Readings: Isaiah 9, 1-6; Psalm 96; Titus 2, 11-14, Luke 2, 1-14.

Isaiah: This is another of the great visions of Isaiah 1.  This comes from one of our ancestors who was reflecting some 800 years B.C.  We have enjoyed Isaiah all the four Sundays of Advent because of his marvelous vision.

The Gift of Life

Last Thursday I was at Baylor Hospital ca. 5:30 in the morning.  I was there to give a hug and a blessing to a woman & a friend who was coming to have an operation.  She was donating her left kidney to her sister in law. 

She naturally had some anxiety and we had talked about this earlier.  I felt privileged to be there with her.

Two comments on this event: the receiving & the giving. 

First, we are celebrating this evening the fact that we are the recipients of life.  My friend’s sister in law received life, rather dramatically.  Our parents gave us life, our teachers give us life, our companions give us life, you people give me life, God gives us life.  Even every day.

Secondly, like my friend, we are invited to give life, sometimes as dramatically, sometimes in small ways, probably daily.  In fact, without giving life, we likely stagnate.  This generation of life often involves anxiety, discipline, sacrifice, and pain.  Guess what: giving my life is reciprocal, i.e., I usually get back more than I give.

Looking back at 2007, what was the biggest way you received life & gave life?  And this year?

AUDIO: http://mysite.verizon.net/reso7rjy/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderfiles/2007-12-24.mp3

Readings: Isaiah 7, 10-14; Psalm 24; Romans, 1, 1-7; Matthew 1, 18-24.

Isaiah: The great prophetic book.  8 centuries before Christ.  Talking here about the coming of the savior.

The Gift of Life

Last Sunday morning ca. 1:30 A.M., a friend of mine was having insomnia.  She got up without waking her husband.  Got into her car and headed down Belt Line to get a coffee or something at the 7-11 on the corner near Central.  Along the way she lost control of her Expedition, ran into a pole, and then slammed into another.  Parkland Hospital awakened her husband at 3:00 A.M. to inform him that his wife Sally had just died in their emergency room.

I have known Sally Ann Kidwell Swenholt since the 60’s when she was a little girl and I taught her big brother John Michael at Jesuit, where he was a good basketball player.   She was 48 and married 29 years to her high school boy friend. Her father had been my dentist in Preston Center until he retired and John Michael took over.  She became a dental hygienist and cleaned my teeth every year or so.  Her sister Susanne is a special friend.  I have loved this family and been privileged to walk with them through some great times and some troubled times.  This event has knocked me out.  Why?  And why at this time of year.

Some observations.

I can’t answer the why question for myself.  It just happens.  I can live with that mystery.  However, one big lesson stands out for me: life is a gift.  I may blow it off or I may treasure and appreciate it.  Sally Ann did the latter and I hope to follow her example.

One of the qualities that endeared her to me was that she was a delightful airhead who chattered non-stop.  The Kidwell dental office works very efficiently, on time.  You get your teeth cleaned & X-rayed in 30 minutes.  More attention needed, you make another appointment.  I do not know how she & I ever got through a half hour appointment.  Talk & more talk.  Ever try to tell someone how your sister is or how the Masses are at San Vino with someone cleaning your teeth with a drill mounted brush?  We always had so much to catch up on. 

As a tribute to her person centered, caring life, as well as the Kidwell family, St. Rita’s was full with a thousand plus people.  People were standing in the back.  Even though I could not concelebrate with Phil Postell, the Jesuit president, I was delighted that I got the idea and then did it: I applauded after Shauna, Sally’s oldest child who also works at the dental office, gave a beautifully amusing & tear filled eulogy to her mom.  In fact, though I fantasized that I might be clapping all alone, people not only jumped right in, but as Shauna came down & hugged her dad, the whole community stood and redoubled their applause.   I was in tears. 

One other observation.  When Sally drove into that pole on Belt Line she did not have her seat belt on.

We are privileged to celebrate here this morning, we are privileged to celebrate Christmas tomorrow, we are privileged to be alive.

How are you treasuring this gift today?

   

Readings: Isaiah 35, 1-6, 10 (again beautiful); Psalm 146; James 5, 7-10; Matthew 11, 2-11

Isaiah: Again today’s selection from this marvelous book put together some 8 hundred years before Christ presents a dream and a vision of a day of peace and happiness.  To emphasize the beauty we will split the reading again, the first part read by Margarita; the second by her daughter Ashley.

How to Give Sight, Give Life

In Utah there is a ranch which specializes in equine therapy for young people.  Equine therapy uses horses to help people & kids find themselves and level out. 

A family who are really good friends of mine visited the ranch some years ago to check out if it might be a good place for one of their children to get settled in life.  One afternoon some staff people took them down to the barn to look at the horses.  Now the wife in her childhood had done some riding and was pretty confident around horses, which the staff apparently picked up.

