In these days, these unhappy days, when we read the tragic tale of clergy abuse – – here in the diocese of Rochester, New York State and elsewhere – – it might be well to tell you, good reader, how happy my life as a priest has been.

You know of course, the happinesses of marriage and family life: spousal love, the birth of children and their thousand “firsts” (first step, first word, first prom, etc.), holidays, vacations, family nights . . . everyone knows these joyful moments.

Did you ever wonder about the secret happinesses of a priest? I am convinced that few people know the joys of this life of priesthood. I know I can speak as well for Fr. John when I tell you of some of our favorite things living life as a priest.

Here’s a list of my favorite things.

• The surprising newness of the tools of our trade: the psalms, scripture, the prayers of the sacraments, seem always fresh and full of power to touch and heal.
• The beauty of the liturgical seasons and the “inside” experience priests have of them each year.
• Secret moments just between God and me. — The deep peace in knowing we were used by God in very specific ways to help a soul that was burdened with sorrow or sickness.
• Watching the beauty of a bride come down the aisle to meet her husband and to know our lives point to the Bride yet to come —- The New Jerusalem.
• To be beside a wedding couple and to hear their vows spoken so tenderly, and to know you helped them get to that moment.
• Of course the confessional . . . we see the guilt and burden of sin lifted from God’s children. The hope and faith that gets fanned into flame with the words, “I absolve you . . .”. (The humble and tender way people speak their sorrow for sin never ceases to touch my heart. “Lord, do you see how much they love you?”, I tell God.)
• The love of God’s people who look at us at times as they would look upon Christ. (Oh how I wish I were as good as your kindness toward me). How touching is your love for the priest.
• The privileged and sacred moment in the pulpit when the living Word of God comes out of you and is received by His people. It’s a holy moment, a goose bump moment.
• To be called “Father” and know it means something very good.
• To have wise old priests, with battle worn faces, light up when they greet you. Their humble lives have been poured out for thousands of people. Now, older and bent, they smile a secret smile. (Fr. John and I love our Saturday night dinners with our brother priests.)
• To see the Paschal Mystery up close and personal every week. To see the suffering and death and (sometimes much later) the rising to new life in the lives of so many.
• The collar. I like wearing it, sometimes for the stares it gets.
• Convocation – seeing my fellow priests all together each year with our bishop. Watching the grey hairs grow!! (or have fled entirely!).
• Time. (I love this one). You can use it as you see fit. In a sense there is no “inconvenient time”. The priest’s time is meant to be spent on the people and their needs – – not the time clock at work.

There are lots more I could mention. (Be sure of course, there is another list of sad or difficult times for the priest. There is for any life here on earth). But after 40 years as a priest (Fr. John’s 55!) I can honestly say I’d be a priest again in a heartbeat.

Let me end with a message to our young men. Take a look into your heart. What do you feel God has given you to share with the world? Could it be His invitation to share His love as a priest?

I’m praying for you.

Fr. Tim

I remember a long time ago, part of my seminary preparation sent me to a summer chaplain school in a large county hospital in Dallas, Texas. There were 13 in our chaplain class, 12 Southern Baptists/Assembly of God and one Catholic (me).

We would meet daily for intensive meetings about the patients we were working with and then we’d break for lunch. It was during our lunches that we’d learn more about each other and what our personal faith traditions taught. You can imagine the attention the Catholic guy got!

Comments like: “You Catholics like statues!” Or, “You worship Mary.” Or, “the Pope is as important as Jesus.” Or, “Just go to mass and you go straight to heaven, right?” But the one question that we spent most of our time on was, “Do Catholics accept Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior?” “Did you accept him Tim?”

It really made me step out of my Catholic world to see what these Baptist classmates knew in their bones as little children . . . “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” A real, living, present person . . . my friend Jesus. “Yes”, I said, but they made me dig deep inside to realize this friendship.

Many Catholics are a little slow to answer “have I accepted Jesus into my life”? “Do you mean, do I love God? Of course I do. I go to mass. I say my prayers. I try to live right. Does that mean I have a personal relationship with Jesus?”

I would say “yes”. You’ve got the basics covered there. . loving and serving a God we cannot see. However I think the question goes a bit further than that, asking in a sense is this relationship with Christ PERSONAL? Does it bear the signs of a relationship?

Is there a familiarity with Jesus that one would have in a dear friendship? Is there at times an emotional level to your speaking with God? (For example: “Lord you know I can’t do this. I can’t forgive, I’m tired of trying, I don’t want to turn away from some habit. Please help me!!!” That’s a personal relationship.)

What if I don’t recognize these feelings in my relationship with Christ? Have I accepted Jesus as my personal Savior? Don’t be too hard on yourself. Remember, you HAVE a relationship with Christ GIVEN to you in baptism. You are a child of God and you are invited to call God your Father. It’s a gift. Accept it.

