Biography
Father John Aurelio is a Catholic priest, an author, a master storyteller and pastor of St. John the Evangelist Church in Buffalo, New York. He has a Master’s Degree in psychiatric social work and has worked extensively with retarded children and teenagers. His books include The Boy Who Stole the Christmas Star and Mosquitoes in Paradise. His most recent book is Once Upon A Christmastime. [Biographical information is correct as of the broadcast date noted above.]

"A Storyteller’s God" 
In his reading of the Parables from St. Luke, Phil Sweet said, “Isn’t it wonderful that out of just six short verses two powerful lessons could be told?” It is wonderful because that is the power of the story.

Jesus was a storyteller. The compilers of the scriptures were storytellers. The Bible is a storyteller’s book. Out of just a phrase in scripture, six verses or one verse, you can expand a whole, magnificent tapestry. Just let’s try it with John’s gospel. The very opening words of John’s gospel say, “In the beginning was the word”.

Let me ask you — have you ever played a game of chess? Even if you haven’t played a game of chess there is something that all of us know about the game that’s very simple. The object of the game is to try to second guess your opponent. When you are ready to make a move what you do is you stop and think, “If I move my pawn here, will my opponent move his pawn there, or his rook here, or his castle there? And if he moves his rook there, then what I should do is move my bishop here or my knight there.” And before you do anything, you go crazy trying to figure out what your opponent is going to do so that you can guess your next move when your opponent makes his move. And that’s why it takes forever to play a game of chess, because you’re never quite sure what your opponent is going to do. And finally you make the move and you move your rook here and then your opponent does something you never expected and you sit there and you say, “Why did they move that?” And you try all over again to start from the beginning.

Now that’s the way we play a game of chess, but I want you to know something important. It’s very deep, but it’s very important. That's not so with God. God sees the whole game from the very beginning. Even before you make your first move, God knows every possibility, every probability. He knows that if you move this here, he’s got the whole game played. If you move that there — the whole game is played. And he knows it instantly. God knows the myriad of possibilities all in an instant so that no matter what you do, God has the whole game already played out, in his mind, before you’ve even moved. Now the lesson of that, obviously, is not — don’t play chess with God; rather it is to help us to understand the creation that God did.

Consider this: In the beginning, before there was any creation, there was just God, only God, an infinite God. And God had an idea, just an idea, but as only God can do, he can look at an idea from every perspective. He can look at every possibility, hold it from every which way, and understand all the million possibilities of an idea — instantly. And God had an idea and the idea was: Let there be space — endless, black space. And then God said: Let there be light out there in that space. And there were lights millions upon billions of stars in billions of galaxies, stretching billions of miles. And God looked at that idea, just an idea — it hadn’t happened yet — and God looked at that idea and he said: That’s good. And then he creates all kinds of moving things in space, planets, meteors, meteorites, comets. All kinds of marvelous things. And this infinite stretch of space has all kinds of things in it, God looks at it and he says: The idea’s good, but it’s just an idea.

But he wants to do more. God is creative and so he picks from the whole vast array of the heavens, he picks one little planet and on that one he’s going to perform his masterpiece. He separates the land from the water, the sky from the earth and he says: That’s good. But he wants to get more involved with what he’s doing. He wants more, and so God brings life on to the earth. In the air, on the land, in the water and God looks at life and says: That’s good. It’s just an idea, but the idea’s moving and God loves the idea that he has.

And then God wants to do even more. It’s beginning to compel him. And so he looks at the earth and he says: I want to breathe life into it in a most special way. So he creates — us — he creates man and he breathes his spirit into us. And God says: That’s very good.

But then God notices that this man can love, and he images God, but he can also fail to love, and the idea becomes clouded. In the idea, before creation began, God saw that we were going to sin. That’s not such a good idea. Better not to create man, better to stop before I create man. Let’s just leave it where it was before with animals, and creepy-crawly things and flying creatures. But now a puppet creation is not as exciting. It can’t give back glory or love. Should God just forget the whole idea?

But the Son of the Trinity, who exists with God from forever, sees the idea because he shares the idea with his father. And he looks at the idea and says: I can rectify it. I can perfect that idea. I can make that love perfect. I can become part of it. You breathed your spirit into man — I become man. I make for every sin a virtue. I turn every no into a yes.

