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Sunday, May 17, 2020
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Fifty years ago this past week I was ordained a Catholic priest. For all the days, experiences, and people who have crossed my path, I am eternally grateful.
I am not much of an anniversary or class reunion celebrator, but there is something about 50 years of any one thing that has special meaning for me. From May 13, 1970, until now is two-thirds of my life. I thank God for the gift of so many years. If I can have a whole bunch more, Lord, I would be grateful! But, “Your will, not mine be done.”
I have one very specific memory from my Ordination Day. That memory has nothing to do with the religious ceremony, but what occurred immediately afterward. I went looking for my parents. I found them quickly and I threw my arms around them. My dad cried. For the very first time in my life, my dad cried - with his arm around me. Mom and I joined him. A family “cry” is a blessing. To this moment, 50 years later my eyes swell up with tears of love.
To this day I believe he cried because what he had just witnessed was the incarnation of two dreams, my dream, and my parents’ dream. My dream began when I was 12 years old and entered the high school seminary, Quigley Preparatory Seminary. And the dream for them began on October 1, 1945.
They shared my dream, supported my dream, sacrificed for my dream, and cried when my dream came true, fifty years ago.
And that dream continues. And what is that dream I chased for 12 years in formation and 50 years in ministry? That dream has many parts. Here are a few about which I believe very passionately.
In my dream, I have always believed that the life, ministry, and message of Jesus Christ can build a better world. I believe that His life, ministry, and mission has been passed on to us all, not exclusively to me as a priest, but to everyone who reads these words right now. I believe that we are more than we seem. I believe our ultimate identity is how we are seen by God. “You are my son, my daughter. This day I have begotten you.” I believe in those words found in the Gospel: “I have come that you may have life - and life in abundance.” Fifty years as a priest is not about me. It never was and in my life, it never will be. It is about us, you, me, and everyone. And that conviction led me to be a priest and to use the platform of the Catholic Priesthood as my way of living and communicating that to many of you for many, many years.
I have chosen to do this work full-time. Some of you do it part-time. We all need to do it anytime we are alive.
Fifty years ago I was only 24 years old. A lot has changed since then. My own faith, my beliefs, my priesthood have shown me things and taken me places I never imagined. For example, as a new (baby) priest I didn’t understand the need for and the power of forgiveness. I saw it as a legal and ritual thing. What I have witnessed in my priesthood and experienced in my own life is the reality that forgiveness is all about freedom... getting free from our past and staying free to be fully alive. The Lord Jesus preached and lived unconditional forgiveness. No deals, no maybe, no what if’s... just forgiveness. The Gospels are filled with those encounters. Remember the crucifixion scene? “Father forgive them. They know not what they are doing.”
Our world holds a grudge and holds us to our past. It does not let go. Never. God’s world does not relive the ugliness of the past. It is over. It is gone. Forgive yourself. Let go. Let God. I will never forget the first time I asked two questions of a person in confession: Me: “Do you believe that God forgives you?” Penitent: “Yes. I do.” Me: “Can you forgive yourself?” Penitent: (after a very long pause) “I am not sure.” Forgive yourself. Let it go. Look forward, not backward.
In the years that remain in my life, if I could only preach one thing from the experience of Jesus Christ, it would be this. “Forgive yourself and forgive others in the divine manner of Christ. You are not any of the ways the world tries to define you. You are not an experience in your past life. We are not our mistakes, big or small, but you and I are all that we still can be. We are loved by God unconditionally and forgiven eternally. Do you and I really believe that? We had better. That is how and who we are seen by the Father of love and life.”
One last, but very important, thing. After 50 years of service to the Lord’s people, years of faith and doubt, years of struggle and blessing, years filled with fears, worries, and joy, I am convinced of the closeness of the Lord to me and to you, if you wish it so. I believe the Lord has a passionate desire to be with me, to dwell with me, and to stay with me. One of the great moments during Catholic Mass is when I have the privilege to say four words to people one-by-one: The Body of Christ. And the response is always the same one word: Amen.
At that moment I try always to look people in their eyes. I see smiles and tears, blank stares, and intense looks. I see the occasional uncertainty in the faces of some and the look of absolute certitude in others. I see a weathered look in the faces of those for whom life has been anything but easy. I see the handsomeness and beauty of creation. I see the physical and emotional struggles in the eyes of others, and the look of gratitude for one more day of life. And it is the same four words spoken to everyone: The Body of Christ. It is the Christ desiring to dwell with us all. And it is each one of those amazing cast of characters that look to the end of my thumb and finger to see The Body of Christ. And rich and poor, young and old, have and have nots, saints and sinners, healthy and ill, fearful and faithful all say the same thing: Amen.
For those of us who are God’s people, God’s Church, our task is to embody Christ in what we do every day - me as a priest; you in any role you possess. Can you join me in an amen to that?
Ready? Amen!
On May 13th I went to Holy Sepulchre to visit with my parents...virtually. I needed to thank them once again for their dream that began on October 1, 1945. And with them, I thanked our God for that other dream that began 50 years ago. A family “cry” today will be a blessing. But don’t worry.
We will be socially distancing... from here to eternity.
Thanks to so many of you for joining me on this journey. It has been quite a ride.
