If God Were a Soft-hearted Slob . . .Oh, That's Right He Is. . .Seventh Promise of the Sacred Heart of Jesus

                                         

                                        “Tepid souls shall become fervent.” 

I go to Sacred Heart Church at 116th & Church Street in Washington Heights just east of Morgan Park in Chicago.  The Mass is traditional and unself-absorbed and sung in English.  The Saying of the Memorare after the Nicene Creed was and is a huge selling point in my attendence at Sacred Heart - that and the people who attend.

It is a kid friendly place of worship free the more pious scolds who skunk-eye and 'hush and shush' families with little kids (infants -toddlers) who interrupt the sanctity of the liturgy, while celebrating the sanctity of Life. Little guys screw around and Mass can be brutal. Among the faithful in the pews there is nothing but simple dignity and smiling tolerance for the little guys.

Sacred Heart parishioners are salt of the earth blue-collar working women and men. A State of Grace after Mass includes a dose of pride knowing that you have been numbered among these people. No hand tossing Hosanna-types of the Church of Happy Horse-#$%^.   People who know hard work, hard times and hard prayer have a dignified

Sacred Heart worship is Divine -thanks to the likes of Father Gallagher, Father Vanecko and etc. Gallagher and Vanecko are brilliant and succinct homilists.  They do not need to hear the sound of their voices.  Mass is never like attending a Wagner Festival.  Thanks be to God.  The church building is understated beauty.

The French immigrants who paid for and built Sacred Heart at the turn of 19th Century did a great job on the stained glass windows that feature St. Margaret Mary Alacoque's 12 Promises of the Sacred Heart of Christ. My favorite is Olde # 7  “Tepid souls shall become fervent.”

I am about as lukewarm/tepid/less than hot a soul ,as God ever cranked out. Mind you; nothing wrong with the parts and labor going into the making, but really poor maintenance by the owner.

If God were more of shiftless, lazy, excuse-laden slob, He'd allow me to be and act more like Joe Epstein, Skinny Sheahan, or Dan McGrath.  They are a Trinity of nice guys who toil at it.  God does too.  I do not.

I like to think that with a little more prayer and great deal more effort the Sacred Heart will deliver. Fervent beats tepid hollow.

Sacred Heart Easter Mass, Crying Babies and Creepy Easter Bunnies

Clare and I just returned from Mass at Sacred Heart Church tucked in a tough neighborhood hinterland between Morgan Park and Washington Heights at 116th & Church Street.

For my trio of readers, Sacred Heart Church is my house of worship, though I live in St. Cajetan Parish. Sacred Heart is an old French Mission Church that was saved from Cardinal Bernardin's wrecking ball years ago, thanks to Father Veder and the many people who worship and support this gem of humility, simplicity, and traditional Catholic worship in Chicago.

Sacred Heart is served by Father Flynn and a cadre of great priests like Fathers McKenna and Gallagher. Father McKenna is a classically trained musician. Father Gallagher spent most of his life as a missionary in Mexico. Father Gallgher is, in my opinion, the best homilist I have ever listened to - I have heard many homilists and listened to very few.

Father Gallagher springs out of the Gospel. He is in his late seventies and beset by rusty joints and struggles up the almost vertical stairs to the chapel itself. No set-backs or stumbles once the man bows at the altar - he is spiritually athletic. He springs out of the Gospel with words that actually connect with the people in pews - the Church: cops, firemen, teachers, lawyers, radio hosts, City workers, housewives and many, many, many babies and toddlers -today in particular.

