Glue & Faith

Posted on November 29, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

glueWe don’t think of glue as a theological word but is there a more significant word for our lives of faith?  Glue binds broken pieces, reconnects pieces that fit together and is, well, sticky.

We often hear that “mom was the glue of our family,”  We immediately know what that  means.  We can imagine the situations where she was called upon a word of advise, a leaning shoulder, or carefully chosen words of caution.  We can imagine the situations where she felt it better not to say anything in spite of her feelings or the times when she did speak because she felt it important.

Glue.  Every home has it.  We hope we never have to use it.  Everybody knows how to use it but few of us can do it without making a bigger mess.  Glue is only used when something is broken.  I’ve thrown glue away because it was no longer useful.  (It wasn’t used and it glued to itself.  That’s a good thing, isn’t it?)  Nothing broken during the glue’s lifespan.  There are other times when something breaks and I reach for the only thing that can possibly piece together what I don’t want to lose.

It is the broken times of life when we reach out an open hand to our faith.  We can take our faith for granted for years until something or someone breaks some thing or someone.  We want to be whole again; we want to regain what we felt was lost; we want to heal and mend the factions and broken pieces of our lives.  We reach for the glue of faith.  The application is simple even if some spills.  It’s only the first step.  Then time is needed to dry.  The item, just glued, cannot be moved for fear that it might break apart once again.  After a time we are able to place it where we can see it; now mended and glued.

There are also the heavy duty glue jobs in our lives.  This calls for something extra special.  It’s not just glue that we reach for, it’s “crazy glue.”  Only a glue called crazy can heal and mend this broken relationship or important piece in our lives when everyone around us says to “move on” or “just forget about it.”  It’s the crazy love that forgives even when forgiveness is the most difficult feeling to express.  It is the crazy love that easily sees imperfections but loves still.  It is the crazy love that we know deep inside does not originate with ourselves but is greater than us and gives the strength and the craziness to be loving, forgiving and hopeful.

With all the political divisiveness in our country these days, a friend of mine defined the two political parties for me.  He said that republicans see reality as it really is and democrats only see what is possible and hopeful.  Interesting.  Perhaps the glue needed for our lives calls for a little dab of each on each other.  Faith shows us in stark clarity who we are if we are willing to look and examine ourselves.  Faith also gives us a dab of a hopeful future.  We hope that both stick with us.

All of us can mend, heal and fix as best we can those broken parts of our lives.  We only need a ready tub of glue at our disposal.  Jesus is the glue bonding this life to his Father.  But remember, don’t get any on your fingers.

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Advent: Mark 13:33-37, First Sunday of Advent

Posted on November 28, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

indexI could be making a million dollars a years.  Instead I’m here with you today.  All the money I could be making from my television show, books and DVDs to ease me easily into retirement.

And it’d be all based on fear.  I would scare you into submission in the name of the Lord.  I would raise my voice at the right times, slow my tempo to let it sink into your heart and also yell when I thought I’ve lost you.  I’d quote selected bible passages using a teleprompter since I’m a good Catholic and can’t quote scripture.  I’d tell you about the gospel about “being alert,” “you do not know when the lord of the house is coming,” and “may he not…find you sleeping.”  I’d have your attention because I would make you scared of yourself and of God’s surprising, unannounced visit.

It works for the government, we needed to invade Iraq for our country’s security and we know how that turned out.  I’d stand up here in my $1,000.00 suit and fancy car outside all paid for from your unknowing the time of Jesus’ return and the wrath that will follow it.  Fear.  I can’t miss and you cannot win.

Well, I don’t have the fancy suit but I do have the nice car and I offer you this season of Advent.  Advent is a four week preparation preparing us with what we end up with faithfully every year.   It’s preparation for… who-knows-what?  Will this Christmas be any different than the last one?  Will we slowly become someone else in four weeks time?  During these four weeks we are asked to be attentive, a little more sensitive, a few less naps (just in case the big guy decides to descend upon us), and act like people in waiting.

Gee, I wonder what Advent reminds me of?  Oh, I got it.  Life!  Life is being attentive, sensitive, less naps and people lying in wait.  Short lives or long ones, Advent is a big waiting game.  I see these guys on TV and laugh to myself because fear is such a simple sell.  Anyone and any group can promote fear and scare you into their silly agenda.

Today we put out the single cow to indicate the beginning of Advent.  The other Nativity characters will appear as the four weeks progress because that’s the way life unfolds for us.  One day and one week at a time.

In the fable “Jake and Beanstalk,” Jack needs to sell what?  Like a biblical parable full of metaphors, in the fable the cow is a metaphor for “mother.”  Jack needs to sell mother, giver of meat and necessary milk for magic beans.  Magic beans that are then transformed through his life into what he becomes and who he is be.

