Parable of the Sower Has Message for ‘Thorny Boy’

 During my morning devotions recently, the gospel reading was Jesus’ parable of the sower. You remember the story, right? Some seed was scattered on the path, some on rocky ground, some on thorny ground, and some on fertile ground. The seed on the path was immediately eaten by birds. The seed on rocky ground had no roots, and so the plants withered. The seed on thorny ground produced plants that were choked by the thorns. And the seed on fertile ground produced a bountiful harvest.

Jesus then explained the parable’s meaning. The seed stands for the Word of God. The path symbolizes those who have the Word preached to them, but they don’t listen, they don’t hear, and God’s holy Word has no effect on them. The rocky ground symbolizes those who hear the Word and rejoice, but soon after, trials and tribulations cause them to revert to their old faithless way of life. The thorny ground represents those who hear the Word and start to grow in faith, but then the worries of life and the pursuit of wealth become such distractions, they do not produce much of a “harvest.” Finally, the good soil represents those who hear the Word of God, rejoice and let it fill them with faith, as they truly produce a wonderful harvest of good works and love.

Ever since I first heard this parable at Mass — check that, I mean ever since I first paid attention to this parable at Mass — I identified with the thorny ground. At age 28, I finally came to believe that God is real and Christ is Lord, and it completely changed my life. In other words, I finally heard the Word and rejoiced. But then, life got in the way. As comedian Gary Gulman points out, “The thing about life is: it’s every…single…day!” 

Every day there’s always a new problem, a new challenge, a new stress, a new reason not to want to get out of bed in the morning. And in our fast-paced modern world, we are inundated by responsibilities and obligations. It’s relentless.

Many mornings, when I drag myself out of bed and think about my hectic schedule for the upcoming day, I’m already looking forward to 9:30 pm, when I can crawl back into bed and go to sleep. So, yes, for me personally, the quest for prosperity and the many worries of daily life are like thorny bushes that are choking my faith life.

I try to read the Mass readings each morning and meditate on them. That’s my daily devotion. But as I’m reading and allegedly meditating, my brain is focused on that day’s sizable to-do list. And when the Mass readings on a particular day are lengthy — like some of those epic stories from the Old Testament — I sarcastically think to myself, “Oh great, a long one. Now I’ll never get to work on time.” I’m pretty sure that’s not the mindset God is looking for when someone reads the holy Scriptures.

Every year when the parable of the sower is the gospel reading at Mass, I feel a twinge of conscience. The Holy Spirit says to me, “Hey, Thorny Boy, last year when you heard this reading, you said you were gonna clean up your cluttered schedule, stop worrying about stupid stuff, and spend more time in prayerful meditation. So what happened, huh?”

To which I reply, “Hey, Holy Spirit, since when did you start talking like Robert DeNiro?”

(Actually, God’s Spirit communicates with us in whatever ways are most effective. For me, a wise-guy DeNiro voice often works best.)

Later on that same day, when the Mass reading was the parable of the sower, I read this online: “If Satan can’t make you bad, he’ll make you busy.”

Whoa, it’s bad enough the “thorns” of life — worries and anxiety and struggling for financial success — often choke my faith. But if all the busyness in my life is being caused by the sinister Evil One, that’s unacceptable.

Well, we’re on the verge of Holy Week, the most sacred time on the entire Church calendar. This would be a good time to prune away some of the thorns that are choking my faith life. I certainly want to deepen my relationship with the Lord. But most of all, when the Parable of the Sower is the gospel reading sometime next year, I’d rather not hear the Holy Spirit say, “Hey, Thorny Boy…”

Don’t Be a Dope, Get a Scope

When I turned 50 years old back in 2007, I received a very exciting birthday present: my very first colonoscopy. Before the procedure, I met with a doctor to discuss what would occur. When my face turned pale, he said, “Don’t be alarmed. By the time you need to do this again in 10 years, new technology will make the procedure non-invasive. It’ll be like an MRI. We’ll slide you into a big tube, take some scans, and you’ll be done.”

That information didn’t really comfort me at the moment, since I was about to undergo the epitome of an IN-vasive procedure. But I do remember him saying that to me.

