HOPE TO CATCH UP WITH YOU LATER FRIEND

This week we were marking an anniversary of the passing of Fr. Swirski here at St. Sebastian.  On the same day we received notice that Fr. Al Kunkel passed away.  In 1991 he was named pastor of Sacred Heart Parish in Barberton replacing Fr. Joseph Ozemik.  I was in the seminary at the time and found him to be a very supportive pastor.  (Interestingly that is not always the case.)  There is a part of the ordination ceremony when you honor a priest that was important to you by having him assist you when you vest for the first time in a priestly stole and chasuble and I asked Fr. Kunkel to perform that favor for me.

He also had restored a chalice and gave it to me to carry on the memories of the parish.  It is a way to remember him and the parish of my youth when I celebrate Mass.  Sacred Heart Parish is no longer in existence.  It is now Prince of Peace Parish (at Sacred Heart church) and is no longer a Slovenian personal parish but a territorial parish (and going strong under the pastorship of Fr. Robert Jackson.)  It is from there that he will be buried this Saturday.

Please consider saying a prayer for him and for all of our deceased priests.

FRIDAY POTPOURRI: MEMBERSHIP HAS ITS PRIVILEGES

Paragraph 78 of the GIRM

When I lived in Cleveland I had a membership for the Cleveland Museum of Art.  During this time the Vatican Exhibit came to town and I went with a bunch of family to see it.  Being a member of the museum, I could have gone in the VERY short line to get in.  But since my relatives were not members, we walked the end of the three mile long queue to wait our turn.  It was worse than waiting in line for a new roller coaster at Cedar Point.

I lady with a clipboard came walking past us asking, “Members?  Are there any members here?”  

“I’m a member,” I said.

“Well sir, you may go to the front of the line.”

With my most dejected face I said, “No I can’t.  I’m here with family and they are not members.  I have to stay here with them.”

“No you don’t!” she said in a most cheery manner, “Because they are with you, you ALL can come to the front of the line!”  To my family I was a hero, to the others in line; the new enemy.

Anyway, because they were associated with me, my family received the benefits.  Now it wasn’t me, I wasn't any more special than they were, but I was associated with the museum.  THAT was what was special, and we all benefited, I as much as they

Okay - bearing in mind all analogies limp, that is what is going on as we begin the Eucharistic Prayer, the source and summit of our lives, or as this paragraph states it, “the center and high point of the celebration.”  The priest, as a man, does not associated himself with the gathered people.  He associates himself with Jesus and is acting in personal Christi or “in the person of Christ.”  And in persona Christi, he associates the people with himself.  

“Pray my brothers and sisters that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God the Almighty Father.”

It seems as though it is a subtle distinction and semantics, but it is the difference to waiting at the end of the three mile long line or going right in.  We are not just a bunch of really good average Joes getting together to worship our great God.  We are, rather, A royal people, a holy nation, a people set apart acting as the Body of Christ.  The priest isn’t any more special as a man than any other person present, it is Christ Who is the special One and with Whom, through the priest, we all associate.  We are a community of priests coming together with the ordained priest to offer sacrifice and praise.  We are performing a supreme act, the crowning achievement of a worthy life, reaching our highest dignity, grasping at our ideal and potential, capping of our identities gained at our baptism off priests, prophets, and kings!

PRIDAY POTPOURRI - PRAY PRIEST

Second precept of the Church.

 

There are two categories of priests in the Catholic Church.  The first is the ordained priesthood.  These are the men who are trained and ordained by their bishop for service to the Church.  It is, admittedly, a rather small group.  But there is a second category of priesthood and it is the office into which you were anointed at your baptism.  You were anointed prophet, king, and PREIST.  This office has real and serious responsibilities.  It aligns with one of the precepts of the Church which requires us to live a sacramental life.

 

Minimally it means to go to Mass on Sunday and holy days of obligation and to receive Communion at least once in a year between the first Sunday of Lent and Trinity Sunday.  It also means that you the priest will go to confession at least once a year if there is any serious sin.  This is the bare minimum – the scraping of the bottom of the barrel.

 

Showing up at Mass is not enough.  A priest participates in the Mass.  The priest prays the prayers and offers them for himself, for the needs of the world, and for the praise of God.  For example, when the ordained priest says, “Let us pray,” that is not a signal for the Missal to be brought to him.  It is not “dead space.”  It is the time for the priesthood (the Church – you) to call to mind things that need to be prayed for and then the celebrant collects those prayers in a  prayer called appropriately enough the Collect and presents them to the Father.  For someone not to pray during this time is for the Church to be less, for prayers to be less encompassing, for someone to miss out on the benefits of the Mass.

