Sunday Homily, December 16, 2012, 3rd Advent C

Readings: 2 Kings 4, 42-44; Psalm 145, The Hand of the Lord feeds Us; He answers all Our Needs; Ephesians 4, 1-6; John 6, 1-15 

 

Kings: 4 observations–

Subject Matter: The Kings, naturally.  Especially Solomon after the death of his father, David.  But also treated:

    1.  The temple.  Solomon builds it.

    2.  The death of Solomon who held the nation together.

    3.  Division: Israel in the north breaks away from Judah in the south.

    4.  Israel destroyed completely by the Assyrians, ca. 720.

    5.  Fall of Jerusalem & destruction of the Temple; Nebuchadnezzar & the Babylonian Captivity, ca. 585 BCE.

    6.  Cyrus of Persia releases the Jews to return to Jerusalem after defeating the Babylonians (remember Babylon was near present day Bagdhad).

Date: from 900 – ca. 550 BCE, or from Solomon to Nebuchadnezzar & Cyrus

Authors: a compilation of many sources that was put together at the end of the Babylonian Captivity, ca. 550 BCE.

Our Selection: There are 2 significant prophets, Elijah & Elisha, his son.  In this piece, Elisha it telling a man with 20 loaves of bread to feed a crowd.  This is a lead into the Gospel of John about feeding the multitude. 

Sources: Encyclopedia of Judaism, Wikipedia

The Miracle of Sharing My Food

I hate to do this to you folks, but every time I read this story about 5 loaves and 2 fish feeding a crowd of 5,000 men (to say nothing of the women), I am reminded of my days in Tanzania, East Africa.  You who have heard these stories, please forgive me.  They just clarify so much.  Here we go.

I was on an overnight train.  I was traveling from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, the capitol, to Moshi, a town near Kilimanjaro, where the Jesuits had a small one to three person house, which I used as a base when I was not traveling around Tanzania, Kenya, & Uganda giving seminars and retreats.

I had arrived in Dar es Salaam late for some reason and could not make an advance reservation for a first class cabin, which was the only way to go.  You shared a little compartment with another guy.  Because I was without reservation, I had to buy a coach ticket.  These trains are marvelous old antiques from the colonial age, but travel by coach is mayhem.  They are packed.  Don't dream of getting a seat.  Just be grateful that you can get inside.  Which I did, sitting on my one small suitcase, expecting to be awake all night listening to the kids, chickens, ducks, and snores of the few who had a seat and the ability to sleep through it all. 

You board this train for a 7:00 P.M. departure.  You expect to arrive Moshi around 5:00 A.M.   This particular night the train came to a halt at about 1:00 in the middle of nowhere.  Naturally, nobody knew why we stopped and for how long.  We stayed in that spot all the rest of the night and all the following day until about 6:00 P.M. 

Everyone on that train had food & water hidden away, except one gringo, who tried to sleep on the rocks on the edge of the roadbed, knowing he would hear the train move and could get up and get back in.

I was actually rescued from dying of thirst in the heat of the day by a young German couple in the first class compartments, the only other white folks on the whole train.  I was afraid to drink the water of the Tanzanians because they often did not purify it. 

I tell this story because the Tanzanian people on the train I suspect would be similar to the Jews listening to Jesus in that crowd of 5,000 men.  People like these do not go away from their base unprepared.  Not only do they carry food & water, they hide it so as to not have to share with someone too stupid to bring his own.  The women, especially, can hide in their robes lots of things.  Hoarding in the cultures we are talking about is no sign of inferiority.  It is survival. 

What Jesus did that was confounding is that he got these country folks to share their cache.  He takes some of the bread & fish and passes it on.  The person who receives it takes some, but feels uncomfortable only taking.  So the person puts a portion of his or her own in the basket.  What do they end up with?  Twelve wicker baskets of leftover food.

This interpretation of the 5 loaves & 2 fishes is as old as when I got ordained back in 1971, and before that.  I find it fascinating because we can go and do likewise.  You & I cannot multiply bread & fish, but we can share treasures.  We can share and we can invite others to feel secure enough to share. 

I finally arrived home to Moshi in the middle of the next night.  I even caught a thief with his hand in my right pocket at a little kiosk lit with a kerosene lamp.  The train had stopped at some tiny station and a lady was selling little pieces of rice bread or something.  I pulled that man's hand out of my pocket, grabbed him by the shirt, and threw him back.  If I had yelled "thief!", he might have been killed on the spot.  I knew the custom and the language, and he knew I knew.  He ran. 