Well, just the other day, I had my third colonoscopy, and it turned out the original doctor I met with could not have been more wrong. This procedure was just as invasive as the previous ones. Good thing general anesthesia is standard. So, 17 years since that first doctor told me modern technology would soon develop a reliable external method for determining whether a person has colon cancer, the fact is, they still are using the ol’ Kodak camera duct-taped to the end of a garden hose method.

No, I’m kidding. There definitely were no Kodak cameras, duct tape, or garden hoses present in the procedure room. There were, of course, mini cameras and some kind of hose or tube involved. I didn’t actually see the equipment — I didn’t ask, and they didn’t offer to show it to me — but afterward I did see the photos of what was going on up, um, where the sun don’t shine. And I’m happy to report that nothing was going on, except for one tiny precancerous polyp.

The reason I’m even talking about this procedure — besides demonstrating that my sense of humor never progressed past the 6th grade level, especially regarding body parts that ought not be mentioned in polite society — is that I’m genuinely surprised modern medical research has not achieved what that first doctor was certain would be commonplace by now: an accurate, non-invasive method for examining one’s colon.

The advancements in modern medicine have been colossal during my lifetime. It seems every time you turn on the TV there’s another commercial where either Yale-New Haven or Hartford Healthcare are touting some miraculous new breakthrough. I think I saw one a while ago where a guy got hip replacement surgery on a Wednesday and then danced with his daughter at her wedding on Saturday. (I’m pretty sure he wasn’t break dancing, because if he had tried to break dance with his new hip, the word “break” would’ve been more than ironic.)

I wonder why my original doctor, back in 2007, was so certain a major advancement in gastroenterology would’ve occurred by now. I hope those brilliant medical equipment research scientists didn’t redirect their talents and skills to inventing something more flashy and lucrative, like video games or A.I. software. 

Before I conclude, I want to be serious for a moment — so pay attention, because seriousness only occurs in this column about once every eleventeen months. When your general practitioner doctor tells you it’s time to get a colonoscopy, your initial reaction might be one of three things: offer some 6th grade level wisecrack regarding body parts that ought not be mentioned in polite society; scrunch your nose and say, “Eww!”; or stick your fingers in your ears and repeatedly yell, “I can’t hear you!” Please, I’m begging you: make the appointment. The procedure is really not bad at all, and if they remove some polyps that were on the verge of turning into colon cancer, you will be absolutely thrilled. Trust me.

Thoughts on Prayer — Part 2

Last week we discussed prayer, and the reality that quite often it seems God does not answer our prayers. The fact is, we live in a fallen world. We all experience a lot of pain and heartache going through this thing we call life. When sin entered the world in the Garden of Eden, it corrupted everything. We can take comfort in knowing that God understands our sorrow and desires to bless us. 

Even though we wish God would answer all our prayers immediately and take away our pain, we can be confident that He loves us because of two important things He did. First, He sent His one and only Son to pay the price for sin and make it possible for us to be reconciled with Him. Second, He created a place called Heaven, where all of our pain and heartache will cease for all eternity.

This week I’d like to address a couple of other important aspects of prayer. Many people get discouraged and claim that God does not answer prayer. Well, we can look at it this way: God answers all of our prayers. Sometimes He answers, “Yes.” Sometimes He answers, “No.” And sometimes He says, “Wait.”

If we look back on our lives, we surely can remember times when we prayed for a certain outcome, maybe regarding a relationship or a job. That prayer seemingly was not answered, and we were very disappointed at the time. But soon after, something much more wonderful occurred, for example, a new and better relationship or a new and better job.

Speaking personally, if every plea I sent up to God was answered right away, in the exact way I asked (or more accurately, demanded), my life would’ve been a total mess. I probably would’ve died decades ago.

I think I have a pretty good idea of what I need, but in reality my list is more what I want. God, in His infinite wisdom, knows exactly what I truly need. Many times what I truly need does not match my often selfish list of what I want at all. So, it’s a good thing God answers many of my prayers with, “No,” or, “Wait.”

When Jesus’ disciples asked Him to teach them to pray, Jesus gave them what we call “The Lord’s Prayer.” Within that prayer is this petition we should say to God: “Thy will be done.” 

However, if we’re really honest, most of the time when our mouths are saying, “Thy will be done,” our hearts are thinking, “My will be done.”

