Fifth Sunday of Easter A
I
come from a family that’s really good at visiting,
but
which kind of struggles when it comes to making an exit.
For
example…
Every
Sunday evening,
my
parents go to see my grandparents:
to
catch up on the week’s news and play a game of cards.
As
children, we always went, too—
and,
as an adult, any time I’m home on a Sunday, I still tag along.
It always
happens in several stages.
First,
my dad pushes back his chair from the kitchen table:
“Well,
I guess it’s getting to be that time…”
Several
minutes later, he’ll stand up.
It’s
awhile again before he reaches to put on his coat.
Next,
there’s standing at the door with your hand on the knob.
You
get the picture!
I
have no idea how this long, lingering good-bye developed.
Among
ourselves, it’s not really a problem:
we
know the routine; we understand the ritual.
But
taking this same track can be troublesome
when
you’re visiting outside of the family,
since
it comes with the danger of overstaying your welcome.
I
know there’ve been times when I’ve missed my hosts’ cues
that
it’s high time for me to be going…
…and
they haven’t quite understood
my
drawn-out, Giroux-style departure.
Wouldn’t
it be grand to be invited to a place
where
this could never happen?
Where
you wouldn’t have to worry
about
leaving too early or staying too late?
Where
your presence would always be welcome
and
never a burden? (cf. L. Donohoo)
Jesus
has prepared just such a place for us.
This
Sunday, we hear a short portion
of
Jesus’ long farewell address to his Apostles at the Last Supper.
(It
makes a Giroux family good-bye seem brief!)
And
it’s in this setting
that
he promises us room aplenty in his Father’s house.
We
can experience that here-and-now
in
an imperfect way in the Church—
this
spiritual house built upon Christ, the cornerstone.
Certainly,
Pope Francis has been calling us to that:
to
live as a God-centered community
to
which all are called and in which all are welcome.
In
the two listening sessions we’ve have in recent months,
you
have said the much same thing, too:
that
the new parish we’re soon establishing
should
be a place noted for its friendliness and hospitality.
No
doubt, St. André, the humble doorman, would approve!
But
our experience of the Church,
of
this place where God and man can dwell happily together,
will
always be an imperfect one in this world:
imperfect, because it’s built of living stones—
imperfect, because it’s built of living stones—
built
of you and me.
Its
strengths will be God’s strengths;
its
weaknesses will be our own.
Built
of human, living stones,
the
Church is always marked by change.
We’ve
certainly seen that in our parishes—
realigned
just over a decade ago,
and
officially consolidating in just a month and a half.
We
must remember:
July 1st won’t mean that the changing is over.
The
longer I’m your pastor,
the
sooner I think we’re going to have to face
some
of the tough questions we’d all prefer to put off:
our
large number of aging buildings—churches included—
and
whether they’re still serving us or we’re now serving them.
But
there are changes afoot
which
we will have to face even before these.
As
you may have already heard,
we
will soon have to say an uncomfortable good-bye of our own.
On
Wednesday, Bishop LaValley informed Fr. Tom
that
he is giving him a new assignment:
he
will become the Parochial Vicar of the parishes
in
Saranac Lake, Lake Clear, and Bloomingdale,
effective August 1st.
to
extend a warm welcome.
Bishop
LaValley has also announced
that
Fr. Justin Thomas, a young priest from India
belonging
to the missionary order of the Heralds of the Good News,
has
been assigned as our new Parochial Vicar, effective July 9th.
Both
Fr. Tom and Fr. Justin
will
be here during the month of July to ease the transition,
especially
during the first days of St. André’s Parish.
Please
keep them in your prayers—
and
me, too, if you don’t mind!
Jesus
himself is our faithful companion
along the winding paths of life,
the
trusty roadmap that keeps us on course,
and
the sure destination
toward which we’re heading.
He
is the way, the truth, and the life.
Pleased
to be known as the carpenter’s son,
and
to build his Church
from living stones in this world,
he has
far more enduring materials
with which to work in the next.
What
hope, what comfort,
what joy there is in believing
that
what we enjoy only imperfectly on earth
awaits
us in eternal perfection in heaven—
where
there is no more
saying awkward good-byes,
but
only the Father’s warm welcome home!
No comments:
Post a Comment