I also got to know the German couple, even climbing Kilimanjaro with them one of my 5 times.  So, folks, sorry for repeating a favorite story of mine.  The question, too, is the same.

How am I overcoming my temptation to hoard & sharing my food?

Picture 1:  Mass with T.J.

Picture 2:  Bill Carey & Ron Kovatis

Picture 3:  Ron donating $2000 to CCAC with Claire & Ray, Jackie & Cathy

Picture 4:  Barb & her sister Evie from Germany

 

Readings:   Wisdom 12, 13-19; Psalm 86, Lord, You are good and forgiving; Romans 8, 26-27; Matthew 13, 24-43

Wisdom:

• Author: not Solomon, but an unknown Jew from Alexandria
• Original Language: Greek
• Time: 1-2 centuries B.C.
• Message: Yahweh rewards those faithful to him.
• Means: Greek Philosophy common in Alexandria (Platonism & Stoicism) and Jewish traditional  teachings (wisdom of Solomon).
• Uniqueness: one of the ca. 11 deutero-canonical books (not originally part of the Jewish bible).
• Today's reading from chapter 12 emphasizes a God who cares for all, is merciful, and kind, perhaps as a balance to the parable of the wheat & weeds in Matthew

 

How We Help Each Other Along the Way

    Last Friday morning Rosemary & I, Gilberto & Bernadette were riding around White Rock Lake.  It was about 7:00.  We had started at Royal Lane and had passed through the marvelously dense forest along the White Rock Creek Trail.  We had crossed Mockingbird & Northwest Hwy, and were going around the stunningly beautiful lake in a clockwise direction.  We had split up, each going at their comfortable speed until we meet up at the boat house on the south end of the lake near the dam, the half way point.

     
 

    I’m ahead and see a lady on the left side of the road with her bike down.  I ask if she needs help, hoping, I confess, that she will say no.  She says yes.  Ugh, oh.  So I slow down, turn around, and get off next to her.  Shortly after that Gilberto rides up.

     She says her rear tire is real low, she has an air pump, but she has never used it, and cannot get it to work.  The problem was she had her pump set for one type of inner tube valve and she had the other.   For bikers, she had a schraeder valve, and her pump was set for presta, the skinny tire..

     So we showed her the problem, helped her pump up her tire, and she took off with a hundred thank you’s.  

 

     Meanwhile, my phone is ringing non-stop.  I usually do not answer when riding.  An 18 year old riding with us once fell down when he answered a call from his mom.  

     On the phone is Rosemary.  You guessed it, she has a front flat.  She is behind us at the Bath House.  So I return and we start a pump and run strategy to help her get back to a good pick up point, which turned out to be the Dart station on Northwest. Hwy.  

 

     Twice as we return we encounter the lady.  The first time she even says to Rosemary, “You are a lucky lady!”   Yahoo!   The second time she is taking a break at the same place Rosemary has stopped to pump up her tire again.  

     After Rosemary departed on her run, she says again how grateful she is and she adds, “I really learned something special about myself this morning.  I normally hate to ask for help and when I did it today it was okay.  From now on I will always ask others on the side of the road if they need help.  But I will also let myself ask for help.” 

     We have here a metaphor for community, folks.  We are not alone.  We help and accept help.  It is how I would like to handle the three parables, one of which could scare you.  Actually, it was intended by Matthew to scare his young Christian community, because he thought some members were not always doing good. 

     I see two community symbols in what happened on the shore of White Rock Lake. First, what we did.  Secondly, what took place in the lady.

     The first thing, normal for community, we stopped to help someone.  Simple.  What about people who are unemployed or sick?  We help them, too.  What about fear?  You hear the parable of the wheat & weeds and immediately see yourself heading for the furnace.  

     Naturally, we all see the weeds in ourselves.  Everybody does because we all see our weeds.  In a caring community we hear that we are both, not either/or, wheat or weeds.  You might even hear that one old priest doubts that there is a furnace.  After all, it has been admitted that limbo was imaginary.  What about purgatory?  Enough with fear of me going to hell.

 

     Secondly, what happened inside the lady is symbolic.  One little community event has touched her into new sensitivity and acceptance.  Even deeper peace.  Can you see the mustard seed growing, the yeast expanding in her spirit?  

     Can you give me one way you are richer because of community and one way you make community richer for another?