 

If the Mass is to transform you and the world, it must soak into your skin, radiate your marrow, and marinate your mind.  Only the engaged priest, the pray-er, the one that is THERE in mind as well as body is fulfilling this.  This is true if you are at a Mass in the ordinary form or the extraordinary form.  Being involved does not mean you get to read, or serve, or bring up the gifts, or sing (all important and wonderful) but that you do what is primary: PRAY.

LOOKS LIKE WE MADE IT

At the end of last month fifteen years ago on what used to be St. Joan of Arc day, four of my classmates and I were ordained to the priesthood.  We got together for dinner and to talk – mostly about how quickly 15 years have zoomed by.  Coming out of a time in the diocese when it was unheard of that anybody would be considered pastor material until at least age 55, we thought about where we were not having quite encroached upon that age yet.  One of us works down town at the chancery, two of us are pastors, one of us is a parochial vicar in one of the largest parishes in the diocese, and our fifth member, who was unable to join us, is serving as a missionary in our sister diocese of El Salvador. 

 

As great at this sounds (and we are all very grateful for our assignments) this is clarion call that we need to do a better job of promoting vocations.  We are where we are because the ranks are thinning.  There is so much good to be done.  There are so many people to help.  There are so many truths to be told.  There are so many sacraments to be celebrated.  There are so many lives to be touched.  And we look at each other across the table and think, “I can’t believe more guys don’t want to do this.”

 

There may be particular tasks that I don’t want to do, but by and large, I can’t think of anything that I could do that would be as fulfilling as being a priest.  I am a later vocation and worked at various things which I loved, but none of them tops this.

 

I had every intention of being kicked out of the seminary.  Priesthood was just number one on my list, but the list was long and if they didn’t want me, I would just move on to the next thing.  (Many think once you go into the seminary that’s it!  You are going to be a priest.  But in reality it is a place of discernment a little bit like going to school to be a doctor and determining – on both sides of the teacher’s desk – if you’ve got what it takes.)  But surprise!  I made it!  How fortunate fate has been. 

 

What helped me on my journey is a history of happy single persons in my family and so celibacy was not such a big, scary factor.  (And now people seem to be afraid of marriage too!)  I wish people would discern better if they are cut for marriage (or even desire it) to the same extent we wish people would discern priesthood. 

 

But truly, in the end it isn’t about us discerning what we want, but how we can best serve God and then looking for that vocation in life that best fits that calling. 

MONDAY DIARY: ALMOST EXCRUSIATINGLY TRUE STORIES: HAVING THE IDEAL TIME TO READ

Sorry to have taken another week off of blogging. We were on our diocesan priestly convocation; a three day event that all diocesan priests are supposed to attend to catch up on the goings on of the diocese, hear what is on the bishop's mind, attend workshops, and build camaraderie.

 

I usually room with my best priest friend at these things but we developed a bit of a sound level problem.

Which usually lead to week of us looking like this:

Anyway, I was able to snag a room for myself, which being an introvert/recluse was a glorious self indulgence.  Knowing that I would have a few hours to myself every day I brought along a suitcase (sad but true) of books and papers I wanted to read but never had the time to do.  Here there would be distractions!  Here there was nothing else pressing!  Here was the ideal opportunity!

Here is where God said, "It's time for you to catch up on sleep."  Save for my Chesterton reading, the suitcase came back as unread as it left.

Of course, the card games going on until midnight didn't help.

The best part of the week is getting together with all my brother priests of the diocese.  We are a diverse lot to say the least.  It just goes to prove that there is a priest for everybody and somehow we still muddle along.  It is like Fr. Benedict Groschel once said about the Catholic Church being the one true Church.  "It has to be," he said, "for if it were not, we would have destroyed it a long time ago."

 

Still, it was nice getting back to the ranch in West Akron.  An early frost killed off what was left of the cutting garden and so the house was treated to some bouquets from the volunteers that came to prep the garden for winter.

