DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP

Humility, humility, and ever more humility.

Toward the end of Miracle on 34th Street we see a little girl in the back seat of a car saying about Santa, “I do believe, I do believe, it’s silly, but I do believe*,” and her persistence pays off when Santa makes her wishes come true. That is a bit how I handled prayer for my father.

I’ve shared in past that my father has no time for religion. When I said I wanted to go into the seminary he said that, “Religion is for weak people.” I could count on one hand the number of times he has been in church. If you stuck the word “voluntarily” in that sentence, I would not even need one hand.

I don’t tell you this simply to defame my father but to tell you never to give up on prayer. I prayed for my father daily for years. At one point it became apparent that he had Alzheimer’s and had to go into the nursing home. I asked him occasionally if I could anoint him and he steadfastly refused. I resorted to bribing another priest to try his best at it thinking it might just be me, but no.

I continued to pray for him but as half heartedly as the girl in “Miracle,” “I do believe God can move mountains, I do believe God can move mountains, it’s silly, but do believe God can move mountains.” Once he entered more deeply into Alzheimer’s I figured that it was too late. Before when he was rational there might have been an opportunity but now, even if he did at some enlightened moment decide that he wanted to get to know God a little better, two seconds later he would thoroughly forget the desire and anything about which we had talked. I stated this publicly from the pulpit.

Still people would say that they were praying for him. I would smile and say thank you and figure even it were a waist of time at least people were praying and maybe God could apply it somebody else or something.

It turns out that the one who needed conversion was I. I am the one who needed to be reminded of the power of prayer. My Dad had to go to the hospital for a relatively minor “incident” and my sister and I were sitting with the anxious Alzheimer’s patient in his room. “I could anoint you Dad if you think it might help or make you feel better.” I was waiting for the blow off when he said, “Yeah. Sure!” After my sister and I scooped our jaws up off of the floor we engaged in the sacrament as quickly as possible just in case the moment might pass. But he stuck with us through the whole thing even fumbling through the Our Father with us. Minutes later sitting in the glow of being able to give my Father what I believed was one of the most valuable gifts that I could give him I was in for an even greater shock. After some quiet time had passed he offered a very sincere thank you. A thank you from a man who at times cannot remember that there was a person in a room 10 seconds after they leave.

I do believe in prayer.

Thank you.

*Or it is close to this. I’m sure someone out there knows the exact quote.