I love watching the little guys (gender neutral) at Mass - duked up in a sharp vest and maybe a man-guy tie; gorgeously turned out little heart-breakers in white anklettes, purses and straw bonnets with white prayer books, or kid friendly rosaries; toddlers with zip-lock bags of Capt. Crunch or more wholesome treats. There is no crying room at Sacred Heart, but plenty of room for crying. Today, the wee-ones matched the Baritone Boom-Box Voxed Terry McEldowney at Pange Lingua and Panis Angelicus. The Wave of Toddler Outrage swept the Church sinister et dextra from Virgin Mary side to St. Joseph and back and seemed to be rooted in the stuffed Easter Bunnies dropped in the pew behind, or in the chubby mitts of peers some rows removed. The rolling wave of infantile thunder Tsunamied to me and Clare as Communion got under way. The noise was exquisite.

Easter Bunnies! Easter bunnies were pointed to, recoiled from, tossed, or clutched amid wailing and gnashing of gums!

Easter bunnies always creeped me out, too.



Clare was freaked out by a surprise visit from Chip and Dale at Disney world when she was two and a half. From two-through six years of age, Clare remained in mortal horror of anyone in costume -Chip, or Dale, Sylvester or Tweety, Bugs or Buss Lightyear, Clowns or Mimes ( the girl always had great sense) any costumed counterfeit character set her lungs on fire and her chubby cheeks contorted and cascading with tears.

We came home and I found a link to Daily Caller's great article by Ms. Alyssa Moody -The Creepiest Easter Bunnies

Those ears. Those teeth. That frozen, menacing smile. It’s no wonder children often scream in fear and flee from this frightening furry character, better known as the Easter Bunny. The holiday may be nice for those celebrating, but bunnies don’t always heighten the experience in a positive way. If you’ve ever encountered a scary bunny, you’ll recognize the pain of the poor souls below. Enjoy these pictures of the creepiest bunnies in the bunch and be sure to avoid sketchy Easter rabbits during all future Easter egg hunts!

Click my post title for more really creepy Easter Bunnies.

Father Gallagher placed baskets of candy (red licorice for the bigger greyer babies) in vestibule. Things quieted nicely. Easter is all about the Joy that follows the Tears.

Blessing for You on the Feast of the Holy Family

This morning Deacon Pat Murphy joined Father Gallagher at Sacred Heart Catholic Church for the Feast of the Holy Family.

His homily was a gem. As a youngster Deacon Pat, helped make the case to keep the Mission Church of the Sacred Heart founded by French Chicagoans in 1904 open for good. Pat Murphy went all the way to Vatican to plead for the continued mission of this jewel on the south side.

It was wonderful to hear Pat Murphy's homily that centered on the dreams of St. Joseph which caused that good man to marry his Virgin Fiance who was bearing Redeemer of Man's Sins. He was also awakened to take his family in flight to Egypt and spare the Christ Child from Herod's slaughter. His next dream called them back to Israel and the final dream leads Joseph and his family to take up residence in the town of Nazareth.

Pat Murphy noted that the gospels never quote Joseph and that Joseph was a man of action - Deeds not Words; Facta Non Verba - the motto of Leo High School by the way.

I am a man of words. My deeds are all too often reactions to situations and feelings rooted in my childish sense of my self. I have an arrogance that is too steeped in in that sense of self. Better women and men are like St. Joseph - they do and act for others with an immediacy that requires no careful planning,parsing or cutting of corners.

All around me in the pews of Sacred Heart Church were St. Josephs: widows, firemen, cops, skilled tradesmen, unemployed fathers, people of action - like St. Joseph.

I pray on this Feast of the Family to shed myself of childish and selfish pride. I also pray that my limited skills with tools will be graced with some small talent today so I can fix the drive on my snow-blower - plow the white stuff for my neighbors. That might be a good start for this sinner.



Merry Christmas and Feast of the Holy Family - We are all so blessed!

Fear and Frustration Driving People, Mr. President? Nah. It's Prayer and Wide Awake Living

WEST NEWTON, Mass. - President Barack Obama said Americans' "fear and frustration" is to blame for an intense midterm election cycle that threatens to derail the Democratic agenda.