Will you join me one more time today?
Ready?
Amen.
I am not much of an anniversary or class reunion celebrator, but there is something about 50 years of any one thing that has special meaning for me. From May 13, 1970, until now is two-thirds of my life. I thank God for the gift of so many years. If I can have a whole bunch more, Lord, I would be grateful! But, “Your will, not mine be done.”
I have one very specific memory from my Ordination Day. That memory has nothing to do with the religious ceremony, but what occurred immediately afterward. I went looking for my parents. I found them quickly and I threw my arms around them. My dad cried. For the very first time in my life, my dad cried - with his arm around me. Mom and I joined him. A family “cry” is a blessing. To this moment, 50 years later my eyes swell up with tears of love.
To this day I believe he cried because what he had just witnessed was the incarnation of two dreams, my dream, and my parents’ dream. My dream began when I was 12 years old and entered the high school seminary, Quigley Preparatory Seminary. And the dream for them began on October 1, 1945.
They shared my dream, supported my dream, sacrificed for my dream, and cried when my dream came true, fifty years ago.
And that dream continues. And what is that dream I chased for 12 years in formation and 50 years in ministry? That dream has many parts. Here are a few about which I believe very passionately.
In my dream, I have always believed that the life, ministry, and message of Jesus Christ can build a better world. I believe that His life, ministry, and mission has been passed on to us all, not exclusively to me as a priest, but to everyone who reads these words right now. I believe that we are more than we seem. I believe our ultimate identity is how we are seen by God. “You are my son, my daughter. This day I have begotten you.” I believe in those words found in the Gospel: “I have come that you may have life - and life in abundance.” Fifty years as a priest is not about me. It never was and in my life, it never will be. It is about us, you, me, and everyone. And that conviction led me to be a priest and to use the platform of the Catholic Priesthood as my way of living and communicating that to many of you for many, many years.
I have chosen to do this work full-time. Some of you do it part-time. We all need to do it anytime we are alive.
Fifty years ago I was only 24 years old. A lot has changed since then. My own faith, my beliefs, my priesthood have shown me things and taken me places I never imagined. For example, as a new (baby) priest I didn’t understand the need for and the power of forgiveness. I saw it as a legal and ritual thing. What I have witnessed in my priesthood and experienced in my own life is the reality that forgiveness is all about freedom... getting free from our past and staying free to be fully alive. The Lord Jesus preached and lived unconditional forgiveness. No deals, no maybe, no what if’s... just forgiveness. The Gospels are filled with those encounters. Remember the crucifixion scene? “Father forgive them. They know not what they are doing.”
Our world holds a grudge and holds us to our past. It does not let go. Never. God’s world does not relive the ugliness of the past. It is over. It is gone. Forgive yourself. Let go. Let God. I will never forget the first time I asked two questions of a person in confession: Me: “Do you believe that God forgives you?” Penitent: “Yes. I do.” Me: “Can you forgive yourself?” Penitent: (after a very long pause) “I am not sure.” Forgive yourself. Let it go. Look forward, not backward.
In the years that remain in my life, if I could only preach one thing from the experience of Jesus Christ, it would be this. “Forgive yourself and forgive others in the divine manner of Christ. You are not any of the ways the world tries to define you. You are not an experience in your past life. We are not our mistakes, big or small, but you and I are all that we still can be. We are loved by God unconditionally and forgiven eternally. Do you and I really believe that? We had better. That is how and who we are seen by the Father of love and life.”
One last, but very important, thing. After 50 years of service to the Lord’s people, years of faith and doubt, years of struggle and blessing, years filled with fears, worries, and joy, I am convinced of the closeness of the Lord to me and to you, if you wish it so. I believe the Lord has a passionate desire to be with me, to dwell with me, and to stay with me. One of the great moments during Catholic Mass is when I have the privilege to say four words to people one-by-one: The Body of Christ. And the response is always the same one word: Amen.
At that moment I try always to look people in their eyes. I see smiles and tears, blank stares, and intense looks. I see the occasional uncertainty in the faces of some and the look of absolute certitude in others. I see a weathered look in the faces of those for whom life has been anything but easy. I see the handsomeness and beauty of creation. I see the physical and emotional struggles in the eyes of others, and the look of gratitude for one more day of life. And it is the same four words spoken to everyone: The Body of Christ. It is the Christ desiring to dwell with us all. And it is each one of those amazing cast of characters that look to the end of my thumb and finger to see The Body of Christ. And rich and poor, young and old, have and have nots, saints and sinners, healthy and ill, fearful and faithful all say the same thing: Amen.
For those of us who are God’s people, God’s Church, our task is to embody Christ in what we do every day - me as a priest; you in any role you possess. Can you join me in an amen to that?
Ready? Amen!
On May 13th I went to Holy Sepulchre to visit with my parents...virtually. I needed to thank them once again for their dream that began on October 1, 1945. And with them, I thanked our God for that other dream that began 50 years ago. A family “cry” today will be a blessing. But don’t worry.
We will be socially distancing... from here to eternity.
Thanks to so many of you for joining me on this journey. It has been quite a ride.
Will you join me one more time today?
Ready?
Amen.