A little bit of levity10/30/2022 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time
After the past week of “heavy” reflections on my friend JA’s death and dying, I offer you something as light as a “drop of dew.” And the story of Zacchaeus can bring a smile and even a bit of laughter. Three years ago, this is what I wrote: Dew come down! Do come down! Before the LORD the whole universe is as a grain from a balance or a drop of morning dew come down upon the earth. I do hope you can see the dew drops on the grass in the photo above. What a stunning comparison! Look at the size of the dew drop and the universe is just a “drop in the bucket” compared with the One who is creator of it all. That’s the first “dew come down.’ The second “do come down” is from a “rap” I wrote for today’s Gospel. The story of Zacchaeus is one of the few where you can see Jesus’ laughing and smiling. I remember a few years ago when my retreat here at Eastern Point focused on an image of the “laughing Jesus.” So I hope you find this amusing. In case you didn’t know, the expression, “Zounds” is an abbreviation of "God’s wounds" and sounds like the word “wounds.” Zach’s Zounds “Zounds!” says Zach, “Rabbi’s coming back. Last time, missed him Lost him in the crowd This time, climb a tree Get a glimpse now.” “Zounds!” says Zach “Not sure I have the knack Those limbs may limp Those boughs may break My limbs too short To climb a big mistake? What the Gehenna! Give it a try Climb a sycamore How and why? Nothing more to lose I’ve lost it already Everyone despises me Cause I got plenty.” “Zounds!”, says Zach “He’s turning around This time sees me Jeez, I’ve been found.” “Z’up?” Jeez says Sees me up in that tree. “You’re all wound up You’re wounded I see” “Zounds!” says Zach. “The way his voice sounds You’d think he wanted me hanging around.” “Yup,”, Jeez says. “Do come down from that tree! Dinner at your house, Just you and me.” “What the Gehenna!” Some gawkers say. “He eats with sinners! Jeez! Us- no way! The law’s the law And it’s very clear Those people like shorty You can’t go near.” “Zounds!” says Zach, standing his ground, “Half my possessions I’ll spread them around. The poor and the outcast God’s wounded, you’ll see Will wind up welcomed By Jesus and me.” “Zacchaeus”, says Jesus with arms all around, “Once you were lost But now you are found.” R.I.P.10/29/2022 R.I.P.
Saturday of the 30th Week/ Funeral Liturgy for Fr. JA Loftus S.J. Almost a year ago today I wrote this: I know that R.I.P. is from the Latin, Requiescat in Pace or Rest in Peace. Today, I think of it as a “rip” when something or someone is torn from you. Our dear friend, Petronella, the pine tree, symbol of a retreatant’s persistence and pain was ripped from the ground by the Nor’easter. My own heart is broken, and the tears have been flowing down my face all morning. I knew that she didn’t have much time left but she has been so brave and through so many storms that I didn’t expect that this storm would fell her. A year has gone by and now a precious long-time companion has been “ripped” and “torn” from those of us who knew and loved him. Like our pine tree, the ravages of time, age, illness and the winds of misfortune have taken their toll. And yet as I hear Paul’s letter to the Philippians, I am struck by the timeliness of his words on the day we celebrate JA’s funeral. For to me life is Christ, and death is gain. If I go on living in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. And I do not know which I shall choose. I am caught between the two. I long to depart this life and be with Christ, for that is far better. The day that JA died I imagined him walking his favorite beach with Jesus. I hope and pray that it was more than my imagination. I share with you the homily/eulogy I will give today and hope I will get through without too many “Sobby Bobby” moments. jas_funeral_homily_2.docx CODA10/28/2022 After a fitful night of sleep, I woke early this morning to begin to prepare for the arrival of JA’s family and Canadian friends. As I was thinking about his wake this afternoon, a family dinner this evening and the funeral tomorrow, the word “CODA” came into my mind. It feels like these few days right after death with all the rituals involved are a “coda” to one's life. A “coda” in music is the “cconcluding passage of a piece or a movement, typically forming an addition to the basic structure but also a reiteration of some of the musical themes.” Thinking about a “coda” I remembered the poem I wrote earlier last year when I went to the Y and encountered a two year old who kept asking his father “Why, Dad? Why? Why? I didn’t look at the poem right away but started reading my entries for the feast of Saints Simon and Jude. I had forgotten that three years ago I had used the photo of two “gourds” given to me by ny friend Jean Mulder. This is what I wrote: It’s the feast of Saint Simon and Jude and the best I can come up with is a reference to the child’s game, “Simon says.” Ironically Simon the apostle, also called the Zealot says nothing in the Gospels. As a zealot, maybe actions spoke louder than words. And then there is Jude. Hey, Jude! He’s the person to pray to as a last resort. He’s supposed to take a “sad song and make it better.” He most likely got the rep for being the person to pray to when you were desperate because his name was similar to Judas. Guilt by association! The photo below is of two gourds. Let’s call them Simon and Jude, two “gourd guys.” What if I reverse their direction? Here “two gourds are better as one.” Sum days, it’s ok if things don’t add up. Sum days, one plus one makes one. “Remember to let God into your heart, then you can start to make it better.” Some days, when you’re “out of sorts” you may just have to re-sort and it may make the day better. Then I reread the poem “CODA” and I was blown away by who made an appearance in the poem! The two-year old’s name, when I asked was “Jude!”
