Happy, er . . . or Merry, er . . . or Seasons . . .

How do we say it?

How should we say it?

The December Dilemma is now upon us in full force.

Will someone be offended by my greeting?

Should I care?

Should I try to be "politically correct" or throw caution to the wind?

Happy Holidays!

Or should it be Season's Greetings?

And having set those two options out there, I can almost hear the outcry, somewhere in the distance but, oh, so very real.

It's Merry Christmas!

That's what it is!

Christmas!

And don't anyone dare to give the shortened - Xmas - version!

Christmas!

And that is that!

We are celebrating the birth of the Lord, Jesus Christ, and that is that! So, Merry Christmas!

And please note, I use the word "birth" rather than birthday because, truth be told - and close your ears and, perhaps, even your mind for this one - we really do not know for fact the exact day of the actual birth of Jesus! There are no records to be had, no certificates of birth, nothing of the sort. The Gospels are silent when it comes to giving us even a hint of when this event took place. There is no mention of snow or cold or hint of winter or blossoms of spring or even of a torrid summer day. The actual birthday of Jesus could well have been in July!

 We who believe, we people of faith, are called to celebrate the coming of Jesus into our history, Emmanuel, God with us. That is the critical fact not an actual day of birth.

And in our earliest years, our ancestors in faith did not celebrate anything like  this at all. They started with a clean slate, an empty calendar. For many years there was no "Christmas" or even Church calendar!

Oh, there was, indeed, a celebration late December. It was a grand and glorious celebration, a feast for which folks really did look forward.

As the days grew shorter and the dark nights longer, people without the modern luxury of electricity, found themselves ever more limited in terms of work, travel, activities of most any sort. The darkness kind of locked them in. The darkness was inhibiting, restricting, even fearful.

And so they prayed as they knew how and they begged and pleaded with the gods as they knew back then. And they knew one great, powerful god who had the power to dispel the darkness.

The Invincible Sun God!

To this god they would feast with song and dance and festivities so powerful as to compel this god to return yet again and drive out this all-encompassing darkness. It was a celebration designed to show that Sun God just how fun it could be in our midst.

And it worked!

Days began to grow longer; times of sunlight began to increase. That Sun God heard the prayers, the invitation of the people and saw the joyfulness with which they would great him. And the celebration brought about results.

And, honestly, the whole thing was a lot of fun, So much so, in fact, that as the Roman World became increasingly Christian, there were some things that the newly minted believers were hesitant to give up.

Like that December Party!

And so we "baptized" it!

We made it to be a celebration of the coming of the true Light into this all too dark world. Early on I suspect many elements of that more ancient feast were folded into this observance but as the centuries passed, this observance became more and more a religious event centering solely around the coming of the Light of the World into our darkness.

But eventually a fellow named Clement Clarke Moore discovered untapped potential in this celebration and his discovery provided encouragement for the likes of Hallmark and then Sears and Neumann Marcus and a whole lot of others who jumped on the gifting, greeting bandwagon.

And then came the big, really big discovery.

We are not all Western Europeans!

We are a richly diverse people with a wondrous array of celebrations. We have things like Hanukkah which is an even more ancient celebration of light and Kwanzaa, a more modern celebration of basic values and a multitude of folk out there who adhere to none of the above traditions but who still feel the need to celebrate something in the midst of so much darkness.

And so we have what we have today - a symphony of feasts!

But if you look at all of them, in one way or other they all speak of a very basic human longing, a deep and often unrecognized hunger.  

Those decorations speak of a longing for light in the midst of so much darkness.

Those gifts speak of a longing for the greatest of gifts - the Gift that can set us truly free.

Those gatherings and dinners and parties and phone calls and greeting cards speak of a longing to be connected, community rather than disconnected and disjointed.

So many in their celebrating of so much in this time of the year do not even realize the hunger which they express in their revelry.

Those of us who know, who believe, who proclaim "Merry Christmas!" have found what so very many seek even without admitting their emptiness.

And we do not help them by beating them over the head with, "It's Christmas, dummy!"

To whatever manner in which they choose to greet us, we can respond gently, with courtesy,  "Merry Christmas to you too."

