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Resurrecting Chicago

Trusting in Him with each step.

Monthly Archives: January 2024

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Spring is Comin’!

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Sure, it’s white, but a grungy-looking white.  I’m referring to our recent snow. It wasn’t very pretty when I went out for my walk this morning and sloshed through the stuff under a leadened sky.  The ground is covered with it and the path around the pond in my local park is not cleared of the mush.  Overnight it’s turned cold and windy so this slop is starting to freeze solid. Will winter ever end?

A dark cloud hovers over me as I make my grumpy way around the pond.  I don’t like this weather. I’m just out for a mandatory morning constitutional. But, wait! Next to a park bench, there is a promise written in snow on the angled directional sign next to it.  Someone took a moment to trace this with their finger: “Spring is comin.”

I read somewhere that if you keep a green bough in your heart God will send there a singing bird.  And, I recall now that it’s the cusp of a February which happens only every four years.  We’ll have a Feb. 29th this year. An extra day comin’?  It feels to me like a gift. Something hopeful stirs in my heart as I trudge the last hundred yards of my trek.

Then, I remember what happened yesterday. Like it was echoing a distant emergency vehicle siren, I heard a cardinal sing full song in my backyard. I checked and there from a low icy branch of my pear tree a red-bird was singing with full-throated flute-like clarity,

Now I have experienced two signs of hope in the middle of a gloomy winter: those grace-filled people who can anticipate Spring and redbirds who feel it coming  What appears dead is living. Look at those barren trees!  Not a leaf on any of them.  Not a green bough anywhere.  But, just wait! It’s comin’! Spring is comin!

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The Worth of a Sparrow.

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Mahalia Jackson, one of the most extraordinary singers of hymns ever, would often sing the beautiful  composition called “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” It’s based on Mt 10:28 -33 where the evangelist recounts the words of Jesus when he tells the crowds how precious each of them is to the Father.  Paraphrasing, He says: “Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin?  You are worth more than many sparrows.” (Hear Mahalia sing it here.)

What made me think of that hymn was today’s gospel where Mark describes the crowds that Jesus spoke to as so great, and their needs so pressing that Jesus could not find a moment in his own home to sit down for dinner. His uncles and aunts, cousins and neighbors were so worried that they came to rescue him from the unrelenting demands of the crowds. Mark says that they thought he was out of his mind because he was not caring for himself.

Jesus speaking, teaching and curing made each individual feel noticed, cared about. To Our Lord, there was no crowd but only men and women who came to Him. His notice of each person, reminded me of the sparrow comparison of Jesus: “Not one of them falls to the ground without the Father knowing about it.”

In preparing the homily for today, to illustrate my point, I was going to sing a verse or two of  “His Eye is on the Sparrow” but then I thought better about it. The homily is no time to show off that I know a song and that I can sing it. The homily is supposed to make the gospel live again within the lives of the hearers.

Don’t sing it, I said to myself as I walked to the ambo. Just speak the words of the song. So I did and ended with something like this:

“You may feel that you are only one of a crowd at Mass this morning. Not true. Our Lord knows every sparrow in our world by name and guides each of their lives. He sees you and knows you and loves you, too. You are worth more than many sparrows.

Mahalia ends her song with the refrain: “I sing because I’m happy.  I sing because I’m free. His eye is on the sparrow and I know he’s watching me… His eye is on the sparrow and I know he’s watching me.’

As I walking through the foyer after Mass, the maintenance man stopped me and said, ” You won’t believe this! There is a dead sparrow just outside the church door. Sure enough lying on the beautiful white snow that had fallen  overnight was a house sparrow.  I think of sparrows as dusky-looking birds but this one was a male that looked like he might just have fallen from the sky. His colors were perfect.

And, he was noticed.

 

 

 

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Chilin’ with Butch on the Lord’s Day.

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It’s Sunday morning and from my kitchen window, I see that snow has snuck up on my little town during the night. And, it is frigid outside, twelve degrees below zero.

I  put on my hat and winter jacket intending to go outside to see if my red Mazda’s battery will crank up the engine. When I opened the front door of my house, the porch was glittering in brilliant sunlight with a hard carpet of icy snow.  Pretty to look at, but walking on it would be dangerous for an old guy like me. My better angel (His name is “Butch.”) convinced me that caution was in my best interest.

Today, I won’t drive forty-five miles to visit with my sisters.  I won’t get to enjoy the drive on highway 42  with its vistas of snowy farm fields and small towns just waking up on this Sunday Sabbath, the Christian one.

Today, I won’t go to a fast food joint and pick up hamburgers and shakes for my South Elgin family. My plans for this day are foiled because I ‘ll be at home today.

Sunday is supposed to be different, a contrast between the work week and the Lord’s Day. I have already prayed morning prayer and attended the Eucharist but I have the rest of the day before me.  “The rest of the day?” Am I not supposed to rest on the “day of rest?”

So, I will rest.  I will doze.  I will sit.  I will look out the window, None of this is a waste. It is my sabbath time, a gift from the Lord, a grace-space to renew my life.

Doesn’t this sound like heresy?  Sunday or not, I should be doing something. The culture says that we Americans in the 21 st century shouldn’t be idle at all –ever!  There are beds to make, rugs to vacuum, dishes to wash and put away. There are groceries I need from Jewel. My red Mazda is showing a quarter of a tank so I should gas up my car. The snow needs shovelling and, I sure do need to plan this coming week. But, It is the Sunday Sabbath.

Instead, I’ll take a nap in my overstuffed chair for maybe twenty-minutes. I’ll begin reading Tom Holland’s new book, Dominion, or at least start it.  It’s some five hundred pages of history, but Holland has such great insights. I’ll phone a friend who can’t get out, either.  He’s got one more day in Covid-protocol.

And, tomorrow? If the men who shovel the snow –snowmen?– don’t shovel the snow off my front porch today, I won’t be going anywhere tomorrow, either. But, I won’t worry about tomorrow today. Today is the Lord’s Day and my day, too.

 

 

 

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I hate being wrong!

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I hate being wrong. Better: I hate admitting I am wrong. I hate to be caught in the act of burnishing my image, which, of course, turns to more tarnishing.  From simple stumbles in life to admitting my sin,  I hate it.

It’s embarrassing.  It diminishes me.  Who likes to be caught naked and then commanded to come out of the bushes and present themselves in all their naturalness?

“Oh, I forgot!  You are J.W. and never wrong!” Someone said that to me and it revealed a part of me that I’d rather not admit.

If I could just be square with myself and be honest, I could breathe a sigh of relief. And, be a better follower of Our Lord.

This year, 2024, I am going to be wrong from time to time and I’m going to admit it. So, if said,  “There’s snow coming tomorrow,” and the day begins with a rainbow in the sky and it’s warm enough for a light jacket, I am going to admit it: ‘”I was wrong!”

If I dress hurriedly and show up for my physical therapy appointment with a random, second pair of shorts hanging out over my pants at the rear, I will not say, “This never happens to me. I am going to laugh and say “This ain’t the first time.”

In Mt 5:37,  Our Lord  says tell the truth, anything else comes from the evil one. That reminds me that the evil one is a deceiver. He deceived Eve and Adam and he is still at it.  In 2024, I hope to be more truthful, especially in regard to admitting when I’m wrong or when I’m caught in a Pinocchio moment. I’ll need a nudge from God’s grace every time.

 

 

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