MONDAY DIARY: THE CONTINUING ALMOST EXCRUCIATINGLY TRUE STORIES OF RECTORY LIFE

I have often argued that priest-in-training should have to take something of a home-ec course.  Learn to the do the basics - laundry - ironing (at which I am particularly horrible) - how to sew on a button (I can fake that one as long as nobody sees the underside of the button) and cooking.  Gads we are bad at that.  Most priest with whom I speak agree that if somebody didn't make us food now and then our entire diet would consist of cereal and salami sandwiches.

The other day we did not have any prepared food and trying to show that we are independent and capable men we decided to cook for ourselves.  Not just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - we were going to cook!

So we got out our favorite recipe and the ingredients:

Yes!  Cheese and macaroni (with extra dairy products added) and chopped up bits of hamburger and any other left over meats we might find.  This is the American version of Shepherd's Pie.  (Don't knock it until you try it.)

Truly good meals should produce lots of smoke.

Unbeknownst to Fr. P I spied a pie and some ice cream in the freezer.  "Later," I thought to myself, "I will surprise Father with a grand desert of warm pie and ice cream to top off this most excellent meal."

And so we began the feast.

The ice cream that we had forgotten about was made by parishioners.  I thought we had finished it all off a long time ago but I guess we hadn't.  It was, unfortunately, frozen solid.  a blockade of ice had formed on the top and it was impossible to scoop.

While Father P waited patiently I stuck the tub in hot water which made little dent.  Putting ice cream in the microwave seemed extreme but we had to get things going.

Finally it thawed enough to serve and I proudly walked into the dining room with desert fit for a such a satisfying meal.  Pie with heaping, frozen mounds of ice cream!  (I can be a good pastor from time to time.)

As it turns out, frozen mashed potatoes look a lot like old, over frozen ice cream.  Furthermore mashed potaotes do not taste good on pie.

WHAT IS NICE VS WHAT GIVES LIFE?

It may be a little shallow but as a seminarian I remember a few of us guys talking about the kind of parish to which we would like to be assigned. Often it took the form of thinking over the (in the eye of each beholder) beautiful architecture in the diocese and how magnificent it must be to celebrate Mass there, the Divine Beauty buoyed with earthly beauty.

Then you hit the actual world of the priest and one of the lessons that a young priest learns quickly is that you will sacrifice a lot of earthly beauty for a happy home. I would rather celebrate Mass in a sanctuary that looks like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise than live with unhappy priests. A rectory can be a dysfunctional place but Jesus is Jesus no matter where He is celebrated.

It is interesting to see how quickly a parish that has more than one priest picks up on how happy things are in the rectory even when the priests think they are covering well. If the rectory hums, the parish hums. If there is division in the house there a certain spirit lacking in the parish – maybe even division.

At current I think I have the best of both worlds, a beautiful church and a happy rectory. But there were times that this was not the case which makes the current situation all the more appreciated. Is it just plain dumb luck – or perhaps Divine intervention? But in any case what is important must always rise to the top. It is never clearer what that is than when there is difficulty. What is the buoy that we grab on to? What sees us through? I’ll pass on the beautiful Church to have a happy rectory. I’ll pass on marriage to be a priest. I’ll take a pass on the possibility of wealth for the chance to celebrate the Eucharist. There are my buoys. What are yours?

MONDAY DIARY: BRAND NEW BISHOP

I

Last week, you may remember, there was no post on Tuesday owing to my road trip to Washington D. C. in order to see Cleveland priest Neal Buckon become ordained auxiliary bishop for the Arch Diocese of the Military for the United States. Bright and early I got up and packed the car, celebrated Mass and started off to meet two other Cleveland area priests for the ride east.

Two minutes outside of Akron I hit 3mph highway driving. Something happened. As it turns out what was supposed to be a fifteen minute jaunt to our meeting spot turned into a one hour crawl. The worst part (or maybe the best part) was when I finally got to the front there was nothing to see – no evidence of why there should have been a jam. Such is life and thank goodness for cell phones.

We finally met up and my GPS sent us off and running. Apparently while we were heading east there was a horrible snow storm on our tail that we completely missed. The only poor driving condition with which we had to contend was a thick-as-pea-soup fog. It really was stupid of us not to pull over – but we were anxious for Washington.

And we made it without incident with just enough time to check in, change, and head out to the headquarters of the archdiocese for vespers. The military chapel was really quite small, maybe able to hold 100 people squeezed in. There is no cathedral for this archdiocese whose territory is world wide – wherever servicemen serve. The chapel, the archbishop pointed out, was made more beautiful because of articles from the Diocese of Cleveland that experienced so many closing as of late. Mass, nonetheless is said there every day for all of those in the military.