And when we hear them say, "Happy Holidays," we might see that as an invitation to speak a silent prayer for them that they find what they do not even admit they seek.

And when we hear them say, "Seasons Greetings," again that invitation.

A whole lot of people are seeking and searching because there is truly a whole lot of darkness these days, a whole lot of darkness.

Prayerfully, respectfully, charitable we can respond to them in a way that invites them to know that we have found the very Gift that they are seeking.

Welcome their "Happy Holidays!" or "Seasons Greetings!"

Then bless them back with "Merry Christmas!" 

And a silent prayer!

“Getting vaccinated is a simple yet profound way to care for one another, especially the most vulnerable,”  - Pope Francis 

The Lost Election

I am suspecting that the reason why I have lost every recent papal election may well have to do with the days that are upon us now.

And just in case you have not noticed, as of yet I have not won a papal election. While I might still claim to being "too young," that excuse is loosing its grip.

Time to face the real reason.

I suspect that there are some cardinals out there who know!

They have discovered what one of my first official acts just might be.

And they are afraid of the repercussions and as a result, I have continued to get overlooked in the balloting for pope!

So, I just might as well go public with what I would have done had I actually gotten elected. (Oh, and BTW, someday some future office holder just may do what I am suggesting.)

It has to do with our calendar.

It needs a change! A major one!

Soon now in churches all across the globe, Catholic and other Christian denominations, the People of God will once again have to put up with presiders cheerfully announcing, "Happy New Year!"

And then, as happens year in and year out, they will explain that the calendar does still have another month to the present year. However, we are talking Church Year and the new Church year begins on the First Sunday of Advent.

And so, "Happy New Year!"

As Pope I would declare that our Church Year will no longer begin on the First Sunday of Advent. Instead, let's pick a far more suitable and meaningful time.

How about Ash Wednesday?

Would it not make more sense spiritually to begin a New Year with a season of repentance and renewal, a dedicated time for strengthening our efforts to do better and be better?

But . . . but . . .  but! I can hear it now.

But  The Story begins with Advent!

We cannot do what you suggest. It would destroy The Story!

And, true! The Story does begin with Advent. If we are about the telling and retelling of The Story, well then, Advent takes us back in our memory to those days and years and even centuries of waiting. And then Christmas comes and the waiting is fulfilled and the Promise is kept and then the rest of  The Story unfolds - Magi and Baptism and teachings and healings and Jerusalem and Calvary and so on and so on.

Yes, the year should begin with Advent if we are all and only about a telling and retelling of The Story.

If the whole purpose of our seasons and our feasts is merely a sort of nostalgic remembering of events from some distant yesterday, then the starting point, logically, would be Advent.

But I say and I emphasize that little word - IF.

It is, most certainly, important that we remember our past. However, when it comes to religious remembering, to the remembering that we seek to embodying our feasts and seasons, that remembering must serve a purpose far greater than the telling and retelling of stories from our past. Our remembering is and should be for the sake of forming our present and guiding us into our future.

The Hebrews of old remembered each Passover the events of their past, the memories of the Exodus Events not just for the sake of telling historic tales but for the sake of opening themselves here and now to the working of God right now in their present moments and also to dispose themselves to a longing for the day when God's Will would reach fulfillment. "Next year, in Jerusalem."

Advent, while it can serve to properly dispose us to a coming feast, should be far more important.

It should serve to heighten our awareness of the fact that the Lord who once came to dwell among us, still is present to us here and now. Advent should  awaken anew our sense of care of all who enable and invite us to love and serve Him in very real, concrete, here and now ways - in our service to the poor, the hungry, the imprisoned, the stranger, the sick, the refugee, the marginalized and so on. "Whatsoever you do for the least of my brethren, that you do unto me!"

Add to that Advent should stir up within us the awareness that we are moving day by day, hour by hour toward that day when we will see Him face to face. He will come again and we will see His face and hear His voice!

It certainly seems to me that having Advent at the closing of our Church Year would serve to focus ur attention more sharply on a Day yet to come and on the day that is right here under our eyes.

However, it can certainly be easier and more comfy to focus on a Once-upon-a-time story from some long ago yesterday, especially one that involves a little Baby. Living in the past can be way more comforting than facing the present and embracing that uncatchable tomorrow.

