Mississippi snow pics

Our patio after Sunday's snow (Jan 9th). . .

A snow tree. . .

A baby deer wandered into the yard. . .his mom and brother were somewhere nearby. . .

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Parish Life so far. . .

So far, so great!

My current assignment as parochial vicar at St. Joseph's Church marks the first time I have served in a regular parish.  I started my priesthood as a campus minister and from there moved to Rome to live in the Contemplative Clouds of the Academic Ivory Tower.  Though I've only been on the job for two days, I can say, "I love it."

I was enthusiastically welcomed by the folks here.  Our pastor, Fr. John Dominic, mentioned at Mass that I love fried chicken and cornbread.  When he and I returned to the rectory after the 5pm Mass on Sunday, a parishioner was waiting for us in the driveway with a plate of fried chicken and cornbread!  News travels fast in a small town parish.  Oh, and both chicken and cornbread were delicious. . .

So far, Fr. John has asked me to introduce the parish to the new, corrected translation of the Roman Missal. . .a job suited to an old English teacher, right?  I am hoping to offer some adult faith formation classes and start a reading group.  The parish has a large LifeTeen group and a school, so there will be opportunities there for some teaching as well.  

Now, how do I convince the parish cooks that my doctor will explode if I gain 15 lbs while I am here?  :-)

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Kindle

Question:  Did you get that Kindle you mentioned before?  How do you like it?  You should add some Kindle books to your Wish List.

Answer:  Mom came through with the Kindle and I have been enjoying it immensely.  I'm having a small problem with it though.  For no apparent reason it will simply stop and restart.  This results in me losing my place in the book I was reading.  Any ideas?

Look for a longer review of the Kindle in a future post.

I've updated the Wish List. . .but I haven't figured out how to transfer my Kindle account to the Wish List just yet.  I'll let you know!

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The heresy of novelty

NB.  This is not the homily I preached this morning.  It is either a very good homily and the devil didn't want it preached. . .or a very bad one and God intervened.  The computer in my office didn't recognize the homily's format.  Fixed that.  The printer was jammed.  Fixed that.  The printer was out of black ink.  Tried to print it out in blue or red.  Also out.  Found a replacement cartridge. . .wrong size.  Finally, I gave up and preached without a text!

St. Anthony

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St. Joseph's Church, Ponchatula, LA

When I am in Rome I live with about 70 other friars in a 16th-century monastery located just two blocks from the ruins of the Imperial Forum. We live about five blocks from the 1st-century Colosseum and less than a block from the Emperor Trajan's 2nd-century market. You can't look out a window of the priory without seeing history layered upon history—pagan, imperial, Christian, Renaissance, and fascist. And even though Rome is a thoroughly modern European city, those heavy layers of history tend to insulate Romans from one of the most pernicious habits of modern American culture, namely, the worship of novelty for the sake of novelty. Here in the U.S. our daily battle-cry is “Make it new!” and it is no accident that this call to arms came from an American expatriate poet living in Italy, Ezra Pound. So in love with the notion of novelty are we that we have built a nation, a culture, and a religious heritage on a foundation of “making it new,” on the promise that we can always start over, always pick ourselves up for a “do over.” So in love with novelty are we that even we Catholics sometimes believe that our life in Christ is all about me just setting my mind to the work of growing in holiness and getting it done: I can renew myself by myself if only my will is strong enough to endure all the trials and temptations thrown at me. I can make myself into a New Me and present myself to God as a lovable soul. Here's the bad news: this is not the gospel.

Now, here's the Good News: the Old You is a lovable soul; in fact, the Old You is loved—by God, if no one else. God is not waiting to love you until you figure out how to transform yourself in a New Lovable You. He is not hanging around heaven twiddling his thumbs waiting for you to get busy with growing in holiness so that you eventually become holy enough for Him to love. If this were the case, He would be waiting on a lot of us for eternity. So, instead of waiting for us to get lovable, God created us through His love, making us loved creatures from day one. From the very beginning, we are loved. From the very instant that space and time popped into existence from nothingness at His word, we are loved. There is nothing we can do, say, or think that will change this hard fact of creation. To believe otherwise is to believe that we have the power to change the very nature of God. 

You are loved—by God, if no one else. If you are struggling to change yourself into new wine, fighting temptations and trials to make yourself into someone wholly new and different in order to be loved by God, stop it. Just stop it. Do something more useful with your time and energy. Instead, receive God's gift of love with humility and gratitude. Acknowledge your total dependence on His mercy. Make your day all about saying, “Thank you, Lord.” And in your sincere humility, with all the thanksgiving you can muster, love as He loves you. We cannot make ourselves new. We are made new wine by Christ. And only in Christ can we be new men, new women. Our American love of self-made novelty can become a competition for a prize we already possess. If there's a race for us to run, it's a race toward the goal of holiness, the perfection of our lives in Christ day to day, hour by hour.

