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22 Nov 2015 - Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, Cycle B

Baseball legend Yogi Berra, who died at the age of 90 after a long and storied career, was revered for his wisdom-filled malapropisms as much as his baseball prowess. Among his more memorable observations: “If you don’t know where you’re going, you might wind up someplace else.” Berra didn’t want to end up anywhere else but playing the game of baseball. He reportedly told his dad: “I can’t ever have a job because I love to play ball too much.” Although he did have a few odd jobs and a stint in the Navy—including being part of the largest amphibious invasion in history: “D-Day,” the June 6, 1944, assault on the beaches of Normandy—his focus remained on playing ball. That dedication paid off when at age 17 he signed with the Yankees. He became a mainstay on the Yankees lineup in the 1950s and ’60s, went on to coach and manage the Yankees, Mets, and Astros, was named into the Baseball Hall of Fame, and became one of the most beloved characters in baseball. Jesus, too, was a beloved man of focus who knew where he was going: “For this I was born,” he tells Pontius Pilate, “and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” Christians are called to listen to the voice of Jesus so that they know where they are going; otherwise they’re sure to end up someplace else.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

focus yogi berra baseball direction

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Homily story of the week

22 Nov 2015 - Preaching the News for Sunday

Baseball legend Yogi Berra, who died at the age of 90 after a long and storied career, was revered for his wisdom-filled malapropisms as much as his baseball prowess. Among his more memorable observations: “If you don’t know where you’re going, you might wind up someplace else.” Berra didn’t want to end up anywhere else but playing the game of baseball. He reportedly told his dad: “I can’t ever have a job because I love to play ball too much.” Although he did have a few odd jobs and a stint in the Navy—including being part of the largest amphibious invasion in history: “D-Day,” the June 6, 1944, assault on the beaches of Normandy—his focus remained on playing ball. That dedication paid off when at age 17 he signed with the Yankees. He became a mainstay on the Yankees lineup in the 1950s and ’60s, went on to coach and manage the Yankees, Mets, and Astros, was named into the Baseball Hall of Fame, and became one of the most beloved characters in baseball. Jesus, too, was a beloved man of focus who knew where he was going: “For this I was born,” he tells Pontius Pilate, “and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” Christians are called to listen to the voice of Jesus so that they know where they are going; otherwise they’re sure to end up someplace else. Exploring the Word for Sunday, November 22, 2015

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

direction focus yogi berra baseball

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Homily stories

22 May 2011 - Fifth Sunday of Easter, Cycle A

At the time I probably thought of him as a party pooper, but now I'm grateful to Don. I was in high school, and a bunch of my friends and I were scheming to pull a prank on a guy in our class who was often the butt of our jokes. We were telling ourselves that it was all in good fun. But it wouldn't have been much fun for the guy at whom we were aiming our joke. Then Don, one of my friends and a quiet guy, said, "I don't want to be a part of this." It was as simple as that. He didn't try to talk us out of our plans and he didn't try to shame us. But his decision of conscience to not go along with the crowd proved to be a stumbling block to the rest of us. Suddenly we were forced to look at our behavior regarding this classmate who'd so long been our fall guy. It no longer seemed like fun. In fact, slowly I came to see it for what it was: selfish and cruel. I'd like to say that caused an immediate turnaround in me, but that wouldn't be true. However, my quiet friend's taking a stand had a slow-growing and long-term effect on me. In today's second reading we hear that Jesus was a stumbling block to many. When you're proceeding fast in the wrong direction, a good stumble may be just what you need.

