BUM PASTORS YOU WANT OUT VS GREAT PASTORS YOU DON'T WANT TO LOSE

About ten years ago the Diocese of Cleveland changed from permanent pastorates to term limits.  I was on the committee to assist the then bishop in deciding.  I was less than enthused with the prospect.  As with most new new things (please, can we never have yet another new miracle method for teaching in schools that will be all the rage for three years and then never be heard from again) it sounded like a cure that would solve all of our problems.  The caution that I had at the time was that we were simply exchanging one set of advantages/difficulties for another set of challenges/difficulties and were we sure that we wanted this exchange.

Apparently we did.

The argument for pastor term limits are quite good.  If there is a problem priest, there is a date at which canonically he may be removed.  (Despite what many people think, the bishop does not have the power, except in limited circumstances, simply to move a pastor at will.)  It also provides a chance for a priest who thinks that it is time to move to have a convenient way and date to do so.  So there is a lot more flexibility and ability to change things up.  It gives a bishop a lot more power to help a parish that is failing under a particular priest and in some ways it gives the people more power.  If they don’t like the guy that is their pastor, when the time comes for the priest to renew his pastorate, it is the opportunity for the bishop to say, “Maybe not.  Your people are revolting.”

So why would there have been permanent pastorates in the first place?  (Chesterton warned against tearing down a fence unless you first know why it was there.)  The argument for permanent pastorates is quite good.  In an article in a recent First Things, the author listed some of the advantages to permanent pastorates.  The first is a certain amount of protection from punitive acts of a bishop.  It brings more power locally for a priest (and congregation) to say, “We will not do that here.”  (With term limits, there may be some fear that soon you will be moved to a difficult assignment for sparing with the bishop.)  There is more of a chance to develop long term relationships instead of the “father” of the parish changing every six years (making it a bit scary for staffs also.)  

A lot depends on the people involved.  Will a term limit cause a man not to do some difficult work such a replacing an expensive roof or firing a popular figure who is working against the goals of the parish?  Will he tempted to say, “Let the next guy handle it.”  Or would permanent pastorates cause another man to say, “Nobody can touch me, I’ll spend my days watching T. V.?”  

Is more episcopal oversight better than greater subsidiarity?  It is difficult to say.  A lot depends.  If you have a crummy pastor you are probably glad for term limits, if you have a crummy bishop, you probably wish for permanent pastorates.  

We seem to have stuck a balance in the Diocese of Cleveland (and a lot depends on the solicitude of the bishop who is sitting in the cathedra.)  We have six year term limits that are indefinitely renewable in theory.  So a problem pastor or a pastor who thinks he has run his course can be moved or move on.  Or, in theory, he could stay there for years if good still seems to be happening.

Which is best?  The answer is bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica. 

JACK OF ALL TRADES - MASTER OF FEW

“I’m starting to get a taste of what’s involved with being a pastor.”

This was a line from a newly ordained priest for the Diocese of Cleveland.  He had visited St. Sebastian on Monday night to talk to our confirmation candidates, their parents, and sponsors about being on fire for God.  Afterward in the rectory he made that comment about being a pastor.  He was “Home Alone,” his pastor being on his annual retreat.  “I’m not running the parish,” he was quick to clarify, “but I’m discovering there is a lot more to it than I originally imagined.”

Besides being an “expert” (as much as anybody is) on matters of faith, God, and people’s souls, there are budgets and roofs and counseling.  Art, education, tax laws, city ordinances, Increasing federal laws, and being able to play the politician (you can’t say yes to everything but try to keep people involved and happy) and more are all nuances of a pastor.

 
“I had to say, ‘No,’ to someone today,” he said.  “Gosh was that difficult.  It was something that the person really wanted and I knew the pastor (who was away) didn’t.  I had to find a way to say no without getting this very enthusiastic person upset.”  It is a very difficult thing.

That was an interesting lesson to learn for such a recently ordained priest.  