Regarding “thy will” vs. “my will,” I’m reminded of a scene in the movie “Shadowlands,” a biography of the famous Christian author C.S. Lewis, starring Anthony Hopkins. During a crisis in his life, when his wife was dying of cancer, Lewis explained to a friend why he was praying so fervently. He said (and I paraphrase because it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the film), “I don’t pray so God will want to do my will; I pray so I will want to do His.” In the Bible, Jesus clearly instructs us to bring our petitions to our Heavenly Father. We should not be shy about asking God in prayer for what we need, and even for what we want. But sometimes the most perfect prayer is not when we plead, “Heal my loved one who has cancer, O Lord!” It instead is when we sincerely pray, “Give me the grace and strength to deal with whatever happens, O Lord!” 

It’s not that God is unable to heal every sickness immediately. He certainly has that power. But in His infinite wisdom, He has decided to let the awful results of sin — pain and heartache and death — to play out in our world during this era of history. 

When God so chooses, He does answer prayer with a miraculous healing. But more often than not, he answers our prayer by giving us the grace and strength to handle the heartaches of life. It may not be what we want at the moment, but it’s exactly what we need.

And when we get to Heaven, we’ll look back and realize that God’s wisdom is perfect, and that He did in fact give us exactly what we needed. 

Hey friends, WATCH this!

I have a confession to make: I buy things I really don’t need. (What a shocking admission! This stunning revelation means that I am no different than 98% of all Americans.)

For me, what I buy that I really don’t need are inexpensive watches. Right now I own enough watches to outfit nine people. In other words, I have nine watches, since no one ever needs more than one watch. 

Nine is actually on the low side at this moment in time. In the past, there have been times when I owned upwards of 15 different watches at once. Since the watches I purchase are inexpensive, after a while the batteries die, the bands break, or the hour hands detach and lay there loose under the crystal. Having a “minutes only” watch is not very useful. “Hey Bill, what time is it?” “It’s a quarter after.” “Quarter after what?” “Um, I dunno.”

With inexpensive watches, having a new battery installed or replacing the band is usually more costly than the watch itself. So, most of the time I just throw the old one away. 

A couple of months ago, I bought myself a post-Christmas present: a new scuba diver’s watch. Now, I need a scuba diver’s watch about as much as I need a Timex “Ironman Triathlon” watch (of which I own two). Just hearing the word “triathlon” makes me feel weak, and if I pause to think about what triathletes actually do in a single day — swim 2.4 miles, then ride a bicycle 112 miles, and then run a 26.2 mile marathon — I have to lie down for a while and rest. So, I absolutely do not need an “Ironman Triathlon” wristwatch. And yet, I own a couple. Why? Because they possess the features I like: they tell time accurately, they have a stopwatch, a timer, multiple alarms, a glow in the dark button, they’re waterproof, and most importantly, they cost less than 40 bucks, so if I break it or lose it, I don’t care.

I know a guy who owns a $10,000 Rolex. If I owned a watch that expensive, I’d have to put it in a safety deposit box at the bank. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, fearful that it would be lost or stolen. However, with my collection of less-than-$50-each beauties, I sleep like a baby. (Actually, at my age now, I do sleep like a baby: wake up every three hours.)

Right after Christmas, concluding that new socks and underwear were not the most exciting gifts Santa Claus could’ve given to me, I made an impulse buy on Amazon: a really spiffy Casio scuba diver’s watch. It’s large and heavy and has a dial that spins around — so I know exactly how much air is left in my scuba tank, which comes in very handy, um, never. From a distance, my new watch looks just like a Rolex. (Although the best distance for this to be true is around 100 feet away.)

The price of the watch was exactly $49, with free shipping because of my Amazon Prime membership. (I don’t know about you, but does it seem that paying the monthly Prime membership fee to get free shipping compels a person to make more impulse purchases? Nah, Amazon would never manipulate customers like that, would they?)

Anyway, that’s my confession for this week: I own many more inexpensive watches than really makes sense. At least my little emotional quirk does not involve purchasing an over-abundance of Lamborghinis, right?

Next week, maybe I’ll discuss my collection of inexpensive pens. I’m not sure how many I have, since I can’t count that high. 

Keys to a Great Vacation: Napping and No Pickleball

My wife and I recently went to Florida for a week, and our vacation was wonderful. Was it wonderful because it was 85 degrees in February? Nope. Was it wonderful because we went to many fabulous restaurants (to the point where I contemplated buying some stretch pants)? Nope. Was it wonderful because I used membership points from my credit card company (points I didn’t even know I had until late last year) to pay for the airfare and rental car? Nope. 

