Soulful Muse

“May the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ enlighten the eyes of our hearts, that we may know what is the hope that belongs to our call.” Letter to the Ephesians.

We know about the two of them separated by our nose. We also know they age along with our age. (I’m told I’ll need cataract surgery in 2020; the irony seemed to elude my eye doctor.) We put all kinds of things either inside or outside of those two organs to see either the traffic in front of us or the person to the side of us.

I write this now with glasses on the tip of my nose otherwise the words be a blur on my blurry porch along with my two cats. (At least I think my cats are out here now!)

Johnny Nash assured us of clear vision singing that “I can see all obstacles in my way, Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind…” Sounds like a faith statement to me. “I was blind but now I see,” says the slave-porter with a song that even an Alzheimer’s patient can sing.

But can those two – either gray, blue or green – ever truly see behind and beyond the daily news, that person’s convincing but wrong opinion, that car accident that almost makes us cause another. Good vision but poor insight? How often is that the case?

Enter the Biblical, Ephesians passage with a phrase that hit me, the “eye of our heart.” Now we have a third one? We possess a third eye that sees some things better and clearer than the two I scratch every morning?

Just take our “first impression” of someone, their shoes, and hair. The two of ours takes it in and quickly assesses. The third one of our heart may take awhile before a judgment is launched and cemented in our tiny brains. The timing of the heart’s eye is socketed in faith, in experience, in trust, and in patience. What was initially quick to admit or dismiss by our facial two is now cautiously weighed and measured, and always cushioned with a touch of hope and promise by the third.

Our poor hearts. First, they take a beating for beating every moment of every day but now the hearts bear the burden of a third way of viewing and evaluating people and things around us.

I like my two visible green ones although everyone says they’re blue. Perhaps if they looked at me with their “third eye,” they made finally see that mine are green.

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS. All available on Amazon.com

“Soulful Muse,” reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,” reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture

Newest books include:
“Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats over twenty years
“Bowling Through Life’s Stages with a Christian perspective,”
Bowling as a metaphor for religion and growing up

The growing top is only as good as a sturdy bottom. So goes the tree analogy and our evolving lives.

Invisible roots that hold the tree firmly is a family’s ancestors stories told again and again to young minds about folks they will never meet except through a worn black and white photograph.

It’s also the conversations secretly heard by junior ears wearing their “pj’s” in the living room corner as the “adults” converse and laugh. These green-leafed toddlers watch and absorb the tiniest of gestures; that quick wink from grandfather, mom’s tapping foot, the uncle who can’t seem to smoke enough and his wife who can’t seem to drink enough, the silent brother-in-law who married into this tree along with his wife who’s adding up the babysitting tally, the older brother who thinks he’s an adult but only seven years ahead of you, and your baby sister who either dances a few short steps or plays a simple piano ditty.

For better or worse, (aren’t those marriage vows who choose each other?!) they are the roots of your life as your small leaf increases in size and in color.

As a mother cannot leave her child, a tree cannot leave a leaf. The child must learn to leave mother as a leaf must fall from its tree. There is no other way nature meant it. The fallen leaf is adulthood and the mother waits for a telephone call from time to time. And, so it goes.

The super green leaf has adventure after adventure as its color slowly turns amber or brown or gray. This youthful leaf will soon become the ancestor talked about in the past tense.

Winds come from many directions and the discoloring leafs slowly form a circle around themselves. And there they stay, probably sharing stories of their adventures and how they earned the colors they now possess.

Is the circle a retirement home? Is the circle the Monday morning breakfast with like-minded retirees? Or is the circle of aging leafs just the natural rhythm of life. Some aging leafs are at one corner of my porch as I write this but in front of me is a large grouping of leafs that have been blown together.

I don’t know what to make of it but I love the image of tree, leaf and us.

And, so it goes?