Then the next morning tragedy struck his parish.  One of the school children had died.  Pulled away from Mass, he had to run out to scene to pray and comfort.  But Mass could not be left unfinished and so he had to returned to finish Mass after witnessing this as duty called him to do.  But things would not end there.  This is something with which they will be dealing for a long time.  

Fortunately the pastor was able to hurry home and assist with his wizened and time tested years dealing with all kinds of things and together, along with a wonderful, faith filled community, they began the process of coping and healing.

This weekend is Priesthood Sunday.  Imagine how different things would have been if there was not a priest on hand at the parish that morning - if there were not someone living at the parish that could handle emergencies around the clock - if there were not someone free of familial obligations so as to be able to be that representative of Christ (however imperfectly we do so) whenever and for as long as needed.  Please pray for vocations.  Suggest to a young man that you think he might make a good priest.  Be a part of the solution of making sure our Catholic community is well tended in the future.

YOU CAN PLEASE ALL OF THE PEOPLE SOME OF THE TIME . . .

Not too long ago we went from permanent pastorates to term limits in our diocese.  I was on the committee.  One of the points I bought up was that the reason there are two methods (you may have one or the other in a diocese, not one for some and one for others) is that they both come with their own set of problems.  Neither is particularly better than the other.  With one there is a particular set of difficulties and advantages and likewise with the other.  So today we have what we have and while it cleared up a lot of difficulties in the diocese, we are faced with a whole new set.

Many people would like to see a more Protestant form of choosing a pastor: that of a board at any given parish hiring and firing the priest.  Once again, that would mean some great advantages and some disadvantages.  One of the (depending on who you are this is either a dis or an advantage) is this: because a pastor does not have to worry about teaching and preaching about something that pleases a board, he may be more daring.  If a parish has a large percentage of euthanasia proponents, for example, he need not fear for his livelihood preaching that older Americans are people with dignity and rights too and should be treated as such..

Leading a parish, in some ways, is not much different than being the mayor of a town.  There are decisions that you make that you know will leave 10% ecstatic, 10% furious, and most the rest just fine.  Sometimes you weigh popular demand, sometimes you weigh Church teaching, sometimes you guess and you try to remember that the worst thing is not that someone might be angry because if they are angry, they are still invested.

It is an imperfect world and all of our human institutions, even those inspired by God Himself, are imperfect and are incapable of pleasing everybody so you try not to take it seriously when you’ve not pleased everyone.

MONDAY DIARY: ALMOST EXCRUSIATINGLY TRUE STORIES: THE GLITCH IN THE PROGRAMMING

I think the St. Sebastian servers are some of the best in the diocese (Thank you Mr. F.).  If there were going to be a contest for great serving teams I'd pitch my troops against anybody's in a fair fight.  But, as with any family, there are certain things in which we are just dysfunctional. 

Case in point:  SEVEN YEARS AGO I changed how we do the Gospel procession.  I made it easier and shorter.  I KNEW that it would take a while for the servers to catch on to a different routine but . . . honestly . . . SEVEN YEARS?

So I've taken to making sure, before Mass, to ask if they know EXACTLY and PRECISELY what is going on with the Gospel procession.

No they don't.

Or rather . . . some do, but JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE SAYS THEY KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON DOESN'T MEAN THAT THEY DO.  It reminds me of the car I had in seminary.  Just because it started didn't mean it was going to get you where you were going.  It might today.  It might tomorrow.  But you just never knew.

So I started going over it at EVERY MASS.

That, too, unfortunately, guarantees absolutely nothing.

CCCXXVI TUESDAY QUOTE OF THE WEEK

FINDING TRUTH WHEREVER IT MAY BE FOUND:  "Each particular Church should encourage the use of the arts in evangelization, building on the treasures of the past but also drawing upon the wide variety of contemporary expressions so as to transmit the faith in a new "language of parables." We must be bold enough to discover new signs and new symbols, new flesh to embody and communicate the word, and different forms of beauty which are valued in different cultural settings, including those conventional modes of beauty which may mean little to the evangelizers, yet prove particularly attractive for others."  from Pope Francis', "The Joy of the Gospel"

IN OTHER NEWS:

Today is St. Pope Leo Day!

