EASTER SUNDAY
EASTER Sunday 12:15 2008 3/23/08
When I was 13 or 14 years old, I thought I would like to be a writer. With the guidance of two older students, I started to keep notebooks. In them I wrote down thoughts and ideas from my readings, reactions to what I had read, my own thoughts on things and events, some lines that I thought were pretty well written either for their content or their style. As time drifted on I decided that maybe I was just too ordinary to be a writer. Now at a more mellow age and with some experience behind me, I realize that ordinariness is the essential quality of a writer.
When I first took up this craft full-time, I didn’t realize how much time you have to spend alone. And that is exactly how it has to be, because it takes a long, long time to discipline promiscuous words into an approximation of what you have in your head. And if it is something in your heart you want to express, that takes even longer and often involves intense emotion. It was Mark Twain, I think, who said the difference between the precise word and the slipshod word is like the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.
One of the reasons I write is to be able to keep the thoughts and insights that come from my observations and to make creative connections whenever I can. And a second reason is to share these thoughts and insights with people who might be interested. Sometimes I think I write to preserve my sanity for just one more day.
For example, I see a mother with her little daughter on her lap. And the mother is singing, “Mary had a little lamb.” Suddenly I realize that a hymn to be sacred doesn’t have to depend on the words but on the person who is singing what and to whom and why. “Mary had a little lamb” can be a far more powerful hymn of praise and beauty than anything in our hymnals. And I make the connection with something I read about Jesus’ parables: that not once in anyone of his parables does Jesus ever mention God. And I make a further connection that what we call secular or profane is really shot through with the sacred because Jesus became human. Then I write something of greater length explaining my insight, hoping that some people might want to share it with me.
One time a young person asked me, “What is the essential characteristic of a writer?” About the only thing I could say in response was that for me it is in noticing God in the ordinary stuff of life that makes me want to write. If I don’t write about it, the wonder and the glory of simple moments will disappear. If I do write about it, sometimes the sacred secrets of events reveal themselves to me and as a result to others. I am convinced, however, that you do not have to be a writer to share your insights and wisdom with others. I think you do this day in and day out in your ordinary conversations.
For example, a mother was driving her second grade daughter home from parochial school.
Her daughter said, “Mommy, do you know that in public school, you can’t even mention God or Jesus?” “Yes I do, dear.” “And do you know that in our Catholic school, we can say God and Jesus all we want?” “Yes I do, honey.” There was a long moment of silence, as they little girl was lost in her thoughts. Then she said, “Mommy, when I grow up, I’m going to have two children. And I’m going to call one God and the other one Jesus. Then I’m going to send both of them to public school.
I have given you this brief autobiographical resume on Easter Sunday because as I was preparing my homily, I was wondering what Mary Magdelene would have written about her Easter experience had she kept a journal or a diary.
She may have written something like this:
This morning I had an experience that I can find no words for. All I can say is that it was comparable to the experience I had when Jesus the Galilean forgave me my sins because, as he said, I loved so much. He did not crush and extinguish the flames of my love. Rather he redirected those flames that I might ignite the hearts of others to love him. It was this love that prompted me to go to the tomb to anoint the body of the man I loved as I had never loved anyone in my life.
I did such a stupid thing. I was crying and, blinded by my tears, I mistook Jesus now risen out of death for the gardener. Now I realize that it is only through tears that I could ever have finally recognized Jesus for who he is. My tears of sorrow were turned into tears of joy when he called me by name. The man I thought was the gardener said to me, “Mary.” In that moment I knew who he really and truly was. I should have remembered how many times he said to us, I will be put to death but on the third day I will rise.
As I look back now at how I thought Jesus was the gardener, Jesus must have stifled a laugh. And if I know him at all, he wanted to shout, “Surprise!” But he didn’t even though he had spent his whole teaching mission revealing God to us as the God of surprises. However it was the same Jesus of the meek and humble heart I encountered this morning.
Now upon reflection, I realize that Jesus, in allowing me to mistake him for the gardener, was telling me that in his resurrected life he would be identified with each person I encountered, whether a humble gardener or a wealthy merchant.
I’m not sure if the others believed my words when I told them that I saw the Master risen out of death, alive. But I’m willing to wager that my exhilaration and joy convinced them.
And, somehow, I believe that the exhilaration and joy of all of us will convince people down through the ages that he who was crucified is now alive and living in them.
For now I am packing. Jesus, now the risen Lord, is sending us to the four corners of the earth and I must do my share. I believe that all his followers down through the ages will do whatever they can to share the good news, He is risen and he lives within us! And I also believe that they will live those words in their loving service to others because Jesus told us that what we do for others we are doing for him.
Perhaps you can take out a piece of paper and write down your thoughts and reactions to the Easter feast, to the Resurrection of Jesus. When you do, you will be giving concrete form to what you are feeling.
HUMOR: A little girl was diligently pounding away on her grandfather’s word processor. Her grandfather asked her what she was writing. She answered that she was writing a story.
“What’s it about?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “You know I can’t read.”
THOUGHT: Always externalize your religious experiences.
