Today’s Reflection from Father Dave

It was a brisk winter’s day and I was driving home from the mountains when the call came, “David, this is the Archbishop’s secretary, and he would like to talk to you.” What does one say at such a moment? After all in the ordination rite one promises respect and obedience to his bishop. So I responded, “No, it is never good news when the Archbishop calls you. Tell him I am driving.” There was laughter, and I was put on hold. The next voice was Archbishop Levada, “David, pull over!” His conversation continued, “David, we have fulfilled all your requirements, and so I am now assigning you as pastor of St. Charles Church; you won’t have to move far.”

Some of you might be wondering what stipulations I made. I know, for I was wondering the same thing. So when I asked if he could refresh my memory on those he read from my annual clergy update form: “You wanted a garage for your tools, a gymnasium, and a school.” Truthfully, I did not know anyone actually read those annual forms.

This week marks the 15th anniversary of being made pastor, and so I thought to do a little walk down memory lane. It might keep me from reflecting too much on the happenings around me. In almost 39 years of priesthood I have had four (4) assignments. Our Lady of Loretto for 3½ years, St. Vincent/CYO for 14 years, Our Lady of Mount Carmel for 5 years, and now St. Charles for 15 years. There have been other responsibilities that have been added, such as Serra High School and now St. Matthias, but I pretty much stay in one place for some time.

I have noticed one stark change over these 15 years. When I first arrived at St. Charles there were between 1100-1200 people coming to Sunday mass. Last weekend the church was empty. Not many pastors can say during their time they chased all the parishioners away. I now can say this for 2 churches, as in the 9 months that St. Matthias has been part of my responsibility, I have emptied it too. So it is good to be known for something.

There is a prayer by Michael Quoist, The Priest, a Prayer on Sunday Night. It is a dark and somber prayer, but one that hits the nail on the head about priesthood. It is the latter part of the prayer that sticks with me. It is our Heavenly Father speaking to his priest:

Son, you are not alone, I am with you; I am you.

For I need another human instrument to continue my Incarnation and my Redemption.

Out of all eternity, I chose you, I need you.

I need your hands to continue to bless,

I need your lips to continue to speak,

I need your body to continue to suffer,

I need your heart to continue to love,

I need you to continue to save.

Stay with me, son.

Let my answer always be: Here I am, Lord.

Father Dave

Today’s Reflection from Father Dave

Another advantage of “Shelter in Place” is that you can accomplish chores not otherwise possible. So borrowing from the School morning assembly, I have a Fun Fact of my own: There are 31,317 verses in the Bible. I will let you figure out what version of the Bible I used for this little known tidbit.

Today I have been reflecting on the shortest verse John 11:35, “Jesus wept.” Two words encompass the entire verse. Why were there tears? Lazarus had died, and Jesus truly loved Lazarus and his sisters, Martha and Mary. They were his “go to” friends whenever He was in the neighborhood, that place where He could relax and enjoy good company. He grieved, as any of us would grieve the loss of such a friend.

Did He weep because even after all this time His closest friends did not seem to get the message of His mission? Just the chapter before Jesus says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” It was not just to live more years, but how to live those years we have.

Or maybe He wept looking at the tomb, and saw His future and what lay before Him. Were they tears of anguish for what awaits Him in Jerusalem? Did He see the fulfillment of His mission? The whole purpose of His life, His mission, was to fulfill the Father’s dream to save His people. But the cost would be great.

So, I begin to wonder if these are tears of sorrow, or tears of joy? Lately, when I am not counting scripture verses, I have been reflecting on what it will be like when things return to “normal,” and I do believe they will. I try to imagine what it will be like when the church once again has people gathered and praying together. What will it be like to extend a hand and not have to pull it back? To embrace someone and not worry about it being a death grip. To hear and see the laughter and play of children once again on the yard. I must admit, tears begin to well up in one’s eyes at such moments. (Which is another good thing about walking early in the morning, because in the daylight people might think the Padre has lost it completely.) But these are happy tears!

During these days there is a great deal of anxiety, stress, isolation, and I dare say tears. Tears worried over our loved ones, tears that maybe we have not lived life to the fullest, or have taken the Lord’s lessons too lightly. Tears of the unknown struggle still before us. Yet, maybe they are tears of love and joy, the comfort of knowing that there is someone who knows all that range of emotion that is present at this time, and is by our sides, in Him and through Him we have faith. Yes, I find myself looking to the day when “normalcy” returns to life.

Your Wandering Padre,

Father Dave

Today’s Reflection from Father Dave

“Habla usted inglés?”  “Si” came the response. “Great! I would like to send some things home to the United States.” I was in Pamplona, the third day of my pilgrimage; I had overpacked. After climbing over the Pyrenees and realizing I carried items I really did not need, with a month of walking and 450 miles to go, I would send things home. The postal clerk asked if I was a pilgrim going to Santiago. (Perhaps the disheveled look and backpack gave me away?) She told me simply to send it ahead to Santiago. It would be much cheaper, and then I would have another reason to reach my destination.

I had packed items “in case of,” or “I might need this,” and all those items added to my burden. During this time of shelter in place many of my duties are curtailed, and I find myself cleaning closets, bookshelves, cupboards. It is amazing what one finds and what one has kept “in case of” or because “I might need it,” but now goes into the trash or recycling bin. When I finish there is a feeling of great accomplishment (okay little victories impress me at this time), but no one to show it to, so I am writing to get some applause and acknowledgement.

It is not just physical items that weigh me down, but it is so many other worries and concerns. This Lent, more than any other I can remember, has made me pause and reflect on what I carry around. My older brother reminds me that I pack the pack; I determine what I am going to carry. The airport security even asks that question as I wander through the checkpoints, “Did you pack this bag?”

As one would have a favorite Station of the Cross, mine would be the fifth station: Simon of Cyrene Helps Jesus Carry the Cross. I mentioned in an earlier reflection that one must carry one’s own backpack. In this station Jesus carries His own cross, but He does experience the help of another. He understands what it means to take some of the weight from a person who is struggling. Do you not think that during this time of uncertainty, chaos, and anxiety, the yoke we feel is made easier by the Lord’s hand, if only we believe in that promise?

When that postal clerk took my belongings, packed them in a box, labeled it, put the correct postage on it, and placed it in a bin, she did more than just ease the weight on my shoulders. She gave me encouragement to make this walking pilgrimage to my destination.

She was someone who showed me Faith, Hope, and Love in action.

Your Wandering Padre,

Father Dave