When I saw that, I couldn’t resist a smile and wondered if that was a sign from JA with a “thumbs up” (In his last days when he could barely speak, he would wave, smile and make a thumbs up.) Here’s a link to the poem. It was written at the same time the movie, “CODA” appeared. coda.docx I also attach the obituary I wrote for JA if you’d like to get to know him better. On Sunday I’ll post the homily I’ve written for him. ja_loftus_obituary.docx The photo above is of JA on an autumn trip in 2015. His nickname in highschool was “the eloquent pumpkin.” And of course, a pumpkin is a gourd and JA was a very “gourd” guy. )LOL Since we have been friends for five decades, (A rosary of life?) our names were often linked together the way that “Simon and Jude” are linked. I heard people say “JA and Bob” so often that the two names sounded like one. X Roads10/27/2022 Thursday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time
My dear friend JA was not only a gifted psychologist, educator and homilist but also a talented musician. He grew up in the “folk era” and loved to lead people in song playing his Martin guitar which he nicknamed “Baby.” One of the songs that he often sang and played was Don McLean’s “Crossroads.” A few days ago before he passed, I let him hear the original version to see if it would spark some memory. I hope it did. I’m thinking about Crossroads this morning because three years ago on this Thursday of the 30thweek, I wrote the poem “More Prose than Cons.” It was inspired by the first reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans in which he says that nothing can separate us from the love the Christ Jesus has for us. In the poem I posit the question “What if X never happened?” X stands for something in your life that changed its course. The premise of this poem is that sometimes events that are traumatic can lead you to a place of healing and wholeness and bring you closer to Christ. Today may be an invitation to think of those loved ones in your lives whose paths crossed yours and you began to walk the road of life together. The final verse of Crossroads is this: We've walked both sides of every street Through all kinds of windy weather; But that was never our defeat As long as we could walk together. So there's no need for turning back Cause all roads lead to where we stand; And I believe we'll walk them all No matter what we may have planned. more_prose_than_cons.docx Autumn's End10/26/2022 Wednesday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time
If this were last year or next year, the first readings for this week would not be from Paul’s 2 letter to the Corinthians concerning domestic issues in the early church, we would be hearing his letter to the Romans. We would be listening to Chapter 8 which speaks of creation groaning and the Spirit coming to us in our weakness since we do not know how to pray. Although I am immersed in the domestic issues of my friend JA’s life; going through his clothes, cancelling credit cards and subscriptions, sorting out the “stuff” of his life, the words from Paul’s letter to the Romans have more resonance with me. I’ve been groaning and crying out with some frequency since I witnessed my friend slipping away. And I do not know how to pray. But as is my custom, I read what I wrote on this day for the past three years. As it happens, three years ago today I wrote about Autumn’s End. With JA’s life coming to an end, it seemed right to share it today in his memory. (Believe it or not, there’s another poem coming tomorrow. This was a very inspired time for me at EP three years ago.) The photo above is the tree that JA and I would watch throughout this Autumn season, and I would comment on its beauty and the falling leaves and he would simply nod his head and say "Yes." Autumn’s End How ought I pray at autumn’s end? Is autumn’s prayer seasoned differently? Spirit sighs and says, “Autumn’s all about endings, isn’t it? Winter’s waiting Spring’s awakening Summer’s ripening Autumn leaves something to be desired. What do you desire when all you see in autumn is endings?” I sigh and say, Leaves falling, branches baring Empty spaces in open air. Where there was greening, grinning grass Now browning, frowning, No longer mown but moan No longer grown but groan My spirit is like the grass that fades, The forgotten fruit that withers on the vine, The falling leaves lying on beds of death and decay My prayer futile, not fertile Is this how I ought to pray at autumn’s end? Spirit sighs and says, Open your eyes! Autumn is seasoned with hope. Without the dying and decay There would be no way For winter’s waiting, For spring’s awakening, For summer’s ripening How ought you pray at autumn’s end? Hopefully! I hope you know that I know that I’m not alone in my grief. I think of so many of you who have accompanied a loved one on their journey from this life. Over the years of accompanying parishioners and friends who have lost loved ones, I’ve heard of their pain as they were flooded by memories as they took care of the “domestic” issues, like going through clothes and remembering when he/she wore this or that. Yesterday when I was going through JA’s things, I saw the hat that I would put on him each time we went outside in his wheelchair. Who knew that a hat could mean so much and make me groan and weep? The photos below are from a trip we took to Lenox in the Autumn of 2015 October 25th, 202210/25/2022 Tuesday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time
