The Museum in Heaven -- what would you put on exhibit?

Yesterday at Mass, Fr. Michael gave a homily on the Widow's Mite gospel. He made the usual points about giving out of our want rather than just from our excess, etc. and then moved on to what I found to be a fascinating "sidebar". He said that if there were a "Museum in Heaven", he was certain that the Widow's mite would be one of the exhibits -- because these three coins represented what Jesus wants our attitude to be about material possessions. Fr. Michael also thought that the alabaster jar of aromatic oil that the women broke to anoint Jesus' feet and the glass used by the righteous to give water to Jesus "When I was thirsty" would also be key exhibits. Obviously, as a former museum director, I found this whole line of thought compelling, and I began reflecting on what I would include in this heavenly exhibition if I were the Curator. What would I think were the essential objects needed to tell the story of Christ's life on earth?

The centerpiece of my Museum in Heaven would certainly be a piece of the Calvary cross, the physical place where Jesus sacrified His life for our salvation. I would also include one of the linens that was left behind in the tomb -- perhaps the head cloth would be best, to represent His resurrection, the key experience of hope for all Christians. To represent the miracles, I would probably choose one of the large jugs that Jesus used to change water into wine at Cana, and a facsimile of the drawing that Jesus traced in the dirt in front of the woman caught in adultery.
From Christ's early life, there would be the manger from his birthplace, some tools from Joseph's carpenter's shop, and perhaps a piece of bright cloth from the caravan that Jesus left when he returned to the temple to begin learning about his Father's business, to the distress of his poor parents who didn't know where he went.
To represent the apostles, I would exhibit one of the fishing nets that Peter and his partners left when they first were recruited by Jesus, and the pouch containing the 30 silver pieces that Judas used to betray Jesus. For His battles with the Pharises, I would include the scroll that Jesus read from when he spoke in the temple for the first time and declared: "Today this reading (the coming of the Messiah) is fulfilled in your presence", and some of the wheat which His desciples threshed by hand on Sabbath, in violation of the strict Jewish law. And finally, I would include a copy of that Jewish Law itself, all 600+ tenets and juxtapose this to Jesus' law of the two great commandments to love God and love your neighbor.

As I read this list, I am struck by how small this exhibition would be! Jesus didn't leave behind many physical traces, or is my list here too limited? What you YOU include in the "Museum in Heaven's" artifact list?

Visit to Amish Country

We were short-staffed for 4 days this week while some of the full-time workers were on retreat. So Mark had to do pick-ups for 3 of 4 days, and Thea had to be the assistant cook for 2 days. Both cooks made soup, so Thea's job entailed chopping endless numbers of potatoes, onions and peppers one day and snapping green beans for 2 hours on another. It was with real relief that we had today free. Thea's former student, Brenda Sallee, is working in Reading, and suggested we contact her and she would take us around Lancaster County. There are about 37,000 Old Order Amish (drive horse and buggy), other Amish (drive cars ) and Old Order Mennonites (no cars) that live in the county. We went to a hand-twisted pretzel factory, a quilt museum, and drove down the small 1 lane roads through the orderly farms of the Amish and Mennonites. We saw a man drive with his daughter in a buggy to Walmart, where they have buggy parking for the Amish. We also were amused by watching a carriage go through the "drive-through window" of a bank. The weather was sunny and about 50 degrees, so it was a perfect day for a ride in the country. We enjoyed a lunch at a country restaurant, served family style. We sampled homemade sausages, ham loaf, potato stuffing and shoo-fly pie. It was only a little over an hour from our home to Lancaster County, yet we felt like we were in another era.