But we should not be about comfort. We, followers of the Gospel, should be about being challenged to live the Gospel right now.

And that can be painful.

Singing "Silent Night" is way easier than living "Wake, Awake, the Night is Dying!"

But think about it.

Advent focuses us on how things will end. Christmas focuses us on what is right here before us, the opportunities here and now.

And then we start anew with ashes marking our foreheads and calling us to get busy doing better.

Nice!

But ain't gonna happen.

I can't get elected!

And I am getting too old!

“Getting vaccinated is a simple yet profound way to care for one another, especially the most vulnerable,”  - Pope Francis 

The End of the World

And here it comes!

The Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary  Time

AKA a Sunday after Pentecost in certain Christian Traditions

But, however you may call it, here comes the final "Green Sunday" of the current liturgical year.

And this, in almost every mainstream Christian tradition is the weekend when we hear those wondrous words. You know the ones. They are all about such neat happenings like stars falling from the sky and sun and moon no longer giving their light and famines and earthquakes and all sorts of other exciting happenings.

And when these words are finished being set out before us, this year from the Gospel of Mark next year we will get to enjoy Luke and last year we embraced Matthew's version, well, when these words are set out before us, we will conclude with the declaration, ""The Gospel of the Lord."

And we will respond with our "Thanks be to God!"

Gospel, by the way, means Good News!

So, stars falling, sun dimming, earthquakes rumbling and famines famishing - all Good News!

Well, chances are that in many (most) churches throughout the United States, we will simply give that response and close our books and maybe even our minds.

We certainly do not have to worry about stuff like that, do we?

After all, that is about the End of the World and who knows when that will come and it hasn't come in all these years, so why worry now? Just listen, and then respond with our words of gratitude.

Unless . . . 

What if these words of Jesus are echoing often repeated biblical words - words about not just a time when all will end but times when the world as we know it will end?

What if Jesus, like prophets of old, was telling us that we should expect that there will be times when the world as we know it will come to an end? It would in fact seem to be truly Good News if we were being told in advance that such times of endings will come and they will have the potential for being times of blessing. They will challenge us and invite us to reexamine what has been and they will give us the opportunity to make new and different and better.

What if these words were telling us to expect  a time such as we have been having since March, 2020,  a time that, while seeming to ease presently, has actually brought about an ending of the world as we once knew it?

Consider all that we have been living through in recent months. We have literally seen the world shut down. The Mighty United States was brought low, not just in that far away place of Afghanistan but right here in our own land with businesses shut, education virtual and emergency rooms overcrowded and thousands of lives ended.

Together with that we have been experiencing our view of history and of all humankind questioned and challenged by the resurfacing of an awareness of the -isms that haunt us and even still shape so many of us and our customs and institutions. We have been brought face to face with the need for some radical change.

To all of this we have seen flood-causing rains tearing through the streets of our cities and the basements of our homes, ravaging flames eradicating whole neighborhoods. Choose to ignore or choose to face, nature itself is raging against us.

The litany goes on.

And truly these are days when the sun and moon have been darkened and the stars have been falling from the sky.

But when Jesus and the prophets before Him spoke of those days of world-ending events, they spoke to a people of faith, a people who believed in God who truly is ever in command. Jesus spoke to a people who knew from experience the wonder and depth of God's love for them, a love that would not let go of them but rather a love that would guide them through those dark, ending times into a new and better time.

To fully embrace these words and to fully enter into this most turbulent and cathartic time of our today, we need to be that people of faith, that people who can listen to the Voice of the Lord, read the signs of this time and embrace the call to do better, to be better.

Of course it is always possible to ignore the possibility of God at work. It is possible to refuse any Divine invitation. We can choose to simply go back to the "good old days."

Or we can choose to grow and in that growing to commit ourselves to building better and being better.

After all, Jesus has called us to be citizens, not of any kingdom of this world but rather of the Kingdom of God.

And we are not there yet!

“Getting vaccinated is a simple yet profound way to care for one another, especially the most vulnerable,”  - Pope Francis 

An Hour!

Twenty- one dollars!

That is not per month,

or per week

or even per day.

That is twenty-one dollars per hour!

