Lent, Third Sunday, “B”

Posted on February 27, 2024 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

“We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to many.

Suffering sometimes seems unbearable. For Christians, the cross can make us very uncomfortable; it makes the temptation to “hide from suffering” more difficult. The cross reminds us that suffering is. It happens. It is part of life, and there is no getting around it. The only true spiritual path is the one that passes through suffering. By looking at the cross (sometimes it feels more like the cross is staring into us), we are given the courage to face our suffering and the suffering of others. . . .

Many years ago, one of my Dominican brothers, Fr. Jim Campbell, OP, was sitting in a Zen-Christian meditation hall in Japan, trying to [meditate] while suffering from excruciating back pain, for which he ultimately underwent surgery. Feeling he could go on no longer, he was about to abandon the practice when he glanced up and saw a small wooden cross on the wall. He said years later, “It all made sense—the cross, the pain, the promise of liberation. I knew then why I was a Christian.”

. . . [F]or many Christians down through the centuries, the cross has served as a kind of gentle mirror that helps us to see our sufferings and to touch them—not in a way that overwhelms us and leaves us feeling abandoned—but a seeing and touching that happen in and through and with our teacher, Jesus. By “watching him” embrace his suffering with patience and love, we see the path by which we too can journey forward.”

written by Fr. Brian J. Pierce, “We Walk the Path Together”

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Life’s Mountains, (2nd Lent Sunday, “B”)

Posted on February 23, 2024 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

(based on the Transfiguration of Jesus Christ)

Jesus climbs his way up along with his climbing companions to illustrate for them the union of his life. The union with Elijah and Moses is second only to hearing his Father’s voice simply telling those companions and to the world, “Listen to him.”

No wonder those guys “trembled.” No wonder Peter wanted pitched tents to spend the rest of their lives on that mountain called Tabor. Is it any wonder that we wish to tent ourselves around significant moments in our lives. To hold on to them as though time stops. But it’s midnight now and the place you rented for your special occasion comes to an end. The guests left, the workers want to clean up and return to their homes and you and your family need to come down from that mountain. It’s now Monday and the new work week begins.

Memories details may fade but the feelings and sentiment cement themselves as life continues, even and especially through life’s other mountain, Golgotha.

The Tabor that acknowledges Jesus as the Christ is on the way to Jerusalem. Jerusalem was the Christ purpose for living. Our Jerusalem is our living daily in Christ-like manners and behaviors. The extraordinaries make the ordinary purposeful and full of meaning. Our Tabors make our inevitable Golgotha’s bearable.

Joy and grief are separated by three letters. Happiness and sadness have that same simple separation. A Christ moment can be the union of those two supposedly opposite mountains, because both embody life; life here and the eternal one.

One mountain faithfully carries us through life and the other mountain? The other mountain completes it.

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A Lonely Lent?

Posted on February 15, 2024 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

“A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew 9:14-15

When the bridegroom is taken from them, then they will fast.The disciples of John approached Jesus and said, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast much, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered them, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.”

The Gospel of the Lord.”

The sold out concert crowd quickly jumps up, cheering, and howls loudly for a one last song at the concert’s end, or as expected, at least a final bow. Nada.

His bodyguards and manger, as quickly as the crowd’s responses, hurries him through the long dark underground tunnels, holding him through every twists and turns.

He looks tired but still in costume. Limo door is opened and he’s clumsily placed into the backseat.

Bodyguard closes the door, taps the car hood twice and says, “Elvis has left the building.”

Welcome to the sacred season of Lent.

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Fifth Sunday, Cycle B or “The Doctor’s Visit”

Posted on February 3, 2024 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

The medical machine has cranked out its complicated tests and measurements. It’s taken many weeks and as you await that dreaded doctor’s visit with “the news” about your health as if all the local television stations with bright lights are stationed outside now waiting for your responses.

If cameras were awaiting you outside after that visit, the words of Job might just naturally pop into your head. “So, I have been assigned months of misery, and troubled nights have been allotted to me.” Eager question from a reporter brings you to say more Job words,” When shall I arise? then the night drags on, I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.”

