Stephen Yusko's Blog

  Propelling Out of the Parish Bubble  (Originally posted in 2018   and challenged by the Diocese of Rockville Centre )   The key to the new evangelization is for a parish to build on its historic culture and break out of the parish bubble into the community. A healthy parish will become a resource for the community’s spiritual, physical, emotional, intellectual, and social needs. During my pre-ordination interview for the permanent diaconate, I had a fifteen-minute interview with my bishop. The time together was more or less akin to a speed-dating interview, each prospective future deacon doing his best to impress the bishop. I was able to express an interest in evangelizing outside of the “parish bubble”. The bishop expressed interest in evangelization, as most church leaders are concerned about the dwindling numbers in the pews and lack of robust support for the church by millennials. Having spent my adult married life (twenty-five years) in my home parish, I came to understan

    "Perplexing Plastic"  (Originally posted in 2018, and challenged by the Diocese of Rockville Centre)  In the 1960’s the promise of a career in “Plastics” seemed like a sure bet, in contrast to the problem where plastic pollution endangers our environment today. In a scene from the movie “The Graduate” Ben, a recent college grad (played by Dustin Hoffman) is questioned about his future at a graduation party. A scene I’m sure many of our high school and college graduates can appreciate as we approach June and the long-awaited Summer months. Mr. McGuire steps in, pulls Ben aside with the intention of some sage advice, “Ben I have one word for you...plastics!”.   As I contemplate the trajectory of faith and spiritual life, various words enter my mind as I answer the call toward a relationship with my fellow parishioners and with God. Words like struggle, trial, joy, authenticity, service, and very recently, plastics enter the frontal lobe. When we shop at the gro

  No Sunrise in a Storm                           -  Stephen Yusko Ain’t no sunrise in a storm Ain’t heard my name as I roam No fireplace to keep me warm Chase me from my bus stop home I have my demons, yet to name You have yours, just the same Stranger danger look away Not sister nor brother do you claim Crazy Joe, Veteran Al Shopping cart Sally, my passing pals Scrounge for scraps, a buck or two Take it day by day, to pull me through  Ain’t no sunrise in a storm Ain’t heard my name as I roam No fireplace to keep me warm Chase me from my bus stop home Angels appear now and then Shapeshifter Jesus, time to spend  Arm’s length distance away from me In a moment, the eyes of a friend Bleed me out frozen, take my life Winter’s cold, a cutting knife Dumpster coffin calling me Reaper man’s roundup will I be Ain’t no sunrise in a storm Ain’t heard my name for so long No fireplace to keep me warm Poor man’s grave is now home

Gray Day Gray is the color, mountain pathway descent Gray is the color of your stare, discontent Gray is the mud between black and white  Gray takes away the colors from my sight Gray head sign of intelligence Gray clouds hide the sun’s eminence  Gray my mood when I am lonely  Gray is the mystery that goes beyond me Gray is a reach toward retirement Gray is her hair dyed blonde for excitement  Gray clippings on the barbershop floor Gray memory as I reach for the door Gray is the mystery far beyond me Gray like my father ever reminds me Gray is the blessing of many days Gray looking back at my changing ways

  Darkened Blue Blue waters turn black  I look to what I lack Not material but decisions made Wayward path, shifting ways Dawning memory unfading Remind me of the obsession remaining  Sunrise sneaks up on the horizon Winter’s blanket chill my soul As I cower under bedroll Warm my mind To greet this day Shine a new path for my way Darkness fades and returns again Sow your pain, unwanted friend Lessons learned scars revealing  Guide me to the path of healing

Phoenix: “defined as a person or thing regarded as uniquely remarkable in some respect.” A bird that lives on, flying so close to the sun that it is consumed by fire, dying on the funeral pyre, yet to be born again, resurrected to live on.  Recognizing my own prejudice, to size people up on the quick, I hope to achieve a new sense of enlightenment and to heal my tendency to categorize and divide. Maybe it comes with age, as I long for the onset of senior wisdom. Our country, our conversations are experiencing a great divide. Unfortunately, we’ve surrendered to dualistic thinking. It’s either this or that, black or white, liberal or conservative, it’s either me or you.  I’m trying to rewire, retire my old way of thinking. In a false sense of order, many of us are drawn to place people in categories, subjugating each one unfairly into one camp or another without taking the time to consider what they are actually saying. We scan each other’s comments with the keenness of a we