That is what I heard the other day while driving to or from somewhere or other. The car radio was on and the current news was being broadcast and that is when I heard it. 

Some major  bank was offering twenty-one dollars an hour as the entry level wage. They were announcing that, at least for their employees, twenty-one dollars an hour would be considered the minimum wage!

Of course, with our current situation and so many hesitant for one reason or other, mostly fear of returning to on site workplaces in light of the still evident pandemic and others hesitant because of the difficulty of providing proper childcare and such, prospective employers are offering greater and greater incentives to recruit workers.

I have seen oh so many "Help Wanted" signs.

I have seen signs offering a starting salary of fifteen dollars an hour, eighteen dollars and hour and, of course, those offering to cover young workers' college tuition costs.

And now - twenty-one dollars an hour!

That took me back and perhaps I can even take you back a bit as I share my journey.

I started working as a delvery carrier for the Detroit Free Press. That was back in the early 1950's and my route, considered a rather large one for the time, involved delivering the evening edition of the newspaper. In addition to delivering the papers, weekly it fell to me to also collect from the customers. My pay for this work consisted of a percentage of what I collected plus any tips given.

A good week might bring me around $5.00, sometimes even a it better. That was for the week not the hour!

In high school I managed to get a part time and then summer job in a drug store. I was the stock boy and my duties mostly consisted of unloading deliveries, replenishing merchandise on shelves an occasionally, when busy, waiting on customers. That drug store was located a block from a local "stadium" and Friday evenings were especially tension-filled. The store had an ice cream counter and if a stadium game ended before closing time, fans flocked to the counter for a treat. That meant filling in as soda jerk to a mob of frenzied fans, working late but not for overtime.

Pay for that job, as I recall, was a straight twenty dollars.

Per week - not per hour.

Had a couple of other summer jobs - one year processing traffic tickets for the City of Detroit and another processing property tax payments. 

A dollar something per hour for that work, and a straight forty hours per week.

One summer I got a really good paying job!

I worked on the Wayne County Road Crew- tarring roads, painting weigh scales and  fun stuff like that while making the grand sum of $2.14 per hour!

That summer I was rich!

And I had a great tan!

There were also a couple of summers when I worked and lived on campus at Orchard Lake doing office clerical work. Didn't earn as much as that Road Commission job but there was that extra perk. I could "'sing" Masses early mornings.

In those days places like that had multiple altars and early mornings the priests on faculty would descend for their Masses. They were able to collect stipends for those Masses and the usual stipend was $3.00 for a Low Mass and $5.00 for a High Mass.

A High Mass meant a sung Mass and so the priest had to find someone to sing certain parts of the Mass. For that special service the singer received $1.00. And because altars were so nice and close to each other, it was possible to be present and singing for a couple of Masses almost simultaneously!

In an hour on a good day that could mean five/six dollars per hour! And that all before actually going to work.

When I was ordained, I arrived.

I now had a guaranteed, regular paycheck.

My starting salary was a whole seventy-five dollars.

Per month!

Ah! But there was a perks hidden here as well.

Those stipends for those daily Masses were ours. That meant an extra five dollars a day every day.

Add it all up!

And that was then.

This is now - twenty-one dollars an hour, fifteen dollars an hour, eighteen dollars an hour!

And here we are.

And you just might make the observation - Yes, but way back when, things were way less expensive than they are today. Just look at some prices - gas today is what? $3.29 a gallon? Back when - eighteen cents a gallon! Bread - back when twenty cents? Today - $3.00 and up a loaf! Back when a night's stay at the equivalent of a Motel Six was $18 but today, well, let's talk about pushing a hundred dollars and up just for a place to sleep for the night!

Yes, things cost more now, no question about it.

And we cost more - workers today expect more, request more, even demand more.

Is it that things cost more because we earn more or is it that we earn more because things cost more?

And which came first - chicken or egg?

Fact is that we probably did just fine back in the days when . . .

And we are doing just fine today as well.

The numbers may have changed but the basic human circumstances are rather the same today as they were back in the day.

We still can afford (even if we tend to complain about cost) and we still have a little to put away for that rainy day.