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Adventures of a Flying Friar

Another friar and I shared a taxi to Rome's airport on the morning of Dec 18th.  We got out at Terminal 3, the "local flights" terminal.  Took me a few minutes to realize that I had to be in Terminal 5, the international terminal.  Long wait for the shuttle bus. . .arrived at T5 to find the place largely empty.  Quickly got to the Delta counter for check-in.  

Once there I was told that the flight to Atlanta was overbooked.  The clerk offered me a travel voucher to switch my reservation from Delta to an Alitalia flight arriving in Boston.  I was told that this flight would get me to Memphis 30 mins earlier than my original flight.  I took the voucher and waited for the clerk to switch my reservation.  All this done, I was told that the Alitalia flight was departing from Terminal 3.  

Back to T3 where I was greeted by thousands of passengers waiting in what counts as "lines" in Italy.  After about an hour waiting in line, I asked one of the clerks on the floor if we would be able to depart on time.  She informed me that all the flights to the US were delayed by two hours.  Great.  She then told me that I was in the wrong line for Boston.  Another hour in the "Boston line."  In the next thirty minutes or so the "Boston line" was shifted twice to different desks.  At one point, the throngs of American students in front of me grew very, very agitated.  Turns out that Alitalia was charging passengers for overweight/extra bags.  My checked bag cost me 100 euro!

We arrived in Boston twenty mins before my Memphis flight was due to depart.  When I went to check in, the clerk said, "Mr. Powell, you're late."  I responded--in a flat, "don't mess with me" tone--"No, your plane was late."  He tells me that I probably won't make the Memphis flight and offers to shift me to a later flight going through Atlanta.  I say, "No.  Put me on the plane to Memphis."  He escorts me to security and I rush through, practically running to the gate.  I arrive at the gate, sweaty, winded, and oh-so-aggravated.  

The clerk there tell me that the plane has pushed back from the gate.  I keep my cool. . .barely.  The clerk must've noticed my resolve not to go postal b/c she politely rearranged my reservation and offered her personal cell phone so I could call my dad and let him know that I was going to arrive in Memphis four hours late.  As she handed me my new boarding pass, the clerk tells me that she's bumped me to first class and included two meal vouchers for the airport.  This flight marks the first time I was ever flown first class in some thirty-five years of flying!  

We arrived in Memphis on time.  My mom and older niece were there waiting for me. . .Deo gratis!

The lesson:  never accept an offer from an American airline to switch your reservation to an Italian airline.  Never. 

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Made it. . .

I've arrived safely in Ponchatula.  Not yet unpacked.  Ugh.  

Delta Airlines has been entered on my list of Never Fly With Them Again list.  Charged me $90 for an overweight bag.  Moved ten lbs of stuff to my carry-on to avoid paying $190!  Question:  what difference does it make if that ten pounds goes in the cargo hold or above my seat?  I've been flying since I was twelve and no one has ever charged me for checking a bag!

Anyway. . .HancAquam will be revving back up in the morning.  Off to bed.

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MPH to ATL to NOLA to Ponchatula!

I am off this morning to Atlanta and then New Orleans. . .and then Ponchatula, LA!

Pray for the safety of our flights, please.

God bless, Fr. Philip

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Amongst the squirrels again. . .

I made it home.  Only four hours late.  The trip here was. . .interesting. . .I'll tell the whole story once things are settled in Louisiana.

A piece of travelers' advice:  never, never, never accept a voucher from an American airline in exchange for changing your reservations to fly on an Italian airline.  Never.  Ever.

Merry Christmas!

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Last Coffee Bowl Browsing of 2010

OK. . .one more CBB!

No royal wedding invitation for B.O.

Hmmmm. . .Cuba banned Micheal Moore's "documentary" on its health care system.  Apparently, there are some leftists with a little shame left.

"Sustainability" on the campus. . .BIG waste o'tax dollars.

Mao is the greatest mass murderer in human history.

BXVI on the limits of the historical-critical method in Biblical interpretation.  H-C has its uses, but it can't be the only method used.  I prefer the more literary Patristic methods of interpretation.

The Manslator!  Using a patented FemLogic chip this device translates FemSpeak into ManSpeak.

Feline jihad. . .

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Winging my way home. . .

Venturing out into the cold, wet Roman morning. . .headed to Fiumicino.  Three hour layover in Atlanta and then on to Memphis!  

