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Rolling In The Deep

I usually only find myself on YouTube for recipes (or “the YouTube as I refer to it just to irritate the kids). Even then, I don’t often follow the recipe. But a few months ago, someone shared the video of Adele singing, “Rolling in the Deep” and I simply cannot stop watching – mostly because Emma Thompson, another favorite, is so memorable in her excitement.

A few years ago, Adele hosted an ITV special in England and invited all the important people and, I assume, the general public. We were just coming out of Covid and, if memory serves, Adele felt it was important to gather and celebrate life. There are many memorable. moments, including Emma Thompson re-introducing the singer to a teacher who meant so much to Adele in her youth.

Then comes the song. Here is what struck me about the song – I like the lyrics, I like the tune, but watch the audience. Keep an eye out for Emma Thompson telling everyone to “get up and dance.” Watch the likes of Boy George, Emma Watson, Samuel L. Jackson, and others dancing with pure abandon. There are no cell phones (which were presumably prohibited). There is no one taking video, except the guy creating the video. There is only joy in the moment. Everyone is present. Dancing. Singing. Unadulterated happiness.

We need more of that.

Watch the video and enjoy your week. If you really want to have fun, learn the words and sing the song in front of your kids and their friends.

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I Blame The Phone

Kids are simultaneously really smart and really dumb. I blame technology and the constant need to have the phone in the hand.

Case in point: my oldest is a freshman in college. By all accounts, she is a smart kid, gets good grades, and is doing well socially and emotionally.

Last week, I dropped her off at the train station to head down the tracks a few towns to school. Since I had a meeting, I dropped her off early with the plans to get to school early and hang out on campus.

Instead, she got on the wrong train and ended up in Harlem.

The conductor took pity on her, gave her a new ticket, and sent her north towards school.

She got on another wrong train and ended up at Fordham. Good school, but not the right school.

Finally, she made it to class – on time as luck would have it – and settled in for the day.

On the one hand, I was incredible proud of her for keeping it together, managing one train after another, and getting to school. A lesser child would have given up, called for a ride, and skipped the class.

Technology puts the world in our hands. It also distracts us from the world around us. Headphones shut out the noise, but also the voice of mom or dad or really anyone else who is trying to get your attention. We rely on technology to tell us where to go, but surrender our own sense of direction in the process. I can see where I am going, but I still defer to the voice in the computer that tells me to turn left. I know it’s wrong. I see it’s wrong. I do it anyway.

I suppose I am a little dumb too.

This week, I will invite my children to put the phone down, listen to one another, and enjoy the world around. I guess I will have to take my own advice as well.

Hmmmm… Let’s think about this.

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How Do You Not Understand?

We celebrate a few great feasts this week. Today is the day for prayer for the legal protection of the unborn. Wednesday is the feast of St. Francis de Sales, Bishop and Doctor of the Church. Thursday is the Conversion of St. Paul and Friday is the Memorial of Saints Timothy and Titus, who were bishops in the early Church. Lots of great teachable moments.

Plus, we have some great readings this week. I especially love when Jesus takes the time to explain the parables he’s just taught the crowds. Like any good teacher, he wants to make sure the lesson does not fall on deaf ears and, like anyone who has ever stood in front a classroom, my hunch is he began to see people’s eyes glazing over, people looking off in the distance, and a general disconnect starting to form.

So he paused, rearranged the narrative, and made sure everyone understood.

If you have teenagers, you have lots of practice with this. You ask your teen to do something, retrieve something, go somewhere and complete a task – and you are confident you are speaking in a language he or she understands. But as soon as the instructions are delivered, your teen looks at you and says, with a completely straight face: “What?”

They heard it all but they comprehended nothing.

So you repeat it. You tell them to put the phone away and really listen this time.

“Okay,” says the teen.

Then they walk away and do absolutely nothing.

The more I reflect on Mark 4 from Wednesday’s Gospel, the more I am thinking this was Jesus’ turn with the teens in Jerusalem.

“What?” they said after he taught them.

Jesus said to them, “Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand any of the parables?”