Prayer consisted of vespers and exposition and benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. Choir members from the national shrine were there to sing and it was glorious. I was surprised at the amount of Latin and the quality of the music both in selection and execution – from the opening “O Salutaris” by Thomas Tallis (1505-1585) to the closing “Ave Regina Caelorum” that was taken up loudly by all present. The Archbishop spoke rousingly about the need for chaplains in the military and how difficult it is to get Catholic chaplains to Catholic soldiers. The military will not allow deacons, nuns, brothers, sisters, or interested lay people act as chaplains because a chaplain of any denomination must be able to do everything that a minister of that denomination can do. So a denomination without a sacramental system (most of them) can have just about anybody roll in as chaplain. But since Catholics have a sacramental system and not everyone can hear confessions for example, we are extremely limited in who can act as a chaplain for us. Further the military is moving toward a “chaplain is a chaplain is a chaplain” mentality. So pray for our Catholic military. The semi-good news is that we ran into several young men who are studying to be priests and enter the military service. There are 30 of them in all. The bad news is that it is not nearly enough. The archdiocese pleads with dioceses throughout the states to send more men to serve. Currently, besides the Archbishop, Bishop Neal, Cleveland has two more priests serving in the military.

II

The next day we left for the ordination at the basilica early. I wish I had taken my camera. It had been twelve years since I was there and it would have been nice to share it with you. *sigh*

As I said we were early so we had time to kick around. We prayed in the in the Blessed Sacrament chapel for a spell and then I went to the Our Lady of Brezje shrine (being Slovenian) and prayed a rosary. And since they did not have a St. Sebastian shrine (their loss) and lit a candle for the parish and my loved ones just outside the Slovenian shrine.

The crypt church was turned into a giant sacristy of sorts for the ceremony. As soon as the noon Mass was over large racks of vestments were brought in. As priests showed up they were fitted with a chasuble and then went amongst the pews to vest up.

There is one priest from our diocese that always seems to know where to be at the right time and I noticed him standing off to the side by the stairs and so went to join him. “I was told to line up,” he said. So I stood by him thinking, “Ah! I have an in!” Indeed I was at the very front of the priests processing in. That is not to say that I was at the front of the line – the servers, seminarians, scores of Knights of Columbus were processing first and reached the sanctuary before I ever left the staircase!

The mighty pipe organ joined a small orchestra to fill the cavernous church with music. Many people from Cleveland were there, all kinds of knights in various uniforms, and of course many of our military personnel in their dress uniforms. As we reached the main steps we bowed, walked up to the altar and reverenced (kissed) it, and then were led by M.C.s to our seats.

But wait! The first people in line did not have the best seats! No! We had THE VERY WORST! Oh pride! Oh selfishness! I sat so far back in the sanctuary that I might as well stayed home and watched it on T.V. for all I could see! (Of course you can’t get Communion on T.V.) But not being able to see did have its advantages. It also meant that I could not BE seen and so was able to gaze around at the building to see what there was to see and not have to worry about not looking proper.

Before we began they presented the colors and we sang the National Anthem. (That’s the first time I did that at the beginning of Mass.) And unlike the Supper Bowel everyone here knew the words.

The music was very classical and clever. For example the Gloria was a mix of the traditional Latin chant and polyphony. So the people were able to sing the chant part and then the choir would blossom into some lovely choral piece for some measures and then back and forth to and from chant. It was quite effective.

I wish I could tell you more but it would only be things that I heard until we processed out. First in; first out! And we hit the crypt church, changed, and took off in order to miss the traffic – and still we got home around midnight.

III

On the way home a black car went wizzing past us as if we were standing still. It had Ohio license plates that read, “DIOCESE.” “Could that be our bishop?” we wondered. We tried to catch up to see but he was far too fast, tail gaiting, zipping in and out of traffic. “Oh! Are we going to make fun of him!” we thought. Then in Ohio we pulled into a gas station and there was the car with diocese license plates! We walked over to make comment and then discovered it was not only not the bishop but nobody connected with the Catholic Church. It would have made a great story though.

ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS . . .

When I was in the seminary, Bishop Pilla came to speak to the seminarians as he was wont to do from time to time. He would give us a little talk and then open the floor for questions. This was about fifteen years ago and even then we were concerned about the upcoming priest shortage. So we asked the question, “Will we still be able to be priests to a parish or will we become sacramental machines running from church building to church building dispensing the sacraments but not really getting to know the people of each congregation?” He did say that it was not in the immediate offing but did not say that it would never happen in our lifetime.