You know what THAT means don't you?

It is the end of my first six year term at St. Sebastian.  Six years ago today I was sitting in the bishop's office in the CVS building in downtown Cleveland and he handed me the official declaration naming me pastor.  BTW - this is when you officially become pastor, not when the bishop comes to the parish and has a celebration of you being named pastor.  For me that would December 8th with Bishop Pevec, late of our company.

I was looking back in my diary about this day 6 years ago.  It wasn't as nice as I remember it.  You know, going in I didn't yet even know if I would be named pastor.  "Trying to remain calm.   I pray not that I will be pastor but that what will be best will happen and that I shall accept that well.

"The day has been less than stellar - I didn't like my morning homily - my first meeting involved a child being picked on in school - my pro-life groups are fighting (Oh!  The Irony) and (two staff members) are having (an argument) over building scheduling."

Later I wrote about the meeting.  In the Bishop's office we talked about the parish and the school, the good things, the challenges, "and then he asked, 'would you like to be pastor?'  He asked what it meant to me and I said, 'Much the same as I said to you before.  On the one hand it like an adoption has gone through and now I can be called, "Dad."  On the other hand I will now be pastor!'  He laughed heartily.  I read and signed the Oath of Fidelity and Faith, he shook m hand and that was about it.

"Leaving I crossed the street to the cathedral to give thanks and ask for direction and a man asked if I could hear his confession.  I estimate that I was named pastor around 2:50PM and by 3:10PM I celebrated my first sacrament as a pastor."

I thought today to look up the parish on line to see if there were any videos and found THIS ONE of the first class taught in Faith Lodge. 

HOW TO LIVE HIGH ON A BUDGET

The other day while praying in church it struck me how much stuff there was in our building that came from yard sales and dumpsters.  I have written before about how I have furnished a nine bedroom rectory (they are not still all bedrooms) for next to nothing by a lot of scavaging from the wake of debris of society, but it did not strike me until that moment that I had been doing the same thing in our church.

 

Some things are very understandable.  After Vatican II when the forward altar was established it needed candles.  Instead of purchasing new ones the parish had the high altar candlesticks refashioned.  This made them match the rest of the church but left the high altar with either no or vastly undersized candlesticks, a problem that was WAY too costly to remedy.  Then came the spat of church closings in the diocese and lo!  High quality marble candlesticks at fire sale prices.  (Isn't it cool the way the stained glass plays off of the black marble?)

We gained many things this way: candle racks, poor boxes, vestments . . .

But we are not only benefiting from the sad demise of other Catholic parishes, but from Protestant Churches shutting their doors.  This wrought iron advent wreath holder was recently purchased for $30.  From that same sale we got hand chimes for the music department, a missal stand for the rectory chapel, and a  great podium already in use in the narthex.

These two thurables and their stand came from the dumpster.  They are original to this parish and when someone threw them away years ago, someone else rescued them and put them in their basement and returned them when they thought they would be appreciated.  We use them from time to time and now they are about the ONLY keep sake we have from the old church.  Everything else is gone.

The processional cross to the far right was a freebee from a yard sale.  I was walking Sebastian and saw that there was a yard sale in progress so we stopped by to say hello.  As we were leaving the kind gentleman said, "Wait Father, I have something in the house you might like."  So he gave me this cross which made for an interesting walk home.

In similar fashion I have received vestments, sacred vessels, relics and other church related items from people who have them in their closets at home because someone was throwing them away (not even sending them to the missions!  Just throwing them away!)  So now among other things we have copious copes, this one below found in a box during the clearing out of a house.

This picture below is on the back of a humeral veil.  When I was a seminarian it was in a box of things that a priest told me to throw in the trash.  We use it on Tuesday nights for benediction.  SNAG!  One man's trash is another man's treasure my Mom used to say.

This one I saved for last.  We were in need of a new organ.  A new organ would have cost us about a million dollars.  A couple of Protestant churches were consolidating and so were selling one of the buildings in which was this fabulous organ.  Now it sings beautifully for the parish every day and it only cost half as much.