 Picture 1:   Mass

 Picture 2:   Georgie with Buddy & her dad, Randolph

 Picture 3:   Zoe with her mom, Michelle

 Picture 4:   Hugh & Sydney Bivona

 Picture 5:   The Girls, Gayle, Jackie, & Mary Ellen 

   

 

 

 Readings:    

1 Kings  17, 10-16,   When we have eaten it, we shall die.

Psalm 146,   Praise the Lord, my soul.

Hebrews 9, 24-28,   He will bring salvation to those who eagerly await him.

Mark 12, 38-44,  A poor widow came and put in two small coins.

 Kings:

     Author & date of composition: the work is a compilation of numerous sources put together near the end of the Babylonian Captivity, ca. 550.

    Subject Matter: 1 Kings is part of a 4 book work that includes 1 & 2 Samuel and 1 & 2 Kings.  The 3 kings are Saul, David, and his son, Solomon.

 The work begins with Samuel, the last great judge, continues through the lives of the 3 kings, and finally shows how Solomon’s sons’ squabbles led to the division of the Jewish nation into two states, north & south, Israel & Judah.  Both states were defeated and the people of Judah taken into the Babylonian Captivity.  It ends on a high note when Cyrus of Persia defeats Nebuchadnezzar in Babylon, and allows the Jews to return to Jerusalem.

    The Theme: you be good, good things happen to you; you be bad, bad things happen to you.

    Our selection: 2 great prophets lived when the kingdom divided, Elijah & Elisha.  They criticized the bad ways of the sons.  In this selection, Elijah tells the king he is going to send a drought to the king's land.  Then Elijah goes away & meets a poor, starving widow with a son.  Watch what happens.  This is setting us up for a little widow in the gospel.

 

   Contribute all I have, my whole livelihood?

I want to talk about a marvelous event I saw take place on a Southwest airplane.  

Last week Rosemary & I went to Chicago to visit a friend of mine since all the way back to our days at Christ the King grade school.  My friend, Pete, he and I parted after high school and we saw each other maybe half a dozen times all these years up until recently.

When I entered the Jesuits in Louisiana, he entered the F.B.I. and worked his whole life in and out of Chicago.  He was always athletic and last year told me he ran the Chicago Marathon 10 times.

So we fly Southwest to Chicago on Tuesday and return Wednesday.  The visit goes fine and we prepare to return home.  When we boarded in Chicago we were a bit nervous because the plane homeward bound was booked solid and we were on standby.  We make it okay.

 

Before arriving at Love Field we make a quick stop in Kansas City.  Half the plane empties, and refills just short of full.  Rather quickly all the new passengers are seated.  The overhead bins are stuffed full and closed.

Rosemary and I are seated two thirds of the way back, together this time.  Everything is copasetic and ready for departure.

 At this point down the aisle comes a slightly heavy lady.  She is pulling a roll on, max size. 

When she gets to us she sees a flight attendant approaching from the back.   “Where can I place my bag?” she asks. 

“I think all the bins are full, Ma’am.  Would you like to check your bag?”

“No,” responds the woman somewhat bluntly. 

Meanwhile the flight attendant is patiently opening and trying to find space, but this lady’s roll on is not small.  And her posture says she is not backing down.  The flight attendant is pleasant but starting to get a bit frustrated.

We are at crisis point, I think to myself. 

Then, the most amazing thing happens.  The woman in the aisle seat right across from me and Rosemary says to the flight attendant, “You may check my bag that is overhead and put her bag in my place.” 

I could not believe. 

The woman then mentions that she has $20,000 worth of equipment in her bag and she cannot stow it.   It would have helped to know this from the start.  However, the bag in the bin went underneath and the late arriving bag went in the bin.

I talk about this because the woman who offered her bag resembled the two women in the stories.  Both women gave a lot of themselves.

Three observations.

First, I bet a lot of parishioners are hearing how they should be donating to their parish like this little lady in Mark.   It is a set up.  And it is a really narrow approach to the story.

Secondly, watch out for Mark’s use of infinite demand.  Am I supposed to likewise contribute all I have, my whole livelihood?  Not quite, which leads to my next point.

Thirdly, we are called to help and to contribute, not just money, but so much else, my roll on, my time, my positive strokes of others, my efforts to help people recover from a hurricane, like the St. Bonaventure kids and staff are doing. 

Of course, when leaving that plane I complimented the lady on her offering her roll on to be stowed and I asked the flight attendant her name so I could send in a compliment to corporate, which I did.  That was my small offering to the event.

