Easter Joy

From Fr. Don Talafous, Chaplain Emeritus, Saint John's Collegeville–

Easter hope and Easter joy. There is for many, I suspect, some difficulty with believing these are real. For one thing, the hope and belief we may have as Christians in a final resurrection, that last triumph over death, gets little support in our surroundings. Nonbelievers just don't believe it and Christians feel a bit apologetic about stressing it. It seems to imply that we shouldn't take this world and our tasks here seriously and we all know how much work this world needs from people of good will.
Perhaps there's a danger that we preachers speak of Easter in a way that is itself too up in the air. The hope and joy of Easter, like every other good in our faith, comes to us, to the world through human beings. The power of the Risen Christ working in those who put their trust in Him has to show itself in practical ways around us, in our lives. Easter hope becomes tangible when the neighborhood improves, when honesty grows more prevalent, when more people are ready to work for the safety of little children. Easter joy is apparent when those who believe in the Risen Lord show by their spirit that they are not crushed by the world, that they can still sing and laugh.

Robby, the Piano Student

from Betty Kellen and Angie Mixner

At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary  school music teacher from Des Moines , Iowa .  

 

I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons - something I have done for over 30 years. 

 

During those years I found that children have many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had  the pleasure of having a prodigy, I have taught some very talented students. However, I have also had my share of what I call

'musically challenged' pupils - one such pupil being Robby..  

 

Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer  that  students (especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained  to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's  dream to hear him play the piano, so I took him as a student.  

 

Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as  Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to  excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary piano  pieces that I require all my students to learn. Over the months he  tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage  him.  

 

At the end of each weekly lesson he would always say 'My mom's going to hear me play someday'. But to me, it seemed hopeless, he just did not have any inborn ability.

 

I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always  waved and smiled, but never  dropped in.  

 

Then one day Robby stopped coming for his lessons. I thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his  lack of ability he had decided to pursue something else. I was also  glad that he had stopped coming - he was a bad advertisement for my  teaching!  

 

Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students' homes. To my surprise, Robby (who had received a  flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the  recital was for current pupils and that because he had dropped out, he  really did not qualify.

 

He told me that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons, but that he had been  practicing. 'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to play' he insisted. I  don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital - perhaps it  was his insistence or maybe something inside of me saying that it  would be all  right.  

 

The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with parents, relatives and friends. I  put Robby last in the program, just before I was to come up and thank  all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage  he might do would come at the end of the program and I could  always salvage his poor performance through my 'curtain closer'.  

 

Well, the recital went off without a hitch, the students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up  on the stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked as though  he had run an egg beater through it. 'Why wasn't he dressed up like  the other students?' I thought. 'Why didn't his mother at least  make him comb his hair for this special night?'  

 

Robby pulled out the piano bench, and I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's Concerto  No..21 in C Major. I was  not prepared for what I heard next.  His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the  ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso;  his suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent!  

 

Never had I heard Mozart played so well by anyone his

age.

After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in wild applause!  Overcome and in tears, I ran up onstage and put my arms around Robby in joy. 'I have never heard you play like that Robby, how did you do it?  

 

' Through the microphone Robby explained: 'Well, Miss Honor ..... remember I told you that my mom was sick?  Well, she actually had cancer and passed away this morning. And well  ...... she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever  heard me play, and I wanted to make it special.' 

 

There wasn't a dry eye in  the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be  placed into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and  puffy. I thought to myself then how much richer my life had been for  taking Robby as my pupil.  

 

No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy ........ of Robby. He was the teacher and I  was the pupil, for he had taught me the meaning of perseverance and  love and believing in yourself, and may be even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know why.  

 

Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in  April, 1995.

Prayer for the Church

Submitted by Betty Kellen, Barb Denno and 3 others.

See how much he loved him...

from Father Don Talafous, OSB (Chaplain Emeritus, Saint John's University, Collegeville, MN)

Painting by Karl Isakson

As Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:1-45) those standing about remarked: "See how much He loved him!" The fact that Jesus stands outside the tomb of the recently deceased Lazarus and weeps shows how much He valued Lazarus' friendship. The story goes on to show us Jesus calling Lazarus out of the tomb and back to life. "See how much He loved him!" John's Gospel is full of lines that offer several possible interpretations. Can't we see in the fact that Jesus raises Lazarus back to life another indication of how much He loved him? Furthermore John means for the modern reader to see a picture here of how much Jesus loves all of us, enough to bring us all back to life and even here and now to invigorate our slack and stumbling selves.