"Part of the reason that our politics seems so tough right now and facts and science and argument does not seem to be winning the day all the time is because we're hardwired not to always think clearly when we're scared,” Obama said Saturday evening in remarks at a small Democratic fundraiser Saturday evening. “And the country's scared.”

It is tough being President. It is easy wanting to be President. President Obama is sounding more and more like Michael Scott on the TV show The Office with each passing day. Michael Scott is the Manager of a paper company branch office and how the poor guy ever became so is part of the program's charm.

President Obama does not and did not have the experience, nor the basic instincts to be President of United States - nice guy, I guess, but insubstantial. He is the product of collective wishful thinking on the part of the DNC, their cash cows and the American media. If I had not actually experienced the man Barack Obama ( executive director of Woods Fund 1995, Congressinonal Candidate 1st District, Illinois State Senator) I could have become an Obama enthusiast. Instead, I hitched my vote to John McCain who quit running for President on September 9th 2008 at the Bush White House "Holy Poop The Sky Is Falling!" Economic Summit.

Two years and change into President Obama's hapless Administration and the National Warranty expired very early, like the 2010 Impala* which is already being recalled - the seat belts get unhitched. Given President Obama's penchant for automobile tropes, I thought that fitting.

Nope, people are not fearful or frustrated they are Royally pissed.

Mass was packed this morning and the folks of Sacred Heart Catholic Church in the Washington Heights neighborhood prayed for the President after the Gospel - here it is

1 And he told them a parable, to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart.
2 He said, "In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor regarded man;
3 and there was a widow in that city who kept coming to him and saying, `Vindicate me against my adversary.'
4 For a while he refused; but afterward he said to himself, `Though I neither fear God nor regard man,
5 yet because this widow bothers me, I will vindicate her, or she will wear me out by her continual coming.'"
6 And the Lord said, "Hear what the unrighteous judge says.
7 And will not God vindicate his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them?
8 I tell you, he will vindicate them speedily. Nevertheless, when the Son of man comes, will he find faith on earth?"

The devout Patriots, mostly Democrats, prayed for Our Presdent and our Congress to defend our country,

We are praying like Hell and are as mad as Hell. I voted last week.


* GM Too Big to Fail? Failed just dandy.

General Motors and its Chevrolet Impala model.

Vehicles affected are 2009 and 2010 model year Chevrolet Impala sedans and the recall is down to concerns over a seat belt issue which means that the front seat belts could separate in a crash, according to Cheryl Phillips over on The Examiner. Over 300,000 vehicles are affected by this recall.

GM will begin notifying owners of these vehicles around October 25 and customers will be requested to take their cars into a local GM dealership where reinstalllments will be carried out on any seatbelts found not to be properly anchored. Both front seat belts will be inspected but it should be pointed out that there have not been any reports of injuries or deaths resulting from this problem.

http://www.onlykent.com/20101017/gm-chevrolet-impala-recall-2010-over-300000-details/

Killing the Legendary Pump Room - Tribune Shilling for the New Owners?

Note to the Tribune reporter - witness the dearth of Tom Collins glasses? No glass black panthers adorn the tables either. Martinis seem to be the drink to order.


I just left a crowded Mass at Sacred Heart Catholic Church here on the south side of Chicago. Father Gallagher gave a beautiful and simple homily about the need to accept God's will - the parable of the Chaff and Wheat.

Weeds grow up with the grain and louses, creeps, thugs and low-lifes thrive among simple, hard working, generous and wonderful people. What we want is not important, but what we do with what we are given and how we treat others is all that matters.

The Mass was thick with Catholics - Croatians, Irish, Italian, Mexican, African American worshippers - and as if to add a poignancy to Father Gallagher's homily a wildly obnoxious loud and disruptive crack-pipe aficionado who snorted, farted, fidgeted and interjected occasional commands of "Hey, Boss! Boss! Over here! I'm worshipping. God Bless You." At the hand shake of peace following the Pater Noster, the pipe smoker was greeted with "Peace be with You." and pressings of the flesh.