Great question.

It turns out in two thousand years, the content hasn’t changed, only the context.

This week, I will practice the patience of Jesus and avoid gritting my teeth as I explain to my four teenagers the same thing over and over and over.

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What Love Can Do

A reflection for today:

Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

There is plenty of darkness in the world today. There is already enough hate.

In the spirit of Martin Luther King, may we strive to be people of light and love.

May our presence make the world just a little bit better for those around us.

Have a good week.

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Share the Light

Believers are first and foremost recipients of the light who are challenged to penetrate darkness. Sunday’s readings understand community members as the bearers of gifts to others. To share one’s gift is to overcome the darkness and usher in the light.

During the gloomy days after the exile, the prophet we call Third Isaiah sought to energize his Judean community. In this world of despair the one point of light is Jerusalem because God’s presence illuminates it. The intensity of this light attracts foreign nations. They not only see God’s glory but become Yahweh’s missionaries carrying the message to distant peoples, opening up the treasures of Israel’s faith to others.

The author of Ephesians speaks of Paul as a steward who was entrusted with God’s great plan for all of humanity. The Gentiles have received the Spirit and are partners with Israel in the covenant responses. As a steward, Paul is compelled to share this divine insight with others.

Matthew writes at a critical moment in the life of the community. Many Gentiles were entering the community, but many Jews were leaving (see Matthew 21:42-43). Matthew tells the story of the astrologers in order to show that the admission of the Gentiles is part of God’s plan. The pagan astrologers are the first to come and pay homage to the newborn King of the Jews. The Jewish leadership rejects this king. The story eases community tensions.

The celebration of Epiphany demands that the Christian raise the question: Who experiences darkness and needs light? Instead of formulating a grandiose scheme to evangelize the atheists, the modern believer is well advised to search closer to home. If there are members of the family who suffer economic hardship, light takes the form of financial and emotional support. If there are people at work who suffer from chemical dependency, light takes the shape of encouragement to seek professional help. If there are persons in our faith community who have doubts, light takes the appearance of sharing their pain and attempting to aid them through the crisis. In these and similar situations the message of Epiphany is clear: Share the light.

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Who Am I?

“Who am I?” The question of identity touches the most profound depths of our personhood. The pursuit of personal needs and goals can have a suffocating effect. As we prepare in Advent for the Second Coming of the Lord, we are reminded in the liturgy that we must meet the Lord as a community, not as a collection of isolated individuals.

The prophet we call Third Isaiah cared for the hurting community in Jerusalem around 500 B.C. As God’s specially anointed spokesperson, he identifies with the brokenhearted. As a sign of hope he describes the joy of a renewed marriage between Yahweh and Jerusalem. The drab clothing of the past will be replaced with a robe of salvation and a mantle of justice. Yahweh will bring forth justice and praise in the presence of the Gentiles.

In the responsorial, Luke presents Mary’s response to Elizabeth who has recognized Jesus in Mary’s womb. Mary sings of her God and God’s community. She finds the basis of her joy not within herself but within God. Placing herself within the framework of Israel’s history, Mary unequivocally replies to the question: “Who am I? I am yours.”

The two opening verses of Sunday’s gospel describe John as witness to the light and Jesus himself as the light. The Baptist seeks his own identity in relation to the Lord. John explains that he is not one of the traditional figures of the end of the world (the Messiah, Elijah, or the prophet). He is, however, the herald spoken of in Isaiah 40:3. John’s baptism of water envisions the coming one, the Messiah.

Identity begins with family, then we look to community. We must support positive programs for the good of all our neighbors. Allegiance to Church and our brothers and sisters in faith is essential. In all these and similar situations we are encouraged to respond: “Who am I? I am yours.”