And that, my friends, is how to live high on a budget.  Just don't be afraid of the word "used."

BUT HOW MUCH WILL IT COST THIS TIME NEXT YEAR?

It’s budget time – one of the less glorious parts of being a pastor.  There was a time – actually most of the history of the Catholic Church I would think – that the entire budget consisted largely of a bank account out of which the pastor paid the bills.

 

Things are quite a bit more complicated these days with government regulations and legitimate input from other people besides the pastor.  I for one am glad there are business managers, bookkeepers, and parish finance councils.  Frankly, I have no idea how much we might spend on toilet paper and light bulbs next year, or how the latest health care regulations will hurt the parish finances, or where it might be better to buy our gas. 

 

As I sit at my desk and write this I can see a truck parked on our front lawn and some gentlemen on the roof of our school.  The chimney is in sore need of tuck pointing (I’m not even sure if that is the way you say it) and of course, as with all things, it’s going to cost quite a bit.  I remember the class we had in the seminary about tuck pointing chimneys.  It was fascinating.  It came right before how to make a rabbit appear out of hat and right after how to do your own laundry.

 

The business people, lawyers, bankers, accountants, and other savvy people that donate their time to the parish to help sort through these things so that at the end of the year we aren’t looking under couch cushions for enough money to pay our assessments are a God send.  In the end, however, the pastor is the one on the hook if something should go wrong.  It would be his head on the chopping block.  So he “gets” to make the final decision.  But he needs you – the parish needs you.  If you have some expertise and are asked by your pastor to consider being on parish finance council, please give it prayerful consideration.  You can do a world of good.

MONDAY DIARY: SEEING THE BISHOP ABOUT AN ORGAN TRANSPLANT

Just so you know, there will not be a post tomorrow. I will be in Washington D. C. for the ordination of a fellow Cleveland priest who will become the auxiliary bishop for the Arch Diocese of the Military. I’ll write to you about it when I get back – maybe next Monday.

In the meantime I had a little adventure last Saturday morning. Here at St. Sebastian we had the unexpected opportunity to expand our pipe organ considerably in a way that would be far less expensive than usual – long story – I’ll tell you sometime. At some point you have to tell the bishop. After all he legally owns all of the buildings and if you are going to do something that will be in the hundreds of thousands of dollars he would like to know.

But WHEN do you tell him? If it turns out that nobody is behind the project it would have been a waste of his time to go to him. If you wait to find out if there is a lot of interest and backing, there may be too much momentum and then you go to the bishop and he says, “no,” he looks like a jerk. I don’t want to make my bishop look like a jerk.

So I think I was on that razor edge – knowing that there is significant support but not being so far into the project that it is too late to go see him. He graciously made time for me on an early Saturday morning so I zipped up I77 to see him.

You know, it might have been a rather nice visit for him – there was no emergency. I wasn’t coming with a complaint (who makes an appointment to come in and talk about what they like is going on?), I wasn’t in trouble, blah blah blah, we wanted to talk about organs.

It was about two hours and covered all manner of topics. All in all a very pleasant conversation and it put me well at ease. In the end however he gave me the worst possible answer concerning this project. He did not say yes (I could always say that it had the full backing of the bishop), he didn’t say no, (I could always say don’t blame me HE said no!) he said, use your best judgment and have the best interest of the diocese, the parish, and its people in mind and laid out what that meant.

So now the real work begins. What will we do? It is kind of exciting. This is a significant decision for the parish. It will have an impact on everything, almost every day, from this day forward and not something to be taken lightly. I wonder if everyone realizes? And how can we make sure that everyone does realizes?

Daunting vs Exciting

I look at our archives and see articles that our founding pastor wrote about building a rectory. “There are those who say we don’t need a rectory,” he railed (and he did rail.) Now the rectory has been around and serving the parish for over 80 years. How different would the place have been without the parishioners and their pastor going forth with this project back then? I’m glad they did (but wish they would have made more office space.)

Sorry – I’m rambling – but it is late (for me) and if I don’t post now I won’t until Wednesday.