And very, very likely today, just like yesterday, we even have some extra to share with those who for whatever reason cannot possibly realize anywhere near twenty-one dollars an hour.

Of even a day.

Or sometimes even a week!

Times were good for so many of us back in the day . . . and times are good today.

“Getting vaccinated is a simple yet profound way to care for one another, especially the most vulnerable,” Pope Francis 

Words for Our Time . . . for All Time

Before I forget . . .  before I lose it . . .  which is all too easy to happen, I want to put these words down to be captured and remembered and, hopefully, treasured.

So, here it comes.

And the words inspiring this writing come from someone that you may admire, you may treasure or, conversely, you may despise, maybe even loathe.

So be it.

But heed these words.

Latch onto these words.

Even, please, treasure these words.

They are important, critically important.

They are words spoken by the Vice-President of the United States of American on this day, September 11, 2021, twenty years after that horrid and fateful day, that 9/11.

Kamala Harris spoke them today at the memorial service in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

Please hear them with your ears, your eyes and most importantly, your heart.

This place, she declared, is sanctified by sacrifice.

Sanctified by sacrifice!

In the air above that field thirty-three, mostly strangers, who happened to be in the same plane at the same time, confronting the same terror at the same time, united, responded and sacrificed for the sake of others.

And now that field, that place, is sanctified by sacrifice.

And that is a truth that needs to resound loudly, so very, very loudly in our time, twenty years later.

Sanctified by sacrifice.

Is not that the lesson that that young Israelite caught to teach us all on that hill called Calvary some twenty centuries ago?

Sanctified by sacrifice.

That hill is now considered sanctified by the Sacrifice of Jesus Christ who gave His life so that we might truly live.

And those buildings that we call, sometimes, churches, sometimes synagogues or even temples, and sometimes mosques as well and all other such places, they are considered holy, sanctified by sacrifice.

And those places which we call "home"  are truly such when they are filled with the spirit of sacrifice - parents for their children, siblings one of each other - holy - sanctified by sacrifice.

And communities become special, yes, even holy, sanctified when the members are filled with that spirit that leads to thinking of one another, working with and for one another and sacrificing for one another.

Sanctified by sacrifice!

In this time when so many are bending to the temptation to think first and often only of themselves, when the rallying cry seems to be "freedom" at any cost, we need this reminder.

We are called first and foremost to holiness, to sanctity.

It is in this that our lives are truly fulfilled, made whole when we are becoming holy.

And, as that field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, reminds us -

Sanctification comes through sacrifice.

Sanctify this land of ours by sacrifice.

And sanctify yourself by your willingness to sacrifice!

Meantime, 

Keep Praying

 . . . and Stay Safe!

Oh! And please  get your shot! It's the charitable thing to do.

Another Travel Trauma

 And so this time it was one named Ida.

And that ever lively, incredibly unique place known as New Orleans has been battered yet again.

Before Ida there was Katrina. And a year before Katrina there was little known, less remembered Ivan.

But there really was Ivan!

And I can testify to that confidently because I knew Ivan up close and personal.

Ivan was another of those Travel with me but first sign this "Hazzard-waver-declaration" stories.

Fortunately, the Ivan saga does not involve any sort of group travel, at least not on my part.

The year was 2004 and New Orleans was the venue for the annual International Catholic Stewardship Conference, an event that started on Sunday evening, rather informally with a "Taste of New Orleans" event and an opportunity to view and simply the wares of  numerous vendors.

The choice of New Orleans was most welcome for me as at that time I had a time share in that great city. That would mean no additional cost for accommodations and, the time share being used for the conference, the maintenance fees could qualify as a professional expense tax deduction.

I and our parish business manager signed on for the conference. It officially began on Monday morning and would end around noon on Thursday. The timing was perfect since I was scheduled to lead a retreat back in Michigan beginning on Friday evening.

To get cheap rates, we flew into New Orleans on Saturday and would return home Thursday afternoon.

That was the plan.

One small adjustment - the time share was undergoing some renovations and so we would be housed, not in the Garden District but rather almost downtown. We would still have a suite but now we would be within walking distance of the conference activities.

We were also directly across the street from the casino!