It does happen in other dioceses. In fact it is not all that rare that a man might be ordained and almost instantly become the pastor of two or three parishes.

There was a letter to the editor today (I question some of the facts put forth but am not desirous of debating them) that put forth a solution to the priestly shortage problem and the desire of many to keep closed or closing parish from being shuttered. It was suggested that we do as the dioceses above did and simply have a priest make a circuit through town hitting each of the churches and offering the sacraments. That would certainly make sacraments available in more spots but then it would take away from other things. There are calls for priests to be more available at the parish for phone calls and appointments, (where is Father now?!), to teach in the school and PSR, to offer adult education, (write a blog), to go to the hospital, to come to parish events and meetings, or to come to some civic event and offer the opening prayer or what have you (not to mention diocesan meetings, vacations, retreats, continuing education, day away.) Priests start to disappear off the scene the further you stretch out the priest between parishes. Every move has its consequences. As much as I wish certain parishes would remain open I am very grateful not to have to spend my day in the car running from building to building.

The interesting thing to note is that this is not a simply a Catholic problem though we mostly only hear about it from a Catholic perspective for some reason. In my home town a number of Protestant congregations have merged and/or closed. There are a couple of Protestant Churches in the vicinity of St. Sebastian that are looking to downsize and have placed their buildings on the market. The population of northeast Ohio is dropping and it is dropping for everyone, not just Catholics.

Yesterday I went to Canton to visit a closing (Lutheran?) congregation. They have a wonderful pipe organ for sale. (HEY! I can dream can’t I?) I was able to engage the pastor of the congregation in conversation and she told me that she and her assistant take care of the parish that has three separate congregations that are housed in three separate (and worthy) buildings, all within spitting distance of each other. On any giving Sunday she and her assistant make the rounds going to each of the sites. “I get to see each congregation a couple of times a month,” she said. This system does preserve the community to some extent, but the connection to a pastor is a bit more distant and his or her connection to the day to day goings on at the parish become more tenuous.

In the end, there is the choice of having priests available and connected or preserving a particular congregation of people. It’s a tough choice. I know what I prefer as a priest but might be inclined to think differently if I was coming at it from the other side of the altar rail so to speak. There are no easy solutions.

There is this however: to work together for the strengthening of the Church, to build up our communities, to live the faith well, to support our institutions, to speak well of the faith and of (good) priests, to make known that religious and priestly vocations are good and viable options for our young folk, and that there is nothing, NOTHING, NOTHING more important than the Eucharist. Then we are far more likely to preserve what we have and build on it for the future so that we may need never face these choices again.

MONDAY DIARY: DESIGNED TO SAVE YOU TIME AND MONEY

This past week from Tuesday to Friday the priests (most of them anyway) of the Diocese of Cleveland got together for their semiannual convocation. Priests converge from all over the diocese to a large hotel for presentations, workshops, meetings with the bishop, and camaraderie, the last part probably being the most valuable. If left to our own devices we would see each other at an appallingly rare rate save for confession or Mass help. Therefore I find the social, the card game, or the swim as valuable as the workshop. As it was there was a mass exodus

You know what else is pretty cool? A couple of hundred priests getting together to celebrate Mass and hearing a tidal wave of men’s voices singing and making the responses. At the seminary it is a daily occurrence but one that is not often had elsewhere.

The talks were pretty good. They basically made the case that we need to do more if we want people to be excited about the faith. In a very rough one of the speakers as said, “It is not a matter of having two or three more ministries, but 50 or 60!”

That thought came back to me today when after the morning Mass a person stopped me and asked if I could hear his confession. My mind raced through the morning schedule – I have a half an hour to eat breakfast and walk the dog, then my first appointment will be here leading right into a meeting with a person from the diocese, and since our secretary is on vacation my letter for the bulletin must be written by noon. So I say, “Okay – but it has to be quick!”

What a rotten answer. What are we here for but to be dispensers of God’s mercy? But I say, “I’m sorry but I am busy” with my response. “What – do you have a breakfast appointment?” Well – sort of yes. I swear that if I hear of one more program that is going to save priests time and money I’ll boot the person out of the rectory – because they always take more time and more money – evidenced by the fact that I am giving the person 45 minutes of my time for him to tell me how he is going to save me time.