That doctor’s visit offered you overdoses of cute, positive platitudes about your condition (that’s been said countless times before), along with your possible prescription doses for the remainder of your life, along with your survival percentages (that rarely reach 50), Again, cue Job, “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle” (Job’s words, yours may be crispier) Remember that my life is like the wind; I shall not see happiness again.”

The TV cameras have left, the doctor went home and you go home. Perhaps alone, perhaps with others but not wishing to talk. Not wishing to talk? What a wonderful beginning of prayer. In the silence of your silence, God is able to soften those “p’s” of platitudes, prescriptions and percentages to strengthen you with David’s Psalm words of, ‘the brokenhearted experiences healing, wounds are bound up and raised into heavenly grace; forget the amount number of stars occupying the sky, no one knows how many but please know that your name is important.’

Jesus has his say from St. Mark by telling us that “He cured many many who were sick with various diseases, and drove out many demons.” Cured? Cured? Healing? Healing?

You prayerfully pray before the scheduled surgery. Putting yourself aside and like St. Paul declaring in similar words, ‘I have been entrusted with a stewardship. I have a recompence, I have a payment – free of charge-by offering myself and living the gospel to make full use of my right in the gospel.’

Medical predictions? Percentages, weighing the odds like vacationing in Las Vegas?

Faith? Unlimited in the wonder, unknowns, and most importantly the awesome mystery and complete peace and trust in God.

Scripture Readings for the “Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time”

https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/020424.cfmhttps://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/020424.cfm

Check out books by Fr. Joe Jagodensky, SDS on Amazon.com

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Winter’s Snowman

Posted on January 21, 2024 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

It’s a new January’s whitest morning. Above reigns a crisply blue sky with the sound of quieting winds. Covering the ground? The earthly covering is mounds of white stuff.

Youth-filled eyes awaken to its wonder and their smiling faces already have their day planned. Mom and Dad look out the window, frown at each other, and turn to the other side for another thirty minutes of sleep.

The smells of Mom’s coffee couples with Dad’s noisy fourth pull for gasoline for his dreaded chore. Now arrives the growing energy and excitement offspring of those two. Although Christmas was a long memory past to these youngsters, it seems to have reappeared. The inside cedar is now outside. Appearing in their minds and hearts is the giftedness, wonder, and imagination that this day holds for them.

The barrier of breakfast becomes unbearable while staring all the while at all the bright whiteness resting on their lawn. “Dad did his job,” the children think, “I guess it’s time now for us to do our job.”

Frolic is the best describer of those kids jumping and falling on those white mounds. Neighbor children quickly join in the fun. Wearing every piece of clothing they possess, those minds and hearts turn to creation.

Following the previous night’s tremendous storm, children only think of beauty and creation. “What can we do with all this white stuff that Dad piled together?” One starts to make circular weapons out of it to fling to the neighbor he never liked. This happens for quite a while until finally, the children realize that this ice-balling back and forth has no end.

Another child, in a simple lying resting position, stretches out her arms and begins to wave them within the whitey stuff. Another sees this and yells out, “She’s making an angel!” Instead of a contest of throwing it at each other, the new contest is now creating a better, more beautiful angel. All experienced within the whiteness of a cold, sunny, January morning.

“Giftedness, wonder, and imagination.” Childish dreams? Ones that we happily outgrow and throw away to deal with the real realities of life? G, W, I.

From those three words springs the wonders of angelic blueprints fallen from the heavenly white stuff. And, their imagination moves from the ground upward. One says to another, “Let’s build a mound of three very large balls and see what it looks like.” “Good idea,” says the neighborhood shy kid.

So one huge ball placed upon another huge ball completes the G, W, and I. Dad’s charcoal for the eyes (so often darkened losing life’s beauty), lips that only widely smile. And, finally, inserted in the mouth? I pipe. (I never understood why always a pipe, but a pipe it is.)

G, W, I? Giftedness, Wonder, and Imagination. From a winter’s storm to futile aggression and combat; to imaging an angel, made in our image only with wings; to creating and recognizing the wonder of the person in each of us. All that wet, white stuff sent down from the heavens and recreated by young minds and hearts that hopefully will always remain youth-filled.

