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Uniquely unique

A homily for The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, November 24, 2024

Way back in 1776, the British colonists in the New World decided they’d had enough of a bad king who was making their lives miserable. So they declared their independence from George and any other first son of a first son wearing a shiny tin hat. The Americans were done with jewel-encrusted dictators acting like spoiled brats sitting in highchairs.

Ever since then, our rugged individualism has made us turn a cold shoulder to monarchs, except when there’s a royal wedding or coronation or anything else on TV that involves Cinderella-style horse-drawn carriages.

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Measure of a life

A homily for the Thirty-Third (and last) Sunday in Ordinary Time, November 17, 2024

Dn 12:1-3, Heb 10:11-14, 18, Mk 13:24-32

Several years ago, when I was in formation for ordination (the fancy name for deacon school), we had a session on time management. Well, kinda-sorta.

The presenter passed out wooden yardsticks and told us to find our ages on them by multiplying the inches by 2. He then mentioned that it’s customary for deacons to turn in their retirement papers at age 75 — just a little ways past the end of the yardstick, which represented 72.

The space between our age in inches times 2 and the end of the yardstick plus a little air represented the time each of us had/has to minister to God’s people.

(I did buy a copy of the time-management book he was hawking but I don’t recall ever reading it. Nonetheless, the in-person lesson stuck.)

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Change

A homily for the Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, November 10, 2024

1 Kgs 17:10-16, Heb 9:24-28, Mk 12:38-44 or 12:41-44

The other day, I was at the bank to trade in my coins for a couple of greenbacks, but I had to wait behind a couple who were emptying two water-cooler jugs filled with coins.

Well, actually, the jugs had been filled at one point; I luckily arrived as the duo was down to the last third of the second jug and the bank teller had snapped empty coin bags into the sorting machine.

As I stood there with my quart-size Ziploc, I wondered what the couple might use the money for (it turned out to be a lot). Mortgage payment? Vacation? A new car or repairs on their old one? Bet MGM Casino on a new iPhone?

But then, years of hearing MYOB from my mother and the teachers at St. Leo the Great kicked in, and instead I wondered what I’d do with the 20-ish dollars I’d walk out with.

I must confess that a work of charity wasn’t the first thing that came to mind.

Shame on me.

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Two’s the charm

A homily for the Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time, November 3, 2024

Dt 6:2-6, Heb 7:23-28, Mk 12:28b-34

It’s bumper sticker season.

Likewise, it’s lawn sign season, and billboard season, and the season for enough political ads on TV that we probably welcome the commercials for Medicare Advantage and the little pill with the big story to tell.

For now, though, let’s stick with stickers.

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Impatience

A homily for the Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 27, 2024

Jer 31:7-9, Heb 5:1-6, Mk 10:46-52

One of the cultural touchstones that “Seinfeld” wove into America’s consciousness was “Serenity Now.”

George Costanza’s father, Frank, is told by a supposedly inspirational tape to say “serenity now” every time he gets angry as a possible way to keep his blood pressure down. And Frank barks the phrase often, loudly and angrily.

“Serenity Now!”

“Now” being the operative word.

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Work boots

A (belated) homily for the Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 20, 2024

Is 53:10-11, Heb 4:14-16, Mk 10:35-45 or 10:42-45

Twelve hours after I saw my Christian Brothers Academy mortarboard soar into the evening sky (against the orders of the assistant principal my classmates and I detested), I was standing in a pile of newly dumped asphalt, with a foreman hollering, “Let’s git it!”

In other words, shovel the smoking hot blacktop onto the end of a driveway that had been chopped up to widen a neighborhood street in Oceanport, New Jersey.

Within minutes on that June morning in 1973, I had sweated through my white T-shirt, and my new blue jeans were starting to droop near my butt crack.

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Souper

A (somewhat brief) homily for the Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 6, 2024

Gn 2:18-24, Heb 2:9-11, Mk 10:2-16 or 10:2-12

These days, when it comes to weddings, I’m either the presiding minister-slash-official witness or I’m sitting at the far corner of the reception with the other haddas.

You know, the old people the young couple “hadda invite” to make their parents or — yikes! — grandparents happy.

Either way, though, I think weddings are fun, especially destination weddings with quirky themes and receptions that include alligator wranglers, such as the one Andrea and I are about to attend in New Orleans next Sunday.

Oh, by the way, it’s our son’s.

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Necessities and niceties

A homily for the Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 29, 2024

Nm 11:25-29, Jas 5:1-6, Mk 9:38-43, 45, 47-48

The other day, I stumbled across a pack of Magic Birthday Candles. You know, the ones that relight themselves every time you blow them out. I actually was looking for the gizmo that helps me open the jar of bread-and-butter pickles, but I found the three magic candles first.

I of course was rooting around in the kitchen junk drawer. It’s right next to the dishwasher in our house, and it holds a big screwdriver, a set of those tiny jeweler’s screwdrivers, scissors, pliers, measuring tapes — big and little — Scotch tapes, double-sticky-stuff, a Ziploc of glitter, and birthday candles, mostly half-burned.

All that and much more. Much, much more. Including three lonely little magic candles.

And everything in that drawer — which nobody in my family can close fully — everything in that drawer is absolutely essential for us to live a complete and meaningful life.

So is everything in our basement.

Absolutely essential.

Yours too, I bet.

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Hand up

A homily for the Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 22, 2024

Wis 2:12, 17-20, Jas 3:16—4:3, Mk 9:30-37

When our daughter was first breaking into the entertainment business, she did as many of her fellow performers did: She waited tables and worked other jobs at restaurants and bars.

She often covered the Early Bird shifts when she was working at Macaroni Grill. Early Birds … we all know what that means, right? Gaggles of Golden Agers.

Back then, Macaroni Grill was trying to shore up its bona fides as an Italian eatery by serving their pre-meal bread with seasoned olive oil, as legit ristorantes do. So Erin would bring out the crusty loaves and plunk them down alongside the olio d’oliva, and then head back to her station. She rarely was more than a step or two away before a patron would holler over to her: “Waitress, you forgot the butter for the bread.”

She learned quickly, really quickly, to carry a big stash of those little butter briquets in her apron.

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Re: action

A homily for the Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 15, 2024

Is 50:5-9a, Jas 2:14-18, Mk 8:27-35

Wise people have embraced the maxim that we may not be able to control certain situations, but we can control how we react to them.

Thank you to whoever said that first, and to everyone else who has spread the word. Truer words were never said (to coin a cliché).

And we all, all too frequently, can find ourselves in situations that are — or may seem — grossly unfair. Especially situations we consider to be insanely unfair to us.

What is it about these happenstances that bring out the 2- or 3-year-old in us? Why is our first impulse to flail about and whine and act mortally wounded?

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