Philadelphia Strikes Out

This posting is not about baseball, although the Phillys did lose to the NY Yankees in the 6th game of the World Series. The strike I am referring to is the SEPTA strike; these are the workers that keep the buses, trollies and subway/el train running. The strike began in the middle of the night Monday after the baseball game ended. Commuters coming in on the light rail were shocked to reach the subway and find it was not running. There are 35,000 public school children who use public transportation to get to school, and thousands more who attend private/parochial schools who walked, biked, skateboarded or found a car ride to school.
Apparently when the new contracts are negotiated every 4 years, terms are not met and the strike occurs. The length has varied from just a few days to 100 days. So how is the SEPTA strike affecting St. Francis Inn? One of the most obvious is the low numbers of senior citizens who are coming to eat. We had less than 50 seniors last night, compared to our usual 100. Since seniors can ride the buses for free, many of our guests who live more than a mile away depend on the buses to get them to the Inn. Likewise, we have had several of our most dependable daytime volunteers call in and say they could not come and help. The last two days there have been only 2 or 3 of us who have prepared the food, taking most of the 6 hours we have available before mealtime. The roads are in gridlock, because commuters are being forced to drive to work rather than take mass transit. As a result, pickups of the bread and baked goods are taking longer.
The strike has brought out the worst in people.There are all sorts of stories of road rage, motorists and cyclists battling out space, and people getting up at 3 am to make the commute. There are stories of kindness,too. A man told me this morning he was driving home yesterday and saw some elderly people standing on the street corner. He thought maybe they didn't know about the strike. So he rolled his window down and asked them if they knew the buses weren't running. They replied they were waiting for a cab as they had to go to the hospital. It turned out that the hospital was close to his home, and he ended up driving the couple to their destination.
We hope that a just mediation of the contract will occur very soon.

The Ties That Bind

When Mark and I first discussed giving a year of service after retirement, we considered going outside the U.S., perhaps with the Peace Corps or Franciscan Mission Service. Our younger daughter, who had recently produced our first grandchild, was appalled. How could we go off for one or two years, missing out on all the landmark events of a young child? For that reason and various others, we amended our search to locations east of the Mississippi.
In the past 3 weeks, we have been thankful we did. First, our second grandchild arrived, two weeks early, and I was able to go down to Athens, Ga and assist our daughter Andrea with little Katie. Right before I was to leave, our daughter Angela called, quite distraught, because her son Cade had H1N1 flu, and she had been unable to get the vaccine. Since she is pregnant, this was a matter of concern. Mark was prepared to get in the car and drive 8 hours to Raleigh to take care of the boy. However, the other grandparents generously drove from Hickory to get him and kept him the remainder of the week. Thankfully, Angela did not have any symptoms of the flu.
It is all well and good for us to care for the people of Philadelphia, but our first priority has to be to our family. Several of the people who are long time volunteers at the Inn have taken leave of absence to care for ill parents or other relatives. I can understand better the sacrifice priests, religious and lay missioners make when they go far away from home and family for several years at a time. Likewise, those members of the armed forces who are serving overseas are making a great sacrifice. Our nephew Will is currently serving in Iraq, and was unable to attend his brother's wedding last Friday. He called from Iraq and was able to speak to many family members. We were happy to hear his voice, but will be happier when he returns to us safe and sound.

The Guests, Part 2

We call them guests, the people that come to our meals, and they are certanly that.
we serve them a sit down meal, every day of the week, just like they were customers at a restaurant. Sometimes I think of them as clients, or as recipients, or as blessings, but always they are individuals....people, each with a story.

One of the first of the guests that I noticed when we came to the St. Frances Inn was a tall, muscular, man named Bill. Bill is 63 and a little scruffy looking (unkempt beard, a Jack Daniels headband, longish hair), but he also is friendly. We quickly learned each other's names, and eventually he told me his story. He used to be a New Jersey State Trooper (and still has a license to carry a gun) with a family. One day in 1974 a drunk driver hit and killed his wife and his older child. The driver was charged with vehicular manslaughter, but a good lawyer got him off with only a suspended sentence and got his driver's license back almost immediately. Bill was so incensed at the verdict that he threw his Trooper's badge at the judge and resigned from the police force on the spot.