My journey on becoming a full-fledged “Sports Agnostic” began with Little League baseball in the early seventies as a ten-year-old. Maybe it was my less than athletic prowess or the fact that I never developed the skills many of my friends achieved with such admirable effectiveness.  The basics, hitting, running and ball catching eluded me as I learned to be quite the bench-warmer in my early youth.  I think back to my schoolyard days and the regret and shame I internalized of not being good enough to be selected for either team for the lunchtime slap ball game. Numerous rejections relegated me and a couple of the boys to the sidelines until we finally accepted the fact that being one of the chosen athletes was in the statistical category of “slim to none”. I could blame my dad for not taking the time to help me hone my skills, or I could blame my flat-footed feet or even the childhood asthma attacks I endured, but for some reason, I never got the hang of being a full-fledged, team

On September 6, 2019, our good friend "Espo" went to the other side... I'm reposting this to remember!  Missing "Espo" Back in September 2019 good friends and family gathered together to console each other on the passing of a dear friend, Jim Esposito. Before his death, Jim requested that I preside over his wake service. As I think about the friends we miss, I decided to post the framework of my remembrance the night of his wake.  The room was filled with emotion, especially considering the impact of 9/11 on all of us.  September 11, 2019 Tonight, we both celebrate Jim’s life, and his birth to eternal life. I find wake services very difficult, I’m uneasy and often don’t know what to say. Tonight, we share the void in our hearts of Jim’s absence and look for the hope of the promises made at our baptisms by Jesus.   That he has a place set aside for us. In speaking with Jim’s family, the doctor’s described his condition as an enigma.   Through

I always found the antidote “Physician heal thy self” misguided. These past few weeks have marked a dramatic pause in my vocation as I think about isolation and discernment on where I’m being called to do good work.  My involuntary pause of vocation is considered a medicinal remedy for “my own healing”.   As the good doctor says, “only time will tell”.  “Everything is a blessing” is another phrase to contemplate as I wonder if I am over-rationalizing recent events; never the less, as I tell my friends, “my schedule has opened up”.   This Winter is a time for early evening darkness, the distant howl of the Great South Bay wind blows down our canal rustling the tarp-draped boats longing for springtime excursions. Early January is a time for fasting after the holiday feasts, as both body and mind look to regain their healthy ways. I am poured out like a libation, freed and wanting.  I try to focus and reach into something positive. “You have a gift”, I’m told, to express

Today on the Feast of the Epiphany, we doubled up on our Church services.  First, we attended 8:45 Sunday Mass at the Church of St. Joseph, where I recently served as a Permanent Deacon, then Debbie and I attended the launch of Community Church in Babylon Village at their first-ever church service at 10:30.   How truly fitting it was to do this on the   Feast of the Epiphany of Christ , as Father Francis explained in his homily, Epiphany is the “manifestation of Christ”.  Those who know me have come to realize that I hate shopping, and this day was not meant to be “shopping for a new church day” , but considering the state of scandal within the Church, we felt impelled to see what this new church was all about. As a couple with an experience of outreach in the community we are called to wonder, and ask the deep questions about our faith, our institutions and to see Christ in and be Christ to others.  We arrived a couple of minutes before the service began in the basemen

  In times of pain and struggle, we all seek the road to restoration. In hindsight, if my pain leads me to greater joy, and a greater capacity to love and be present at the moment to others, I may become a better man. It is a slippery road as my Creator, the Divine Source of Love, totally respects my free will, to suffer the consequences or victories of my actions.   However, I have a choice to ask for His guidance or go about it solo. Considering my risky behavior, thin-skinned temperament and lack of patience, I don’t take solo runs down the slope of life so much anymore.  Still, at fifty-eight years old, I still find myself taking risks.  Last year I was on a “Boy’s Weekend” out West skiing in Bozeman, Montana. I consider myself a cautious intermediate skier and yet I ventured out to the highest peak of the Mountaintop.  There stood before me a small ski lift with the huge caution sign, “This lift is for experts only, do not attempt going on this lift unless you are an exper