Zadoste!

MONDAY DIARY - NECESSARY EVILS

Somebody sent me an Email concerning their child’s idea of what a priest is. It absolutely made me day. In part it read, “So I ask, ‘what does it mean to be a priest?’ and she says, ‘they are in charge of the whole church, they protect all the people’. Which I think is a fantastic answer from my 5 year old and then she follows it up with ‘in case the whole building falls down on us or something.’”

Is that sweet or what?

Along those lines I was able to out and meet a new pastor in the diocese. He has been at it for about half a year and, as readers of Adam’s Ale know, I have been either administrator or pastor of Saint Sebastian for about two years now. He was just finishing up a wedding and I had a cancelled appointment so we agreed to meet at a half way point between our parishes to talk.

I remember when we used to get together and talk about how to save world. Burning with all of the theological and philosophical learning we had endured in the seminary we could not wait to bring Christ into people’s lives and aid them in becoming saints! We are loyal sons of the Church, confident that in bringing the Eucharist, the sacraments, and remaining obedient to the Church souls could easily be won for the Kingdom.

“Somebody crashed into the church building,” my friend told me. (This is not a photo of his parish building) “Do you have any idea how expensive that is going to be?” We talked about roofs and parking lots and operating deficits and how we are going to get by during this time when there is a moratorium on capitol campaigns in the diocese. Two hours we talked about such things. It is funny how both serious and utterly unimportant the conversation was. On the one hand, we have to talk about such things. We have to keep people safe by making sure that “the whole building doesn’t fall down on them or something.” On the other hand, in a thousand years our buildings might very well be dust, but where a soul ends up will be played out in eternity.

So we cut ourselves a break and allow the conversation to flow – salaries, tuition, parish policies, hiring and firing, the best kind of floors to have in a school, how to get people to turn off lights and close doors when the air conditioning is on and so forth and so on.

But a pastor cannot live on such a diet. So I have some meetings in which such topics are absolutely forbidden.

Such as last night.

It was the 4th or 5th meeting of the Saint Sebastian Chesterton Society. We usually have it out in the loggia but it was just too hot and muggy. So we held it in the rectory. It is a small by mighty group who devote themselves to reading and discussion of the “Good things men need to hear,” to quite Scripture. Granted, the title of the essay this week was “On Lying in Bed,” (picked out by our parochial vicar) but it was fruitful none-the-less. And I realize that we were able to enjoy this meeting in the cool of the rectory because the pastors that came before me had meetings like the one above to ensure that a rectory was built, air conditioned, re-roofed, painted, furnished . . .

MONDAY DIARY - FATHER SWAP

As you may know I am relatively new at being a pastor. I think it is a little bit like being married. You are the same person that you were before you were married but the world seems just a little bit different to you after. I was not really aware of this change too much until this past weekend.

From time to time priests are called upon to help out at other parishes and this past weekend I was asked to go to a parish in a neighboring city that was short of help. I had given my car to family visiting from Slovenia, the parish truck was in use, so I had to drive the ’46 Plymouth to St. Augustine in Barberton for the Sunday 5:15 Mass.

There is always a little bit of anxiety (at least for me) in saying Mass at a parish that is not your “home.” You would think with the way that Catholics structure the Mass that a Mass is a Mass is a Mass. But every place has their idiosyncrasies. For example, how do you get ready for communion? In flurry of activity before Mass it is attempted to be explained to you the briefest way possible. It is a like football playbook maneuver. “First, go the 2 people to your left and give them the Body of Christ. Then give them the Blood of Christ. Then give the Body of Christ to the people on your right. The people to whom you gave the chalices should cross over and offer the Blood of Christ for you If they don’t, you have to signal them. Then distribute the ciboria. The servers will be behind you, make sure that you get them. Then . . .”

People at Saint Sebastian know that once Mass starts it is all up in the air for me remembering things extra to the Mass. I have to put stick’m notes in the Sacramentary because once I get into the prayers of the Mass everything else seems to float away. Even if I see the stick’m note at the beginning of the prayer and think, “Don’t forget to excuse the children at the end of the this prayer,” by the time I get to the end I will have forgotten, sit down, and then receive an elbow from the deacon who stage whispers to me, “You forgot again!”