And there's more suggested in the many-layered writing of John: the love of anyone of us for another is a power that can bring the other back to life, revitalize a dead, somnolent existence. In our relationships we see again and again how life-giving love is. Love brings out intelligence and generosity, hope and courage in those who are loved, awakes dormant potential. Love makes people bloom who would otherwise stay slow-growing. Warmed by love, they come out like those daring crocuses that poke their heads out of the snow in early March in northern climes. We are both able to give this kind of love and see its results and to receive this kind of love and produce these results. Much of the good in anyone of us is the result of parents, teachers, coaches, friends who took the time and effort to love into life some vaguely formed quality of ours, to encourage what another without love would never see. "See how much He loved him."

From Anonymous

It's not what we gather in this life that's important . . . it's what we scatter.

One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. 'Really?' she heard whispered. 'I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!' and, 'I didn't know others liked me so much,' were most of the comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student.  She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature.

The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.  As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. 'Were you Mark's math teacher?' he asked. She nodded: 'yes.' Then he said: 'Mark talked about you a lot.'

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon.

Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.

'We want to show you something,' his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket 'They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.'

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.

'Thank you so much for doing that,' Mark's mother said. 'As you can see, Mark treasured it.'

All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, 'I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home.'

Chuck's wife said, 'Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album.'

'I have mine too,' Marilyn said. 'It's in my diary'

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. 'I carry this with me at all times,' Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, she continued: 'I think we all saved our lists'

That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.

So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

One Way To Accomplish This Is: Forward this message on. If you do not send it, you will have passed up a wonderful opportunity to do something nice and beautiful.

If you've received this, it is because someone cares for you, and it means there is probably someone for whom you care.

Don't be 'too busy' to take a few minutes right now to forward this message -- it could be an opportune moment to shine a positive light into someone's life.

The more people you send this to, the better you'll be at reaching out to those you care about. 

Remember, you reap what you sow. What you put into the lives of others comes back into your own. 

 

 

 

Requests from Love, Inc.

Praise for:

- The new widow ministry that has been recently started.

- The many needs that were met this week through referrals to existing church ministries, community agencies, and individual church volunteers.

Pray for:

- A family in need of a set of pots/pans for cooking 

and a set for baking

- Rent need in the amount of $48.00

- Twin beds and upright dressers in good to excellent condition

- An electrician willing to donate time to install lights in the Furniture Warehouse

Maintaining faith and devotion during illness.

from Louise Benjamin–

Hello all,

 

I’m a 40 year old disabled housewife and mother of 3 dogs and 3 cats. I have osteo-arthritis, and there are many days when getting out of bed is pretty hard to do. I’ve had this disease for several years now, and receive benefits that make my life a little easier. As a natural course of my disease, it is quite hard to leave the house in the winter-time. Even the warmer days make leaving home a larger chore than I would like. So, I spend most of my life at home, budgeting my time away from the house into small errands and in increments.

 

Getting to church on a Sunday, or even a week-day sometimes just can’t happen for me anymore. It’s why you probably wouldn’t recognize my face in the congregation unless you know me well. So, I do as much as I can at home to maintain my spiritual life as possible. I watch quite a bit of EWTN, a channel that comes with our cable service, so I can at least witness the Mass. I also participate in the Rosary from their broadcasts as well. I follow along with these Masses by using the Roman Missal, where I can read along with the readings just like we do in church. The effect isn’t the same, and it’s not going to be, but I can feel a part of the body of Christ, the Church, by proxy. I use the Spiritual Communion Prayer found in my Missal quite a bit. I do try to get to Mass in the winter-time at least once a month, and I have started trying to attend Reconciliation available on Saturdays, and I attend the Mass shortly afterwards. I’d love to be able to take part in the Adoration available on Thursdays, but most of the time that this just isn’t possible.

 

I spend those days I can’t go out, studying various topics on our faith, and listening to audiobooks on the faith while I knit or crochet. Scott Hahn, Robert Barron, Pope Benedict, and Andrew M Greeley are amongst my audible collection. I also have an audio Bible I listen to. There are many hours, while I sit and work on some project at home that those audiobooks are a source of hope and inspiration for me. I’m spending my time making prayer shawls, and praying for the members of the congregation. While I don’t know most of you, there are quite a few of you that stand out in my heart. I’ll probably never know your names, but I remember your faces, and I smile when I think of you.

 

There was the Lady I sat next to one Sunday morning last year. We sat in the section set aside in the church for the disabled. When the basket went by, she couldn’t get her envelope out quick enough, but Deacon Vern was able to get her envelope anyways. There were two women I sat between the last Mass I was able to attend. I have to bundle up quite a bit, and end up wearing sometimes two thick winter coats, in order to stay comfortable in our weather. Both women treated me with respect and dignity, and for that I’m eternally grateful. When I am able to attend Mass, my heart records every moment, every nuance I can, that I can remember everything possible. Going to Mass is the Highlight of my heart, and I yearn to attend again. I enjoy my contact with all of you, and I look forward to the warm sunshine, soft breezes, and nice days when I can get out among you again.