Whom are you helping today?

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome in, Tori, so nice to see you.

 

Readings:  

 Isaiah 49, 1-6, The Lord called me from birth.  (good ole Isaiah)

 Psalm 139,   I praise you for I am wonderfully made. (beautiful)

 Acts 13,22-26  To us this word of salvation has been sent.

Like 1 57-66 80,   When the time came for Elizabeth to have her child she gave birth to a son. 

 

 

 

 

Welcome, Everyone.  What a team!
 

 

Isaiah observations:

What:  The passage is another from Isaiah 2, the best of the 3 parts

Our selection:  Another beautiful passage about a bright future.

 

 

 

 

 

Emma at work as our special candle lighter of the week.

 

 

Happy 50th Anniversary, Bill Hammond

 

Because it is Bill Hammond’s 50th Anniversary with Patty and because Bill is one of my best friends, I get to talk about him this morning.

I do not even remember when it was that I began to hang out with Bill.  It seems like ages ago.  I do remember clearly, however, an event that changed my life.  The HHH, Hotter ‘N Hell Hundred.  The infamous bike ride out of & around the area of Wichita Falls, the last Saturday of August.

 

 

 

 

Georgie reading The Blessing of the Candles.

 

 

I remember Bill calling and inviting me.  I told him I would think about it.  He said that he had everything I would need, even a bike.  I informed Rosemary, which was a mistake.  “You have been thinking about this for years.  Go!!”

So we end up sleeping on our air mattresses on the grass around a big pavilion at Midwestern State U., where Kevin goes to school right now.   My only memory of that night: there was a bar across the RV parking lot and street.  It played loud music all night long.

 

 

 

 

Welcome back, Katie, so nice to hear your beautiful voice again.  Even with Ben.

 

 

Then the fun began.  I got Bill’s extra bike, helmet, and special padded pants.  The now famous part: in the dim light of the parking lot I put the pants on backward and rode 20 miles before I turned them around in a port-a-potty.

This even took place probably about 5 years before my hips in 2010.  And he is still my friend.

 

 

 

 

Hi, Zoe, it is so nice to see you and Emma playing again this week.

 

 

A second reason why I love Bill is that he is a pest.  Just when I think I have a Saturday free from weddings, which I love to do, Bill says, “Hey, John, it is time for Love for Kids.” 

Or I get introduced to Bona Responds and Jim Mahar, the service to others mad man.  This takes me to Galveston to help after the hurricane and, later, to Little Ax near OK City after the tornado up there.  I grieved that I could not go with the team to Dickinson, TX  these  past weeks.

I always come home from these events a richer person.

 

 

 

 

The Offertory Team, Ken & Warren, Barbara & Cindy.  Thanks, you all.

 

 

Finally, as I have already hinted at, Bill is over the edge generous.  The bike & equipment, the rides to recovery sites,   & the invitation to stay at his condo in Pagosa Springs for camping trips.

This last camping trip he loaned me his extra back pack and tent because mine are worn out.  What do I do to show my appreciation?  I stuff his back pack so full I rip the fabric right down the middle.

 

 

 

 

That hand should not be able to be sticking through that back pack.

 

 

Thanks, Bill, for being such a good friend, a pest, and so generous.

 

 

Readings:

Isaiah  55, 10-11,   My word shall not return to me void.

Psalm 65,   The seed that falls on good ground will yield a fruitful harvest.

Romans 8, 18-23,  We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains.

Matthew  13, 1-23,  A sower went out to sow.

 

Isaiah, The Great One, observations—

Who:  One of the Big 3 prophets, the greatest in my estimation.  Jeremiah and Ezekiel are the other two.  Actually, the book includes the work of 3 prophets.   Our selection is the last chapter written by Isaiah 2.

Time:  Isaiah 2 was living during the Babylonian Captivity, ca. 555.  Isaiah 1 writes before the Captivity, maybe 150 years.  Isaiah 3 writes after the return to Jerusalem.

 

 

Subject today: better times will come.  I am expanding today’s passage, because it is so good.

Isaiah 2 has some of the most beautiful passages, many of which are seen as foretelling the coming of the Savior.  His readings are used all through the Advent & Christmas readings, as well as in Lent.  Handel uses Isaiah 2 in his marvelous work, The Messiah.

Both the Isaiah reading and Psalm 65 are beautiful.  

 

And My Seed Landed Where?