“Sorry guys,” the oldest says. “That’s my Mom yelling, it’s time for lunch.”

(Smoking it not healthy, just so you know.)

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Funeral for a Landscaper

Posted on January 11, 2024 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

“It’s but a moment.” That’s what the nurse told you twenty minutes ago waiting to see your doctor. Its length is unknown to us because time contains unknown moments and also contains those single, solitary moments.

One moment occurs and a new moment arises. Couple them together and they define our lives. The moments John enjoyed with family and friends became timeless, both in their time and remaining in memories. Time spent with your dentist? You figure that one out. My self-employed dad put a sign on his door at Noon that read, “Back in a moment.” Boy, did he have nice lunches.

John had his moments or should I say he had two moments. A beginning and an end. His final moment was the perfect moment for him because his death date matched with weather. His career was constantly absorbed with considering, planning for, and thinking about – the weather. Is it going to rain today and I need to reschedule? Or, as usual, is the weatherman wrong, once again; 80% of the time? Is the sun too hot today for those needing to work outside? Or, can this be done in winter because it just needs to be done?

The difference between the seasons of fall and winter? It’s how I began my moments with you today. It’s but a moment. December 21 is a moment between ending what began. Or, in faith, it is an ending and a beginning. Sound kind of like life? The fullness of life? We don’t know the amount of our earthly moments but we all know that that one moment will arrive. And, that’s the mystery and the beauty and all of the wonder of the timeliness of that one simple word. I don’t think I need to say that word again. Already said sixteen times with three more at the end.

Life’s beginnings is in the winter with the promise of many of the other three seasons through baptism. Through baptism, we are invited and welcomed to embrace all four seasons. We are never alone because of that sacrament and all the others. God provides and empowers us with the necessary divine strength to weather any winter of our lives. Like winter’s brain tumor. Don’t tell me that those extended years in John’s life didn’t strengthen his winters and truly embrace his bubbling springs, his warming summers of family and friends. Toward the end? With winter’s darkening of his eyes those glowing colors of the fall season he could see now with divine eyes, not only in nature but see all the colors possessed by family and friends. That’s the four seasons. That’s the four seasons that are so much more than the name of a rock group or that famous classical piece of music. John witnessed for all who knew him to live life’s four seasons in all of their beauties and prepared, through faith, their dangers.

“Put on love, perfect love” as Scripture says. “Perfect love” but I would qualify by saying, “as best you can.”

I’m at a resort in Los Angeles and meet a guy who’s a professional landscaper. We get talking and he tells me that Barbra Streisand is looking for bids to do some work at her home. I smiled and said, “That’s great, go for it.” He replied, “I would never accept a job like that because of her perfectionism and its effect on my future projects.” I smiled, once again, and knew. God doesn’t ask for perfection. God only beautifully requests that His creations do the best they can in beautifying themselves, those around them, and the world around them. Sounds like John?

In both health and decline, John lived a life of seasons. Just like we hope to live and honor as our lives continue. Hoped and honored because of our trust and mercy of our Creator.

I had Scripture passages to share with you this holy day but I suspect I’ve used up my moments. John’s holy day of ending and beginning is 12/21. That one final moment. His in-between moments were living and loving all of you.

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“We Can Be Kind,” Nancy LaMott

Posted on January 5, 2024 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

Is this just another new year or another repeating year only with the next number? Enlighten? The light of Christ living within is? The star that brought nations together? Or, the dark selfishness of ours?

The eternal song sings for us…

So many things I can’t control So many hurts that happen everyday So many heartaches that pierce the soul So much pain that won’t ever go away How do we make it better? How do we make it through?
What can we do When there’s nothing we can do?

Division makes me important and whoever or whatever you are makes you lesser than me … as much as saying that you are meaningless…

Those hope-filled lyrics continues…

We can be kind We can take care of each other We can remember that deep down inside We all need the same things And maybe we’ll find If we are there for each other 
That together we’ll weather Whatever tomorrow may bring

We love going to war. We stopped numbering them and conveniently, silently call them “presidential wars.” (Whispering) For the good of our nation in spite of how many lost lives…both theirs and ours.