My dear friend of more than 50 years, Fr. John Allan (JA) Loftus passed over into God’s embrace yesterday afternoon. I was with him as were other dear friends, Tony Compagnone, and Marguerite and John Gallagher. It was a peaceful death and JA just slipped away into eternity. This is the first time that I have ever “sat vigil” and watched a loved one finish their earthly journey. It was excruciatingly painful for me. I choose the word “excruciating” because it means “from the cross.” I shared with you a few days ago a cross that my good friend Megan Carroll brought me from Oberammergau. When she gave it to me I began weeping as I saw my friend JA’s face in the face of the crucified Christ. When it was finished, and he gave up his spirit, I did feel the grace of the moment and his great Spirit feeling the space and my heart. I thought what I wrote two years ago on this day was appropriate for what I’m feeling this morning. When I looked at the scriptures this morning, I was distressed to read the passage from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians which is so unfortunate in its portrayal of the roles of husband and wives in marriage. I knew it was coming since I had been alerted by a number of retreatants who asked if there were an alternative that could replace it in today’s liturgy. When I read it this morning, the exclamation, “Heaven help us!” came to mind. That’s one of those expressions that usually has an accompanying gesture, i.e. hands thrown up in the air. It was reading the Gospel, however, that saved the day. The exclamation, “Heaven help us!” became “Leaven, help us!” Again, he said, “To what shall I compare the Kingdom of God? It is like leaven that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch of dough was leavened.” This led me to think of “love” as life’s leavening agent. It is amazing how “love’s leaven” permeates our relationships. That little bit of love can be the leavening agent that makes all the difference in how we live. That’s what I wrote two years ago. This morning I’m thinking of the “leaven” of our relationships; the little things that we remember and make a difference. For many years, JA and I had a custom of an 8am morning call. That became very important these last two years when he was dealing with serious health issues. On those rare days when he would not answer, my anxiety level would soar, thinking that something had happened to him. Since I moved to Campion there was no need for a call or a text since I could just bring him his tea. This morning was the first that there was no call, no text and no tea. (His favorite was Earl Grey and Lady Grey) Then I went into the room where he has been living in the Health Center to go through his things and each “little thing” touched me with tears; the coat and hat he wore when I would wheel him outside for a “smoke, “ so many little things and the memories attached to them. So my prayer today is that each of us let love’s leaven help us! The photo below was taken in the summer of 2018 at Mattakeese Wharf in Barnstable Cape Cod. Our dear friend Judy Basilico shared the annual tradition with us. Missing is her wonderful husband Fred. Autumn Weaves10/24/2022 Monday of the 30th Week in OT/ Memorial of ST Anthony Claret
Today is the memorial of Anthony Claret, patron saint of weavers. As I have been sitting vigil waiting for my dear friend, JA to take his leave from this life, I have been reflecting on how our lives were woven together for more than 50 years. One of the great mysteries is how our lives are woven with other lives. And although the fabric of friendship may be torn and frayed by illness and suffering or other life circumstances, the threads of these friendships are spun with silver and gold. Since it is the memorial of Anthony Claret, I share again the poem I wrote on this day three years ago. Its title is “Autumn Weaves.” Autumn Weaves St Anthony Claret Weaver If I were a weaver I’d be an eager one An eager weaver, Busy at my loom, Criss crossing colors Fiery reds Burnt oranges Glowing ambers. Beaver-like I’d weave With yarns of yearning. Not sticks and branches My warp and weft, But hopes and dreams Fiery red Burnt orange Glowing amber And not give a damn About what looms ahead. If I were a weaver I’d be an eager one An eager weaver, Like Jesus was, Criss-crossing Cana and Capernaum,’ Judea and Jerusalem Weaving words of God’s reign, His warp and weft Justice and compassion Fiery words, ablaze and aglow. He did not give a damn About the Christ/cross that loomed ahead, If I were a weaver I’d be a busy one. A busy weaver Like Paul was Christ-crossing Sin, slavery, Salvation, sanctification. Weaving words in Christ, Death-defying His warp and weft Freedom and Forgiveness Fierce and fiery words A blaze of glory No damming God’s grace In Jesus Christ If you wonder if God’s a weaver Just behold the autumn leaves Fiery red, Burnt orange Glowing amber Criss-crossing colors Christ-crossing At warp speed! Leave Taking10/23/2022 30th Sunday of the Year (C Cycle)