Wow – there was a rant I wasn’t expecting. Anyway . . .

In the middle of all this talk of all these new and, quite frankly, wonderful programs they were suggesting that we begin in order to keep Catholics practicing as Catholics should, no one made mention of doing what we do best save for one of our (great ) priests who stood up and said that we should make darn well sure that we are celebrating the sacraments to the best of our ability and being as orthodox as we know how. (Another rough quote taking from what he said more what I wanted to hear than what he actually said.)

I think it a rather mega-Church/Protestant idea that we need to attract people to Sunday services by making sure that we are providing other great services for people. Rather, (and this is subtle) it is the great and proper celebration of the sacraments that gives meaning to all these other groups. Now, it may be that having them will attract people to Mass, but that shouldn’t be our modus aperandi. Our goal is to get people excited about the faith through great homilies and worship so that they wish to express it somehow in a greater fashion in the rest of their lives and therefore these ministries flourish. It is tail wagging the dog that a club meeting should inspire someone to think, “Well, I better go to Mass too.” That will happen – but we shouldn’t count on it. Doing so will cause us to run our limited resources (space, volunteers, materials, time, funds) into a pit as we try to have a meeting for left-handed, shuffleboard playing Catholics over 6’3”.

Well, such were my thoughts as we gathered for a priestly social after the talk and everybody did the, “What did you think” thing.

In happier news: This Sunday was also our Oktoberfest (at the same time as the teen dance and the Chesterton Society and AA) I got out my button box and played with the band for a little bit. Of course I look a bit more Slovenian than German and the polkas we played were all Eastern European, but I don’t think anybody minded. Here is a picture of my get up.

WAS THIS IN THE RECRUITMENT BROCHURE?

Perhaps you hear it all the time: if you want more priests, pray for young men and seminarians. If you want better priests, pray for them in their vocation. I know I always feel gratitude (and a bit of relief) when someone says that they are praying for my vocation. I take that prayer very seriously and know how important it is and from time to time will pray for those who keep my priesthood in their prayers.

That being said I am going to ask you for some prayers for a specific kind of priest – or better yet, a priest with a specific kind of ministry. There are some jobs that are just hard, dirty

jobs. They are none-the-less necessary for the proper running of the Church. They are “darned if you do and darned if you don’t” jobs. Sometimes they are very public. In the paper today it was announced that the Youngstown Diocese (our neighbor) has just named a priest to head the consolidation of parishes. They will close or merge many parish communities the result of which will be 25 less parishes. As in Cleveland, everybody knew something had to be done but no two people agreed on what that something was. The one thing that for sure was that whatever it was done, it was going to make a significant amount of people angry. I do not envy this guy his job.

In every diocese there is a priest who is the go-to guy when something goes wrong. Perhaps a priest is having some kind of difficulty, got caught doing something, is discovered to have fallen into addiction – you name it – and this priest is sent out to try to straighten things out. He is usually not popular with the person he is sent out to see, and while that priest can say what he pleases about the encounter, the one sent out by the diocese is to be mute.

I am thankful for these priests – mostly thankful that they have their jobs and I have mine and may we never switch places – but I do offer you my prayers. It’s a difficult job but someone has to do it. And I am glad it is you. God bless you brothers.

WHEN MOST BULLETINS ARE READ

A homily is a tricky thing. A precious few minutes are allotted to bring to light one sliver of truth from Sacred Scripture or about the feast of the day or season. It can be a particularly delicate challenge when the message of Christ is not rainbows and blue birds. Jesus Himself mentions such things as hell and condemns such things as extra marital sex. A preacher facing a congregation from babes in arms to those who have already said good bye to their octogenarian years, from those who are well established in their faith to those who are hanging on by his fingernails has to find a way to proclaim such truths of the faith so that as many people will listen to the message without anyone else storming out I protest. (Actually I only saw that once but it was quite dramatic.) One way to do this is to avoid all controversial topics. That would certainly make the trial much easier but it would of course be denying the community the fullness of the Gospel.

Another sticky wicket is the one shot listener. When it is time to mention something difficult, say divorce, there will be that one person who came back to the Church after a long absence due to an ugly divorce and who will walk out never to return again. Or perhaps you have been moved to preach against a societal wrong and all of a sudden realize that in this case it will only make things worse. A silly example that will help get the point across is say that you were railing about how Martians should be treated better by our parish and it turns out there is one green Martian in the room and now they stick out like a sore thumb and feel 12 times more uncomfortable than they did before.