Not expected and yet ironically welcomed, the gent stumbled out of the pew as Holy Communion was administered bounced down Sacred Heart's narrow and rickety stairs. After Mass, Our Sunday Visitor, the crack-piper, was still bouncing his way from car-to car in the crowded parking lot on 117th & Church Street.

The presence of the crack head only made Father Gallagher's homily more beautiful.

We are all in this Vale of Tears and Garden of God together.

Chicago's Pump Room in the Ambassador East Hotel is a secular temple and house of comfort to travelers and revelers.

The Pump Room has hosted celebrities and helots for decades. Last week, the Chicago Tribune trashed the Pump Room with this sophomoric and whiny narrative by a disappointed reporter. With one visit to the legendary Pump Room, reporter Lauren Viera swept the decades of service, welcome and grace long attributed to the Pump Room into the gutter:

In my recent hunt for the perfect Chicago hotel bar, I was after a particular mood. I wanted to find a classy lounge of yore: dark colors and textures typical of a private club; perhaps a hint of a bygone golden age, with history hanging heavy in the air, and long nights of lounging worn deep into leather booths. And most of all, I wanted well-executed classic cocktails, worthy of predictably inflated price tags.

Check out how we rate Chicago's hotel bars on a scale of one through five.

My first stop was at the Drake Hotel's Coq d'Or, which opened Dec. 6, 1933 — the day after Prohibition was repealed in the United States. Fortunately, the lounge's classy ambiance has changed little in the 76 years since. The burgundy-colored leather booths, the gilded finishes, the tuxedoed bartender — all accounted for. But ask for a Tom Collins, the classic gin-based sour long drink that has been ordered with multiple variations since the 1870s, and you're lucky if it's served in the appropriate tall-glass tumbler (which, incidentally, is named for the drink). At Coq d'Or, my watered-down Collins-mix cocktail was served in a hurricane glass drowning in ice.The Ambassador East Hotel's famous Pump Room was by far the most disappointing, considering its storied history. Opened in 1938, it was at one time the go-to hotel lounge in Chicago, frequented by Marilyn Monroe, Paul Newman and the like.

On my visit, I was one of just three patrons sitting in the bar and still had to wait five minutes before the bartender on duty, concentrating intently on his handheld device, finally took notice. In reply to my Tom Collins request, he produced a watery vodka-soda, splashed with Rose's lime juice, served in a pint glass.

Only after I asked him how he made the drink did he pause, brows furrowed, and ask, "What's in a Tom Collins, anyway?" After hearing out the recipe and trying his hand at a fresh drink, he set it down in front of me apologetically and said, "You should always get what you want. Especially when you're out."

What I want, I'm afraid, doesn't exist anymore.

( click my post title for the full nonsense)

Heavens! A Tom Collins? Why not an Arrack Swedish Punsch, Black Velvet(Guinness & Champagne)The Doctor, or a Diki-Diki? All cocktails.

The Tom Collins is ordered with all the frequency of Keeley's Half & Half, Drewrys, Meister Brau, Andecker, and Grain Belt beers.

AS an old bartender ( Mike Doorhy's Mayfair West at 63rd & Mozart, Connelly's Tap at 63rd & Hamlin and Pete's Guiding Light at 63rd & Pulaski/Reilly's Daughter Pub on 111th, OB Joes at 111th & Sacramento and Leo's Riverside Tap on the Kankakee River), I knew my Mr. Boston Cocktail Bible.

Tom Collins - Voila!

2 ounces gin;1 ounce lemon juice, (freshly squeezed, if possible);1 teaspoon confectioner's sugar;Club soda -Add the first three ingredients for your Tom Collins drink to a cocktail shaker half filled with ice cubes. Shake vigorously long enough to chill, about 30 seconds.

