part, of course, to our general obligation as disciples of Jesus Christ to love one another as he loves us. But it also refers to the loving service that we offer to each other as parishioners through our commitment of time and talent. Most of us are very concerned about the demands placed on “our” time. We know that we only have so much and that we often don’t have enough time to do everything we need and want. We talk about needing time for ourselves, our work, our families, our hobbies, our sleeping, and our eating. Occasionally, we may speak of not having enough time for prayer and wonder where we’ll find some. When asked to volunteer some of our time for parish service—as a way of loving one another as Jesus loves us—we may just throw up our hands and say, “we wish we had more time.” As for the talent part of the commitment which each of us is called to make, many are at a loss to identify what that might be. Well, it’s not like the kind of talent that we associate with talent shows. Rather it refers to various abilities or skills that we happen to have because of our life experiences. We don’t have to be rocket scientists, for instance, to take on one of the liturgical ministries like serving, singing, and distributing communion. Nor do we need a master’s degree to serve as a member of one of the many committees or councils that play an important part in helping us accomplish our mission as a parish. To help you consider this important commitment, you should be receiving some materials in the mail this week. There’s a listing of the myriad of services and ministries with brief explanations. And there are sample commitment forms for both adults and children. We ask that you look them over as carefully as you can so that when you come to Mass on Pentecost you will be ready to fill out the cards following the homily. We have a greater need for some forms of service than others and have spelled them out clearly. We need groundskeeping teams, for instance, that can take a particular area of our parish landscaping and keep it looking nice. We need new members to serve on our pastoral council which serves as my principal advisory body. We need parents and other adults willing to help our youth ministers do the important work they do with our young people. We need Sunday School teachers and helpers. We need individuals willing to help with one of our monthly social activities and others who are willing to plan them. Please read through these materials prayerfully and come to Mass on Pentecost ready to share some of your time & talent. Hand In Hand: How Goes The Sign Of Peace? (5/31/2009)A little history: In the early days of Christianity, the "kiss of peace” came at the end of the prayers of petition and served as an acclamation, much like "Amen.” The Roman historian, Tertullian, referred to it as the "seal of prayer.” As communities in different geographical locales developed their own liturgical traditions, placement of the kiss varied. The Roman Rite placed it where we find it today. Other traditions placed the ritual in the middle, immediately after the petitions or after the presentation of the gifts. By the year 1000, it had been relegated to clergy alone and by the 16th century it had vanished from the Latin liturgy altogether. Only with the 1970 General Instruction of the Roman Missal did the rite officially become a part of Catholic liturgical practice again. Today liturgical theologians talk about the sign of peace as a moment that connects worshipers back to the desire for reconciliation they sought at the end of the Our Father: "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us” which also anticipates the reception of Communion. In offering peace to one another, not "Howdy,” but peace, and not only to friends and family but also strangers, we express our desire for healing, for communion in our church and in our world and by the grace of God we experience that communion as a reality. At least, that's the theology. Location, Location Other liturgical positions for the sign of peace have a certain logic, too. The beginning of Mass, for instance, seems a natural place for a rite that draws us together as a community. The transition between the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist also makes good theological sense: before we present our gifts, we reconcile with one another. It makes good human sense, too. Having just listened to readings and a homily, the congregation might need a chance to get up and get the blood moving again before proceeding into the Eucharistic prayer. Finally, at the end of Mass it is hard to miss a strong gravitational pull to linger and share community. You find a lot more handshakes and embraces going on when people are leaving church than you find polite waves. In some parishes, one finds a different solution. Instead of barreling directly into the rite after saying, “The Peace of the Lord be with you always!”, some priests stop at that point and invite the community to take a moment to pray for peace. In Australia, a great many parishes used this approach. The change in the congregation after just a few seconds of silence was notable. Having undertaken the liturgical equivalent of a deep breath, everyone entered into the sign of peace with a greater equanimity and presence to the moment. Yet, paradoxically, the total time spent on the rite had not increased. Breaking and Entering On those days, the sign of peace can be our salvation. By forcing us to look up, see the people all around us and exchange a greeting with them, we can be freed, if only momentarily, from our inner hamster wheel, freed sometimes even from our grudges. Sometimes we find that we have to exchange the sign of peace with someone we may be out of sorts with or someone we don’t know very well at all. It can be very hard, but receiving the sign of peace from people who bug us or have hurt us (or whom we have hurt) can be tremendously liberating. What has drawn tight or hard inside can unexpectedly be loosened. In the face of wars and economic crises and family problems, we are all longing for peace, for reconciliation, for freedom of one kind or another. If we take the sign of peace a little more gently and slowly and quietly, or perhaps if we experiment with relocating it, we might be able to experience that grace. The Holy Father himself has called for a reconsideration of the placement of the “Peace”. Peace Be With You! |
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