Then there is the unexpected. I once wrote a wedding homily about the difference between real love and the artificial mimics that people push off as love. An example was used between real flowers and those awful plastic artificial flowers that people sometimes use. Now I have never had before a wedding that employed artificial flowers nor have I since, but when that bride came forward to exchange her vows she had a full bouquet of fake flowers made by her grandmother. (She was a good sport about it by the way.)

There is the temptation to qualify every statement that is made. “THIS IS TRUE,” followed by a disclaimer reminiscent of a pharmaceutical commercial. “DIVORCE IS WRONG (unless you are in abusive relationship, a same sex marriage, the marriage is unlawfully procured, the marriage was never consummated, you are exercising the Pauline or Petrine privilege, or one of you is a Martian. Consult your canon lawyer before administrating. The Catholic Church does not recognize divorce except for the legal separation of property so you may still qualify for the sacraments. You may qualify for an annulment which does not cost a shiny penny if you do cannot afford it no matter what rumor you have heard. This also does not affect the status of your children. God will not stop loving you. This offer as well as marriages themselves are void in heaven.) Well, that is about the time we have for this homily. Come back again next week when I pick up with my second sentence.”

That is why preaching is fun, requires all the planning and cunning of a good crime, and runs all the excitement and risk of sky diving – you just have to know that if you dive enough one time you will do something wrong, you shoot won’t open and there is going to be a price to pay! But it is so worth it.

Perhaps that is why the Church in her wisdom never says that you have to say “Amen” to the homily.

FRIDAY POTOURRI - CALLINGS IN CLEVELAND'S CATHEDRAL: A VOCATION STORY - PART I

There is a guest blogger again today. Fr Pfeiffer has graciously offered his vocation story. Part II will follow next Friday. Enjoy!

Fr. V. has asked me to write a vocation story blog telling of my journey to priesthood. Well, it all started at St. John the Evangelist Cathedral in downtown Cleveland. I say it started there because it is under the vaulted ceiling of our Diocesan mother church where I was baptized. My parents were “between parishes” at the time so my uncle, Fr. Bob Pfeiffer (more on him in a bit), said bring him down to the Cathedral. So in April of 1979 I was washed clean of original sin and began my participation in the Mystical Body of Christ, His Church. Little did any of us know that thirty years later I would be in the same cathedral pressing my nose to the marble and having the bishop’s hands lain on my head allowing me to participate in the eternal Priesthood of Jesus Christ, Head and Shepherd.

My family moved a few times while I was younger, but wherever we were Sunday Mass was a priority and prayer at home was important. We were not praying daily rosaries, but staples of prayer were at meals, Christmas and Easter traditions of prayer and song (at four years old I even wrote and directed a nativity play that the family enacted), and special prayers at family reunions, etc. In fifth grade I started serving at our local parish (in a small town in PA) . This continued through junior high while we lived in Toledo, OH. I think it was at this time I remember my uncle, Fr. Bob, dropping hints about my becoming a priest. I actually ignored much of this. We made our last move just before my freshman year of high school when we came to Stow, OH. We had returned home in a sense to the Cleveland Diocese and close to where my father grew up in Cuyahoga Falls. I even went to my father’s alma mater, Archbishop Hoban High School (even though Fr. Bob went to St. Vincent High School).

It was during these four years that Fr. Bob continued to drop hints - not often but once in a while - about my entering the seminary. But of course toward the end of high school, I had my own plans. I wanted to be an architect, so I was accepted into Kent State University’s Architecture School and continued there for two years. While there, one of my best friends from Hoban entered the seminary (now Fr. Jared Orndorff) as well as another friend I knew from Hoban (now Fr. Mike McCandless). I was happy for them but still did not consider myself as one to wear a roman collar.

After two years I decided to switch majors to Aerospace technology and become a pilot. Architecture was not working out for me as I had hoped, and I felt drawn to military service. I enrolled in the United States Marine Corps Officer Candidate Program. This involved summer training at Officer Candidate School (OCS) and completion of my degree thereupon granting me a commission as an officer and a place in flight school. I went to OCS and gained valuable leadership training (as well as getting in great shape) and returned to finish school, but now something was really nagging me. I did not know what it was, but I felt I needed to take time off school and reconsider my “life’s plan.” Dropping out of full-time school meant leaving the officer program as well.

