LABOR DAY

22nd Sunday C Labor Day 5:30PM LABOR DAY: HOLIDAY OR HOLYDAY? A man of piety complained to the Spiritual Master, saying: "I have labored hard and long in the service of the Lord, and yet l I have seen little improvement in myself. I am still an ordinary and ignorant person." The Spiritual Master answered: "You have gained the realization that you are ordinary and ignorant, and this in itself is a worthy accomplishment. When you break open this story like the shell of an oyster, you find this pearl: the labor to discover self knowledge of any kind is a precious find. As you prepare to celebrate Labor Day, you might keep in mind that God created you out of matter to teach you that you matter and that there is nothing in the work you do that doesn’t matter. Your work is sacred because God has made you his co-creators. This, of course, does not mean that you are able to make something out of nothing. That is the definition of God’s work alone. Being co-creators means that you who were created in the image and likeness of God can enter into the continuing creation work of our Creator with your creativity. Pope John Paul has developed this idea in his encyclical, On Human Work (Laborem Exercens). “The Word of God’s revelation is profoundly marked by the fundamental truth that man, created in the image of God, shares by his work in the activity of the Creator and that … man in a sense continues to develop that activity.” (#25) Bishop Morneau, Auxiliary of Green Bay, in his enlightening book, Themes and Theses of Six Recent Papal Documents: A Commentary, sums up this section of Pope John Paul’s encyclical with this insight: “Work is inextricably bound up with the mystery of God’s creative activity; each person shares in the wonder of creation through work.” LABOR DAY Is Labor Day, for example, merely a break from the strenuous, often stressfully competitive, workaday world? Or is Labor Day a time set aside for you to ponder, for example, Joyce Rupp’s statement in her book, May I Have This Dance, that “We need to make our work a sacred place where God’s presence is acknowledged and allowed to influence our activity.” From our countercultural faith perspective, your workplace, whether in or outside the home, will be sacred when you recognize with dynamic faith that you are God’s co-creators. You need to meditate on the fact that Labor Day is more a holyday than a holiday because it symbolizes your cooperation in the continuing creative work of God. Pope John Paul says in his encyclical, On Human Work, that “the primary basis of the value of work is man himself,” and that “work is ‘for man’ not man ‘for work’.” (#6) In our culture’s anti gospel values of technological, assembly-line, high-pressured and compulsively competitive workaday world, Pope John Paul’s words call your attention to the fact that you should not be mere producers of more things for human consumption but you should be the products of more development for human growth. LABOR OF LOVE Your work should be the signature of human beings, not an anonymous note dropped into the annals of human history. For such a signature you need a spirituality that enhances your work. It should be a spirituality that not only enables workers to offer their work to God but also empowers them to open up their work and discover themselves as co-creators with God. From our countercultural faith perspective, you need a spirituality for the workplace that reminds you that whatever else your work includes, it always includes the continuation of God’s creative activity throughout history and your continuing contribution to that activity and to the common good. Years ago, Archbishop Fulton Sheen in one of his televised broadcasts, Life Is Worth Living, said, “No work is ever degrading, only workmanship can be degrading. All work is noble if it is done out of love.” It takes the love of work to elevate the drudgery or stress of the workplace to the excitement and enthusiasm of being co-creators with God, to transpose a dirge of boredom into a hymn of praise. HUMOR An elderly Irishman lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agony of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. Gathering his remaining strength, with great labor, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom. Gripping the railing with both hands, and with great labor, he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death’s agony, he would have thought he was already in Heaven, for there, spread out on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it Heaven or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Irish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, again with great labor, the dying Irishman threw himself towards the table and he landed in a rumpled posture. The cookies seemed to bring the dying man back to life. His aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table. Suddenly, his hand was smacked with a spatula by his wife with the warning: “Don’t touch! These cookies are for the funeral.” THOUGHT Always make your work a labor of love.

SCHOOL OPENING

THE MORNING SCHOOLYARD "Learn from me…" As the sun grants a new day of adventure I stand fully vested, knifeless for the sacrifice as unbloody as the white altar cloth. For a few minutes before entering into the Eucharistic ‘cloud of unknowing,’ I consume the consecrated gift of viewing through the chapel window, as narrow as a monk’s cell, the broad vista of the school’s parking lot. I watch as if glimpsing into cosmic secrets as little children scamper in a fast forward blur carrying the bulky burden of books on their backs as though as light as summer sunrays. The cars and vans pull to a sacred stop like a hurried procession in need of a solemn moment of relief for the Holy-Grail seeking pilgrims. As inevitable as homework there is the goodbye kiss between parent and child that places God on each other’s lips. There is the child’s wave and smile that lets go for a while of parental security as warm and comfortable as the inside of the car. As if coaxing adorability, there is a return of wave and smile that sends the hope of growth into a little heart as fertile as a field of hundredfold harvest. Then a watchful parental eye – the lens of divine Providence – follows the skipping feet until they carry an eager mind into the safety of the school, into the stretching future, as the car drives off into the demanding present. I turn and gaze at the altar and quietly revel in the unctuous vision into divine love soon to be the mystery that falls across the bread and wine, the Body and Blood of the one who says, Allow the little children to come to me.