Now that did not draw my interest but it certainly caught the attention of the business manager. (Should I have had suspicions because of his job and this "attraction"?) Well, let's just say that we went to dinner Saturday after arriving and then I headed back to our suite while he headed , well, across the street.

Sunday morning we were at the cathedral for Mass and afterward, he announced that breakfast, or still better, jazz brunch was on him. His visit the previous evening had been rather profitable.

Sunday evening after the Taste of New Orleans, the previous evening's story unfolded yet again. I headed to the room and he to the - across th street. And frankly, I did not mind the time alone as it provided me an opportunity to review some of the content for the coming weekend's retreat.

Monday arrived and the working session got underway. However, a new item was beginning to capture attention and conversation - Ivan.

It was out there and it was intensifying and it could even be headed right in our direction.

Should we worry?

Seemed not - at least not yet then.

Monday's dinner was another treat since, once again, fortune had been good the evening before across the street!

And Tuesday arrived and with its arrival a new mood was in the air.

This Ivan thing was getting serious. A direct hit was looking more possible. Sesoned dwellers in the city were clearly making their moves and those moves were headed in one general direction.

OUT!

They were clearly running for safety, taking no chances.

Windows were being boarded and shops were being emptied.

When we got to the conference center, we could not help but notice that the scheduled speakers were arriving for their sessions with travel bags and luggage in tow. They were making their presentations and then heading out.

Not looking good at all.

Time to make a move.

Between conference sessions we headed to the phones. Call the airlines. Book a flight out - any flight and as it became clear that we were truly begging, any flight anywhere. Begger's can't be choosy and we could get somewhere and then worry about a connecting flight to Detroit.

But flights were being cancelled as soon as we connected with an agent. Houston? Sure? Two tickets? No problem.

Oops! That flight just got cancelled!

And so the story went.

Train?

Nothing available.

Rent a car?

None available anymore.

Just plan on bunkering down and riding things out and hope for the best.

Oh - and now Ivan is ranking as a category five!

Worst possible scenario!

End of the day Tuesday the announcement was made. The remainder of the Stewardship Conference was officially cancelled.

Go home!

Yea! Right! Good luck with that now.

We headed back to our hotel which, by time of our arrival, was something of a madhouse. All sorts for folk, mostly families with small children, were trying to get in, get rooms. Being suites, that meant every accommodation had at least a small refrigerator and stove and, thus, meal preparations would be possible. The hotel also had begun providing late afternoon finger foods and early morning light breakfasts. And the first four floors were now off lints. No rooms would be offered under the fifth floor just in case the water level . . .  well, you can imagine!

We were offered the possibility of moving down to the fifth floor. (We were on eleven.) We took the offer as we both thought of what life might be like if power was lost and elevators were not working and the only way down was the stairway - eleven floors! Not a chance!

Settled in our new accommodations, it was now time for some dinner. And that became a new discovery. In New Orleans - known for its cuisine - restaurants were closed and boarded up. However, some distance away we managed to find a TGIF still open and serving food.

Menu?

No!

We are cooking whatever is left so that it doesn't spoil in the storm. We will serve you dinner - certainly. You will get whatever the chef is able to put together for you.

Dinner had, we headed back to our hotel. No stopover that evening at the casino. It was closed and shuttered.

Ivan was bearing down on New Orleans.

Wednesday arrived and this great, never sleeping city was a ghost town- no traffic anywhere, winds intensifying, silence deafening.

We needed something to eat. The breakfast lite was sufficient but not totally filling. Only where might we find anyone still serving food?

I had an idea. A couple of blocks away was one of those super-fine, super-expensive hotels. They would certain feel obliged to provide food for their clientele. And I was right! Good food! White glove service and folks all round dressed to the nines!

It felt like we were on the Titanic - dining while the waters poured in.

And in a sense that was a correct assessment since, by the time we finished our dinners, the main entrances were now boarded up and impassable. We would have to leave through the service entrance.

The walk back was marked by blistery winds bringing stinging sand and dirt into our faces. Police cars were circling all around, loudspeakers announcing a total, stay in place, curfew. When we got to our hotel, we were immediately informed that, once in our room, we could not leave until an all clear was sounded.

And we were instructed to fill our bathtub!

Just in case the water was shut off!

And so we waited.