Then the enlightened song continues…

Nobody really wants to fight Nobody really wants to go to war If everyone wants to make things right What are we always fighting for? Does nobody want to see it? Does nobody understand? The power to heal Is right here in our hand We can be kind We can take care of each other
We can remember that deep down inside We all need the same things

“Me win and you lose,” mantras nations all around the world. “I dominate and you subjugate” becomes our morning fear-filling news. That’s right, begin your morning with coffee and watch talk of destruction of everyone’s life…spirit, heart, mind, and soul…all promulgating their own, selfish, always-right, self-centered lives.

And that promising, light of faith’s music continues…

And maybe we’ll find If we are there for each other That together we’ll weather Whatever tomorrow may bring And it’s not enough to talk about it Not enough to sing a song
We must walk the walk about it You and I, do or die, we’ve got to try to get along

The Original Sin of idolatry from which we were all baptized now becomes the sin of nations and so many leaders…” me first,” identical to a two-year-old demanding more oatmeal.

Do we hear, once again, but now only with deaf ears…?

We can be kind, We can take care of each other, We can remember that deep down inside…We all need the same things And maybe we’ll find, If we are there for each other
That together we’ll weather, Whatever tomorrow may bring

Epiphany…insight, awareness, inclusion…light…lived with compassion, love and kindness…light.
Only piously spoken in church or living deeply within our hearts, living within our elected leaders, praying and living throughout our sacred, God-given created world?
Hearing the song’s conclusion is the true, bright, ever-burning presence and love of Christ as any single day begins or any new year beings us.

And maybe we’ll find, True peace of mind
If we always remember…We can be kind

(Song: “We Can Be Kind,” Nancy LaMott, hearable on YouTube)

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“Grandfather Clock and Time”

Posted on January 3, 2024 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

There’s a living thing living in my apartment. It’s hung on the wall for over thirty years because I was too cheap to purchase the floor version. It’s the fourth living thing in my apartment after counting my two cats and, of course, me.

My grandfather clock only tells me the kinda present time. It’s pretty close at keeping time but, interestingly, cannot keep time. It doesn’t show my past minutes, months, or years, and I can’t shake it upside down to show me my life’s remaining grains.

Work had its time. The old adage declared that “in work you controlled time,” and now, in retirement, “time controls you.” A friend dismissed that when she stated that your thirty-minute lunch was matched by your thirty extra minutes of work. So much for age-old adages.

After a lingering illness at death, it is often heard, “It was time.” That I get. What I don’t get after these many years of priestly life is the timeless line, “God called her.” Nice verb, but isn’t that murder in most states? Our busy God involved with the businesses of the whole world pronounces that Tuesday, Nancy will become a timed person. It may be a comforting comment to survivors that God takes a life that He gave, but it’s a very lazy theology.

My clock’s sole living purpose is reminding me that it’s time to leave for something or it’s time for the nightly news and “Jeopardy.” Reminding me helps if I remember to weekly wind it. Those ticks are my clock’s trying to keep up with time, and its tocks attempt to stop time. “Tockings” are the past, and my hanging pendulum friend can only declare both. Those “tockings” are my doing even though “you can’t turn back the hands of” you know what. That clinging to “tocking” feelings and thinking can question our present precious purpose in life. Life’s undones and misses can easily fill those silent holes in-betweens of a clinking clock. Why? Because sometimes it is easier to “tock” when we need to “tick.” “Tocking” is useless, non-productive, and certainly never healthy.

In faith, those ticks and tocks are called prayer about ourselves, those we love and the unknown people on the nightly news. Tocks alone is just plain garbage.

Interestingly, we say, “back and forth” when talking about time. When it fact it’s the opposite. Tick is forth and Tock is back. Our prayers need only be about the “ticks” in our lives – forth. And, if necessary, seeking mercy for the “tock’s” of our lives which is back.

My cats only tick through every minute of life.the guidance and love of God is the watchful eye of the watch keeper that is in each of us. As the angel John Cameron Swayze told us countless times, “It’s the watch that keeps on ticking.”