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS. All available on Amazon.com

“Soulful Muse,” reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,” reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture

Newest books include:
“Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats over twenty years
“Bowling Through Life’s Stages with a Christian perspective,”
Bowling as a metaphor for religion and growing up

This is my last Mass here in this glorious place. This bi-weekly experience has possibly meant more for me than for you. But I don’t know that for sure.

Months ago I’m walking through the Apple Store at Mayfair and a Sebs parishioner stops me. “Fr. Joe, I missed your sermon last Sunday because I had to work. I asked my husband what you said and he said that it was hard to explain.”

I was missing out with
the younger and family parish experiences.

After years at Alexian Village with older adults, I felt I was losing the younger and family parish experiences. I called Fr. Chuck and asked if only twice a month would be good for the parish and he said, “Yes.” It had to be the 8:00 am Mass because I had a 10:00 am Mass at Alexian.

I’m not a morning person but you woke me up as I walked down that single aisle. As the years worn on, the more awe I felt walking down the aisle of what was about to happen. Alexian Village fulfilled a meaningful niche for me for many years but you folks filled the whole bucket of what Mass means. Families – with far too many kids, oldsters holding their own as best they can, single people and strangers gathered together celebrating this time-honored ritual. Some of them were seen just once to see what it’s like, others from time to time and – how many of you, the regulars.

It was you who brought yourselves to me. Your laughter or…lack of laughter taught me how to speak to you. Your silence showed listening (and that scared me) and your chuckles taught me to “keep it coming.” And, so I did.

Getting two or four young kids dressed up
for an 8:00 a.m. Mass is remarkable…

I don’t know how long I’ve been here – 15 or 16 years is my guess. I don’t know most of your names but I know your faces and it’s the faces that intrigued me the most. Getting two or four young kids dressed up for an 8:00 a.m. Mass is remarkable when I think how my sleepy, single body dropped out of bed on those Sunday mornings.

Catholics wrongly think that “Church”
is that ancient building in Rome…

And why? It’s because of the community we call “Church.” Catholics still think that “Church” is that ancient building in Rome, but you are the Church with your child baptized here and your mom buried here – that’s the proof. You are the Church when challenged with foodless people living in your neighborhood and that distant land in El Salvador whose name took me two years to pronounce correctly. It all begins and is renewed weekly right here.

I haven’t been a total part of your parish but I’ve witnessed those of you who are total parishioners. You show each other that tender touch when words fail or that hug that speaks a thousand unspoken words. You are that smile that welcomes a new face and that smile that welcomes a face that’s been here for a hundred years. That’s “Church.” It’s not housed in Rome but it lives within all of your hearts. It’s not somewhere else but right here in this old, old church welcoming new and even newer members.

“…you all patiently waiting until I’d said
something shocking or sarcastic…”

I take with me to Christ King and St. Bernard parishes what you’ve given to me, that is inadequately stated in words. It’s your captivating spirit. Please don’t lose or forget about your spirit. It’s witnessed in your many outreach ministries and parish ministries. It’s found in your welcoming of priests – even a guy like me and you all patiently waiting until I’d said something shocking or sarcastic – it was only meant to keep you from reading the Sunday bulletin during Mass.

What do I take away from here and from you? Everything and anything meaningful to you. At times you said I preached “right on” and you also told me, sometimes, that I was a fool. That’s what I need to hear as I move completely into parish ministry. Will I be a hit? You bet I will. Will I fail? You bet I will. Will I survive? Gloria Gaynor already answered that question for me.

And the music.

What will I miss at St. Sebs? You’d never guess it but it was watching your children grow up. (And watching old people get even older.) And the music. Michael Kamenski is an oyster that is always open waiting to be opened even larger along with a beautiful choir that most parishes would kill for. It’s Michael’s cantors who put Barbra Streisand to shame while I always thought, “What a shame that those psalms responses were so short.” (“Just a couple more verses, please?”)