The reason our vacation was wonderful is very simple: we napped. That’s right, on multiple days while in Florida we laid down on the bed during the middle of the afternoon and just zonked out for 20 minutes. It was delightful.

I rarely get an opportunity to nap these days since my schedule is so hectic. So, when I finally had a chance to do it multiple days in a row, it was terrific. I never used to need to nap or want to nap, but now that I’m an official geezer, I realize the countries around the world that have the “siesta culture” are really doing it right. 

Speaking of being a geezer, every time I’ve gone to Florida in the past, I felt like a young pup. After all, they don’t call the state “God’s Waiting Room” for nothing. In some places, the average age seems to be approaching triple digits. But on this visit to the Sunshine State, the first time I’ve gone since before Covid, I fit right in. Everyone assumed I was a retired “snow bird,” just enjoying the weather until April, at which time I would travel back north like everyone else. More than a few times I had to say, “No no, despite this gray hair, I’m still working full time back in New England.”

Another thing I said more than a few times while in Florida was, “No thanks. I’d rather not.” Each time I said this, the other person stared in confusion, then finally muttered, “But, but I don’t understand. You mean you DON’T want to play pickleball? Everybody plays pickleball!”

Yeah, well, maybe everybody plays pickleball, but not this guy. You see, I made a promise to a couple of close friends that I would never engage in any activity that would put them in mortal jeopardy. My two friends are my Left Achilles tendon and my Right Achilles tendon.  

In recent years I’ve known of several friends and acquaintances — some my age, others quite younger — who were playing low-key games such as beer league softball or doubles tennis, and then suddenly they dropped like a rock, with one of their heel bones no longer attached to the appropriate calf muscle. The subsequent surgery and recovery from the ruptured Achilles tendon was painful and lengthy. 

I had a long talk with my two friends, Lefty and Righty. We came to an agreement that if I engaged only in physical exercise that does not require fast stopping and starting with my legs — such as swimming, walking, or sitting at the Black Jack tables at Foxwoods — then they would keep my calf muscles and heels connected. In my mind, it’s a very sensible agreement. 

When we returned home to Connecticut, It was nice that I did not have to exit the plane using crutches. Once I got off the plane, I did have to hustle to the men’s room, you know, being a geezer and all. As I hustled, Lefty and Righty reminded me, “No need to jog, pal. Just walk briskly and we’ll get you there on time.”

All in all, even though I had to disappoint many people with my “no pickleball” rule, our time in Florida was wonderful. 

Thoughts on Prayer

A young woman in her 30s, the mother of two small children, is diagnosed with cancer. Her family and friends pray fervently to God for her healing. But after a year of grueling surgery and treatments, the cancer spreads and she passes away. This is a heart-breaking situation, and most people know of someone who has gone through a similar ordeal. 

When something like this happens, people ask the obvious question: why didn’t God answer our prayers?

This is one of the frustrating aspects of religious faith. We pray for certain things to happen, such as a physical healing. Sometimes our prayers are answered and the person is healed, and other times the person gets even sicker and eventually dies. It seems God completely ignored our prayers.

The Bible and the Church teach us that God hears our prayers and that He takes delight in answering them. If that is the case, then why are there so many examples of sincere, desperate prayers NOT being answered?

There is an age-old question, which was the title of a popular book many years ago: “Why do bad things happen to good people?” That question is one of the primary reasons some folks lose their faith. It’s fair to ask how a good God can sit back and let so many terrible tragedies happen to innocent people.

I wish I had a simple answer to that question, but I don’t. There are, however, a couple of things we should keep in mind when pondering this issue.

First, from God’s point of view, our entire time on earth, even if we live to be 95 years old, is like a fraction of a second compared to eternity in Heaven. Yes, when a young person succumbs to a fatal disease, it is tragic — from our early point of view. But the Bible tells us that Heaven is a place where tears are wiped from our eyes forever. When the soul of the person who died young enters Heaven, I suspect he or she laughs with joy and says, “Wow, being sick and dying young is no big deal, now that I’m here!”

Of course, if there is no God and no eternal life, then all the tragedies of life are just that: tragedies. But entering into eternal life in God’s heavenly kingdom is how all the tragedies of earth can be made right. Instead of a drama with a sad, tragic ending, our lives become a grand saga with a happy ending — although since we’re talking about Eternity, the happiness actually never ends.