Travel reports from N. Europe aren't good.  Looks like the U.K. is getting snowed in.  Glad I'm not changing flights at Heathrow.

Mom and Pop tell me that the squirrels miss me reading to them.  Ahhh. 

Homilies, Coffee Bowl Browsing, etc. will pick back up again after Jan. 15, 2011.

MERRY CHRISTMAS & HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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Snow in Rome!

 

Frs. Rick, Dominic, and Philip Neri

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Being members of the family of God

NB.  I laid around in bed 'til 6.00 this morning, so this homily is a little more muddled than usual.

3rd Week Advent (F)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

Ss. Domenico e Sisto, Roma

My paternal grandmother was a genealogy machine. Give her a name and a basic family relationship—aunt, cousin, sister-in-law—and she could calculate exactly how that person was related to everyone else in the family. On occasion, I would try to trick her by making up a complicated relationship to see if she was really as good as she seemed. She never missed. It was an amazing talent nourished by the great southern tradition of knowing “who your people are.” Of course, American southerners aren't the only ones who cherish this tradition. Knowing your family, your tribe, the history of your house is as old as creation. The most basic decisions in one's life can be made based on who you are within a family, within a nation. Who inherits the property? Who gets married? Who takes care of the children if the mother of a family dies? Who is expected to serve in the temple, the Church? We are who we are largely because of who our family is and who we are in that family. Genealogy is more than just a science of calculating familial relationships; it's the art of picking yourself out of the crowd so that you can be part of the crowd without losing your unique place among those you love and those who love you. When we hear Jesus' genealogy read aloud at Mass every December 17th, we are reminded again that he was and is a member of a family, an extraordinary individual who belongs to history, a man who is deeply rooted in the long, long story of Jewish people's history with God. And because we are heirs to His kingdom, Jesus' family history is our family history. Quite literally, we are the sons and daughters of the Father.

Knowing our family roots in the generations that precede us is vitally important to knowing who we are right now. But the work of the Church is not done in the past. We are not charged with spending our time and energy looking back to Achim, to Eleazar, to Ahaz. Our work is done today and tomorrow. We have the roots of the Jewish people firmly grounding us in the story of God's creation. We have the sturdy trunk of Jesus' preaching and teaching to support us when the Enemy comes against us. We have the thriving branches of our Church family to spread out and grow, reaching out and up to declare the Good News. And we have each one of us—the leaf, the flower, the seed—taking in the graces our Lord gives us, feeding the whole tree and bearing witness to His abundance. Our work as members of God's family is to flourish in His mercy and love and to make Him known to every tribe, every nation and people. With roots growing back to the day of creation, we are to spread out and plants the world's fields with the seeds of the Word. This is who we are in God's family. This is what we do as His sons and daughters. And our inheritance is nothing less than eternal life.

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Updates, etc.

Many thanks for the prayers for my father.  He will likely have surgery before Christmas.  Nothing life-threatening.  Please, keep storming heaven anyway!

Add my maternal grandfather, Clyde, to your prayer list.  He was born the year the Titanic sunk.  Over the weekend, he suffered a mild heart attack.  I will see him and my grandmother for the first time in about five years over Christmas.

I leave for the U.S. on Saturday (18th).  Long Christmas vacation in MS before heading south to LA to be a parish priest for the first time in my life. Pray that the rioting students and strikers stay home.

Several HancAquam readers have asked me what I need for Christmas.  Honestly, nothing. . .other than the prayers requested above.  If you are so moved to send me something more material, the Wish List is always full.  :-)

I've embarked on a serious attempt to trim down.  At 46 and 320lbs., I am WAY too fat.  Being in the U.S. will only make this untenable situation worse.  No tricks, gimmicks, etc.  Just plain ole calorie counting and increased exercise.

There will be one more homily post before I leave Rome.  I have the English Mass in the morning.  After this, no more homilies 'til things get started in LA in mid-Jan 2011.  Internet access in MS is very limited, so comments, emails, etc. will be received but probably not answered for at least a month.  

As always, I appreciate my readers and pray for you everyday at Mass! 

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More Roman rioting from Tuesday

The poster of the video below claims that the gov't infiltrated the protesters and started the riots in order to give the police an excuse to crack some heads. Entirely possible, even probable. Of course, it could be the case that the "gov't agents" are really communist agents pretending to be policemen so that the protesters can later claim that it was the police who started the riot. 

[Insert infinite regress. . .]



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Rome is burning! (again. . .)

It's good to see that the Pretty Boys of the Carabinieri got a little dirty. . .








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