Planting Big Potatoes

 

In today’s gospel, Jesus says, “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat, but if it dies, it produces much fruit.”

 

I’d like to reflect on that one line, but since we are celebrating St. Patrick’s Day this weekend, I thought that, instead of focusing on wheat, it would make more sense to take a look at potatoes.

 

Many years ago Irish immigrants subscribed to the theory that they could eat all the big potatoes and keep the small potatoes for seed planting. They did this for quite some time. They ate all the big potatoes, and they planted the small potatoes. Soon, however, greater understanding of the laws of nature came to them, for while they kept up this practice, nature reduced all their potatoes to the size of marbles. The Irish farmers learned through bitter experience that they could not keep the best things of life for themselves and use the leftovers for seed. The laws of nature decreed that the harvest would reflect the planting season.

 

One author, reflecting on the Irish experience, noted that the mistaken thinking is still often used today. We often try to keep the best things of life for ourselves and to plant inferior things. We expect that by some crazy twist of the laws of nature our own selfishness will reward us with unselfishness. Is this not true in terms of our use of time, personal talents, serving others, sharing our faith, living according to the Golden Rule?

 

We need to remember what the Irish farmers learned: we cannot eat all the big potatoes and still keep on having them through the years. Truly the harvest reflects the planting season.

 

Jesus’ image in today’s gospel, the grain of wheat dying to itself by being planted in the ground reflects his own gift of self by a life lived for others, even to the point of laying down his life for his friends. And he invites us to make that the pattern of our life as well.

 

I’ve thought about this a lot lately. We are so fortunate to have plenty of food, even to the point of wasting it, when millions of people go to bed hungry each night. Many don’t seem to care about the harm we are doing to the earth to the point of handing on a severely wounded world to future generations. I worry about the job we’re doing in handing on the faith, as each week I watch children coming up the stairs from their religious education classes, and then continuing out the door with their families without coming to worship.

 

In Friday’s (3/15/24) Springfield newspaper, The Republican , there was a lead article about six eighth-graders from Southwick who have been charged in connection with alleged racial bullying. The article speaks of alleged series of racist and threatening social media posts aimed at two Black classmates.

 

A series of Snapchat posts came to light last month, leading to suspensions of some students by the school system. School officials then referred the matter to local and state police.

 

‘Hatred and racism have no place in this community,’ said Hampden District Attorney Anthony D. Gulluni when announcing the charges yesterday.

 

The middle-schoolers are facing charges of witness interference, civil rights violations and threatening to commit a crime linked to alleged bullying and bigotry.

 

Gulluni said the students’ chats included ‘heinous language,’ threats of violence and a mock slave auction.

 

A follow-up article reports that the students involved could face time in a juvenile facility.

 

I’m very concerned, not only about the alleged behavior, but also by the fact that we’re talking about eighth graders. Where did this kind of hate come from? These young people certainly did not somehow magically come up with these poisonous attitudes on their own. Surely, they are reflections of the attitudes of many adults in the community. Think of the political rhetoric in this nation, a rhetoric that is filled with racism, attacks on human dignity, fear-mongering, and the use of violence to solve our problems. If we contribute to this kind of fear-induced politics, we are planting attitudes that lead to this kind of behavior by middle school students.

 

They say that you “reap what you sow.” At all levels, personal, ecclesial and societal, we need to be very careful about our words and our deeds. Certainly, the words that come from Jesus do not lead to prejudice, fear of the other, or hate-based political slogans.

 

And so, as we honor St. Patrick, let us not forget the lesson his life teaches. His first experience of Ireland was a negative one. At the age of sixteen he was kidnapped from the coast of Britain by Irish raiders, and taken to Ireland as a slave. He was sold to a local king, and was forced to do all kinds of menial work. Finally, after six years, he was able to escape.