And so God sees the idea with his Son intimately in it, and he’s ready to let the idea happen. All he has to do is say the word. All he has to do is say the word and there will be a universe. He has to just say the word and there will be myriads of stars, myriads of planets, billions of galaxies stretching billions of miles. All God has to do is say the word and there will be earth and there will be land and water and animals. All he has to do is say the word and there’ll be man. And God was ready. And he said the word and the word God said was: Jesus.

And it all came true. Jesus! And there was light. Jesus! And there were universes. Jesus! And there was earth. Jesus! And there were people.

In the beginning God said the word and the word was with God and the word was God. The word was present to God from the beginning and all things were made through him and without him nothing was made that’s been made. In him all things found life.

Just a simple phrase from the scriptures, “In the beginning was the word.”

Let’s go on with that same idea — Infinite God. You know what that means when you say God is infinite? It means he’s boundless! There’s no beginning, there’s no ending God, — he’s infinite. But consider now, this infinite God takes the slime of the earth and forms man and then he breathes into man his own spirit. We call that our soul. God breathed a soul into us and made us in his image.

Consider this, especially you students, you studied mathematics. Two things equal to the same thing are equal to each other. God is infinite, God is love, therefore love is infinite. When God breathed into us a soul, love that’s in us is infinite. What it means is that we are bottomless pits for love! That’s easy to demonstrate. If I get three of you to love me, that feels good. If I get ten of you to love me, that’s even better. But I’m Italian, I need more. I’ve got to have a whole lot more people to love me. No matter how many people love me, I’ve always got room for more. As a matter of fact, I’m a bottomless pit for love. All of us, we’re all bottomless pits for love because love is infinite, we agreed to that. Now, if we’re bottomless pits for love, then you must say that the only thing that can fill a bottomless pit is an infinite God.

Now when Adam and Eve were in the garden and chose to sin they were like buckets, and they kicked a hole in the bottom of the bucket. Where everything was good, now what happens is you put things in you and it goes right through. We’re like buckets going through life with a hole in the bottom. The most important thing in our lives is to fill the bucket — we want to get the bucket filled. The only thing that fills a bottomless pit is an infinite God, but that doesn’t stop us! We’re going to fill it. So we go out and look for something to fill it. Anything that’s good. So you go out and you find something like chocolate. If you don’t like chocolate you’re better off dead! Chocolate is good.

Now watch what happens when a baby eats chocolate. The first thing he does is he starts smearing it all over his face . He loves chocolate! It’s so good. Now what he wants to do is fill the bottomless pit with chocolate. What the baby thinks he’s found is God! See? And he’s going to fill the bucket with “God” — Chocolate. And so he starts eating it. And he starts smearing his face with it. He rubs a little under his arms, he gets it all over his body, he wants to become one with chocolate. The baby is telling you: Chocolate is God. That’s what he’s saying.

Then what happens. He discovers the first commandment. After he is filled — BLAAACH! And he learns: I am the Lord your God, you shall not have strange chocolate before me.

But do you think he understands now? Do you think he knows the lesson? Absolutely not. Neither did you and I learn that lesson, because we went out for the next thing. And the next thing was a bike. “I gotta have a bike!”

The only thing you “gotta” have is God, because we all agreed the only that fills the bottomless pit is an infinite God.

“But I gotta have a bike. I’ll do anything for a bike. Give me a bike.”

So you get a bike and You’re so happy with this bike. But how long does it last? A week? Two week? A month? Two months? And then after awhile it goes right through the hole in the bucket.

You know what it is? It’s good, people, what you’ve got is good, but it’s not God. Good is a taste of God. God throws good around so that we taste it and then we say: look if this is good, how much better God must be. We’re supposed to go through the good to God. If you stop at the good you get sick. It’s not enough. It’s not going to fill it for you.

So, you’ve got the bike and what happens? Before long the bike goes right through the bucket and you start looking for something else. Motorcycle, right? “Dad, I gotta have a motorcycle! I'll do anything for a motorcycle! I promise you, you get me a motorcycle and I’ll never ask for anything again.” The only time we’re never going to ask for anything ever again is when we’ve got God. So we think the motorcycle is God. And “I’ve gotta have the motorcycle.”