Besides the routine Sunday Masses, it’s the Christmas Vigils that I loved. I got to be a part of an over-filled church for the 10:30 pm service (Midnight! Mass) searching for hope, sharing mercy and praying for even more divine guidance and hope to see us through an ending year and a new one soon to open. (One year I had the 4:00 pm Christmas Vigil, slated for “children.” I had a couple of cute points to make for the sermon until I saw the church fill up and then fill up even more – with more adults than children. I panicked. I went outside and had a smoke and came up with an entirely new sermon, more substantial. Thank goodness for experience and a three-minute cigarette!)

When I left Alexian Village (or Alexian Village left me), there was a prayer service held in my honor and I asked to speak. After seven pages, I conclude to all of you at St. Sebastians what I told the Alexian residents, “This experience was never about my paycheck, it was never about my duty, it was never my job but it’s always been my pleasure.”

Thank you for allowing me to be a small part of your lives. Thank you for being a surprising, unexpected presence in my priestly and personal life.

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS. All available on Amazon.com

“Soulful Muse,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,”
reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture
“Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats over twenty years
“Bowling Through Life’s Stages with a Christian perspective,”
Bowling as a metaphor for religion and growing up

It’s a mixture of molasses, brown sugar and ketchup mixed in between navy beans, bacon and ground beef in a slow cooker for ten hours that make an outdoor event enjoyable.

My sister’s party was a hit and her neighborhood friends tested or tasted my brownish goo delight. Curious, though how the scent enveloped my humble abode. In the cooking periods, I didn’t mind the growing scent because it was being prepared for a special occasion. Waking up the next morning to its lingering whiffs had me anticipate the yearly occasion. The continuing mid afternoon odors caused me to wonder how long this lingering would linger? Carpet cleaner? Move to a new apartment?

The evening event began and I delivered my heavy, dark-ladened delicacy to the party. Compliments were accepted except I thought it was too watery but no one agreed with me. 1:00 a.m., I returned home and lo and behold, the whiffing decided to hang around a while longer.

Pots are thoroughly washed, cleaned and placed away but walking around the apartment still had that “something” in the air. “Are my cats going to smell like this forever?” I wonder. The party’s over and the food’s been enjoyed. Next event, please?

Lingering memories and thoughts fill the pots and pans within our lives. Good, bad or indifferent; the hanging around part can be welcomed or bothersome. And, “lingering” is the best of words when applied to unfulfilled or regrettable times of our lives. “Remaining” is the word we like and is easily attached to times we thought should have been longer – “Just a one more hour with this friend or that movie, that graduation or wedding celebration or a dying parent.”

How do we handle lingering and remaining? The longer you live the more you need to deal with those two words, words that can either cause a restless night of sleep or a soothing one. We’d like to open the windows to be free of regrets, sometimes as thick as molasses. We’d like the remaining to live strongly in our hearts, recalling details as often as possible.

The stalwart Psalm 23 resolves both of our problems. “You set a table in front of me in the sight of my foes.” Who wants to eat with their foes? At a table of plenty, you enjoy the fruits of remaining moments and also keep a keen eye on the vegetables of lingering regrets promised to never be repeated. Both are a part of life’s meal, nourishing and fulling.

It’s been a couple of days now and my cats smell the same. The apartment windows are wide open and Saturday’s meal becomes a “remaining” in spite of those “lingerings” scents. I hope my evening meal keeps Psalm 23 in my mind. It concludes, “You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS. All available at Amazon.com

“Soulful Muse,” reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,” reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture

Newest books include:
“Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats over twenty years
“Bowling Through Life’s Stages with a Christian perspective,”
Bowling as a metaphor for religion and growing up

Jesus uses “wheat, seed and yeast” to describe the Kingdom of God.

“Welcome to the quiz show, ‘Take Your Pick Sunday.’ Take your pick of which one best describes you: wheat, seed or yeast.

Wheat, seed or yeast. If church were a quiz show, we’d have a lovely, lonely housewife from 57th and Lloyd (a street in Milwaukee, WI.) as a contestant. “Mame, if you want a chance to spin the big wheel for the bigger prize, I’m going to need your answer.”