FRIDAY FAIR - COLLARED AS A FATHER

The other day I was mired in paperwork that I really needed to get done. As the vocations director for our diocese, Fr, Gurnick, once stated, “Even if you are a miracle worker, you still have to get the paperwork in.” It was also field day at the school and the kids were out on the lawn having a ball. I wanted to go out and visit with the kids but then thought, “No, my job is getting this paperwork done before having fun like that.” Then my guardian angel reminded me, “No, you role is as a spiritual father. Your job, or rather your vocation is also going out and spending time with these children.” I was not shirking responsibility, I was fulfilling it in going out (as long as I eventually also get the paperwork done.)

This all brings us to the term, “Father.” Foxie wrote in some time back and asked about the use of this term for our clergy. I don’t intend to defend the use of the term which can be very controversial particularly in Protestant circles. If you want to find out more about that, here is a very good article with a Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur. The term “Father” does carry with it some symbolic meaning however.

When a couple comes in to see me for marriage and they are not chaste we have a discussion about it. I inform them that what I am telling them is not only spiritually healthy but with an aim of giving them the best chance for a successful marriage. I give them some propositions and though we will visit the topic again I am not going to police them. I am their spiritual father, not their “Daddy.” “Catholics know that as members of a parish, they have been committed to a priest’s spiritual care, thus they have great filial affection for priests and call them "father." Priests, in turn, follow the apostles’ biblical example by referring to members of their flock as "my son" or "my child" (See link above.)

MONDAY DIARY - BABY FATHERS

Ahhhh. Is there anything like ordination weekend? And this one was a wild at least for me. What are the odds that I would be named administrator of a parish that would be assigned a newly ordained parochial vicar at the same time that my cousin would be ordained a priest, who grew up at the parish at which I am administrator and where he was having his reception? With those kind of odds I think I would have rather won the lottery to pay for new parking lots and pew repairs. And to boot, they all broke Monsignor Manners Rule Number One: Please do not have all of your receptions and Masses at the exact same time. Which of course they did.

I believe I reported about ordination last year so I won’t go into too much detail except for two notable events. You know, priests sitting in their seats at Mass can tend to do exactly what drives them nuts from the congregation when they are presiding. (whisper*comment*whisper) But there was a hardy laugh from the first reading chosen by those being ordained. From Numbers, “He asked the LORD, "Why have you brought this trouble on your servant? What have I done to displease you that you put the burden of all these people on me? 12 Did I conceive all these people? Did I give them birth? Why do you tell me to carry them in my arms, as a nurse carries an infant, to the land you promised on oath to their ancestors? 13 Where can I get meat for all these people? They keep wailing to me, 'Give us meat to eat!' 14 I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me. 15 If this is how you are going to treat me, please go ahead and kill me—if I have found favor in your eyes—and do not let me face my own ruin." Of course it goes on to become quite fitting but the mumblings back and forth at this portion were hysterical.

The other interesting change was that there was no sung closing hymn, it was all instrumental and that changed the entire dynamic of the recessional. Instead of being glued to books or programs the people were able to pay attention to what was going on. The entire time the many priests were filing out there was applause like a gentle rain. As we rounded the corner of the back of cathedral the newly ordained were leaving the sanctuary and the applause broke out into fever pitch and cheers! Even having gone through this ceremony as a priest for 11 years and as a seminarian for some years before that, I still got chills.

Because they all had their Masses of Thanksgiving at the same time and in the morning on Sunday my choice of attending one was rather limited. With the Masses I had to do at St. Sebastian the only hope I had of going was to Fr. Trenta’s. I must say I was proud of my cousin. He did right by the rite – fine and noble job. The most touching part came as he was surrounded by the priests in attendance and he began the Institution Narrative. Tears welled up in his eyes and his voice became just slightly shaky as he consecrated the Eucharist. Can you imagine how emotional that is – for a Catholic who believes this is the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of His God? “On the night He was betrayed, He took bread in His sacred hands and looking up to heaven to You, His Almighty Father, He gave you thanks and praise. He took the bread, gave it to His disciples and said, ‘Take this all of you and eat it. This is my Body which will be given up for you.”

There was a pause as the new father mustered his inner strength and began again. “When supper was ended . . .” What a thing to ponder! How accustomed we grow to these magnificent words and mystical deeds! That we would all pray them with lumps in our throats always! Be damned the upcoming soccer game, the grocery list, the yard work, the breakfast buffet you hope to catch.

This is God.