Today’s Reflection from Father Dave

I have never closed a playground to children until now. I have locked gates at times because fresh cement or asphalt had been poured. While I do have some priorities, I have always believed that the grounds are for our children. That is the lesson I learned from Fr. Smith when he gave me my first job of mowing the ballfield at our parish church. The reason he gave a 10-year-old this job is a story for another time, but I have been working for the church since then.

Yet now the upper playground is locked and closed, in keeping with the spirit of this Shelter-in-Place. This slight obstacle did not stop two little ones yesterday during a downpour from trying out their homemade boats in the swale that runs by the rectory. Decked out from head to toe in raingear, they floated their wonderful creations down to the culvert, skipping alongside.

I knew there must be an adult close by, so I went to investigate, and there was dad. Now he was not dressed in the same protective gear, but he was enjoying everything about this scene as I was. He asked, “Is this okay?” All I could do was to thank him for bringing some joy and laughter to this deserted landscape, and then I went back inside. (Mom would be proud that I did learn to come in from the rain.)

It is difficult, this time of sheltering in place, as we put aside our needs to try and help the larger community. Some families have to learn how to live together 24/7; others struggle to live a solitary existence, and all live to protect one other.

I do not know how these little ones, along with dad and mom, are coping in day-to-day living. Yet, in that sliver of time, I witnessed a family take a difficult and trying period in our history, and without knowing it, create a joyful moment for a man who locked the gates.

I cannot wait for the day when the locks come off. It might be interesting to see just how far this padre can throw a padlock.

In Faith, Hope, and Love,

Father Dave

Today’s Reflection from Father Dave

Yesterday was strange! That is how I began my first reflection three weeks ago, at the cancelation of Sunday mass. I concluded that I believe this will be our finest hour. Now three weeks later my tune has not changed, even though everything else seems to be changing daily.

We moved into the “big house” instead of the chapel for live streaming of Palm Sunday, and with it came music. Keeping in mind the protocols for everyone’s safety the question arose: “How do we distribute palms?” Thus began the most interesting Palm Sunday morning of my priesthood. When Bill, Fr. Samuel, and I walked out the front doors, a line of cars more than a block long stood waiting. This was the best kind of strange, and for the next two hours my heart, soul, and spirit were overflowing as our faith was alive and present in so many.

Cars of family members, some returning after delivering to neighbors who could not get out, flowed by. In the cars were young people home from college, this being their big excursion outside for the weekend. Then there were the supplies. The amount of hot chocolate and food delivered was truly amazing. I mentioned to Bill, “Now you see why it is so difficult to lose weight in this parish.” People even dropped off their Sunday envelopes, and my makeshift palm distributor became a collection basket.

It was a good morning. Later I gathered with my siblings, nephews, and nieces for Happy Hour, a tradition started by my parents. At 5:00 p.m. everyday my parents sat down with an Old Fashioned and put on some music, with a simple rule: kids could be seen but not heard. My little brother resurrected this tradition, and 32 screens filled up my chromebook as the family gathered. Finally technology came up with an invention that comes in handy with my family: the mute button!

So dear friends, three weeks later and Sunday is still strange, but it is good for the times we are living in. Please be safe.

In Faith, Hope, and Love,

Father Dave

Today’s Reflection from Father Dave

Friday was difficult. Saturday came, and I did not take my morning walk to open the churches and could not write. Yes, at times darkness descends and I forget those words of Monsignor Clem McKenna: “A priest must be a man of HOPE!” Monsignor had been the Director of St. Vincent’s School for Boys and then a mentor and confidant of mine as I began my ministry at the same Treatment Center.

I began these writings on the Ides of March when the church was closed to public celebrations of the Eucharist. At the time, my intent was to write hopefully uplifting reflections to chronicle this period in our lives. I used the great Thumper’s advice in that classic film, Bambi: If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Saturday I could not find anything “nice” to say.

When I did not send my early morning blog, my editor checked in and then responded to my reply: “Hope is the antidote.” (Aren’t you impressed that I have an editor?) A little later I received an email from another about the parable of the Four Candles which concluded “the greatest of these is Love, but the flame of Hope should never go out of your life.” Trying to clear my head, I walked outside and wondered why so much dirt, leaves, and twigs were on the doorstep. Looking up I saw a newly made bird’s nest over the doorway, which I am told is a sign of hope and new life. My comment to the Lord: “Enough already, I get it; I must be a man of Hope.”

So today as we begin the holiest of weeks a little reflection on a painting by Holman Hunt, The Light of the World. In this painting the artist depicts Jesus standing outside a door with a lantern in His raised hand. If you look closely, you realize there is no doorknob. It seems to suggest that Christ the Light desires to enter our homes, our lives, but you and I need to open the door for Him. This my friends is not the faith we profess.

If there is anything we learn during these next days and weeks ahead is that a closed and locked door does not stop the Lord from entering. When the disciples would hide away in fear behind locked doors, the Risen Christ still came to them. The Lord’s first words, “Peace be with you.”

When times are difficult, when we find we can no longer help ourselves or open the door to let the light in, God can still come through and breathe peace into our lives. We will walk through some difficult times together this week, but we are fortunate for we know the end of the story. Jesus stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.”

In Faith, Hope, and Love,

Father Dave