She says, “Seed,” and the audience sighs. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” I’d say to her because I’m the TV host, “The correct answer was ‘yeast.’ Go back to being a housewife.”

Roughly a 35% of choosing the correct answer and missed it. Sounds like religion to me! Jesus is the TV host. He doesn’t wear a tie but has sandals. We’re each given that housewife’s question and one chance to answer correctly.

Or maybe the three choices are different for each of us. Another set of three may be, “believe, not believe or kinda believe.” Take your pick on my left. My right side’s set of three may be that person, “hate, ignore or accept”. The front rows of folks have this set of three: “a true vote for Trump, a vote for Trump because you didn’t like Hillary or a true vote for Hillary.” Take your pick.

But religion is not about choice or choosing. Religion is about a passionate belief in a set of uplifting principles and authentic worship that supports and inspires you, challenges you and stands on all sides of you, your entire life. That’s religion.

There is no quiz show when it comes to religion. The correct answer to my quiz is “D.” The answer is all three: wheat, seed, and yeast. Because, all three deal with growth – moving from one place to another, maturing from one thought to a new insight, deeply owning as we age what we took for granted in grade school. Now, your religion no longer “has you” or “owns you” like the old joke about “pray, pay and obey.” Now you have religion. You’ve grown into it.

What was an interesting story about a prodigal son actually happened in your life, the widow cleaning her house for a silly lost coin triggered something significant in your journey toward a deeper faith, walking on the other side of the road to avoid the wounded Samaritan finally touched something inside of you.

Those of you who know me know that I always have a song rocking away in my head. I love music, well here it is. While typing this reflection, a song from a 70’s rock group called “Steeler’s Wheel” came to mind. I think it was their only song. Forget its boy/girl theme and instead insert religion, belief and spiritual growth.

“Well I don’t know why I came here tonight,
I got the feeling that something ain’t right,
I’m so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I’m wondering how I’ll get down the stairs,
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right,
here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you
Yes I’m stuck in the middle with you,
And I’m wondering what it is I should do,
It’s so hard to keep this smile from my face,
Losing control, yeah, I’m all over the place,
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you
Trying to make some sense of it all,
But I can see that it makes no sense at all,
Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor,
‘Cause I don’t think that I can take anymore
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you…”

We existed in God’s eyes before we were born and one day will return to our Creator. Our lives are that “middle” and we’re trying to figure it out along with fellow “clowns” and “jokers” – all of us “stuck” in this middle. And through faith, we are able to “unstick” ourselves by reflecting on the qualities and benefits of the simple things of life: wheat, seed and yeast, and then build our lives from there.

The lonely housewife from 57th and Lloyd was correct. She could pick any of the three: wheat, seed or yeast and be right. And she would have won a swing at the big wheel for the bigger prize – eternal life.

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS. All available at Amazon.com
“Soulful Muse,” reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,” reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture

Newest books include:
“Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats
“Bowling Through Life’s Stages,”
Bowling as a metaphor for religion and growing up

In the middle of the Catholic Mass, the priest begins a prayer with four words attributed to our love to God: “right, just, duty and salvation.”

This beginning sentence is often (if not every time) hurried through to get to the next  paragraphs. But what about those four powerful words? Four flippantly said words as though what’s being said is, “Nice day today, isn’t it?”

There is nothing “nice” about “right, just, duty, and salvation.” These four words propels us toward something greater and beyond ourselves in the Kingdom of God to come and at the same time connects us to that greater and that beyond in the Kingdom of God right here and now. Can there be a better definition of religion?

Right

It’s opposite is wrong which leaves only one choice. (Who’d choose wrong, unless you’re Walter White?) Right or wrong. There is no middle, no in between or never even a slight mark connecting those two words. In lofty, solid principles, “right” has been clearly defined throughout the ages as well as its been practically adapted to fit the age in which we live. We can think of how many social issues when “right and wrong” collided until the “right” surfaced. Slavery. Women (voting, work, and, pay), Worker’s rights. Gays. What is “right” to our glorious Creator is the question we ask ourselves, in prayer and in action, with each emerging issue.