Pour the strained cocktail ingredients into a Tom Collins glass or similar tall glass filled almost to the top with ice cubes. Top off with the club soda. Stir and serve with a straw.
Possible garnishes for your Tom Collins drink are an orange or lemon slice. Some people add a maraschino cherry.

I tried to imagine how this reporter would have reviewed Father Gallagher's Mass. The crack head sat directly behind me at Mass and next to Mrs. Scanlon. Mrs. Scanlon ( an eighty something widow) did not slide away from our Sunday Visitor, but accepted him as her pew mate.

Lauren Viera, it seems to me would have recoiled in utter and loud horror, demanded that the smelly drug addled gent be tossed from the house of worship and then pen a pithy missive of condemnation to the Cardinal.

Sometimes you a get a bum drink. Order something else - something less obscure.

The Pump Room continues to be a great and gracious place for an elegant time with wonderfully talented and fun people ( Max, Steve, Jesse, Bob, Angel, Gloria, James, Yancey et.al.) and handsomely mixed cocktails. The staff of bartenders ( Angel is # 1.) are exacting in the ministrations of the mixologist's arts and more so attentive to the point being family members.

When the Chicago Tribune wants something killed it dances the Joe Medill jig all over it. Might the Chicago Tribune being doing the new owner a service? Provide bum reviews and scare off potential visitors?

An honest reporter would have asked for some other cocktail, if the bartender seemed flustered by such a dated order - something else, or at least had the grace to come back again.

The crack head might be back next Sunday, but so will Mrs. Scanlon and all the other worshipers. Likewise, people who know better than some of the Dinny The Dimwits at the Chicago Tribune - a huge demographic that - will crowd the Pump Room.

God separates the chaff from the wheat.

"Eph'phatha," - Straighten Up and Fly Right!

Today's Gospel reminded me of the Nat King Cole Trio song:

A buzzard took monkey for a ride in the air
The monkey thought that everything was on the square
The buzzard tried to throw the monkey off his back
But the monkey grabbed his neck and said-- Now listen, Jack

Straighten up and fly right
Straighten up and fly right
Straighten up and fly right
Cool down, papa, don't you blow your top.
Ain't no use in divin'
What's the use in jivin'
Straighten up and fly right
Cool down, papa, don't you blow your top.

The buzzard told the monkey "You're chokin' me
Release your hold and I'll set you free
The monkey looked the buzzard right dead in the eye and said
Your story's so touching but it sounds just like a lie

Straighten up and fly right
Straighten up and stay right
Straighten up and fly right
Cool down, papa, don't you blow your top.

Here was the unvarnished gospel Mark 7: 31 - 37 at 8:30 Mass at Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Chicago:

Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went through Sidon to the Sea of Galilee, through the region of the Decap'olis.
And they brought to him a man who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech; and they besought him to lay his hand upon him.

And taking him aside from the multitude privately, he put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue;
and looking up to heaven, he sighed, and said to him, "Eph'phatha," that is, "Be opened."

And his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.
And he charged them to tell no one; but the more he charged them, the more zealously they proclaimed it.

And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, "He has done all things well; he even makes the deaf hear and the dumb speak."

I have more wax in my soul than I do in my ears. I lose patience with my wonderful children. I want my vanities perfumed into virtues. I want my bank balance to mirror those vanities and continue to be astounded that, when I open the mail, there are no Honorary Degrees. or Fat Checks from Patrons.

In short, I need to hear "Eph'phatha," which Mel Gibson translates from the Aramaic of Jesus to 'Straighten Up and Fly Right!'

Cool down Papa don't you blow your top!

Happy Labor Day, Folks!

Click my post title for the translation.

Father McKenna and Sunday's Jewish Gospel of John 6: 60 - 69

Mass at Sacred Heart Church is a genuine joy. The tiny French Mission Church in the Washington Heights neighborhood east of Morgan Park on the south side of Chicago cradles a crowd of devout, humble and interesting Catholics.