We bargain with life when the mother’s work is complete.  We need to find our own wits in order to outwit what perils lay before us.  Advent is about waiting and during this wait is encounters, episodes, situation comedies, tragic love stories, romantic escapades and a list of unlimited experiences.  It is Advent, it is life.

I don’t make a million dollars a year but each day I feel like a million bucks in my encounters, experiences and in life itself.  I don’t need TV’s fear mongers.  Each Advent day, I mean everyday of life, I need God’s mercy, God’s palm and somebody to buy this cow I need to sell.

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“We Lose A Library”

Posted on November 28, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

index“When an old person dies, we lose a library,” is a loosely stated African proverb.  How true.  How much that person has read throughout life and digested from fun fiction to telling biographies to shocking newspaper headlines.

Digested but remembered?  Who knows what we retain that is important to us as best we can and hope to never forget.  I’ll spend days trying to recall a star’s name from a movie even if I could easily “Google” it.  (It’s not a verb, by the way.)

The lost library is the memories that go inside the casket along with the person.  Family names and episodes that helped form that person, that personality; the context of that person’s life.  We can look at charts of our genealogy along with arrows stretching up and down but it’s worthless without the narratives that embodied those faceless names.  It is the stories – funny, tragic, circumstantial that create a personality, a person.

The library may have been years of reading Reader’s Digest because time was precious or it may have contained philosophy, theology even if the reader didn’t understand it all.  Periodicals may have been what the pastor recommended and may have also included ones he didn’t recommend.  Those were the fun ones.  A movie line I like has Sean Connery as the mentor with his student nearby.  He’s reading the “National Enquirer” and the student asks, “You’re such a brilliant writer, why do you bother that rag?”  Sean quietly says, “The New York Times is for dinner, the Enquirer is for dessert.”

Losing a life, especially one that has aged, loses so much of what was experienced, read, said and unsaid.  I smile to myself at funerals wishing that during the vigil someone could place a cup under the deceased ears.  From the ears would flow forth all that that person heard through his/her many living years.  This information is to be shared with all the survivors – no matter the content, it is the library of life that is being preserved.

To me that sure beats a family chart with arrows pointing in different directions.

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One, Tiny Flame

Posted on November 26, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

47281805There it is, now lit.  It took longer to light this time because the wick is lower and I just can’t seem to reach deep enough inside to relight it.  But I did.

The house is still heated, I can’t rely on that little flame to flame forth a comfortable, warm winter home.  Heck, if I quickly stood up right now I think it’d go out.  Oh wait.  Forget that.  I just tried it and it didn’t go out; this little, small flame on my kitchen table with a supposed spruce scent that “fills the room” as the box falsely described.  I didn’t buy the candle for the scent but for the small flame although a nice scent would be nice.

It flickers, ever so slowly as it tries to keep itself alive.  The heating wax surrounding it allows the tiny flame to stay lit.  Is it enough to turn off the kitchen light?  I’m not even trying because it’s a silly question.  If it can’t heat, it certainly can’t illuminate.

I like the teeny flame because it seems to show everything when its barely shows anything.  If folks walked into my kitchen now they would not say, “Oh, what a beautiful flame you have going here.”  It wouldn’t be noticed.  It would remain an unsaid piece in the room.  None would smell the scent as the box described and our conversation would move to topics that interest them.

But they are not here.  It is just me and a single, miniature version of those real flames that surround a veterans memorial or a park’s statue.  My tiny flame doesn’t mark great and grand events but only the passing thoughts that pass my mind as quickly as they enter.  Random, varied; none solved or resolved.  Perhaps a few reenactments of a personal play that cannot be re-acted run through my mind but it seems productive to try even if the reproduction turns out the same way.  It’s my single flame.  I can have an opening and closing night in one hour if I want to.

I considered a larger candle, hence a larger flame but thought, “Why?” as I stare at  my small version.

Wax builds up as the flame continues which can pose problems for the tiny thing that neither brightens or scents as the box described.  The surrounding wax can keep the tiny flame vibrant and alive but the same wax can also drown it. Without careful observation on my part the wax may extinguish my undersized flame.  Interesting how the needed wax can also become the drowning wax.  I need to keep the minute flame lit every minute I observe it.

One flame.  No scent in spite of the box description.  No one around to comment, criticize, weigh or measure my kitchen flame or my momentary thoughts.  Watching the heat-filled wax build up now so it doesn’t triumph.

It’s my night.  It is my single flame.  I don’t mind that I miss the scent which the box promised.  It’s my flame.  And I enjoy it every single night.

______________________Key_____________________

single flame:  the pilot light of our lives that keeps burning through all times of life.
scent:  the promises of life are not always realized, real or imagined.
wax: those who support and encourage you keep the flame alive and those who intrude and make you like them overwhelms the single flame.
re-enactments: upon reflection we try to reshape made decisions, unmade decisions, missed opportunities and opportunities that went sour as though enacting them again will change the result.
single flame:  what gets us out of bed in the morning and lights the day ahead, allows a good night sleep to prepare us for the next day.