This morning I would like to talk about how Jesus is said to describe how the farmer’s seed is scattered on four different types of ground, the path, the rocks, the thorns, and the fertile.  Where did your seed fall?  Where did my seed fall?  I’m sure a lot of volunteers would be happy to let me know where my seed fell.

If you are a sinful gambler poker player you would look at this explanation and notice the bad odds, one out of four.  I would propose, however, that we all landed on fertile soil.  Let me offer some examples. 

I’ve shared this example once before, so you might remember it, but probably not. 

 

 

When I was a little kid about 5 years old, I was playing in the driveway of our house in University Park.  There were no fences and the drive went from the street, through the space between our house and the neighbor’s, and to the back up against the alley. 

The neighbor was Sam Berger, who owned a hat store in downtown Dallas.  He was Jewish and lived next to us all during the Holocaust.  I was oblivious to it all.  He & his wife had a big black lady who not only worked in the house, but lived in the back in an apartment attached to the garage, the servant quarters.  This black lady was not nice to me.

 

 

So this day as I am playing in the driveway, the lady steps out of the kitchen door & stands on the steps.  Without thinking, I say, “You are a big fat elephant.”

To the lady’s credit, she marches right across the drive and tells my mom.  My mom comes out of the house, drags me in, and spanks me.  Thinking back, I am impressed that my mom respected the lady.  The spanking, however, and her treatment of me confirmed my suspicions that my seed had fallen at least on the path or rocks, if not right on the thorns.   I definitely grew up with the belief that I was a bad kid. 

 

Despite the fact that you folks might agree with that assessment, I would propose that I was just a normal little boy doing silly things. 

This habit of doing silly, not bad things, can continue into adult years.  I know a guy who gets on his bike and rides off for an hour leaving the driver’s door of his car wide upon. 

I know a lady who last week let her Lincoln run out of gas in rush hour traffic.  Her husband, a bit nettled, brought gas, but then could not start the car.  It had to be towed.

 

 

I know a dear friend who drove into her garage with a canoe strapped to the top of her car. 

You do this stuff and you begin to believe the bad news, ‘I am a loser, I am bad, my seed obviously landed in the ditch.” 

And then there are the malicious acts.  You know where I come in on this.  Kids hurt and abused grow up to hurt and abuse.  They are not bad.  They are damaged. 

So, who landed on fertile soil?  All of us.  God don’t make bad seed.

So, what do you think about all this?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hi, Emma, welcome to our community for the first time ever.  Happy 5th month.

 

Readings:

 Jeremiah 31, 31-34,   I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel.

Psalm 51,    Create a clean heart in me, O God.

 hebrews 5, 7-9,    He became the source of eternal salvation.

John  12,  20-33,   Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground

 

 

 

 

Hi, CC, welcome back home to Dallas for a visit.  You make My Day!

 

 

Jeremiah observations: 

What:  We have not seen Jeremiah for a long time, since before Thanksgiving.  Remember that he is one of the Big 3 Prophets (because of the size of the work, e.g. 52 chapters in Jeremiah), who are Isaiah, Jeremiah, & Ezekiel.   I love Jeremiah, he is such an attractive and transparent character.  

Author:  most of the work is put together by Jeremiah’s scribe Baruch.  Jeremiah is described as the broken hearted prophet because of his heart rending life spent warning the people & kings that their behavior was going to be punished.  The people hated him for this.

 

  

 

Who is that??  Yep, it is Wendy and her little baby.  Congratulations, Wendy.

 

 

Time:  ca. 555 before Christ, as an easy date to remember.   Jeremiah speaks before and during the Babylonian Captivity.  Like all prophets, he condemns before, and he consoles during the Captivity.  This event is monumental in the life of the tribe and in the life of Jeremiah.

The Scene:  Remember that the Holy Land had a north & a south, Israel & Judah.  First, the northern kingdom, Israel, was defeated by the Assyrians, 622 BCE.  These Hebrew tribes vanish into the DNA of the region, “The Lost Tribes of Israel.”  Next, the Babylonians & Nebuchadnezzar defeat the Assyrians and threaten the southern kingdom, Judah, with the capital Jerusalem.  Jeremiah is watching this and seeing it as Yahweh's punishment.  In 600, more or less, the Babylonians do destroy Jerusalem and cart the Hebrews into slavery.

 

 

 

 

Say Tori, "Welcome in, Everybody."

 

Today's selection, chapter 31.  Jeremiah is consoling the people who are now in captivity.  He suggests that God wants to make a new deal or, as it is called, a covenant.  Yahweh is promising to forgive the people and treasure them.  Jeremiah addresses the people right off using first person singular, I, meaning God.