At the 8:30 a.m. Sunday Mass Irish baritone Terry McEldowney rattles the stained glass widows and Aves with his inimitable -"Hey, Midget! ( Terry's sobriquet for the author of these lines) Good to see your dwarfish hide darkening the Lord's Banquet,Son!" and Vales the crowd out with America the Beautiful. At 10;30 a.m. Mass I get to run into John Sheehan and Jerry and Kathy Schumacher and the post Eucharistic giggles out on Church Street.

The celebrants tend to be retired Maryknoll or Archdiocese of Chicago priests and one of the best of the homilists is Father Edward McKenna.

Yesterday's treat was a tour de force commentary on The Gospel of John -

John 6: 60 - 69
60 Many of his disciples, when they heard it, said, "This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?"
61 But Jesus, knowing in himself that his disciples murmured at it, said to them, "Do you take offense at this?
62 Then what if you were to see the Son of man ascending where he was before?
63 It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail; the words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.
64 But there are some of you that do not believe." For Jesus knew from the first who those were that did not believe, and who it was that would betray him.
65 And he said, "This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by the Father."
66 After this many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him.
67 Jesus said to the twelve, "Do you also wish to go away?"
68 Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life;
69 and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God."

Father McKenna noted the Jewish quality of Questions and the Responsorial Questions, summed up in the exchange with Peter -Jesus said to the twelve, "Do you also wish to go away?" Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God."

Father McKenna reminded all of us that we pester our God, our neighbors and ourselves with questions demanding a final answer. As Catholics, we say we believe in the Resurrection - end of story. Christ invites us to joy and we look for certainty and the frustration of somehow having our 'Final Answers' like the Regis Philbin show. It is the questions answered by more questions that should lead us to living better lives.

The beauty of Judaisim lies in the endless questioning and self-examination. Judaism washes over the walls of bigots and the certain folks who want to get up a pogrom. You never hear of a Jew calling another Faith, 'a gutter religion.' Atheists have all the answers. Some Fundamentalists coreligionists have the answers and too many of us Catholics demand final answers.

Father McKenna reminded us at Sacred Heart that through Faith one gets no empirical answers, but all the joy one should possess. That requires humility on our part and jerks like me tend to be too embarrassed to appear not to know something. It is tough to remember that "We Believe in One God & etc." - we got caught up in Life's minutiae and the quotidian care of the common place. If we KNEW we'd all be Lotto winners.

Thanks Father McKenna!

Merry Christmas! God is Great and the Rest Ain't Too Bad!

Merry Christmas*! This morning cops and fireman and City Workers were getting coffee at White Hen at 103rd & Artesian as well as Kareem's Dunkin Donuts over on Western. They were bundled in arctic gear for a full day of serving all of us.

Two young coppers and a young lady EMT had been among the worshippers at Sacred Heart Catholic Church on 116th Church Street last night, when Terry McEldowney held forth with Oh, Holy Night and Adeste Fidelis. The tiny French Mission church built in 1904, during the Chicago Stockyard Strikes was packed with Faithful and devout neighbors from all over the 19th Ward. Terry McElligott and I were asked to pass the Offering baskets after Father Dempsey's sermon explained that 'God does not read computer print-outs for his Beloved, but sends his Son among us, to share our Joys, Set-backs and Sufferings.' Sacred Heart Church did Okay! It took four good cranks on the hopper of the Offering Box to load the offerings.

My kids and I slept in Peace, because public service angels were out and about on Duty.

The young Police officers and Fire Fighters and all the public servants from the City of Chicago's Water Department and Streets and Sanitation and the Peoples Gas crews and the frozen wire warriors on the ComEd trucks are out with the Little Guy in the Manger - keeping watch, while the angels sing.

* I found this manger scene on the Net; done a by a young artist when he was 7 years old. Click my post title for his site.

God Bless Us All - He has and he does!