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The “Holy Family” & Your Family

Posted on December 27, 2023 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

“Dysfunctional Family” was the buzz word in the ’80’s to describe your family but never the family next to yours.

It was that somehow your family did not meet the expected assembly of what we firmly call, “Family.” For me, it was watching TV’s “Father Knows Best.” Robert Young arrives home after a day’s work and his three loving children run up to greet him in the living room along with, his loving wife, Jane Wyatt. He takes off his sport coat with patches on the elbows and Jane gives him a sweater with patches on the elbows. Ahhh, what a family!

Before marriage to my dad, my mother was told of her future brith from an unannounced, unexpected angelic visitor – in her living room! That’s not ture. I was the fourth of five. However, my never-who-ever-spoken-a-word future dad wishes to cancel the wedding until an angelic dream tells him to trust and care for his wife and soon-to-be child. Shepherds angelically called to come to Manitowoc to witness this marvelous birth of events. Single teenage girl bearing child. Mute future-to-be-dad to be married to this teenager. To-be-husband wants to call WalMart to cancel the bridal registry. Shepherds calling AAA figuring where the hell Manitowoc is on the map.

Mother then brings me to the temple where no other than Simeon is praying to see the Savior before he dies. Anna is also present in my family, as my grandmother, She’s constantly praying that things work out differently for this family than it did for hers.

St. Paul says, “Put on.” In other words, clothe your body, mind and heart, “with heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another…[in all of our dysfunctional dysfunctions. And now wearing all that extra divine clothing] put on love, that [which] is the bond of perfection.”

“Dysfunctional family?” The hype of the 80’s was wrong. There is no such thing as a dysfunctional family. There is only family, one family, complete with its own twists and quirks. One novel writes, since my father was a carpenter, I was a carpenter who built, one who constructed and built, of all things, crucifixes.

After the consecration, the priest sings the most important, powerful phrase in the entire Mass. Please, believe me on this. He sings, “The mystery of faith.”

It’s the beautiful mystery of our faith that is never to be solved, otherwise it wouldn’t be a mystery. Our faith and family would remain just a puzzle attempting to piece pieces together. Usually, the way we think they ought to be. We try to jam one piece into another and it just will not fit. That’s the workings of a puzzle. Our mystery of faith is also our mystery of family. A mystery to be embraced, prayed about, pondered upon, grasped, embraced and…and loved. Faith and family.

To make matters worse, my mom’s cousin very much older than she, had a son six months before having me who thinks that he’s the Savior. Imagine the early conversations at dinners.

My mother cousin’s son sees the feet of his cousin and his sandals and knows that he is not the One. He embraces his role as a messenger. He’s the Ed McMahon of our historical salvation.

“Dysfunctional Family?” Begin with the family that we call “Holy” and then look at your own family. It is the very same scenario surrounded by characters you know and whom you do not fully know. That’s the intimacy, the mystery and all of the wonders of what defines your family and my family – and our family of faith.

I hope you can wait because I can’t wait until I sing, “The mystery of faith and family.” Stay tuned.

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“I pretended to be them, so I could be me”

Posted on December 24, 2023 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

So, a child’s imagination begins by witnessing the magic adults perform every day. Slowly, that youthful seed is planted, watered and cared for. If you don’t identify with the plant metaphor, then please consider an infectious bug growing and spreading throughout a growing mind.

A carpenter’s creation, a physician’s caring hand and heart, a teacher recognizing the gifts of each, a parent and perhaps better than your own, a speaker bringing people together addressing causes thought unsolvable, the mechanic who seems to know everything, that friendly retail/service person whose smile is sincere, that person with a knack for finance adding-in integrity, the wordsmith after reading many of the classics, that school guard who later became a policeman, that disabled one who plans trips for others who can, those radio rock jocks and the priest leading prayer…

Occupational dreams ought never to be discarded or discouraged. They are gateways toward a full and meaningful life. Even if the path varies or changes, it is the imagination that endures.

It’s the promising gift each child begins to accumulate, percolate and unravel, I mean “unfold,” into the person they can love and love with another and then shared with all those they meet.

(I’m the last one on the list, by the way.)

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