Anyway, I was delivering my homily at this parish with which I am very familiar and it struck me that, yes, we are one family as Catholics, yes, this is the Body of Christ, yes, I can pray with them and minister to them, but they are not my immediate parish family. It was an odd feeling. For example, my homily this weekend mentioned marriage a couple of times. There was a young man who I knew in my parish that was going to propose to the girl he was with after Mass and I could make that connection with him in my thoughts as I gave the homily. But at the parish I was visiting, which I enjoyed, I was defiantly not speaking with my community. The same type of connection was not there. I’m not sure that makes sense. I still enjoyed the experience and appreciated praying with a new group of people, but I think of those priests who have ministries that take them out of the parish and who help out here and there. There is always a strong sense of appreciation and welcome whenever a priest goes to a parish to which he is not regularly assigned, but how difficult it must be for them not to have that regular sense of family. And it is all the more strong once you become a pastor and you feel a personal responsibility for leading a certain group of people to God.

MONDAY DIARY: A NOT SO BRIGHT IDEA

I think I am becoming my father.

I know it.

My Dad was a miser when it came to electricity. At first I was not allowed a night light when I was a kid because it was deemed a terrible waste. Later we compromised; I could fall asleep with the light on and then he would come in and turn it off.

Not that I blame him. Waste is waste. But as a kid and even as a young adult I thought him a bit overly scrupulous. Mom would out of room for 30 seconds or so, Dad would swoop in and turn off the lights and Mom would come back, arms full of laundry or something and call out, “Who turned off the lights?”

Now I’m that guy.

It happened about 10 seconds after I became a pastor. I can’t stand for lights to be left on around the parish. Before I had other priests living with me I pretty much had the lights out in the rectory in the evening. I memorized the layout of the place in order to navigate it in the dark. Great idea until I got a black dog.

My suite is in the front of the house giving me a view of both the church and the hall. It is not difficult to miss a switch in the church and leave a light on. Getting to sleep late at night – tired – finally being able to enjoy the comfort of bed, I slide under the sheets and turn off my light. It is then that I notice an extra light on in the church. I close my eyes and pretend that I didn’t see it. But my Father’s voice echoes in the back of my mind “Think of the sacrifice someone made to donate to the parish – they did without so that you can leave lights burning all night for no reason!” So I get up, get dressed, walk over to the church and switch off the light.

That is not as bad as getting up in the middle of the night and noticing that someone left the hall lights on. I only meant to up for a second the ease nature, now I’ll be walking a half a city block at 2AM to go turn off lights all the time mumbling a rosary against someone.

And doors! Especially when the air conditioning (which is not all that great to begin with) is on! “What? Were you raised in a barn?” But somehow I believe that if I explain it I am less annoying to others and Dad was to me. “If you leave this door open then the house will not stay cool.” “By leaving all those lights on for no reason we waste a lot of money that would be better spent giving a teacher a bonus!”

It doesn’t work. I am still annoying. I know it – because I annoy myself. I’m the annoying guy. I’m my Dad.

A gentleman pointed something out the other day that made me feel a little better. “Look at this picture a Mass at Saint Sebastian from the 1950s,” he said. “Notice that only the front two lights are on. Monsignor did not believe in turning on more lights for Mass than was absolutely necessary.”

Maybe there is something to be learned here. At the Easter Vigil everyone gets along just fine without any lights whatsoever.

Maybe . . .

MONDAY DIARY: ARE WE HAVING FUN YET

A priest friend came by to see me the other day. For a number of reasons we have not been in touch for the past few years but circumstances are making it so it will be easier to get together again. The last time we spent any quality time together was before I was a pastor. So he asked me, “Do you like being a pastor?” It made me stop and think. Do I like it?