When I was 13 or 14 years old, I thought I would like to be a writer. With the guidance of two older students, I started to keep notebooks. In them I wrote down thoughts and ideas from my readings, reactions to what I had read, my own thoughts on things and events, some lines that I thought were pretty well written either for their content or their style. As time drifted on I decided that maybe I was just too ordinary to be a writer. Now at a more mellow age and with some experience behind me, I realize that ordinariness is the essential quality of a writer.
When I first took up this craft full-time, I didn’t realize how much time you have to spend alone. And that is exactly how it has to be, because it takes a long, long time to discipline promiscuous words into an approximation of what you have in your head. And if it is something in your heart you want to express, that takes even longer and often involves intense emotion. It was Mark Twain, I think, who said the difference between the precise word and the slipshod word is like the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.
One of the reasons I write is to be able to keep the thoughts and insights that come from my observations and to make creative connections whenever I can. And a second reason is to share these thoughts and insights with people who might be interested. Sometimes I think I write to preserve my sanity for just one more day.
For example, I see a mother with her little daughter on her lap. And the mother is singing, “Mary had a little lamb.” Suddenly I realize that a hymn to be sacred doesn’t have to depend on the words but on the person who is singing what and to whom and why. “Mary had a little lamb” can be a far more powerful hymn of praise and beauty than anything in our hymnals. And I make the connection with something I read about Jesus’ parables: that not once in anyone of his parables does Jesus ever mention God. And I make a further connection that what we call secular or profane is really shot through with the sacred because Jesus became human. Then I write something of greater length explaining my insight, hoping that some people might want to share it with me.
One time a young person asked me, “What is the essential characteristic of a writer?” About the only thing I could say in response was that for me it is in noticing God in the ordinary stuff of life that makes me want to write. If I don’t write about it, the wonder and the glory of simple moments will disappear. If I do write about it, sometimes the sacred secrets of events reveal themselves to me and as a result to others. I am convinced, however, that you do not have to be a writer to share your insights and wisdom with others. I think you do this day in and day out in your ordinary conversations.
For example, a mother was driving her second grade daughter home from parochial school.
Her daughter said, “Mommy, do you know that in public school, you can’t even mention God or Jesus?” “Yes I do, dear.” “And do you know that in our Catholic school, we can say God and Jesus all we want?” “Yes I do, honey.” There was a long moment of silence, as they little girl was lost in her thoughts. Then she said, “Mommy, when I grow up, I’m going to have two children. And I’m going to call one God and the other one Jesus. Then I’m going to send both of them to public school.
I have given you this brief autobiographical resume on Easter Sunday because as I was preparing my homily, I was wondering what Mary Magdelene would have written about her Easter experience had she kept a journal or a diary.
She may have written something like this:
This morning I had an experience that I can find no words for. All I can say is that it was comparable to the experience I had when Jesus the Galilean forgave me my sins because, as he said, I loved so much. He did not crush and extinguish the flames of my love. Rather he redirected those flames that I might ignite the hearts of others to love him. It was this love that prompted me to go to the tomb to anoint the body of the man I loved as I had never loved anyone in my life.
I did such a stupid thing. I was crying and, blinded by my tears, I mistook Jesus now risen out of death for the gardener. Now I realize that it is only through tears that I could ever have finally recognized Jesus for who he is. My tears of sorrow were turned into tears of joy when he called me by name. The man I thought was the gardener said to me, “Mary.” In that moment I knew who he really and truly was. I should have remembered how many times he said to us, I will be put to death but on the third day I will rise.
As I look back now at how I thought Jesus was the gardener, Jesus must have stifled a laugh. And if I know him at all, he wanted to shout, “Surprise!” But he didn’t even though he had spent his whole teaching mission revealing God to us as the God of surprises. However it was the same Jesus of the meek and humble heart I encountered this morning.
Now upon reflection, I realize that Jesus, in allowing me to mistake him for the gardener, was telling me that in his resurrected life he would be identified with each person I encountered, whether a humble gardener or a wealthy merchant.
I’m not sure if the others believed my words when I told them that I saw the Master risen out of death, alive. But I’m willing to wager that my exhilaration and joy convinced them.
And, somehow, I believe that the exhilaration and joy of all of us will convince people down through the ages that he who was crucified is now alive and living in them.
For now I am packing. Jesus, now the risen Lord, is sending us to the four corners of the earth and I must do my share. I believe that all his followers down through the ages will do whatever they can to share the good news, He is risen and he lives within us! And I also believe that they will live those words in their loving service to others because Jesus told us that what we do for others we are doing for him.
Perhaps you can take out a piece of paper and write down your thoughts and reactions to the Easter feast, to the Resurrection of Jesus. When you do, you will be giving concrete form to what you are feeling.
HUMOR: A little girl was diligently pounding away on her grandfather’s word processor. Her grandfather asked her what she was writing. She answered that she was writing a story.
“What’s it about?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “You know I can’t read.”
THOUGHT: Always externalize your religious experiences.
posted by The Ronald | 2:19 PM
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