Just

The blind lady of justice shows us what is just. She’s blind. She’s blinded until all the information is accumulated, assimilated and properly presented to her. Then, only does the blind lady of justice see. She can only see what is before her and presented to her. That’s the blindness of justice until you’re able to see and witness for yourself where “just” lies and where “just” just fails and is lacking. That’s the justice sought out by any religion. (Interesting that it’s a “Lady” of justice, isn’t it?)

Duty

Tricky one, duty is. Just do what you’re told to do without reservation? Just obey? The trick of “duty” is to trick yourself into figuring out what your “duty” is tricking you toward. Is it only this or that or is it that some thing that you haven’t considered? Duty in military service is a mandate but in real life, duty is a discernment. We hate the word discernment because that means homework for us. But homework is the personal “duty” for each of us. If you don’t do your own “duty” homework, then someone else will truly and inevitably do it for and to you. And then you’re stuck with their duty for you until you “duty-up” yourself.

Here’s a duty exclusively for the oldsters among us. We got the duties of youth and adulthood pretty well understood and expected but what is your duty during this third stage of your life? (Grandparents can add at least twenty years to their lives these days.) What duty do you need to complete about your past? What duty can you serve this very day and tomorrow until your tomorrows run out?

If you’re just waiting to die then I can assure you that death will happen. If you wish to live to your fullest during this tender, sometimes called “borrowed time,” then what do you do during this sacred time? How many times I’ve heard, “I never thought I’d live this long!” Stop making that silly remark (as if anyone knows how long life will last) and start living the answer. That’s making “borrowed time,” your time.

Salvation

Salvation is the shortest of my reflection. “Let the chips fall where they may,” said someone about an unknown future. It also applies to our unknown eternal future. I say if the first three are carefully cared for and cared about then the unknown fourth of salvation will easily follow.

The priest may say those four words quickly but within our hearts, please hold them dear, because they are our words offered and given to God as a response to His gift to us: a life that is worthy of life and authentically lived. And only we, with the grace of God, can make at least three of them happen.

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS. All available at Amazon.com
“Soulful Muse,” reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,” reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture

Newest books include:
“Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats
“Bowling Through Life’s Stages,”
Bowling as a metaphor for growing up

Who needs a health club when you have a job!

Jumping to conclusions
Flying off the handle
Dodging responsibility
Pushing your luck
Pushing the sale
“Just punt”
Doing an endrun around projects
You’re stepping out of line
You dodged that bullet
Just throw it in the trash
“Let’s take a time-out”
Throw in the towel
“Let’s put that on hold”
Rushing to conclusions
Shoving a knife in your co-workers back
Knocking the business down
Circling the issue
Stepping on her toes
“Let’s take a step back”
Tripping each other up
Running around in circles
This is over my head
Run over by a bus
Racing toward the deadline
Sidestepping expectations
Dancing around the issue
Stretching the truth
Pulling for others
Dragging out old grudges
and finally…
Butting heads together

And it’s all done before lunch!

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS. All available at Amazon.com
“Soulful Muse,” reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,” reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and U.S. culture

Newest books include:
“Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats
“Bowling Through Life’s Stages,”
Bowling as a metaphor for growing up

When you imagine what a prophet looks like, most likely it’s a raggedy dressed, messy beard (always a man, by the way), standing on a street corner yelling at everyone passing by but no one is stopping to listen.

That’s our imagination of a prophet. How would you imagine a righteous person? That’s easy. A blah sort of person, sitting in a corner of the room watching everyone else and thinking to him/herself, “I’m glad I’m not like them.” A righteous person, indeed.

Well, you know where I’m headed in this sermon, I’m about to dismiss both of those images.