So the motorcycle becomes the next thing you throw in the bucket. And you know how good the motorcycle is? Until the wintertime and then you look for a car and you say: That’s God.

And it never ends. We just keep throwing things in the bucket. Unless we get back to the beginning and understand, the only thing that fills a bottomless pit is an infinite God.

When we were children we used to play a game. We used to get a big wash tub that my mother had, and we used to fill it with water and put a milk bottle in it. And we'd stand over the milk bottle with pennies and we would drop pennies in the water. If you were really lucky it went right into the bottle. But you know what happens, sometimes it would go off to the side. It suddenly struck me that what we do in life is try to get to God and God is all around us, but if it’s not meant for us it must go off to the side. We have to allow just those things that can go through God into us, and those are the things that are meant to be.

The world is constantly trying to tell us how to fill our buckets. It’s always trying to give us ideas on what you’ve really got to have in life. You’ve got to have the right kind of house. You’ve got to have the right kind of car. You've got to live in the right neighborhood and go to the right school. All these things are good, but they are not God. If they become the end then we become like children again and our stomachs become upset and we become hungry, and we long again for God.

St. Augustine said it:

You created us for yourself and our hearts are restless, God, and we will not find rest until we rest in you.

But that’s not going to stop everybody else from telling you exactly what you’ve “gotta” do in this life. Everyone has an idea on how to fill your bucket.

I’d like to read to you a story I wrote. I call it “The Clockmaker”. Listen to it because maybe it has a truth to teach you.

In a village, high atop a mountain, there lived a master clockmaker. All the villagers marveled over the wonderful clocks he made. Not only were they excellent and precise timepieces, they were also masterpieces of art. When the people decided to build the new church there was no question about who should be commissioned to make the tower clock.

The great clockmaker decided to put all his talents to the task and make the greatest clock ever. A large canopy was placed over the tower. The clockmaker worked in secret for many, many months. At long last the great day of unveiling arrived. The mayor and the townspeople gathered in the square before the church. At exactly noon the veil fell.

The great clock sounded the first gong and the deep sound of it filled the valley below. At the second gong a stately prince emerged from the door on the other side of the clock and came forward to the front of the clock. At the next gong a ballerina emerged and joined the prince in front of the church. Again there was a gong, and this time two doors opened above the clock face and a little band emerged, dressed in leather shorts and flowered shirts, playing their instruments.

Everyone delighted over the happy sound of the bells and the chimes and the oom-pa-pas. And all of the figures danced and rejoiced and then when the clock finished chiming, all the figures went back and everything was closed and they awaited for their encore an hour later. A joyous shout arose from the assembly. Here was indeed the greatest clock anyone had ever seen.

Each day as the clock struck the hours people everywhere would stop what they were doing and look toward the tower. The clock was inerrantly accurate, everyone everywhere knew immediately the time. The whole valley moved to the rhythm of the clock. And then one day, it erred, it missed. Everyone knew that something was wrong with the great clock. As if drawn by some compelling force, all the villagers gathered in the great square.

The mayor spoke first, “I’ve been keeping time for the village for many years. I know about time better than most. I will fix the clock.” He then proceeded up the tower. Down below the people heard banging and clanging — a sure sign that repairs were in progress. Hours later the mayor emerged, greased face, disheveled. When the clock struck the hour the ballerina and the prince emerged, but the band did not. The repairs had made it worse.

Now others began to offer their suggestions and proceed one by one up to the tower and they made their own corrections. One by one they emerged and the movement of the clock was dangerously close to failing all together.

At last, someone shouted above the bickering villagers, “I know who should fix the clock!”

A hush fell over the crowd. “Who?” asked the mayor.

“Who else but the shoemaker?”

“The shoemaker?”

“Yes, the shoemaker. He’s a fine craftsman and he plys his trade with diligence and precision. He should be the one to fix the clock.” So the shoemaker ascended the tower to the cheers of the whole crowd. And when he returned, the great clock ground to a halt.

Meanwhile, in the master clockmaker’s shop, the clockmaker worked at his bench as usual. In all the confusion, no one had thought to call for him.

This world, your world, is made by a master clockmaker. When things get out of sync, don’t go to the shoemaker.