While not a liturgical holiday, “Grandparents Day” was a good event probably spawned by candy/flower/restaurant corporations.
Grandparents are included in Mother’s and Father’s Day celebrations, but our grandparents deserve recognition for the roles they play in many households. They’ve learned from raising their own children, and have a second chance to do an even better job in doing it again.
The Lakota Sioux Indians begin all prayer by addressing “Grandfather, Great Spirit” (Tunkashila Wakan Tanka)—recognizing the Creator as a very special relative and giver of life. This idea gives spiritual substance to Indian cultures that frequently refer to “elders” as especially worthy of our reverence. Black Elk reflected that elders should be taken good care of and learned from—since they are close to God when in their final years.
Sometimes, grandparents (great-grandparents) feel that their presence is no longer useful, and so they get discouraged. They often don’t realize that the family is just glad that grandmother and grandfather are present! It doesn’t matter if they’re make the family meal, mopping the floor, or some other chore. It’s their presence that matters. I don’t think of this experience without recalling the void my family felt when my grandmother went back to God. I missed putting a shot of whiskey in her egg nog at Thanksgiving time. I should say a “half a shot” of whiskey—as my grandmother did not imbibe well—and a “half” was plenty for her (even when she was young).
So it’s Grandparents Day this weekend. It wouldn’t hurt to express your appreciation to your loved ones. And if your grandparents are no longer with us—why not give your grandchildren a treat of some kind—and tell them you’re celebrating BEING a grandparent to them.
This is also the weekend that we read from Mark’s gospel instead of John’s. Recall that Mark is the oldest of the 4 Gospels—and is thought to have provided material for Luke’s and Matthew’s books. Mark’s is the shortest of the 4, and is the only one that has today’s story of the deaf-mute. Interestingly, Mark’s Gospel is written in Greek and uses the same word for both “mute” and “deaf.” Therein lies the potent meaning of the encounter with Jesus. Think of people who can’t hear anything as infants. They might never be able to speak. Now think of this theologically. If our young (or older ones) hear nothing about our faith and have no participation within the sacraments (like attending Mass), what will they be able to say about God, or Jesus, or Christian virtues. Our faith-life is SUPPOSED to stir within us a movement of Spirit that motivates us to feed the hungry, clothe, the naked, etc. But if you hear nothing about your faith, what will motivate you to accomplish anything of value?
Within that long-ago first-century world, Jesus was a healer. As with other tribes in other parts of the world (North America, too), people did not regard illness or physical misfortune the same way as us. Instead of saying something like “He caught a virus” or “She slipped and broke her ankle,” people would say: “An evil spirit did this to him/her!” And as was the custom, if an evil spirit was present (as with the deaf-mute whose condition signaled an evil spirit’s work), the healer would “spit” to chase it away. In this instance, Jesus spit and then rubbed the man’s spirit-stricken disability. Voila! The miracle worker did his thing. What a great miracle worker Jesus was. Yay. He could overcome evil spirits! Write about his power in action-packed comic books.
Stop. That’s not the main point of this story.
What we’ve read is that Jesus performed an exorcism that cast out whatever prevented the man from hearing THE WORD OF GOD and sharing it, or speaking it to others. THAT is what Mark was telling his audience. Put another way, any incident that reported someone locked in the grasp of an evil spirit or demon—is the Evangelist’s way of saying that Jesus can heal you of YOUR demons, and lead you out of the paralyzing addiction or affliction or behavior that prevents you from becoming the best version of yourself.
This deaf-mute story addresses we humans who carry memories of something we’ve done that shames or festers in our conscience. At the beginning of the incident, we’re told that Jesus speaks to the man (you or me) “in private.” And so it is, the healing we can receive from living the Christ-life is offered to us privately as the risen Lord speaks to our hearts. I was reminded of a country-western song that might speak to you in contemporary terms of everyday life: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkZyqxVCPYs (or Google Youtube Walk On Reba McIntyre).
This week we buried two parishioners and I was once again reminded of God calling each of us one day. We’ve walked many paths in life and found ourselves in mid-Michigan. Grandparents see family members and each of us deaf-mutes look at our lives and wonder if where we are is where we should be. While thinking these different thoughts, I was reminded of a best-selling novel of several decades past: I Heard the Owl Call My Name. It was made into a film and told the story of an Episcopalian priest assigned to an Indian reservation in Canada’s British Columbia
[Google this site to see the entire film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MAoIYDxNefU]
The “reserve” (what Canadians say instead of our “reservation”) is a poverty-stricken fishing village, and the priest thinks of his role as that of one who will help people fit into the larger Canadian society. By the story’s end, it is he who learned from the people.
A scene that came to mind was that of the priest speaking with the local school teacher. This man was condescending toward his students and the reserve people in general. The priest invites him to attend services and the man says he’s not a religious man. The priest replies that if it weren’t for a teacher in the 7th grade who inspired him, he’d be nowhere at all. Whereupon the teacher said: “Look around you, vicar, this IS nowhere at all.”
Because the priest was trying to understand what his role among the people should be, the teacher’s observation hit home. Then he learns that he has a fatal disease that will take him to eternity in the months ahead (the people believe that one’s death day is near when one “hears the owl call my name”).
Like grandparents who might think their lives aren’t of much consequence now that they can’t get around like they once did. Like each of us deaf-mutes who deal with our limitations and wonder if our lives will be of any further consequence, we’re like the priest (who was buried there on the reserve cemetery grounds).
Before the owl called his name, he learned that THERE on a destitute Indian reserve, was far from being “nowhere.” Because he was God’s child, among other of God’s children from a far different background than his. He was very much SOMEWHERE important. And so it is that God know each of us by name, and is with us HERE—making our presence with others of supreme importance.