The other personal feeling stuff comes naturally to anyone who loves God and tries to do what is good. If my chaplain friends had asked me, “do you always FEEL Christ’s friendship?” I would have to answer “no”. Feelings come and go. There are times when we are filled with affections toward those we love. At other times things feel dry and everyday. There is nothing wrong with that. It’s just how life is.

But there is one infallible way to determine whether we have a personal relationship with Jesus – – – – how do we treat our neighbor in need? Why is this the measure (and not some spiritual feeling)? Because Jesus said so.

“As often as you (fed, clothed, visited, comforted) these little ones, you did it for me.” MT. 25:31ff. And, “Whoever has not loved a brother/sister whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.” 1 John 4:20. In other words Christ takes it PERSONALLY when we care for our neighbor. Kindness to them is kindness TO ME says the Lord.

Loving our neighbor is essential to having a personal relationship with Jesus as Lord and Savior.

God bless you and meet you in these late summer days.

Fr. Tim

Back in the early 1950’s we lived on Bloomfield, a pretty city street in Akron, Ohio. Dad took the bus to work downtown and mom cooked, cleaned, and fed the three Horan children. I remember a big stair- case we were forbidden to slide down and a bedroom I had all to myself.

We rented the house for five years. Then one day, to surprise his wife, dad put $2,000 down on a little Cape Cod north of the city. Mom was furious in that she hadn’t been consulted; but with feelings repaired, the Horan’s moved into their first and only home. Dad was pretty proud. The American dream was coming true. (Mom still had to say goodbye to the dream of moving to Columbus to be near her large family.)

So we owned a home. That’s where I learned to ride a bike and Jimmy Farrell and I would explore the woods behind our street. Patty and Maureen did all the things girls do to grow up. Fifty-two years mom and dad had that house.

I knew the day would come, but it totally shocked me to see the “For Sale” sign in our front yard when I drove back home to see mom (dad had been dead 3 years). “I have no home now”, was the feeling.

I’m sure many of you have a story to tell just like this. The point to be made is, something we all discover sooner or later, we have no lasting home. St. Paul tells us that all things in this world are passing away (1Cor. 7:31), “Time is running out. From now on let those . . . who buy or own act as though they were not owning, those using the world as not using it fully.”

Why? Because we are renting this body, this space, this time, this home, this family, this parish . . . It’s all passing away. Nothing material is made to last forever. That means we’re here temporarily. We’re renting. We’re pilgrims on a journey.

St. Paul even calls Christians “strangers and aliens on earth.” (Hebrews 11:13) “Those who speak thus show they are seeking a homeland . . . a better homeland, a heavenly one.” vs. 16. This in no way lessens the beauty and wonder of the world and our responsibility to work for a better world here and now. “God so loved the world . . . “ (Jn. 3:16) So do we.

Our “passing through” has huge implications for how we use the things of the earth. Not being “owners” we are “stewards” instead. St. Thomas Aquinas tells us, “We possess external things not as our own, but as common, so that we are ready to give to others in their need.” Pope Francis in his encyclical, Laudato Si, reminds us that the goods of the earth (our water, air, forests, farmland) are given to each generation to be properly cared for so they might be passed on to the generations that follow.

When you think of it, everything we have has been given to us: our home (Mother Earth), our very lives, our family, our country, our skills to carve out our life’s story. And then . . . . . . there will come a time when we have to leave it all behind. We will pass from this earth to enter (once again by God’s gift) Eternal Life.

No more renting; we’ll be home. In the meantime let’s use this time to make this a better world for those who will follow.

Bless your Summer days.

Fr. Tim

A good friend of mine recently gave me the results of a major study from Notre Dame University concerning the loss of Catholic identity in what are called “emerging adults” (basically people in their 20’s).

The survey, begun in early 2,000, involved more than 3,000 teens and 20 somethings who identified themselves as Catholic. Questions were asked in 3 waves over 15 years; questions as to where these young people found themselves in relation to the Catholic Faith.

The results are sobering and offer a window to view the mind of these emerging adults. Some statistics:

• Approximately 50% of Catholic teenagers lose their Catholic identity by their late 20’s.
• Of these former Catholics, 59% still believe in God, 24% are unsure, 19% no longer believe in God.
• 66% of those remaining Catholics grew up with parents who shared the same faith and were active in verbalizing in the home.
• Roughly 59% of Catholics and former Catholics believe that the teachings of science and religion conflict with each other.
• 24% of former Catholics report “never” talking about religion in their family (16% of current Catholics chose “never” as well).

The study goes on to examine some of the contributing factors behind the statistics. Perhaps the largest factor causing departure from the faith is simply the stage of life emerging adults find themselves in.

Emerging adulthood is a time to complete formal education, develop one’s abilities at work, to find a romantic partner, establish an independent identity from the dependence of youth. Religion often takes a backseat to these pressing issues.