When I wrote the poem “Autumn Belief” three years ago and posted it for the first time on this Sunday, I would never have imagined that I would be witnessing my closest friend’s “leave taking” for this world. My dear friend, Fr. JA Loftus, reminds me of St Paul this morning: I am already being poured out like a libation, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. As he is the process of shedding the outward signs of a life of 75 years, and as I am shedding many tears these days, I’m looking to the Autumn leaves and their “leave taking” as I reminder of the beauty and mystery of each life lived, each leaf that must let go of the branch or bough it has held on to for its life-span. Autumn Belief Ought I be leaving in Autumn? Ought I take my leave, Fatefully departing, Leaving leaf-like, No longer clinging To bough and branch of life, Fading, falling earth-wise, One among so many? No more. Ought leaves be leaving in Autumn? They do not decide for themselves, These deciduous leaves. Their time to depart is fated Soon to be faithful departed, No longer clinging To bough or branch. They let go after a short-lived life Three seasons No more? Ought leaves be leaving in Autumn? Their work is done. Once shades of green, Shading, sheltering, Now shades of red, yellow and orange Gracious and glorious And then, fading, falling, earth wise. No more. Do trees bend and bow out of respect for leaves loved lives lived? Do branches and boughs break, Broken-hearted, Pining for leaves lost Lives lived No more? Ought I be learning, From the leaves of Autumn? Believing Every leaf, every life Faithfully a part of the circle, The cycle of living and dying No more! Speaking of leaves and by extension, trees, boughs and branches, more than twenty years ago I wrote a story for this Sunday.. Its title is The Widow, the Orphan, and the Willow Tree. It takes its inspiration from two verses in the first reading from the book of Sirach from today’s liturgy. The Lord is not deaf to the wail of the orphan, nor to the widow when she pours out her complaint. As someone who is living in the “land of loss,” this story of grief, anger, and healing has a profound meaning for me. I hope it does for you as well. I have shared it before but since it was written for this Sunday, I share it again. the_widow_the_orphan_and_the_willow_tree.pdf And then there is today’s Gospel of the Pharisee and the Tax-collector in the temple. In a homily I gave many years ago, I summed up the parable with the observation that the Pharisee is all about “me” and the tax-collector is all about “You.” To be honest, there may be days when we are very much like the Pharisee and evertything is about “me.” There are also days when like the tax-collector, it’s all about our “You.” our God of mercy and compassion. Facetime10/21/2022 Friday of the 29th Week in OT
The responsorial psalm verse for today is “This is the people that longs to see Your face.” Facetime with God is on my mind this morning. There are times in our lives when we have the impression that we are seeing the face of God, or at least, the veil that separates us from God is lifted for a while. There are other times of confusion and sorrow and we wait for the veil to be lifted again. It was two years ago this day that I wrote the poem “To Know A Veil” I hope it helps you as it gave me something to think about as I long to see the face of God.” I’m sure it was this line from today’s Gospel that got me going this morning, inviting me to scan the skies. Jesus said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west you say immediately that it is going to rain–and so it does; There was something about the straight line of clouds and horizon that mesmerized me. I kept waiting for something to be “revealed.” The black cloud looked to me like a theater curtain. The light below created an anticipation that the curtain would soon be raised but the waiting was to no avail…. I turned away for a while only to see the curtain raised and the veil lifted. I’m wondering what interpretation you may have of my attempt to capture the experience and what it might mean to you? If it’s any help, look at the photo at the end of the reflection. I think there’s a clue there! To Know A Veil Not a line drawn in sand, Whose crossing means Risk and reckoning No, a sky-line Straight across horizon’s Length, a line meant For best and beckoning. Can you divine the divine drafter’s drawing you in? Sky scanning, Wondering whoziwhat’s Behind the curtain, Sky searching Reading the sighs of the times, Waiting for the veil To be lifted but To no avail And suddenly, You see more of me, The curtain rises Revealing me, A lonely figure On this world’s stage, Longing for a role to play, Available for the part But my heart’s Unavailable, still. Stealing the scene, You hide behind the veil And I watch and wait For the unveiling. AuthorAs an ordained Catholic priest for 45 years and a member of the Jesuits for 57 years, I've had a great deal of "spiritual" experience! This is a place where I can continue to share my thoughts about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit and what it means to live the "mystery of God." Categories |
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