 

Patrick had a strong faith, and he went on to study for the priesthood, eventually becoming a bishop. And rather than hating the people of Ireland, for some thirty years he spread the faith, and is now remembered as the great patron Saint of the Irish. Despite his earlier negative experiences, Patrick planted richly, sacrificed much, and left an incredible legacy—all because he planted big potatoes of selfless love rather than prejudicial hate or revenge.

You might also like

Father's Homilies

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Easter April 26, 2026

By Charlene Currie • May 7, 2026
Building Bridges, Not Walls. Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Easter April 26, 2026

Homily for the Third Sunday of Easter April 19, 2026

By Charlene Currie • April 25, 2026
Born to Look … Learning to See Homily for the Third Sunday of Easter April 19, 2026 The scoutmaster used to take his troops on hikes along wilderness nature trails. After each hike he would challenge the scouts to describe what they had observed on their excursion. The boys invariably hadn’t seen a fraction of what the scoutmaster had seen. He would wave his arms in great circles and shout, “Creation is all around you, but you are blocking it out. Stop wearing your raincoat in the shower. You were born to look, but you have to learn to see.” You were born to look, but you have to learn to see. One of the questions that always arises about today’s gospel passage is: Why didn’t the two disciples recognize Jesus? Let’s spend some time reflecting on the possibilities. One obvious answer is that they were disheartened. Their lives are at their lowest point. They are sad and confused. The one they had pinned their hopes on had been humiliated and crucified in a horrible way. How could such a disaster be anything but a total defeat? How could a Messiah, or Savior, allow himself to be beaten and put to death? In addition, the two disciples are probably terrorized, full of fear. The leaders of the people, both religious and political, had made their point. Anyone who rocks the boat and challenges authority will be dealt with swiftly and brutally. If the two were recognized as followers of Jesus, his fate could also be theirs. Let me share another story with you, a story which shows how expectations can color what we see and experience. ---------------------------------- A young man from a wealthy family was about to graduate from high school. It was the custom in his affluent neighborhood for the parents to give the graduate a car as a graduation present. Bill and his father spent months looking at cars, and the week before graduation they found the perfect one. Bill was certain that the car would be his on graduation night. Imagine Bill’s disappointment when, on the eve of the big day, his father handed him a gift-wrapped Bible! Bill was so angry, he hurled the Bible across the room and stormed out of the house, vowing never to return again. Bill and his father never saw each other again. Yet it was the news of his father’s death that brought Bill back home again. One night, as he sat going through his father’s possessions that he was to inherit, Bill came across the Bible that his father had given him. He brushed away the dust and opened it to find a cashier’s check, dated the day of his graduation—for the exact amount of the car they had chosen together. ------------------------------- As the scoutmaster said, “You are born to look, but you have to learn to see.” What does today’s gospel passage want us to learn to see? One obvious answer is that the privileged place to encounter Jesus is in the celebration of the Eucharist, or Mass. In the gospel Jesus does two things: he interprets the Scriptures and how they apply to him; and he “breaks bread” with the two disciples. We thus have the two halves of the Mass: the liturgy of the word and the liturgy of the Eucharist. The Bible is telling us where to look, and it is teaching us to learn to see. Like the cashier’s check in the Bible, Jesus’ presence is not always obvious or straightforward. So, where and how should we look? The first place is the Bible. We need to take time to read God’s word slowly, savor it, and allow it to speak to us. If you are having difficulty, a commentary will help. Turning to those who know the Bible better that we do, and asking for clarifications and advice, will also help. The second place of encounter with Jesus is the Eucharist. The mystery of Emmaus is that the disciples recognize Jesus in the “breaking of bread,” which was one of the phrases used for the celebration of the Eucharist. Try to enter the Mystery more and more by giving yourself totally, without distractions, to each part of the Mass. Savor what it means to gather with open minds and hearts; to listen to the message of Scripture, the inspired word of God; to take the message of the homily home with you and reflect on it; to ask for forgiveness and to pray for peace; to intercede for our needs and the needs of the whole world; to receive our Lord mindfully, and not just hurry through the motions. Finally, in the Emmaus story, Jesus approaches his people who are depressed, disappointed and broken-hearted. At first, they do not recognize him. But as they listen more and more, their hearts start to burn within them. So, another way to experience the presence of Jesus Christ is to do as he did, to find value in what he taught and how he acted. He clearly said that he could be found in the poor and vulnerable: I was hungry, and you gave me food; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink; I was naked, and you clothed me; I was ill, or in prison, or lonely, and you visited me. Today’s gospel gives us a blueprint for encountering Jesus and feeling his presence. But we have to give ourselves to it wholeheartedly. We were born to look, but we have to learn how to see. The Bible has a treasure in it, and it’s not a cashier’s check. The Eucharist has a presence in it, and it’s something more than bread. The people around us are children of God. They have a spark of the divine within them. We were born to look, but we have to learn how to see.

