Parish Missions

REMBRANCE AND THANKSGIVING

I grew up in a little Slovenian parish, St. Lawrence, on the

southeast side of Cleveland. We would brown-bag it to the parish

school, eat our lunch in a little lunchroom and then go out and

play for a half hour. When it rained we stayed indoors. Now it

doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that if you fuel-up a nine

or ten year old boy and then have him sit for a half hour, you’re

asking for trouble.

I must have been up to some particular mischief one rainy

day, because in the distance I heard the approach of rosary beads.

In the “old days” the good Adrian Dominican sisters, who taught at

our little school, had a fifteen decade rosary wrapped around the

belt of their habit, with beads about as big as the tip of your finger.

And when they walked, the beads jiggled, so you always knew

where the nun was!

Well, finally the sound of the beads ceased. Sister is behind

me. I quickly try to figure whom I going to blame for whatever I’m

going to be accused of. I feel a firm hand on my shoulder from

behind. As I turn and look up at Sister Mary Roche, she looks

down at me and says…… “Louis, you know, you really ought to

think about becoming a priest!”

I had no idea what she was talking about, and I didn’t care.

I had dodged the bullet! It wasn’t until decades later, even after

being away from the Church for nearly eight years, that I came to

realize the miracle of that moment:

Now isn’t that just like our God:

we expect a reprimand,

and instead we get an invitation.

On that rainy day decades ago, Sister Roche was a prophet the likes of the three prophetic voices proclaimed today, though at the time I hadn’t a clue. Like the Baptist she recognized that the human experience in itself was no impediment to discipleship. In fact, from the way Luke’s Gospel eventually unfolds, it’s a requirement. Jesus makes it clear that he wants to enlist the efforts of “prostitutes, tax collectors and sinners.” Conversion and transformation is the disciple’s story, and being unworthy should never preclude an invitation.

Like Zephaniah, Sister Roche, understood that a positive approach toward an immature, rambunctious ten year-old would, in the long run, get better results than negativity. Her invitation was also a challenge. The Israelites were having some really rough times, coming off exile and challenged to rebuild their temple and their lives. Their story is our story. In an age shattered by division, materialism and self-interest, we are joyfully challenged by our faith to build a new creation of peace, justice and equality.

The underlying tone of Sister Roche’s invitation was full of the encouragement of Paul’s exhortation to the Philippians. Her enthusiasm for her faith was as contagious as Paul’s. There was so much riding on that concise and direct invitation that it took me nearly half a lifetime to fully grasp it. (I did enter the seminary as a high school sophomore, but was expelled at the end of my junior year. I re-entered thirty-two years later.) But Sister’s faith, like Paul’s beautiful words to the Philippians, subtly sustained me.

I remember Sister Roche today, not just because the Scriptures again led me to connect to a seminal moment of my own story, but also because this is the weekend for remembering the religious men and women who have served the People of God in this country so well for so many the years. The Annual Appeal for the Retirement of Religious is an opportunity to continue to support the men and women who earned so little that they were not able to provide for their own retirement.

But this weekend is also a time, in true Eucharistic fashion, to “remember and give thanks.” The service of these men and women religious not only touched the lives of the individuals to whom they were called to minister. The wider Church in the United States was formed and fashioned by their hands. As immigrants flooded our shores in the 1800's and early 1900's, it was the religious men and women who shouldered the people’s need for education and health care. But it was the imparting of the spirit of the Second Vatican Council, which has become the special legacy of religious life in America. Without them there would have been no aggiornamento, “updating” of the Church in this country. They were the primary teachers of Vatican II in the United States. Ironic, considering the current investigation of religious women!

We owe such a debt of gratitude to our men and women religious that no monetary gift could ever repay them. But the simple offering we make this weekend should only be a start. Seek out the religious priests, brothers and sisters who ministered to you. They would be the first to admit that they are far from perfect, but as "wounded healers," they have been perfect candidates for spreading the Good News. Many of them may now be in retirement communities or nursing homes. Write them. Better still, visit them. Whether they remember you or not makes no difference. Each one of them should know they are remembered. Each one of them should hear our words of thanks for a life of self-sacrificing love.

Now isn’t that just like our God.