I guess the answer is yes I do. There are some things that I miss from being a parochial vicar. One is having time to do ministries that I do not have the time to do anymore, especially teaching. I used to teach a lot more – adults and in the school. There just is not physically time to do as much anymore. On the other hand now I am able to try to truly “father” a parish (in the bishop’s name of course) and try to foster a relationship with the Eucharist, with God, and to try to deepen people’s desire to be good people. I suppose it is like persons who have theories on parenting and then having the opportunity to put all of their ideas to the test. Would I actually make a good parent? Would I make a good pastor?

Perhaps surprising me the most is the amount of paperwork involved in this position. “Even if you are a saint,” a friend once told me, “you still have to get the paperwork in.”

When I was a kindergartener they asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. I wanted to be a bus driver so I could meet new people all of the time, but I never wanted to go down the same street twice because that would be boring. Being a priest sort of fulfilled these requirements. I do meet new people all of the time. This morning as I type this I have been interrupted twice by people coming to sign up for the parish. And while there are certainties in the schedule (Mass times, meeting times) this vocation is so varied in its requirements that it always keeps one on one’s toes.

Right now we are in the process of hiring a new principal. The awesomeness of the task is considerable. This person will have a huge role in the life of these children, this parish, and this community. Being a principal of a Catholic school means more than merely being principal. In many ways you are also pasturing a community in a way that you don’t in other schools. The responsibilities are vastly different and greater. The process will take up most of the next two days.

Also on the agenda to be done this week is picking out the statue that will sit in the new plaza off of the brick parking lot. We are down to two. So now a decision needs to be made. No matter which one is picked, someone will not like it. On the other hand, no matter which one is picked, someone will love it. Decisions, decisions, decision . . .

So do I enjoy it? Yes, I do. It has its difficult times, but what vocation doesn’t? So mulling it over here on Mull Avenue I answer my priest friend, “I do enjoy being a pastor to such a great community.”

MONDAY DIARY: THE LITTLE PERKS

I do enjoy being a pastor. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. But even the best of jobs can have their tedious side. But amidst the usual brouhaha and costmary emergencies are always some distractions that add spice to the week.

One example was in speaking to priest friends from around the world. The priest reported earlier to you from India told me of his first experience of snow in Akron. He walked outside and saw this white matter falling from the sky and assumed that there was a fire somewhere and the ashes were falling over the parish grounds. When they started falling at an alarming rate it occurred to him that it would be this thing called snow.

The priest from Barcelona went with a walk with Sebastian, Fr. P and I and we came across a garage sale. This was the most interesting thing to him. “Are they always open? Is it like a store? This is just excess stuff that they have that they SELL?” On our second walk the next week he asked, “Will there be any garage sales today?” I think he is addicted.

IN OTHER NEWS:

Our choir was in the WCLV Jubilation choir competition which was held at our cathedral church of St. John. The purpose of the contest is to promote quality Church music from classical to modern and to recognize the fine choirs of north east Ohio from all denominations. St. Sebastian was one of the six finalists this year.

I was late getting to the contest and crept into the cathedral. Our bishop, bishop Lennon was sitting there and greeted me and asked if I would like to sneak down to the bowels of the cathedral building to let the choir know that I was there. We wound our way through the maze of the basement until we came to the room in which the choir was preparing. We prayed together and I gave them a blessing after which I said, “I’d have the bishop bless you too but that might be considered cheating!”

Back through the maze we found ourselves once again in the back of the cathedral. (It was swell of the bishop to perform that kindness.) I sat down and listened to other choirs. There was no clapping since the contest was performed live on the air. When the choir before us finished a man stood and waved his finger in the air giving us permission to applaud and the announcer, a smooth speaking man with a deep voice made some announcements and then said “And now back to the WCLV studios. The 2010 Jubilation Choir Competition will resume in about ten minutes.” And with that we were given permission to talk and move about.

