Tag: Sermon

Wholly queen

Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God, January 1, 2023

Nm 6:22-27, Gal 4:4-7, Lk 2:16-21

“Oh, your poor mother!”

I can’t count the times I’ve heard that whenever I told someone I’m the oldest of the six male offspring of Dr. Bill and Nurse Julie Zapcic.

Six boys. No girls.

A new brother every year or so, with — sadly — a couple of pregnancies lost to miscarriages.

And an uncle — a bruncle — my dad’s then-teenage brother, whom my dad moved in with us for Richard’s last two years of high school, his four years of college and a bit longer for grad school and the early part of his career.

There was enough noise in our 1950s-era development split-level to drown out the roar of the cars on the Garden State Parkway behind the hill that ate half of our Lincroft backyard.

“Oh, your poor mother!” they say. And I — and all of my brothers and our uncle — simply reply, “She loved it!”

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Awesome. Really.

A homily for the Nativity of the Lord (Christmas), December 25, 2022

Is 9:1-6, Ti 2:11-14, Lk 2:1-14 (the Mass at Night; for all Scripture options, click here)

This is the time of the year for us to be awestruck.

By Santa Claus? By 50 percent off and free delivery? By Jimmy Choo on consignment at The Real Real?

By our own ability to find a parking space right next to the front of the ShopRite, and then, for getting out of there with everything we went in to buy and with all of our limbs intact?

Uh, no.

To be sure: We can be happy this time of the year. Excited. Relieved, maybe, but not awestruck, despite what the solid-gold electric Cadillac commercials would have us believe.

None of that is awesome. Sorry not sorry, Madison Avenue.

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Doing the right thing

A homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 18, 2022

Is 7:10-14, Rom 1:1-7, Mt 1:18-24

Let’s imagine for a minute that it’s 3:15 in the morning and we’re driving home after work. We pulled a double shift at the hospital and “exhausted” doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how we feel.

It’s a quiet night on the highway, compared with the absolute chaos in the emergency department, and we’re forcing our dog-tired selves not to nod off as we ease the car onto the ramp off the highway that leads to our street.

And then: You’ve got to be kidding! Red light. Not tonight … uh … this morning! This light takes forever, especially when there’s no line of cars for its radar to detect. This light takes forever, and our warm, cozy bed is calling our name.

We look right, then left, then right again, and try to decide: Do we run the light?

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Warmup acts

A homily for the Third Sunday of Advent, December 11, 2022

Is 35:1-6a, 10, Jas 5:7-10, Mt 11:2-11

Back in the 1970s, my brother Steve and I scored tickets to a dress rehearsal for “Saturday Night Live” in an attempt to impress two lady friends of his from college. They were visiting New York from Tennessee, and after the show, it became painfully clear they were impressed with everything except us.

But that’s a sad story for another day.

Meanwhile, I was unimpressed with that week’s show, except for the warmup. As I recall, I laughed until my ribs hurt. I was all ready to laugh my way until the closing theme, even though it turned out I didn’t.

Most TV shows with a live audience get a warmup before the taping or the live airing begins. If it’s a scripted sitcom or sketch comedy show, the warmup performer usually is a standup comedian. If the show is more serious, the warmup might be a member of the writing or production staff, or possibly the game show host or lead actor(s), answering questions about the show overall and perhaps hinting at what the audience will see in the episode about to unfold.

Even the opening act at a concert is a kind of warmup. A good opening band or some other performer sets the mood for the headliner coming next.

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But they’re cousins (not identical…)

A homily for the Second Sunday of Advent, December 4, 2022

Is 11:1-10, Rom 15:4-9, Mt 3:1-12

A while ago, I took the Ancestry DNA test, a thoughtful gift from my wife, who’s been tracing her family tree (it’s become almost a forest). There were no surprises in my results, no hidden contributors to my cellular structure from far-flung places, no clear ties to Genghis Khan or Michelangelo or Einstein.

Nope, all was as expected: Celtic on Mom’s side, Eastern and Central European on Dad’s. No surprises.

The surprise arrived a couple of months after I received my results. First, Ancestry emailed me to say the test revealed that I had potential relatives and, then, a long-lost — and until then, unknown — cousin emailed me.

It turns out, she and I share a great-grandmother.

Continue reading But they’re cousins (not identical…)

No snooze button

A homily for the First Sunday of Advent, November 27, 2022

Is 2:1-5, Rom 13:11-14, Mt 24:37-44

Long before 9/11, long before we all were told that if we see something we must say something, people in the armed forces had a profound call-and-response:

Stay alert!
Stay alive!

Because, of course, sleepwalking through the day can lead to disastrous consequences.

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The right pronoun

A homily for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, November 20, 2022

2 Sm 5:1-3, Col 1:12-20, Lk 23:35-43

I learned a long time ago that a boss says “I” and “you” but a leader says “we” and “us.”

A boss tells you what to do and precisely how he wants you to do it, and then tells you to get going and do it while he (almost always a he) sits back and watches … uh … supervises.

A leader shows the team what needs to be done and relies on the skills of all participants to join in the effort. A leader works alongside everyone, clearly articulating the goal and guiding everyone to the destination.

A boss preys on people’s fears and lack of information. A leader reassures and educates.

A boss exploits people. A leader empowers them.

A boss gets fat. A leader sweats.

And yet, so, so many people choose to follow bosses and not leaders.

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Yogi

A homily for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, November 13, 2022

Mal 3:19-20a, 2 Thes 3:7-12, Lk 21:5-19

“When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”

That sterling bit of advice is attributed to the great American philosopher Yogi Berra, whose wisdom spanned every aspect of everyday life.

And our everyday lives are filled with forks in the road, with yes-or-no, right-or-left choices, sometimes dozens or even hundreds a day.

Yes or no.

Right or left.

Right or wrong.

Oh my: Once again, we’ve come to a fork in the road. Where do we go? And how do we know?

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Under the bed

A homily for the 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, November 6, 2022

2 Mc 7:1-2, 9-14, 2 Thes 2:16-3:5, Lk 20:27-38

I am a tech nerd, a gadget head, enthralled with gizmos, a personality quirk that goes back to before my high school days when I was an AV geek playing with 1-inch videotape and gritty black-and-white images from a somewhat massive camera.

So it’s probably no surprise that I usually say goodnight to Alexa — not because it’s a real person but because I have it programmed to rattle off my calendar and the weather for the next day. And then I do something silly: I tell Samuel L. Jackson to sleep tight. His voice randomly replies, occasionally with wishes for sweet dreams but a warning nonetheless to check under the bed.

Because monsters, right?

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Attracted

A homily for the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time, October 30, 2022

Wis 11:22-12:2, 2 Thes 1:11-2:2, Lk 19:1-10

Back in the 1960s and early ’70s, Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner did a couple of albums featuring a character they called The 2,000-Year-Old Man, played by Brooks. They did comedic interviews and let the supposedly really old man reminisce about the good old, old, old days.

One bit they did was about religion, about whether they believed in a god before Abraham introduced them to I Am.

Yes, Brooks said, a guy named Phil.

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