Going & Changing

   Fifth Sunday of Easter   A 

Readings

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’s leaving to head back home that’s the tricky part.

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—

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 1^st 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 overloaded Mass schedule,

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 1^st.

But we will also soon have the opportunity

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 9^th.

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!