Saturday, May 24, 2014

Saturday of the Fifth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 290


Paul reached also Derbe and Lystra
where there was a disciple named Timothy,
the son of a Jewish woman who was a believer,
but his father was a Greek.
The brothers in Lystra and Iconium spoke highly of him,
and Paul wanted him to come along with him.


On Saturday May 24, 1975 Bishop Albert Ottenweller ordained my classmate Donald Adamski and me to the Roman Catholic presbyterate. That was 39 years ago; sometimes it seems like last year; more often it seems like a very long time ago.
There was no Internet in those days nor were there personal computers. Cars came with seat belts but few people wore them. Americans had only recently discovered fuel shortages and how much the United States relied on foreign oil. Gasoline in those days cost less than a dollar a gallon. Less than a month before my ordination Saigon had fallen to the North Vietnamese Army. The war was over; Nixon was out of the White House; the world was moving on. 

At the time I used a state-of-the-art IBM Selectric typewriter with self-correcting tape. (I paid for that privilege by editing and typing the weekly parish bulletin.) In Carey one could call a neighbor with a five-digit number, but only from a stationary phone. Calling the chancery was long distance. Calling home before 11pm was out of the question. Most communication happened as it had for centuries, through the Postal Service.
There were a hundred voices in the choir for our ordination on that Saturday afternoon, and a respectable crowd in church. They would return the next day for the centenary celebration of Our Lady of Consolation. 

In 1875 the wood-frame church in Carey was finished and the recently-purchased statue of Our Lady was brought in procession seven miles from Frenchtown to Carey. The marchers saw thunderstorms ahead and behind them, to the right and left; not one drop fell on the statue. However, no sooner had she entered the church than the clouds opened up on the people, drenching them. A hundred years later their descendants, recognizable from the familiar names on the roster, would recall that wonder. In the meanwhile many people had called upon Our Lady in that holy place and been richly blessed with cures, consolation and mercy. 
On that Sunday in 1975 my parents’ Pontiac van, used to tote our family of eleven, was volunteered to carry the statue back to Frenchtown for a reenactment of the event. My Dad thought that was an enormous privilege. Never had such a personage graced that pre-owned gas guzzler. Fortunately the sky was clear and the sun was hot as they walked back the same seven miles along paved highways.  
In today’s reading we hear about Saint Paul’s selection of the young Timothy. He would be his protégé and successor, and the first bishop of Ephesus. At some point Saint Paul “laid hands” on Timothy in the ceremony of ordination. That gesture remains our way of investing deacons, priests and bishops with the Holy Spirit, as Bishop Ottenweller ordained Donald and me.
In today's Gospel Jesus reminds us the world will often hate us and always misunderstand us. We are not a religion like other religions; there is no comparison to Judaism, Islam or the Buddha. Only the Holy Spirit knows why we are still here and the Blessings we bring to our world through Baptism, Eucharist, Marriage and Ordination. 

1 comment:

I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.

Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.

I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.

You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.