Another factor in losing Catholic identity is the intensely private and personal view that these young people hold about religion/or not. They are unmoved by church dog- ma or strong claims about theology. Flexibility is required in all things given this transitory stage of life. “Uncertainty is okay” said one respondent. If it works for you – – – that’s your truth.

Another factor . . . science and its findings are seen by many as the only truly reliable form of knowledge and belief. If something lies outside scientific proof, then it becomes “conjecture” and can be accepted or rejected as each one sees fit.

So what do we make of these findings? I hope you’re not shocked. We’ve been seeing these cultural developments over the past 50 years. I truly believe growing up today, becoming an adult in American society, is tougher in some ways than it was in the Great Depression.

There our parents and grandparents had certain “rock bed” beliefs that today go under the handy title “Old School”. Among them were: a certain respect for civil institutions, lawful authority, the wisdom of elders, and the belief for most, that God can be experienced through religion.

Of course not all these have been jettisoned but new principles have come to challenge tradition. Some are:

• Flexibility, openness to new ways of doing things.
• Valuing “what works” over traditional ways of doing things.
• Speed is good.
• Spiritual things are like personal opinions. Each to their own. There is no unassailable truth to any religion.

One thing that remains in our changing society (and a cause of hope for the future) is the decisive effect of parenting and family on the life choices the emerging adults make.

Parents who make some attempt to learn an “adult” understanding of the Catholic Faith (btw. it does not conflict with real and proper science) . . . and . . . who bring a mature faith conversation to family moments and parental guidance are inclined to foster young adults who can negotiate the challenges of life and grow in their Catholic faith.

Holy Trinity stands ready to help families look deeper into the marvelous truths of our faith, so that you will “be ready at all times to answer anyone who asks you to explain the hope you have in you.” 1 Peter 3:15

Yours in Christ,

Fr. Tim

(As promised last week…a previous article that continues the “Lesson of the Good Seed.”)

Two or three times a month each parish on the east side of Rochester is on call at Rochester General Hospital. From 8 in the morning to 8 the next morning; we respond to any calls for the Anointing of the Sick or the Sacrament of Confession. Sometimes I forget I’m on call. This was one of those nights. . . .

So it was Sunday night about 9:15. I’d just settled in to watch the closing ceremonies for the Rio Olympics. The chaplain at Rochester General calls to ask for an anointing. A woman, 93, in a coma . . . her son was asking for a priest. So you go right? Of course. It’s what we do.

On the way I try to spiritualize my frustration at missing the Olympics. “Lord, this is for you. I offer this up. Let this bring me closer to you and your Sacred Heart.” I silently patted myself on the back for responding quickly and calmly to the chaplain’s request. “I’m a dutiful priest”, I tell myself.

Her name was Ruth. She was curled up in a semi-fetal position. With eyes closed, her head was tilted back as if expecting a knock at the window. Tom, her son, greeted me with a kindly smile and extended his hand.

He told me his mother had come to the hospital with a lung infection but I soon learned this was simply the last in a litany of health problems that went back decades; back to when Tom and his sister were told their mother had Alzheimers and special care would be needed for her 24/7.

For 22 years they watched their mother’s growing dementia as Tom cared for her in his home. It had been years since Ruth even recognized him as her son.

“We just wanted to be ready, Father. She’s been through so much.” Briefly he fills me in on what the recent past had been and the numerous trips to emergency rooms. I was struck by the tender way he spoke of his mother and the total absence of any reference to what these years had cost him and his sister.

(It set me thinking of my sisters who each cared for our mom and dad in their final days. Like little children, our sickly parents needed constant care and attention which both of my sisters gave so readily.)

And here he was, bent over his mother’s bed stroking her hair. I wondered if I was kind enough, generous enough, selfless enough, to do what this man had done for so many years for his demented mother.

Suddenly my frustration over missing the Olympic closing seemed so small and petty. My prayer of “offering up” seemed less heroic, and my secret estimate of myself suddenly paled when compared to Tom’s undivided devotion.

So what’s my point? We’ve all been witness in our priesthood to persons of great charity and holiness. For me, the people I hold to be in the state of great sanctity (who knows these things?) . . . most are simple everyday people . . . few are priests. The point is we priests have it pretty easy. The great love of God’s people for the priest paves the way for a smooth landing in so many life situations.

Most people do the hard, thankless, every day carrying of their burden with no fanfare. We priests hear “thank you Father” almost daily. Most people get gifts on their birthday; we often get little candies on our desk “for just being you”. Most people pay for their meal; how many times has someone across the restaurant picked up Father’s check? Their moods don’t get pampered like Father’s when he’s “having a bad day.”

So I guess I’m urging us priests to see ourselves as Jesus did. “It is the same with you; when you have done all you have been told to do, say, ‘We are but servants; we have only done our duty.” Lk. 17:10

We priests stand humbled by the hidden souls whose brilliant charity daily sow the seeds of God’s Kingdom.

Your brother,

Fr Tim