Consequently, one of the women staff members offered her a bridle and asked her if she thought she could bridle a wild mustang they had just brought in.  "Sure," she said, and off she went to bridle the mustang.  Three staff members climbed up and sat on the fence to watch her.  Inside she was saying to herself that she would be firm and brave, remembering that she had once broken her arm with a horse. 

Using all her skill, determination, and bravery she tried and tried to bridle that mustang, for probably over an hour.  It was even beginning to get dark.  But she was determined she would prove she could do it all by herself.  Finally, with darkness setting in she took the bridle, handed it back to the staff, and feeling defeated said she could think of no other way to bridle that mustang.

The staff asked, "Are you sure you have tried every possibility?"  "Yes," she replied, "Everything. "I think there may be still another possibility," the staff said.  "What?" my friend asked.  "You could have asked for help."

Isaiah says this morning that some day the eyes of the blind will be opened and the ears of the deaf be cleared.  That evening in that coral in Utah, my friend saw and heard in a new way.

There are two pieces to this dynamic.  One, am I aware that I am blind and deaf, and need the help of community?  We are all blind and deaf.  Secondly, am I aware that I have to help others see and hear better?  Or I am less a person? 

One of the hardest things for me to do is to ask for help.  It is partly pride, but also good Jesuit training.  I’ve been trained to think and act independently.  I can almost learn Spanish or Italian without asking for help.  However, ever try to learn to work a computer without asking for help?  I have had to ask Rosemary a million times how to do things.  Humbling.  And eye opening.

The staff members sitting on that fence were helping my friend to see and hear.  It is even their profession, a privilege and a call really.  Teachers are helping others to see, parents do it.   Like I mentioned the first Sunday of Advent, flight attendants do it with their hospitality, like happened to Rosemary & me coming out of Hilton Head. 

A paradox in all this is that when I help another to see or hear better, I receive the same gift.

My friends never did work with the ranch in Utah, and their child grew up and leveled out.

How are you helping the person next to you to see & hear better?

AUDIO: http://mysite.verizon.net/reso7rjy/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderfiles/2007-12-16.mp3

Readings: Isaiah 11, 1-10; Psalm 72; Romans 15, 4-9; Matthew 3, 1-12

Isaiah: Once in a while in the course of our church calendar year we get a special selection.  Isaiah’s vision is one of those specials.  Read it and watch out for heart ache.  I imagine one of our ancestors centuries ago dreaming and coming up with this vision.  Later, another of our ancestors writes it down. 

To emphasize how special it is, Emily will read the vision, after her mom Julie has read the introduction.

What is Your Dream?

In the late 60’s I spent four years in Toronto studying theology before I finally got ordained a priest in ’71.  At the beginning of my second year a new class of about 35 Jesuit priest students came in and one of the new guys got the room next to mine on the third floor.  He was unique: he was blind.

His name was Larry and he was also a cheese head and a Jesuit brother, meaning he was not going to be ordained a priest. Brothers are Jesuits who do all sorts of works, just not saying Mass.

Larry had spent a few years teaching at a Jesuit boarding high school in Prairie du Chien, WS.  During his time there, a number of Jesuits & others had encouraged Larry to looking into moving from being a brother to getting on track to get ordained a priest.  Trouble was, blind people did not get ordained. 

When Larry arrived at our college in the fall of my second year, he had been given permission to try studying theology, the subject necessary for ordination.  Consequently, he was studying on condition.  You do okay, you continue.  You don’t do well, you stay a brother.  Guess what: he did fine and all of us made him a project.  We wanted him to succeed.

After his first year, which was successful, the provincial in WS asked Rome if he could be ordained.  Rome’s response, "No."  After his second equally successful year, they asked Rome.  "No, and don’t ask again.  Blind people don’t get ordained."  After his third year, his provincial asked again.  "Yes," they said.

He was ecstatic.  We were ecstatic. 

The fall of his fourth year, this same second Sunday of Advent in the chapel of our college his class was getting ordained deacons, which is done before getting ordained priest in the spring.  The reading of that Sunday was exactly the same Isaiah reading as this morning, the dream of peace reading.  Larry was chosen to read the Isaiah dream passage–in braille.

That whole chapel was all in tears.  It was one of the special moments of my life.

Larry is still working as a Jesuit priest in Omaha or Milwaukee.  I even used to bring him down to help with retreats I ran at the retreat center I directed in Grand Coteau, LA.  We have not been in touch in probably about ten years.  I have to call him.

My friend Larry had a dream.  Our ancestor Isaiah had a dream. 

I would suggest that to be fully alive we have to have a dream.  Dreams fill me with energy, enthusiasm, and life.  Ideally my dream will also give life to others. Larry’s dream to get ordained gave life to all 100 plus of us Jesuits in that big house.  Isaiah’s dream, while unrealistic, can still energize me into creating peace in some small human way.

What must it be like to not have a dream? 

What is your dream?

AUDIO: http://mysite.verizon.net/reso7rjy/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderfiles/2007-12-09.mp3