I had a buddy in high school who became a priest. I talked to him
right after he was ordained, and I remember he told me that in the
seminary they taught the seminarians that the ideal homily was seven
minutes long. Anything longer risked losing the congregation's
attention; anything shorter was too light weight. I often wish he had
never revealed that "secret" to me, because nowadays when I'm in church I
just can't bring myself to give the homilist more than those seven
minutes of my undivided attention. To be honest, I usually make a
judgment about three minutes into his sermon, and if what he has to say
hasn't grabbed me by that time, I tune him out. Shame on me! (By the
way, if the homilist is reading a canned sermon, shame on him!) I'm
sorry to report that at my church, my "stick with the sermon to the end"
record is rather poor. But... here is where my rationalization comes
into play. In those circumstances when I'm not into the sermon, instead
of using that time to mentally DCE the Notre Dame football roster or
think about what I'm going to eat for Sunday brunch, I use that time to
pray.
I went to a Catholic grade school and a Catholic high school.
Somewhere along the way we were taught that there are four stages of
prayer: adoration, thanksgiving, contrition and
petition, and they MUST be done in that order. If you start asking God
for favors as soon as you hit your knees, your prayer request has little
chance of being granted by The Man Upstairs. On the other hand, so said
my religion teachers, if you first take the time to give a prayer of
love/adoration, then thank God for all He has given you, and follow it
up with an act of contrition, only THEN are you in a position to ask for favors.
This morning at Mass was one of those "tune out the sermon early"
kind of experiences, so I did a little praying. As I was praying, my
mind drifted (again!) to my visitations to the Grotto at ND when I was a
student. I was there quite a lot. What better place to do some serious
thinking, if not praying? I must admit, when I visited the Grotto I
totally blew off what I had been taught in grade school and high school
about prayer. I hastily skipped the first three stages and launched
directly into my all-important petitions. I particularly needed some
supernatural help first semester freshman year. About two weeks before
leaving for ND in the fall, my high school girl friend and I broke up.
Emil T's chemistry class was causing me too many sleepless nights. I was
a little homesick. I had virtually no spending money. I wasn't pulling
down the "A's" that I used to get in high school. Lots of things to
worry about and pray for.
Things started to turn around for me in the latter half of freshman
year. I firmly believe that year would not have had a happy ending
without my visits to the Grotto. Now when I'm back on campus for a
football game or a reunion, I make a point of stopping by there, but I
do a little more thanking and a little less asking. The area surrounding
the Grotto is much the same as it was forty years ago. (One huge
difference: Brother Duck is no longer doling out bread to his favorite
web-footed creatures treading water in St. Mary's Lake.) On the morning
of game day there are usually hundreds of people visiting the Grotto,
many of them sporting attire for our opponent. When I look at the throng
I wonder how many of them are ND alums thinking back to their days of
invoking help there as students. It's probably a safe bet that most of
them went right to Prayer Step # 4 then, just as I did.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Monday, March 28, 2016
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
The Silent Saint
Today, March 19, is the Feast of St. Joseph, the Silent Saint. Since he has always been one of my faves, I think it's only right to give him a quick shout out. I was inspired to do so after watching a video of NBC sports personality Bob Costas deliver a eulogy at the funeral Mass of the greatest St. Louis Cardinal of them all, Stan "The Man" Musial, two months ago. If you have nineteen minutes, but no more time to spare than that, you would be better served to skip my post here and find Costas' speech on YouTube. It is one of the best eulogies I've ever heard.
Musial was known not only for his tremendous baseball skills which made him a first ballot Hall of Famer -- only thirty-nine players have been so honored since the inaugural induction in 1936 -- but for the humility and genuineness he displayed throughout and after his career. To illustrate the point, Costas tells a short story about the 1995 funeral Mass of Mickey Mantle, at which Costas also delivered a eulogy. As Costas tells it, sitting in an ad hoc VIP section in the front pews was a throng of baseball celebrities, including Whitey Ford, Reggie Jackson, Commissioner Bud Selig, Yankee owner George Steinbrenner, and Willie Mays, to name a few. Mid-way through the Mantle eulogy, Costas looked out at the crowd and there was The Man, standing off to the side near the back of the church. This impressed Costas not only because it was apparent that Musial did not feel the need to be in the place of honor with all the other dignitaries, but also because Musial, unlike the other men in the VIP section, had no direct nexus to The Mick. They played in different leagues in different cities, and were polar opposites as far as life styles were concerned. At age seventy-five, Musial had taken a plane from St. Louis to Dallas for the sole purpose of paying honor to a baseball legend and giving comfort to the Mantle family. (Note: The eulogy Costas gave at Mantle's funeral is also available on YouTube.)