And watched the Weather Channel!

Who ever thought of spending an evening in New Orleans watching the Weather Channel?

But we learned something. 

A pivotal moment was coming soon - long around 10:45 PM.

At that time, with prevailing weather patterns and water temperatures and who knows what all else, it was possible that Ivan could ever so slightly change course. If that happened, New Orleans would be spared and the storm would move eastward.

And so we waited and watched and maybe even prayed.

And the patterns did their trick! And the storm ever so slightly changed course, slightly but still enough.

We would be spared!

The next day the city was still mostly a ghost town. We were finally able to book flights back home - not until Friday and not both of us on the same flight.I would take the earlier flight, early enough for me to get into a car and head on off to begin that weekend retreat.

We had experienced a city under seige.

The storm had been avoided.

But the next year New Orleans was not so fortunate.

And this year again - not so fortunate

For our sisters and brothers, suffering in whatever way from this vicious act of nature:

let us pray to the Lord!

Meantime, 

Keep Praying

 . . . and Stay Safe!

Oh! And please  get your shot! It's the charitable thing to do.

That Day in July . . .

 It was a Sunday . . .  the 24th of July, 1967.

And almost as usual, life began to unfold in the parish early on that Sunday morning.

Our schedules in hand, we, the clergy began to enter into our last minute preparations for the Masses over which we would preside on that Sunday morning.

The early Mass folk were already beginning to arrive at that modest sized, Westside, mostly Polish parish.

It was beginning as just another Sunday.

Or so most of us thought.

But that morning there was one difference.

There was a police car outside, directly front of the front entrance to the church. And a couple of the occupants were asking to speak to the clergy.

Alone . . .  apart from the gathering crowd . . .  somewhere somewhat isolated so that what was about to be said would be spoken in a degree of secrecy.

At least for the moment.

Clergy gathered (and remember, this was 1967 and many parishes back then had more than a single priest!) and the officers spoke to us.

No need for alarm and certainly there is no need to alarm the congregation. However, there is some "trouble" in the streets somewhat nearby. Because of that, keep things as brief as possible and simply, calmly at the end of the Mass encourage everyone to go directly home. Tell them not to linger, socialize or head out anywhere for breakfast. 

Straight home . . .  and immediately.

Some "trouble" in the streets somewhat nearby!

July 24 is the anniversary day of the founding, the establishment of Detroit. 1701 was the day. And here it was - another July 24 only this year, 1967, Detroit was taking a different turn in its identity.

Late night or early morning, depending on your sense of time, something had happened that set tempers flaring and unleashed long pent up frustrations.

And there was violence in the streets.

Some 'trouble" somewhat nearby!

Masses went on as usual and as scheduled. Folks were encouraged to not linger but rather head straight home. As the morning progressed, folks arriving were hearing something of the news of that "trouble" somewhat nearby.

And a bit later that Sunday, I had the opportunity of hosting a gathering of a handful of faculty and students from the University of Detroit. At that time I was a student in the graduate program there, taking courses in education and counseling. Our gathering consisted of some like minds, folks who could name trends and issues impacting society and analyze and speculate possible results.

One of the items that came up was the current condition of Detroit's black population. Several of the faculty spoke about how surprised they were that something had not yet erupted, given the prevalence of racism and its effects.

The discussion continued along those lines on into the evening.

The time came for my guests to depart. The sky was darkening. Night was descending.

And as we emerged from our gathering in that rectory, we could see something more.

Flames were tearing through that darkness.

Somewhere not too distant from where we were, neighborhoods were ablaze.

It was then that I remembered that early morning visit from those law officers. It was then that I realized that the time had, indeed, come.

A people had been dehumanized for far too long.

Now much pent up anger was emerging, erupting, tearing through the streets.

Langston Hughes captured it so very, very well. "What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun?... Or does it explode?"

Every human being has a dream, a God-given dream and that is to be treated as, respected as a human being, made in the image and likeness of God.

And when that dream is deferred . . . it does not dry up like some raisin in the sun.

July 24, 1967 - the results of a dream  deferred!

Meantime, 

Keep Praying

 . . . and Stay Safe!

Oh! And please  get your shot! It's the charitable thing to do.