 

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The Gift

Posted on November 17, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

There it was.  Wrapped in bright, shiny, red paper with a fancy bow on top.  It’s been under the Christmas tree forever or only a few hours.  The waiting kills me, always has.  All these barriers between now and then.  We still haven’t eaten.  Dessert takes forever.  I sure hope that no one wants coffee.  That only drags it out with your choice of sugar and what type of milk.  Whatever happened to just a quick cup of black coffee?

A gift is a special occasion.  It’s the surprise, unspoken communication between the giver and the receiver.  The only control was the purchase.  What happens when opened is open to anything.

The laughter and the chatter (some you hear, others you over hear) continues, a suspension of life in this small, allotted time.  It’s time spent with friends that becomes even more precious as the years run together.  It’s still there under the Christmas tree.  Someone put another gift on top of it.  That means a further delay.  Maybe I shouldn’t have had that cup of coffee.  I’m getting nervous.  The friends I asked told me what they wanted.  “Nothing fancy, just small things,” they all said to appear humble and unassuming.  No gift would have been all right but we were expected to bring one to exchange.

Have you ever reached a point in time when time just stopped?  The guests are all mingling and doing their party-type thing but you somehow find yourself stepping back and observing it all.  In your mind you are filming this gathering, like a director only without you directing.  It’s happening before you and it is happening now.  It will not be duplicated again like this, ever.  It may try to repeat itself but can never duplicated.  I see my gift now, two gifts deep under the Christmas tree.

Time finally resumes.  Bathroom visits are completed and people seem ready for what I wanted since I’ve arrived.  What?  Is that a third gift hiding mine?  Now they’ll never see it.  It’s what I’ve been waiting for.  Does mental telepathy help as I transmit my gift’s description to the one in charge?  “It’s the gift wrapped in the bright, shiny red paper with the fancy bow on it,” I keep repeating knowing that she’s over there laughing and missing my sonic message.  The laughter grows louder as each gift is presented and quickly ripped open.  Academy Awards could be given for the facial expressions; wondering whether the gift is truly accepted or just acknowledged.

“It’s the red wrapped one,” I say to myself as more time passes and the guests seem to grow restless.  “It’s the one behind those two.  I’ll quit smoking if it’s handed out now!” I murmur to God knowing Him doesn’t believe me either.  Within a single moment all my waiting is captured in a moment.  Presented by the host.  Carefully unwrapped by the recipient.  The surprise look looks authentic as I smile to myself and feel a warming in my heart.  He liked it.

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Phobias: ReVisited

Posted on November 17, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

530.PhobiaAgoraphobia  fear of choice,  –  you may have to live with it.
Claustrophobia fear of being left alone because you’ve successfully alienated everyone around you.
Homophobia  fear of yourself.
Necrophobia  fear that the casket will not close because of your weight.
Pedophobia  fear that you’re not 18 anymore and that it’ll only get worse.

And a few of my own…
Clericalphobia  fear of the priest coming to dinner will not know when to leave.
Rowphobia  a Catholic fear that only the front row is available.
Unionphobia  the fear that I’m not getting what other people are.
Righteousphobia  a fear that perhaps other people are not always wrong.
Airportphobia  the fear that you will actually stop and read the pamphlet condemning you to hell.
Cellphonephobia  the fear that everyone around you knows that you’re holding the phone just to show how unimportant and lonely you really are.
Sighphobia  the sigh that you emit during lunch to convince everyone how busy you really aren’t.

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Bless This Cane of Mine

Posted on November 17, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

thCAB05IRP“Lord, you have given me many gifts and opportunities in my life and I hope I’ve lived up to Your hope for me.  I’m not sure if You’ve given me this cane but please inspire me to see it as a gift.

I cling to independence as much as the next person.  I admit that this change is not easy for me.  But I also admit that this addition is necessary.

Moses needed a prop to keep the people of Israel focused on You and Your eternal power.  My this can empower me to live life as fully as I lived it before.

May I use it frequently and carefully and know that gifts from You come in shapes and sizes.

Who knows, I may be able to close a door more easily with my new extra extension – my now blessed and necessary cane.”

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The Red Chair

Posted on November 17, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

3007-067-red-chair-1There it is at the end of the hall.  I am see it clearly.  How long will it take me to reach it?

I remember, just last, how easily that distance was reached.  Now it teaks me longer because my steps have gotten shorter.  But I don’t mind, I know what I want it is as the end of the hall.

It’s funny because I always thought time moved so slowly.  The waits and the plans only heightened time’s slow pace.  All the special events never seemed to arrive and when they finally did, they left just as quickly.  Thinking back on them now, it seems like two lifetimes ago instead of my own one.  All the time that has passed.  Wow.

