THE STRANGER - A Homily

A few years ago after I came home from seminary for summer vacation my dad and mom had taken in a stranger. From the beginning, dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and invited him to live with our family. And mom found this new boarder just as charming. He was also quickly accepted by my 3 brothers and was around from then on. I never questioned his place in our family. In my mind he had a special niche. I knew right from wrong. I was in the seminary. I had been taught by nuns in St. Joan of Arc grade school. My parents were good instructors in the faith. Mom taught me good from evil, and dad taught me to obey. But the stranger... he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with comedies, adventures and mysteries.
If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ball game. He made me laugh and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but dad didn't seem to mind. Sometimes, mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet. ( I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)

Dad ruled over our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home - not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our long time visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush. My dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol but the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely ( much too freely! ) about men and women. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing especially for me a seminarian.

I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger even though I knew better. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents and what I was learning in the seminary. Yet he was seldom rebuked... and NEVER asked to leave.

More than sixty years have passed since this stranger moved in with our family. He blended right in and never left. I do not find him nearly as fascinating as he was at first. My parents have passed away. Still, if you would walk over to my rectory today, you would find him sitting in his corner, waiting for me or someone else to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name?..... Just call him TV.' And his relatives are "CELL PHONE" and "I POD".

[mod: minor edit for language]