Have a blessed week.
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The Generosity of God

At times, the hurried pace of our lives may at times obscure even the most dramatic reality — for example, the gift-giving presence of our God. Sunday’s readings speak of God’s nearness in our daily lives. The Scriptures capture moments when people were challenged to react to God’s presence. First, however, they had to become aware of God’s gifts, then they had to respond.
Around 540 B.C., Second Isaiah, the anonymous prophet of the exile, spoke to his despairing community. His opening words of comfort and tenderness reveal a God who, forgetting the past, offers the grace of the present moment. There had to be a march through the desert to the land of Israel; this trek would manifest God’s presence, to the utter amazement of the people. Even then, the people had to become aware of the moment!
In Psalm 85, the community asks for God’s presence. Putting aside all hesitation the psalmist announces that God proclaims peace to the people. To enjoy God’s gift of peace, however, the community must keep its covenant with Yahweh. It is just such a response, culminating in kindness, truth, and justice, that ushers in the blessing of the harvest.
Mark begins his gospel with the image of the desert. He quotes Second Isaiah to tell us that John the Baptist announces God’s unexpected gift of salvation in the desert. Like the ninth-century prophet Elijah, John wears a garment of camel’s hair and a leather belt (see 2 Kings 1:8). God’s presence in the Baptist demands a response of radical conversion and of repentance.
God’s gifts appear not only in extraordinary events such as a return from exile or the coming of Jesus but also in ordinary day-to-day occurrences. The grace of friendship, the devotion of a spouse, the comfort of co-workers — all of these manifest God’s gifts. Our awareness of giftedness moves us to a personal response where love, support, and consolation are given as well as received.
Where will we find the generosity of God this week?
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The Season of Hope

This week we celebrate hope. We light the prophecy candle on our Advent Wreath and focus on the hope of the coming of the child that will save us all.

St. Paul tells us that there are three lasting things: faith, hope, and love. I find it hard to separate hope and faith. When I see one, I see the other. But hope has a character of its own. Hope is not simply an emotion or virtue, it is a way of life.

I had a professor once who told me that hope is an unsatisfactory view of the present, a satisfactory view of the future, and a commitment to change. Absent the commitment, it’s not hope.

It’s whining.

We whine well. We have perfected complaining. We blame. We rationalize. We pout.

But do we hope? Are we committed to making a change in our hearts, our homes, our lives? Do we desire that which we do not have and are we committed to letting God work through us to achieve it? Are we willing to place our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit?

Are we willing to allow hope to stand beside us like a friend, no matter how desperate we might feel, knowing that with the help of the Spirit, life can be better?

Or are we okay with whining?

Have a good week.

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Thanksgiving Week

One thought.

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, that would be enough.

Meister Eckhart got it right. Not much more to say.

Happy Thanksgiving.

– pjd

 

 

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Psalm 34

This is a big week in our household. Mom is away so it’s dinner out every night and a suspension of all the rules.

I am kidding, of course. Really, it’s four against one. Child number three turns 16 this week and Thursday is the anniversary of my brother’s death. Child number two goes to NCYC on Thursday and another one has a concert this weekend, an event that comes with last minute shopping for a black tie and dress rehearsals at dinner time. The dogs and I will spend quality time together and I assume they will engage in a cage match only while I am on Zoom.

I drove nearly 500 miles over the weekend and never left Fairfield County. Between practices, rehearsals, college tours, and a trip to JFK, I spent quality time behind the wheel. It gave me a chance to catch up with individual children and Maureen and I braved the traffic last night so she could arrive in Indianapolis long before the conference participants.

As I do most Sundays, I got the chance to go through the next week’s readings. I like looking ahead. I hate surprises. Tomorrow, the psalm is a favorite – number 34. Do you know it without looking it up?

I will bless the Lord at all times. 

At. All. Times.

In traffic. In crowds. When the idiot in front of me turns left as soon as the light turns green. In the supermarket when the people in front of me clearly had no training on self checkout. When the child waits until the last minute to announce a need for some obscure item that Amazon will not deliver on time. When another child announces they’ve been waiting for you to get home to decide what to eat for dinner. When no one has fed the dogs or emptied the dishwasher or taken out the trash.

At. All. Times.

It’s a Psalm worth remembering, even if you have to mutter it to yourselves as you fly down I-95.

Have a good week.