Our choir then started to take its place at the front of the sanctuary. We were one of the largest choirs there and as a matter of fact they can no longer where our robes (which are getting quite old as it is) because had grown so large in numbers. We were ushered back to our seats and after some brief remarks by the announcers the choir was introduced, “. . .under the direction of Lynn M. Fry-Steward” and the choir began, “And the glory, the glory of the Lord . . .” from Handel’s Messiah. They also performed “Lacrymosa for Mozart’s Requiem, “Ubi Caritas” by Maurice Durfle, and “Arise, Your Light Has Come” by David Danner. At the end when the man waved his hand in the air the cathedral broke out in thunderous applause! It was a thrilling night.

In the end we did not win first placed (but just being there was an honor) but IMHO I think one would be hard pressed to say that anyone else came as close as we.

The other interesting thing that happened was that my ceiling in my room started leaking. We had a heavy downpour on Saturday just as we were getting ready for our International Festival. I remember listening to the rain and thinking, “Why does it sound like it is closer than it should be?” Sure enough water was gushing in. The cabinet in which the TV sat had a quarter of an inch of water trapped in the top. (Thank goodness is was well built enough not to let it soak down onto the TV!) I put buckets out and went to the festival for a few minutes.

Then it was time to go up on the roof and see what was what. I gentleman from the parish volunteered to help and we dug out a latter. I did not want to waste his time and so chucking my cassock went about the business in dress pants and white shirt with cufflinks. Mom would have been furious. We put the ladder up to one roof and got that high, pulled the ladder up and reached the level of the second roof. Finally we hauled ourselves up to the top roof and found inches deep in water. The interesting part was that once up there we discovered the trap door that is right over the back steps. We really only needed a step ladder. We could have just used the stairs the rest of the way. Anyway the drains had plugged! We unplugged the drains and the water rushing down them sounded like jet engines.

Then it was time to go back down. We had not used the ladder to get up to the third roof but scaled the wall. Funny how much more difficult it seemed trying to get back down. Down seems like such an easy direction. In any event I had been very successful in keeping mostly clean but the effort of climbing back down ended with a big green smear – of course on my white shirt.

Well that was the excitement from St. Sebastian this week. Sorry it was so long.

MONDAY DIARY: WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS

Storms and drought. That is the life of a parish priest. Storms and drought.

There are seasons in which there is so much to do you just start letting go of things. There is not even someone to delegate any longer to and so you just come to the thought “Oh well, that just simply won’t get done.” Then you made a vow. “When the work load has somewhat died down again I swear I am NOT going to feel guilty for taking and afternoon and/or evening off to do nothing.

Then you hit the drought. It is not that there is no work to be done. There is nothing with a pending deadline so that it can sit on your desk for a month if need be. This is the time to take advantage of some personal time to rejuvenate, reinvigorate, and above all not feel guilty!

Part of the problem is you live in the same building that other people work in. So I go downstairs and they are as busy as ever. I tell myself, “but you will still be working until 9PM tonight and the weekend! Go ahead! Take a bike ride!” But then I think of the parish employees working and guilt comes in. Yes, it is stupid. But there it is. Actually it wasn’t so hard before I was pastor but now . . .

“Don’t cry for me Argentina.” (As if priests were to only ones to suffer from this - but this is my diary.) I still wouldn’t trade it for the world. Part of the problem is convincing myself that I don’t have to do, do, do. In fact it is patently wrong. It is part of the character of the priest that he get away and read and study. To not do this is to fail in part of his ministry.

This past Sunday there was nothing that I had to attend to after the last Mass. I turned my computer off so that I would not be tempted to look at Emails. There was a storm brewing that the news service issued a warning about. I was going relax if it killed me.

Though there was a promise of thunderstorms it was hot and partly sunny. So the first thought was to wash and wax the car. It was still do, do, do but at least it would be fun. But as soon as everything was arranged it turned dark and rain started sputtering down. So much for that.

But that led to an even better solution. I grabbed my diary that had been so terribly neglected as of late, several journals that were past due for reading, and book , Sebastian, a snack, and went out on the parish porch to read and listen to the rain. It wasn’t the thunderstorm for which I hoped but the steady rain provided a soothing background.

I wrote in my diary and then opened my journal, and the next thing I remember is wiping the drool off of my chin and realized it was time to go in and make some dinner.

Oh well.