My steps may be slower now but I see it; boy, it looks nice and no one else is around.  I know I can reach it if I just continue forward.

I always thought not knowing was worse than knowing.  Yet, why do I need to know all my medical numbers and percentages?

I find there is more mystery to my life than I ever thought possible.  And I like that.  The mystery of life, death, time, eternity…it all seems so familiar yet mysterious to me now.  I remember thinking how foreign or alien they were to me in my quick-moving life and movements.  Now, I know not knowing every fact and detail.  It is okay not knowing.  What scares me now is whether I will finally be at the end of this hall.

Did the hallway expand since yesterday?  I think it did.  I think they made it longer last night while I sleeping.  I’m not sure of that, though.

The time I spend now is the time I know.  I like that a lot.  When my yesterdays total more than my tomorrows, I realize that time is holy.  It is holy because it is precious.  I guess just life itself.  Because it is so fragile, it must be valued in special way, not like anything else we know.

Well, I don’t believe it.  I made it.  Here it is.  All that planning and waiting and here I am already.  I wasn’t so bad.  Here’s the chair that I eyed a long time ago and that I wish to spend a moment contemplating moments; the holiness of time my life.

Oh darn, I forget my purse at the end of the hall.

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A German’s Hope

Posted on November 16, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

spanish-tongue-twisterAmericans have a hard time expressing themselves or finding the right words to describe how they’re feeling.  An example would be, “Like it was a totally awesome movie, dawg.”  I rest my case.  The Germans may help us with this simple sentence that expresses the very best in us but unfortunately we are unable to say it out loud unless you stand at your bathroom mirror and try your very best.

“The Bildungsroman toward Weltanschauung to suave Weltschmerz in every Zeitgeist to bring Schadenfreude especially through Gesamtkunstwerk.”

Roughly translated it tells others that in our formation (Bild…) toward a healthy world view (Welt…) addressing the world’s pain (Welts), through all generations (Zeit…) we experience joy (Schad…) especially through works of art (Gesam…).

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Our Christmas “Hero”

Posted on November 16, 2014 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

18“Ahhhhh. It’s finally finished.  The wars have ended.  Famine is now an ancient word that future generations will ask, ‘What was that like back then?’  Unemployment, fare wages, excellent healthcare will have solved themselves, all because of this historic and faith-filled day.”

Wow.  That was close.  We thought this stuff would go on forever.  Thanks to Christmas, we don’t have to worry any longer.  Who made this all happen?  Was it Batman?  Superman?  Spider man?  No, it couldn’t have been anyone disguised.  We want to see who our heroes are.  We don’t need masks, capes or fast cars.  We want Bruce Willis in all his Christmas movies when he overcomes all obstacles and every villain with every new twist and turn when we expect his certain death but he continues onward until the final two minutes is complete, complete with wife in his arms.  (And always with short quips tossed at us throughout his ordeal.)

That’s who we want to thank for this historic transformation of our world.  Oh wait?  I don’t think it’s Bruce Willis, I think it’s Clint Eastwood who just shoots everyone standing before him until he’s the last person standing; all without the quips or even complete sentences.  He’s the solver to the problems plaguing us for generations.

No, it’s not Bruce or Clint as much as we would hope one of them would be.  The problem is that the problem lies within us.  Always has and always will.  Our hero is that darn guy who told us that if we live within him then the solutions will unfold themselves.

Darn it all.  We wanted someone else to do it.  We wanted to rely on someone else so that if it failed we could blame that someone.  We wanted someone else to do what we were created to do.  We just want to sit back, with popcorn in lap, and watch someone else perform the miracle this day provides.

Jesus Christ puts the worldly blame upon us and Jesus Christ puts the world’s responsibility upon us.  Upon each of us.

We eat him up each time we gather in prayer.  Do we eat him up for our own salvation or is it for the salvation of the world?  Do we eat him up so that we feel better or is it for the betterment of our world?  Do we eat him up so that our worries and hurts hurt a little less or is it to ease our hurtful world?

“Justice and mercy shall kiss,” is one of my favorite biblical passages.  Kissing is such an intimate exchange.  Is it possible that the NRA can kiss the mother who lost her daughter to a gun?  Is it possible that political egos can somehow merge and even kiss to forge a future of mercy?

Is it possible for me to reduce myself at times to allow you to increase?  Even if it’s temporary, let me get smaller so you may enlarge.

Jesus Christ tricked us.  The ultimate “trick or treat” happened at Christmas.  Jesus, the hero, tricked us by telling and showing us that we are the treat.  We have him living and breathing within us.

Of Bruce, Clint or Jesus; which would we choose?  Let’s hope and pray this sacred night every year that we would never choose the first two because then we’d only be eating popcorn and observing; not involved, invested and inconveniently inclusive.

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