Sunday Homily for September 9, 2018, 23rd Ordinary Time, B cycle
Thanks for bringing up our gifts this morning, Carrie & Paul & Mike.
Readings:
Isaiah 35, 4-7, Be strong, Fear not. (Isaiah at his best!)
Psalm 146, Praise the Lord, My Soul.
James 2, 1-5, Did not God choose those who are poor?
Mark 7, 31-37, His speech impediment was removed.
Thanks, Dearest Zoe, for lighting our candles this Sunday morning.
Isaiah observations
This selection is from Isaiah 1. It is a time when Judah, the southern kingdom, is threatened by a powerful neighbor, Assyria (ever hear of this place today?) Isaiah saw that the real threat to the life of Judah was not simply the might of Assyria, but the Kingdom's own evil ways. Guess what is coming, the Babylonian Captivity.
Today's passage is much more on the hopeful side.
Thanks for reading our Blessing of The Candles this morning, My Dearest Georgie.
Be Strong, Fear not. He comes to save You.
I want to talk this morning about fearing not and being strong, because he comes to save us.
The summer of 1970 was the summer before I got ordained here in Dallas. I had two more years of theology study in Toronto. That summer of 1970 I was interning as a chaplain at Boston City Hospital in a Pastoral Counseling program run by Andover-Newton Theologate.
Welcome in, Natalie & Jim.
I lived in the Jesuit residence in Dorchester. There were about 4 of us Jesuits. Because a great Jesuit of the house worked with the kids of the neighborhood our house was a total safe zone. The younger kids would look through the windows of the dining room & living room during meals and when we had guests. We told them your car will not be touched if you park here and they know you are friends.
Remember the Plow Shares 5 and the draft board burnings that Summer? One of the guys lived with us.
I got The Best Team.
Every morning I would get up and walk to the hospital through the somewhat famous Roxbury area of Boston. I never had a problem. They knew who I was.
My day consisted of visiting patients, typing up interviews verbatim, and taking part in rather confrontational group sessions of 5 or 6 with a supervisor. I think I came close to getting kicked out for refusing to redo one of my verbatims.
My most favorite part of the day was visiting the patients. I loved this dynamic. There were some powerful sessions.
And we got The Best Music.
I remember especially one old tough white Bostonian, a former Catholic. I asked him what became my favorite question, How do you feel about dying?
For a day or so he said, No problem. Another day he tells me I’m going to hell when I die, but so be it.
You know why. He and his first wife had divorced years ago. He married his recently deceased wife and had kids and a 25 year happy marriage.
For Hue our Total Community Blessing on your operation this Wednesday.
I could not believe it. This may have been my first with this phenomenon. I had already concluded that hell was a gimmick of the writers of the time and did not exist. It was good for keeping in line the people of the tribe.
Would you have sent that guy to hell, for ever?
What about you? Where you going?
I think the old guy died peacefully.
Okay, Joe, can we trust you to get that birthday cupcake home to Marsha.
On The Light Side: (A little old, but still good)
On their way to the church to get married, a young Catholic couple
were involved in a fatal car accident.
Being good Catholics the young couple find themselves sitting outside
the Pearly Gates waiting for St. Peter to process them into Heaven.
While waiting, they begin to wonder: could they possibly get married
in Heaven?
When St. Peter finally showed up, they asked him.
St Peter said "I don't know. This is the first time anyone has asked.
Let me go find out" and he leaves them sitting at the Gate.
After three months, St Peter finally returns, looking somewhat
bedraggled. "Yes" he informs the couple " I can get you married in
Heaven".
"Great!" said the couple "But we were just wondering, what if things
don't work out? Could we also get a divorce in Heaven?"
"You must be joking" says St. Peter, red-faced with
frustration, slamming his clipboard on the ground.
"What's wrong?" asked the frightened couple".
"OH, COME ON!" St. Peter shouted "It took me three months to find a
priest up here …..Do you have any idea how long it'll take me to find
a lawyer?"
Blame Ken Cramer for this, not Me!