The next 16 years were a blur, lost in drink, meth, go-go clubs, and bars. Amazingly, Bill was able to balance this life with a tow truck and garage business, getting an average of 2 hours of sleep per night. Finally, in 1989, he quit drinking and using drugs "because I didn't want to live like that anymore". Around that time, he also began coming to the St. Frances Inn because the people were friendly and many of his street friends also came here to get a meal. He has stayed around and now is a source of help for others. These include "the 96 old lady that lives behind me" and "the couple with two retarded children who live next door". He brings them food from the Inn sometimes or helps them with odd jobs. Bill still has his tow truck and a garage and occasionally works or leases out his truck to others, but spends most of his time on the street and at the Inn. When I asked him why he does this, he told me: "This is my famly now, and these are my friends. I like helping people out when I can."

Bill's story surprised me. I look upon most of the people who come to us as "needy", but am discovering that this need comes in many forms. Certainly we have our share of addicts, mentally retarded people, immigrants, and others that society views as disadvantaged. However, there are also some, like Bill, for whom this is their community in which each plays a useful and positive role. Chalk up another lesson for Mark...stay tuned, I am ssure that I have much more to learn about this unique place called the St. Frances Inn.

Aging with Grace

One of the unexpected benefits of working at St. Francis Inn is getting to know women religious. Other than the wonderful Maryvale Community in Lincoln County, Mark and I have had little contact with women religious during the past 35 years. There are a number of Sisters that we have come to know and admire.
Sister Jude is a Sister of the Holy Family of Nazareth. She was a college art professor for many years before becoming a visiting nurse. Now, at 77, she works 3 days a week at the Inn and always cooks the dinner on Wednesday. It is amazing to see this septuagenarian baking chicken for 300.
Sister Mary, an Alleghany Franciscan, 73 years old and Sr. Leslie,68, a Sister of St. Francis of Philadelphia, both began their ministry in education. At some point they both decided to work with the poor and served at women's shelters in New York and Boston. In the early '90's they came to Kensington. They organize the rest of us, clean, carry loads, and help the guests. Their energy puts me to shame.
Another Sister comes on Tuesday and Thursday and helps with the breakfast for the guests. She and her twin sister are both Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, founded by St. Katharine Drexel here in Philadelphia. The order was founded to serve Native American and African-American children, and Sister Margaret,87, spent most of her ministry serving at reservations in the Southwestern U.S. She just celebrated her 60th anniversary as a sister.
I think the positive outlook these Sisters exude and the energy they have that allows them to help others are partially products of a life of prayer, reflection, and happiness in their choice of a vocation.

Musings on a cold, rainy day

We are having 2 northeasters back to back. The first one hit on Thursday, our day off. We knew it would be rainy with a high of 48, so we had planned to go to a movie and hear a lecture on Mayan birds. However, Br. Fred was going to New York City to the motherhouse, and asked if we wanted to come along. The only problem was that he was leaving at 5:30 am. The time was not a problem, so off we went and we were at the friary about 7:30. We ate breakfast at a diner, then Mark and I got on the subway at Penn Station and headed for the Statue of Liberty. We had not planned enough in advance to go up in the crown, but we did go inside the monument and had a wonderful time despite the cool, wet day.
Today was the third day of rain, and the sewer started to back up into the basement of the Inn. Mark and Br. Fred spent about 4 hours with the shop vac getting the water out of the basement until the plumber arrived. Apparently the flooding occurs a few times a year.
I was out in the yard giving out tickets for the meal. Most of the guests were adequately clothed, but one young mother arrived with her 3 children, the youngest being born last Saturday. Another woman was wearing flip flops. I had on two pairs of socks, and was ready to give her one of my pairs, but she took off before I could offer. One man, walking with a cane, came up to me and said he had a problem The tongue of his shoe was stuck down too far, and he needed it lifted out and the shoe retied. He was not agile enough to squat down, do it himself, and get back up. I told him I would do it, and was somewhat shocked to discover he didn't have a foot in the shoe. He was either an amputee or had a clubfoot. I fixed the shoe, and he was so grateful. It was a really humbling experience.
Finally, Mark got his first haircut today since arriving. There is a barber across the street who cuts hair for $5.00. He doesn't speak English, but he has pictures of men with various haircuts on the wall, and you point to one and he does the cut. I went along to watch, and try to intervene if the barber went crazy with the shears. The cut actually looks pretty good.