If I went around the church today and asked each of you if you’re a prophet and a righteous person – you’d all say, “no,” but then think to yourselves, “I’m ‘kinda’ both.”

Prophet

I can tell you today that you’d all be ‘kinda’ correct. I like that word kinda. It has a middle ground feeling to it. “Are you happy today?” Kinda. “Are you feeling okay today?” Kinda.

A prophet informs the present because of understanding the past with a hint toward the future. Want to hear that again? It’s important.

Jesus was a prophet as well as how many others we could name from the Bible and over the centuries. Martin Luther King, Jr., Oscar Romero, Thomas Merton, your mom. Wait! Your mom!?

Yes, your mom. She’s the one who told you not to put your hand on the stove. You didn’t listen and wonder how those painful blisters got there. Because you see, your mom learned that from her mom who learned it from her mom. None of them listened until the blister-thing happened. Now that prophetic message is communicated generation after generation to non-listening children’s ears. That’s the prophet each of us is.

“Do your homework if you want to get into a decent college.”
“Do the dishes because you’ll be washing them the rest of your life.”
“Learn to iron your dress shirts, it makes a difference for your first interview.”
“Wash your hands,” for obvious reasons.

When questions of faith arise each of us can be a prophet in our own personal way. We have centuries to fall back upon and our own experiences to build upon. That’s what makes a prophet. A prophet informs the present because of understanding the past with a hint toward the future.

Righteousness.

We tend to think of righteousness as an end we achieve and settle into but it’s really the quality of our lives lived each day. Some days we may hit the nail on the head in our behavior and the next day falters a bit. But we always have an open eye toward what is just, dignified and acceptable in God’s eyes.

I think one of the most beautiful parts of being a Christian is that we don’t need to perfectly land each day. We’re empowered, however, to keep trying, each day. Christians kinda do the right thing and other times kinda fail. But, we admit our failings and promise God to try better the next time. No one – God, angels or anyone else can ask no more or less of ourselves. So, please keep trying to be “kinda” prophetic and righteous people.

Now. I’m not kinda finished talking, I am finished.

And thank you for kinda listening.

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS. All available at Amazon.com:
“Soulful Muse,” reflections on the Catholic Church and American culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,” reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and American culture

Newest books are “Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats
“Bowling Through Life’s Stages,”
Bowling as a metaphor for us growing up

 

I know I look like Brad Pitt but I don’t want to be him. I wouldn’t want to be Tom Hanks or Tom Cruise either.

For the oldsters, it may be Douglas Fairbanks, Gary Cooper or Humphrey Bogart. Wouldn’t want to be any of them.

Is it because of their fame, money or large estates? Nope. It’s because of their stars. They’re usually the reason you go to a theater. They’re the drawing card.

What I do want to be and I hope I am, is a character actor. A character actor. I’m not sure what that means but I know its purpose. Character actors make the story in a movie move forward. They inform and enlighten the star of the movie. Often character actors are very smart people – they know everything about marriage yet they’re not married. (Go figure.) They don’t make much money, usually a have happy job and are quite content with themselves. I guess that’s why the star turns to them for confidence, perspective or saying to the star, “just get off your butt and go get the girl of your dreams.”

Jesus is telling us all to become character actors. Not the stars with top billing but secondary actors with a more important role in the lives of others. “Take my yoke” and place it upon your shoulder, Jesus says. In other words, take my problems and make them your own, as best you can.

You’re watching a movie and you see this character actor doing what characters do. You swear you’ve seen him before but you can’t remember the name of the other film. And, you can’t remember his name. At a party you hear someone say, “I know I’ve seen him in a lot of films, who is he; who is she, go Google it.”

Believe it or not but Jesus was a character actor. He wasn’t the star of the greatest movie ever made. His dad was the star. Jesus helped to move the story line forward to each of us. Jesus uses every preposition possible (“with, in, through”) to connect himself to his dad but in that union the center of attention is the star, our Creator.

