Today’s Reflection from a Lenten Companion:

To give the Padre a day off he asked one of his Lenten companions write today’s reflection:

My name is not important because I could be anybody. I am known as the man with the withered hand. It wasn’t always that way. I was a stonemason and a good one. It was hard work, but at the end of the day when I put down my hammer and chisel there always was a feeling of accomplishment. Often I would step back and look at my work. I never wanted to be anything else; this was my calling.

Then it happened. A large stone dislodged and crushed my hand, my right hand, the hand that knew just how much force was needed for each blow, the hand that always was true in its aim. How would I ever work at my trade again? How would I support my wife and children? How do I cope with losing my vocation and purpose in life? Truth be told, I was miserable to be with, and my wife and kids took the brunt of my despair.

I needed to get out of the house. The walls were closing in on me. I had time on my hands (no pun intended) and heard of a teacher in town. He taught in parables, in stories and they spoke to me. It was a different way of teaching than I was accustomed to. Usually our religious leaders told us what to do and not to do. They even alluded to my mangled hand as evidence of some wrongdoing, some sin in my past. There I sat in the crowd when he looked at me. Suddenly he asked a question, but I did not hear it because he continued to stare at me. “Come stand here,” he was speaking to me! I was embarrassed, a man not working, a deformed hand, and a room filled with people. I stood before this man who said, “Stretch out your hand.” Was he mocking me? Could he not understand my pain, my despair in being useless? But I raised my arm and opened my hand. Did you hear that? I opened my hand! I felt the muscles tighten in my hand and arm, and they responded; life came back into them!

I tell you this story because they arrested this man and crucified him. I know this because it was my job one Friday to roll a huge stone in front of a tomb. It was then I saw the body of Him who had given me back my life. One of the people standing nearby made the comment: “He came that we might have life and have it more abundantly!” I can never thank Him for what He did except to live my life for Him, who gave me this new life.

I have heard stories that are hard to believe. Some say this man rose from the dead, that He is the Christ. I can only tell you: He gave me life.

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