Another thing to consider: Scripture teaches us that the pain and suffering of this world are the result of sin. When our original ancestors, Adam and Eve, rebelled against the divine Creator, it caused paradise to become a fallen world. Pain and heartache and death were the unfortunate result of sin.

God proved that he truly loves us when He sent His one and only Son to suffer and die, which paid the price for sin. This stunning act of sacrificial love made it possible for us to be reconciled back to our Creator and enter into eternal heavenly joy. 

Does a grieving young man, standing next to his wife’s coffin with his two children by his side, want to hear that our time on earth is a fraction of a second compared to Heaven, and that Jesus paid the price for our sin? Not really. What he needs at that moment is for someone to silently weep with him. Why? Because the pain and heartache of death are real, and the only thing worse than grieving the death of a loved one is doing it alone.

Why doesn’t God answer all our prayers the way we want Him to? I wish I knew. It’s a divine mystery. But God went to so much trouble to make it possible for us to enter into Heaven for all eternity, it’s obvious He loves us more than we can comprehend.

When we grieve and weep over the tragedies of life, we can be sure that God weeps with us. That may not be very comforting when we’re in the throes of sorrow, but later on it can bring great comfort. In the meantime, keep praying. And when necessary, silently weep with those who are grieving. 

Country Bumpkin Visits the Big City

I freely admit that I’m a suburbanite/country bumpkin kind of guy. So, if I spend any time in a big city, it’s a major adventure. Chicago is an amazing city. In January, Chicago is an amazingly cold city. I was there six weeks ago for a tradeshow, and overall my trip was great.

However, I stayed in a very fancy hotel, and the country bumpkin in me was rather baffled by some of the high falutin’ amenities. For example, my room had an ultra modern coffee machine. It operated similarly to a Keurig coffee maker, except with nine extra levels of complexity. 

My coffee maker simply would not work. I hesitate to claim it was broken, because maybe I was doing something incorrectly. The machine had a sticker that listed the 11-step process required to brew a single cup, so maybe I did one of these steps out of sequence. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe a person needs a Doctorate in mechanical engineering to get a cup of coffee in a downtown Chicago hotel. 

The coffee maker situation was not insurmountable, since I could go down to the hotel lobby and get a Starbucks coffee for $8.50. (I suspect the Starbucks baristas were a bit shocked that I was in my underwear with a towel draped over my shoulder. But hey, that’s my standard attire whenever I have a cup of coffee in a hotel room.) 

The other thing that puzzled me about my ultra-fancy hotel room was the shower. As a country bumpkin kind of guy, I’ve always thought a bathtub with a shower curtain was more than adequate. But nowadays all the classy hotels — no doubt inspired by trend-setting cities such as Paris, London, and Naugatuck — have replaced the good ol’ tub and shower curtain setup with The Glass Box.

In the Chicago hotel, The Glass Box was a narrow rectangle with the glass entry door on the far left side and the plumbing fixtures on the far right side. The shower head itself was about the size of a dinner plate and was suspended from the ceiling, about 18 inches in from the wall. In order to reach the handle to turn on the water and set the temperature, you had to stand directly under the shower head. The Glass Box was too narrow to stand off to the side.

Now, at this point, if you are a celebrated architect or interior designer, you see no problem with this scenario, since The Glass Box is so beautiful. But if you are a lowly suburbanite/country bumpkin, you already understand that when you rotate the handle to turn the shower on, all the water that’s been sitting in the pipes overnight — which is no longer anything resembling “warm” — comes gushing down right onto your head.

The first morning that happened to me, I thought, “Whoa, I must’ve done it wrong. Just like the coffee maker, there’s gotta be a correct way to do this that I haven’t figured out yet.”

Well, even though I had two more mornings to try and figure it out, it seemed the only way to keep from getting a blast of cold water on my head was to track down a maintenance guy, borrow a broom, and use it to turn the shower handle from a distance. But based on the baristas’ reaction earlier, I decided not to wander around the lobby in my underwear looking for a maintenance guy. 

All in all, it was a fine trip to the Windy City. But in the future, if any hotel wants to offer a “Country Bumpkin” travel package, with a simple coffee maker and a tub with a shower curtain, they’ve got my business.