Louis Guzman has been in 145 television shows and movies. I know you don’t know his name but if you saw his face, you’d say, “I know that guy!”

A good friend is telling you a troubling story and you could easily interrupt with a troubling story of your own (or trumping your friend with an even more troubling story) but you keep your mouth shut. If you were to speak then there’d be two stars on life’s stage instead of the necessary one. You listen as best you can. You’re able to console, give advice and keep a listening stare to support your friend.

A “listening stare,” a good term. It’s golden in its meaning and in measuring a friend’s yoke that’s been placed upon your shoulders.

I’m not the star. I’m a character in faith, a character in friendship and a character in fact.

Did you know that Rosie O’Donnell was a character actor before becoming a star? Did you know that if it wasn’t for Rosie O’Donnell, Meg Ryan would still be listening to the radio talk show host…Meg would never have returned the engagement ring to Bill Pullman…She’d never have seen the Valentine lit up on the Empire State Building…Tom Hanks would be still be talking to the talk show host and grieving his dead wife…and the kid (Ross Malinger, by the way) would have grown up without a mom.

Be a character actor. Carry someone’s yoke upon your shoulder. It may very well lessen the yoke that you carry. You can always try to become a star next year.

Books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.
Available at Amazon.com:
“Soulful Muse,” reflections on the Catholic Church and American culture
“Living Faith’s Mysteries,” reflections on the Christian seasons
of Advent/Christmas & Lent/Easter
“Spiritual Wonderings and Wanderings,”
reflections on the Catholic Church and American culture

The newest book is “Letters From My Cats,”
a collection of letters written by my cats

If someone asks me what day it is I now say that, “I think it’s Saturday.” I add “think” so they don’t put me away but inside myself, I truly believe in the Saturday-ness of it all right now.

My alarm-clock-wet-nose-cat routinely rubs his orifice into my face and I see that it’s 6:00 a.m. when I need to get up…wait, what’s the “need?” Bathroom time is still okay at my age. Whether it’s 8 or 9:00 a.m. doesn’t seem to matter much, unless I’m really tired and unable to fall asleep the night before.

My title doesn’t exist in the corporation who bought my corporation. Uniformity does make a business run more smoothly across state lines. “Who’s this guy with a title that doesn’t exist?” “I haven’t met him and never will but this is just weird.” Since they took over, “Catholic” and “compassionate” are posted everywhere I walked at work. I felt comforted that stability and strength would make us an even better facility.

It’s 10:00 a.m. now and I’ve already read the paper and caffeinated myself for a job I no longer have. My friends and two cats are comforting but the cats kinda stare at me wondering why I’m still here and it’s 10:00 a.m. I think of writing this now but then thought of doing it tomorrow. “What day is tomorrow?” I wondered and then quickly say to myself, “Why, it’s Saturday!” I’ll do it on Saturday.

One good friend offered counsel telling me that this is a “dry run” for what will last for me until death five years from now. The statement wasn’t that counseling but I was amused at having a test run for doing nothing a few years ahead of me.

True retirement must mean volunteering for a worthy cause or breakfast with like-minded friends lamenting over the destruction of the world while they are actually talking about their own destruction, as in death. (The world will continue on without you guys, trust me.)

Most of my immediate time is reflecting on what happened as though my thinking could change events. It happened. I’m here. What I need to do is to be “peaceful with myself” as my sister wished. I love the phrase because my head and sleepless nights are anything but. My task, during this temporary time, is to divide up the day so that something ends and something else begins. Otherwise, this super quiet day seems endless with a heart and mind dwelling on a place that no longer exists for me.

“Oh well, that’s their problem now,” I say to myself when I sufficiently solved all their upcoming problems with grace and diligence for twenty-two years. It’s only been two days but the shock is fully felt. I need to admit to myself that this is the beginning of something new and exciting.

That was another friend’s advise, “new and exciting.” I know that it’s Saturday but now I want to make it to Noon to decide what to do with my endless afternoon and a too-much-soul-searching evening.