I recently ran across a similar anecdote about Bob Dylan while reading a lengthly feature which appeared in the Star Tribune on February 3, 2013. Writer Jon Bream relates how, when Dylan attended the graduation of his oldest child, Maria, from Macalaster College in 1983, "he stood off in the shadows, under a tree." It was his daughter's day, and he knew he'd become a distraction if he was spotted by others in attendance.
There have been dozens, if not hundreds, of stories about the new pope, Francis I. One recounts how when the conclave of cardinals was assembled in 2005 to elect the successor to the then-recently departed Pope John Paul II, there were enough ballots cast for Argentine Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio of Buenos Aires to place him a close second behind German Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger who, although he had the most votes, did not possess the requisite seventy-five percent majority. When it was time to conduct another vote, rather than actively campaign for more votes Cardinal Bergoglio suggested to his backers that they throw their support behind Cardinal Ratzinger. They did, and as a result Cardinal Ratzinger became Pope Benedict XVI on the very next day. Cardinal Bergoglio's humility was not forgotten by his peers earlier this month, when they elected him to succeed Pope Benedict.
Back to St. Joe, a humble man who perhaps was among the very first persons for whom the saying, "It's not always about you" was modeled. (Of course, who had a better reason for realizing that truism?) He is called the Silent Saint because, even though he is one of the most renowned and important saints in the history of the Church, he is never quoted in the Bible. When you think of it, that is pretty amazing considering all the other New Testament figures (including the doubter, St. Thomas, and the traitor, Judas) who are quoted. Something tells me that is just the way Papa Joe would have wanted it.
Musial was known not only for his tremendous baseball skills which made him a first ballot Hall of Famer -- only thirty-nine players have been so honored since the inaugural induction in 1936 -- but for the humility and genuineness he displayed throughout and after his career. To illustrate the point, Costas tells a short story about the 1995 funeral Mass of Mickey Mantle, at which Costas also delivered a eulogy. As Costas tells it, sitting in an ad hoc VIP section in the front pews was a throng of baseball celebrities, including Whitey Ford, Reggie Jackson, Commissioner Bud Selig, Yankee owner George Steinbrenner, and Willie Mays, to name a few. Mid-way through the Mantle eulogy, Costas looked out at the crowd and there was The Man, standing off to the side near the back of the church. This impressed Costas not only because it was apparent that Musial did not feel the need to be in the place of honor with all the other dignitaries, but also because Musial, unlike the other men in the VIP section, had no direct nexus to The Mick. They played in different leagues in different cities, and were polar opposites as far as life styles were concerned. At age seventy-five, Musial had taken a plane from St. Louis to Dallas for the sole purpose of paying honor to a baseball legend and giving comfort to the Mantle family. (Note: The eulogy Costas gave at Mantle's funeral is also available on YouTube.)
I recently ran across a similar anecdote about Bob Dylan while reading a lengthly feature which appeared in the Star Tribune on February 3, 2013. Writer Jon Bream relates how, when Dylan attended the graduation of his oldest child, Maria, from Macalaster College in 1983, "he stood off in the shadows, under a tree." It was his daughter's day, and he knew he'd become a distraction if he was spotted by others in attendance.
There have been dozens, if not hundreds, of stories about the new pope, Francis I. One recounts how when the conclave of cardinals was assembled in 2005 to elect the successor to the then-recently departed Pope John Paul II, there were enough ballots cast for Argentine Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio of Buenos Aires to place him a close second behind German Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger who, although he had the most votes, did not possess the requisite seventy-five percent majority. When it was time to conduct another vote, rather than actively campaign for more votes Cardinal Bergoglio suggested to his backers that they throw their support behind Cardinal Ratzinger. They did, and as a result Cardinal Ratzinger became Pope Benedict XVI on the very next day. Cardinal Bergoglio's humility was not forgotten by his peers earlier this month, when they elected him to succeed Pope Benedict.
Back to St. Joe, a humble man who perhaps was among the very first persons for whom the saying, "It's not always about you" was modeled. (Of course, who had a better reason for realizing that truism?) He is called the Silent Saint because, even though he is one of the most renowned and important saints in the history of the Church, he is never quoted in the Bible. When you think of it, that is pretty amazing considering all the other New Testament figures (including the doubter, St. Thomas, and the traitor, Judas) who are quoted. Something tells me that is just the way Papa Joe would have wanted it.
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