Sources: Fr. Reginald Fuller, St. Louis U.; Encyclopedia of Judaism;Wikipedia; Answers.com; 

 

 

 

Hi, Peighton, Welcome in.  So nice to have you here.

 

Hate My Life?

I have a story this morning which I have told twice, once at St. Mark's, over 8 years ago and here about 4 years ago.  Pardon me if you've heard it. Some of the best stories I tell over & over, they are so poignant.  The story speaks to my point today, hate my life?  I had permission for the story.

It happened many years ago when I was working full time as a psychotherapist out of an office at Jesuit.  I think it was the first Monday morning of May.   I know it was a beautiful morning.  A boy came to see me who had been in my office on and off for about six years.  He had just graduated from high school and enlisted in the Air Force.  He had struggled since grade school with bouts of depression, and that morning seemed to be in great shape.  We did not even spend more than 30 minutes together, his mood was so up beat and care free.

 

 

 

 

The Best, Ben & David.

 

 

He left.  Maybe two or three hours later a call came in.  The boy had left Jesuit, crossed Inwood to the Lincoln Center complex at LBJ, drove up to the top of the four floor garage, parked his car, headed to the edge of the garage, and walked over the side.  He landed on the cement street four floors below, face down flat.

Passerby saw it, called 911, and in a second the paramedics from just around the corner were on the scene.  He was in Parkland in a flash.  He lived.

 

 

 

 

Kayla with her favorite grandmother, Claire.

 

 

It was not for about 3 weeks until I got to visit him.  He apologized.  I admit I was mad.  I loved this kid.  He fooled me.  He said that he had been in a zone, happy because he knew he was out of there, meaning he was ready to go to the other side.  He wanted to escape the pain of life and go to heaven.  He said he had no fear in walking off that fourth floor, none of the hesitation you feel before you jump off the high diving board the first time. 

You may guess why I tell this story.  It exemplifies what happens when you take literally "whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life."  This little piece of advice, taken the wrong way, can be so dangerous. This boy hated his life.

 

 

 

 

Elevation time.

 

 

I would suggest there is a negative and a positive way to hate my life. 

The negative is exemplified by this kid's story.  This is often what is happening when you hear of someone cutting on themselves.  If I hate my life and hate myself, I will want to punish myself.  I am bad.  So I cut myself.  Or I may think that I am such a loser that no one will pay me any attention if I do not do something dramatic like spill my blood. 

Even without such dramatic examples, I do not want to encourage someone who hates their body, hates their job, hates their family, hates their school, hates.  Just thinking about this I recoil.   There may be reason for the hatred.  However, "There is a better way," I want to say and I would say it.   I believe in talk therapy.   Feelings are all okay.  I just don’t want some to stay around. 

You know someone depressed like this?  Ask them if they are suicidal.

 

 

 

 

Georgie reading the Blessing of the Candles while Emma does her magic with the candles.

 

 

On the positive side, I would suggest two things.

First, the word hate can be considered as hyperbolic, a big word meaning exaggeration.  It is like Rosemary telling me, "You get me up at 4:00 tomorrow morning for spin class & it is divorce!”   Think she is exaggerating?  I hope.   

Secondly, I would suggest that this all has to do with being more alive now, in this life. The grain of wheat falling to the ground and dying fits in with this.  For example: look at March Madness.  Many of these players have died to themselves to achieve & to be better players.  How many hours in the gym have they spent practicing free throws?  When they could be hanging out, sleeping in, text messaging?  And they love their lives.  I’ve seen boys do this at Jesuit. 

 

 

 

 

Sez Buddy, "Is it not Cupcake of The Week time yet??"

 

 

Goofy, but I hate my life to love my life.  I don't want to get up early.  I could sleep in to 11:00.  However, I, get up and head over to the Jewish Community Center, 6:00 A.M. spin class.  The result, I love life.  

The boy who jumped is now okay, amazingly.  It took him years of physical recovery.  Two things did not happen that blessed him.  He did not damage his brain and did not damage his spine.  Every other bone, plus his teeth, were broken.  Once he got strong enough he went to medical technical school, got his certificates, and now has good jobs in various hospitals in the city.  I don't think he hates his life anymore.  In fact, he loves it. 

 

 

 

 

 Sez Emma, "Is that old guy finished talking yet??"

 

 

How do you love your life?