Homily for the Second Sunday of Easter April 12, 2026

By Charlene Currie • April 25, 2026
Will You Still Need Me? Homily for the Second Sunday of Easter April 12, 2026 One hot summer afternoon a woman was working strenuously, weeding her flower beds and pruning the plants. The flowers were especially magnificent. A passerby asked, “I really like those flowers—do you?” As she wiped perspiration from her face with a dirty hand, the woman’s weary response was, “Only when they bloom.” The passerby thought how many folks have a similar attitude toward church, family, work, or life in general—“I only like it when it is in full bloom and beautiful.” The passerby thought of those necessary times of hard work—mulching, weeding, cultivating, pruning and transplanting—as well as seasonal dormancy, which are all necessary to bring about the blooms which precede the bearing of seeds and fruit. --------------------------------- I mentioned during one of my homilies during Holy Week that I was always bothered that the risen Jesus, with his risen body, still had the wounds. I compared it to buying a shiny, brand-new car, and insisting that there be dents on the fenders and leaks in the engine. As I thought about it more and more, however, I came to understand that the wounds were there for a purpose. In the case of Thomas, the wounds were the evidence he needed. But, beyond that, the wounds serve as a reminder that Jesus’ love for us is total, down to the last drop of blood. The wounds help preserve the memory of how painful true love can be. It’s easy to love that which is perfect and beautiful, is it not? But Jesus chose to show us a love of that which is less than perfect, and clearly not beautiful. Perhaps the clearest example of that is that he was there for the lepers of his day, those who had a contagious disease that rotted their flesh and forced them to live in isolation. But it was true of others, as well. Jesus went out of his way to embrace public sinners, foreigners, enemies, even those who were involved in putting him to death. From the cross he prayed, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” The risen body of Jesus, still bearing the wounds, means that our Lord is present in a special way to those who are wounded: those with cancer or another life-threatening disease, those who have lost a loved one, those who have been bullied, those carrying the wounds of a failed relationship, those who feel they cannot be forgiven, those who know they are less than perfect. Jesus is there for those living with the daily threat of war, terrorism, violence, domestic abuse, betrayal. In short, the less than perfect resurrected body of Jesus means that now, as then, he is present in a special way to those who are less than perfect. ------------------------------------------------ I was reminded of an early hit by the Beatles. Do you remember a song entitled When I’m Sixty-Four, released in June 1967? Here are some of the lyrics: When I get older, losing my hair Many years from now, Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine? If I'd been out till quarter to three, Would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm sixty-four? Ooh … I could be handy mending a fuse When your lights have gone. You can knit a sweater by the fireside, Sunday mornings, go for a ride. Doing the garden, digging the weeds, Who could ask for more? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm sixty-four? -------------------------------------------------- In a similar way, Jesus’ wounds remind us that he’s not a fair-weather friend, only there for the good times. He’s there, always, and especially when we’re wounded. So, if you’re struggling, if you’re dealing with something painful, don’t run away. Don’t make the mistake of thinking the Lord doesn’t understand, or care. Instead, go to the wounds. Allow yourself to feel what true love is like when you need it the most.