Sunday Homily for July 8, 2018, 14th Ordinary Time, B cycle
Welcome in, Dearest Emma. So nice to see you.
Readings:
Ezekiel 2, 2-5, Son of Man, I am sending you to the Israelites, rebels.
Psalm 123, Our eyes are fixed on the Lord, pleading for his mercy
2 Corinthians 12, 7-10, A thorn in the flesh was given to me.
Mark 6, 1-6, A prophet is not without honor except in his native place
The Best Music thanks to Katie and David.
Ezekiel observations:
Who: Ezekiel is one of the Big 3 prophets. Why? 48 chapters. The other 2: Isaiah & Jeremiah. These 3 have lots of chapters & material.
Ezekiel was born into the priest class. He later was considered a prophet. He got The Call from God. When he was about 25 he was swept up in the Babylonian captivity, around 590.
When: It covers the period of the Captivity, 600-550 before Christ, which Ezekiel lived personally. But the work is composed toward the end of the Captivity, around 550. This is Ezekiel’s material, but it has been saved and edited by his fellow priests.
Thanks, CC, for lighting our candles and thanks, Georgie, for reading the Blessing of the Summer Candles.
Message:
- Ezekiel criticises the people and warns them that their bad ways will be punished, for example, by being defeated and led into slavery and the Captivity.
- He promises comfort and a brighter future for the captive people, especially envisioning a restored temple (which then lasted until when? The year 70, when the Romans finally destroyed the temple & the priestly cast ceased to function, to this day).
- An amusing vision: The Dry Bones, chapter 37.
Today’s selection: Ezekiel gets The Call or invitation from God to go tell the Israelite people that God sees what is going on. Which means, tell them they are behaving horribly and they will pay dearly for their misbehavior.
The Dinsmores at work, David with the music, and with the offertory, DarbiAnna, Dana, Donna, and Dawson.
4 Reasons why I am (still) proud to be an American
I am still celebrating July 4th this week. And I’m still proud to be an American. What got me reflecting on this was what happened in our neighborhood July 4 morning. But, as I reflected, other events came to mind. Let me give you 4 quick stories.
The first took place when I first went to work in Africa on a one year contract. I was directing spiritual retreats mostly for nuns, often with another Jesuit friend from PA.
July 4, let the Parade begin
Before I went over to East Africa I was scheduled to give a number of programs in Nigeria. There was an old veteran Jesuit who had a house in Lagos, the capital at that time, Joe McKenna from NY. I used that house as my base.
I used to fly out of Lagos, give a number of programs, and fly back.
Every time I returned I had to take a taxi to get to his house in the suburb of Sirulere. He would ask me how much I paid. It was always too much. “5 Naira only,” he would say.
Training wheels welcome.
So, I’m returning one day determined. I walk into the terminal where there are numerous taxi driver, beginning with the richest. I pass them all and pick a raggedy guy outside the terminal. “5 Naira to Sirulere, “ I say. Okay.
Hanging onto my bag I get into the back seat of this old contraption.l I could see through the floor to the street.
The annual Preston Hollow parade is on.
By going over medians and across sidewalks we arrive in like no time. I give him 8 Naira. “No,” he says, “We agreed on 15.”
We go back & forth until I get out. We are in a cul-de-sac, fortunately in my mind. He gets out. We argue.
Suddenly he grabs my bag and attempts to jump back his taxi. We have a physical tussle right there in the street. He is a big guy, but no muscle I discover. No contest. I take my bag and walk to the door of the house. McKenna is inside chuckling away. It is dinner time. “I am going to kill you for this, McKenna,” I think to myself.
If you are nice you might find space in a wagon and somebody will pull you.
The guy follows me and is screaming. I don’t know what more to do and am nervous that he will gather a group of fellow Nigerians and they will join him. In fact, the contrary takes place. The little guy who is the house cook comes from around the back of the house , screaming himself that this guy has insulted a guest. Neighbors gather and all say the same.
Finally, a young Nigerian Jesuit novice rides up on his little motor scooter and takes the guy off. I think he actually give the guy 15 Naira. By now I could care less. It was not worth all the drama.
That day I was proud to be both a Jesuit and an American.
The Refreshment Committee in action. Want to know how success is measured? 22 dozen donut holes were consumed in an hour and maybe two more dozen could have found takers. This is plus cookies, grapes, lemon aide, and bottled water.
Three more quickies.
In the Metro section of the newspaper this week, a lady from NY, Claire Scoville, late thirties, attractive, a film producer, dropped everything and flew into S. TX to help nurture the little kids. Claire Scoville gives me reason to be proud to be American.
Happy Birthday, Paul. Does Paul look like a man of 57 years? Looks more like 59 to me.
Secondly, one afternoon this week I am northbound at the stop light at Preston & Royal, going to give blood platelets at Carter Blood. 3 northbound lanes, 2 left turn lanes. I‘m about 3 cars back. The light goes green for all of us. Everyone accelerates, when suddenly in front of us from the right comes an SUV slowly making a left turn. Everyone had to brake. In fact, I thought that SUV is going to get hit. It made it, but, get this, not one northbound car honked. No rage, no critical parent, Kindness.
Thanks for coming to visit us again, My Dearest Kayla.
Finally, why I am proud to be an American: our annual neighborhood parade. So many delightful young families. Rosemary & I are the refreshment team, so you know it was good. It was 22 dozen donut holes good. Yes, I am proud to be an an American.
It is scary when former Jesuit students show up at the parade and say this year is 50 years since graduation. Meanwhile, for me it is 60 years since graduation and entrance into the Jesuit order. Scary?? Yes!!