Authors Tom McGrath

conscience wrong direction selfishness behavior

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Exploring the word

05 Jan 2020 - Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord, Cycle A

Why are so many of us reluctant to ask for directions? I don’t have a macho bone in my body and yet I hesitate—till I am good and lost—before I’ll stop someone for help. Maybe it’s because we don’t like to appear weak or fallible, though we are surely both. Maybe it’s a self-esteem issue for some: We’re too shy or we don’t like to be a bother and halt another’s progress. Or else it’s the opposite problem: We believe too highly in our own interior compass. Whatever the reason, many of us would rather fumble around indefinitely and hope for the best than to ask for assistance. But often in life, finding our way is more than a mastery of north, south, east, and west. I had friends in college with five-, 10-, and 20-year life plans. They could tell you precisely when they’d marry, how many children they would have, and where they expected to work and live at each stage of life as if they had a crystal ball. I wondered what would happen to those plans if they didn’t meet their presumed partner on schedule, if the economy radically shifted, or if the Christmas-card perfect children didn’t materialize as dictated. When life fails to deliver on our expectations and assumptions, we may find ourselves traveling a dark and unfamiliar road where the only sure thing is uncertainty. The lords of elsewhere Not all unexpected bends in the road are disappointing, of course. I grew up in a small town and never imagined myself in a bustling city. Yet it happened and the change was terrific. Once established as an urban dweller, I did not doubt I’d spend the rest of my life in one huge metropolitan center or another. And here I am back in a tiny burg and loving it. When the ancient prophets had visions of change, some predictions were terrifying but others were downright grand. Isaiah imagines that Israel, so long a backwater of the civilized world, would someday be an international destination. The riches that were so often carried out of its pillaged cities would one day return on caravans of camels. Its kings had been dragged from Jerusalem in chains into exile. But one day foreign kings would walk to Jerusalem, dazzled by the capital’s radiance. The psalmist echoes the sentiment in imagining kings of Tarshish and the Isles, Arabia and Seba—lords of elsewhere north, south, and west—paying tribute to Israel. If the biblical history of Solomon is to be credited, Israel enjoyed at least one hour of greatness that brought rulers from as far as Sheba to pay honor. So for the nation’s seers, it was not impossible to conceive that Israel might one day recover that prestige. What would bring the lords of elsewhere to Jerusalem was not an intellectual assent that Israel was a world superpower or anything like that, of course. These rulers would be drawn irresistibly by the majesty of the place, epitomized by the glory of Israel’s God. Wondrous things compel human wonder in response. The God who rules with justice and the society that imitates divine justice would provoke that international open-mouthed awe. No one would have to ask for directions to find their way to such a kingdom. They would simply have to follow their hearts. Magi from the east Wise men, astrologers, magicians, priests, royalty—who knows what the Magi were? The only other memorable reference in the New Testament to their profession concerns Simon Magus, who was a wonderworker of some sort at the time of the apostles. We know that dealers in wonder are a mixed bag in the Bible. Some operate under divine authority and others dabbled in the occult. Still others were simply charlatans. But if there can be good thieves, tax collectors like Matthew, and Pharisees like Paul, we have to admit that categories can be deceiving in the gospels. If the Magi were occult leaders, they were also reliable ones. What makes them reliable is that they do not undertake their journey under their own volition and by their own modest powers. They are led: first by a star and later by a dream. This willingness to be taken by the hand of heaven and guided along the way is a sign of deep humility and a hearty amount of trust in a Higher Power. They clearly did not know the One who compelled their journey or their worship. Yet like children, they fell in behind the leadership of the star and went. Travel wasn’t a leisurely adventure in those times. It was expensive, perilous, and decidedly uncomfortable. You didn’t take to the roads unless there was no other way to conduct your business. Homage is one of those things you can’t send by letter. It requires a personal act of submission, which the Magi were prepared to offer to the unknown king. But pride wasn’t an obstacle these men faced. They were even willing to ask for directions! When they got to Jerusalem, they immediately inquired in the streets for the whereabouts of the new king. That got Herod’s attention. These three trusting souls found themselves making inquiry of the least likely man in Israel to join them in honoring a new king. Happily, they did not allow Herod’s authority to rule over the inner imperative of the dream that directed them to take another route on their way home. Applying the word Go and search diligently From whom are we most likely to take directions? Do worldly powers impress us enough to derail our path? Do we pledge allegiance only to our own authority, our own opinions, or our own will? Is there anything outside of ourselves that might compel us to fall on our knees and lower our eyes? Most of all, are we willing to take the journey of faith, an enterprise that requires us by definition to surrender, change, and grow? Are we willing to be led along a path we cannot predestine or control, toward a goal we only vaguely apprehend? These are hard questions, but this is what Epiphany demands of us. God manifests the divine presence before the world. But the only way to see it is to be led there like a child. Related scripture links Queen of Sheba: 1 Kings 10:1-13; 2 Chron. 9:1-12 Simon Magus: Acts 8:9-24

Authors Alice Camille

directions journey of faith magi

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Homily stories

05 Jan 2020 - Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord, Cycle A

GPS (global positioning system) technology is handy, powering maps on our phones that help us find our destinations. GPS guides you there—just like Magi following a star. You don’t even have to tell it where you are—it knows! And if you make a wrong turn, it tells you so and recalculates its directions accordingly. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a GPS not only for your travels but for your life choices? Destination: a long and prosperous life. Directions: anybody’s guess. That’s the problem. There is no set path that guarantees such an outcome. Do what you will, you can’t avoid suffering and death. But all is not lost. The good news that comes with the birth of Jesus is that there is a path you can take that will guarantee you great joy and everlasting life. Yes, you will suffer at times and eventually we all will die, but your life will have meaning because you will have lived it for the sake of others. You will find immense happiness in sharing your gifts and recognizing the talents of others. You will feel overwhelming gratitude for the many blessings showered upon you. You find this path by following your EPS—eternal positioning system—activated at your Baptism. The simple directions you receive are these: love, forgive, serve.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

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Homily stories

10 May 2020 - Fifth Sunday of Easter, Cycle A

I don’t know how any of us got anywhere before our phones told us how to get there. I said this recently to a co-worker—a woman much younger than me—and she said, “Oh, we used Mapquest on our computers and printed out the directions, remember?” I laughed. “I mean, before that!” She looked at me like I had two heads—the mystery of “before that” hitting her. I was in college the first time I saw the internet, so I remember using paper maps and asking people for directions. But without the ease of an app at my fingertips, I guessed a lot and hoped for the best. More recently, I began to ignore that old intuition and let Google take me on the least direct routes all the time, while I cursed the satellite gods. Stuck at home during the coronavirus outbreak, I felt more lost than ever. I would have done anything to go on a wild goose chase that led me anywhere, or to anyone. Stuck at home and fearful, I needed navigation badly. Burrowing inward was the only direction, and there I searched for the faith that I would be led back out again.

Authors Jennifer Tomshack

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