Hi.
I’m sitting here wondering what I can talk to you about that might bring a bit of Holy Trinity to you in these days when we can’t be together.
New York State just announced Phase I (of 4) goes into effect this Friday. It allows necessary construction and manufacturing projects to restart. Looking down the staging it seems haircuts and church worship will begin in Phase 4. Each phase is separated by two weeks.
That would put our gathering for mass at Holy Trinity sometime at the end of June (perhaps the 28th). By my reckoning that means we’re half way with the social distancing – – 6 weeks down, 6 weeks to go. Other things will open before that, retail etc., but Sunday mass is still a ways away
So how are you holding up? Getting tired of same old same old? Need a haircut? We’re all in that boat.
Remember when your parents piled you all in the car and off you went to some distant destination . . . maybe grandma’s or some state park. “Are we there yet?” we’d asked over and over. “How long will it be?” (Dad would be the one to stop the whining. “Just sit back and count the cars. I’ll let you know when we’re close.”) We were in agony in the back seat.
Kinda like now, only this time we’re older and much more mature. Right?
Okay, so here’s what it’s like in the rectory for me and Fr. John. With no real appointment to keep until mass at nine each morning, our rising and starting the day varies. Generally speaking, I’d say we’re both up and getting ready for the day around 7 am (sometimes earlier).
I think Fr. John stays in his room for morning prayer and then heads to the kitchen. I can’t wait. I want a cup of coffee and the paper (and thank you to my friend, who faithfully leaves it right outside the rectory door.)
Eight o’clock finds us reading the paper and making comments on the news, “Hey Tim, it says here there’s five things we need to know about how the Bills will fill the outside linebacker position.” Or “John, did you know now’s the time to plant peas?” Fascinating stuff.
(Are you still reading this?!! Call someone for help.)
Then off we each go to continue the morning (shower, mass, morning prayer, more coffee then down to the office). Kasey Baker, Helen Sleeman and Pam Schultz are there at various times working away.
So time to read emails and respond. Write the bulletin message (you’re reading it now). Look out over the days ahead to be sure I don’t miss anything. Nothing going. By noon Fr. John is watching Governor Cuomo’s press conference. (Say what you want about his other shortcomings, this man knows how to handle a pandemic).
At some point you go over the readings for Sunday and begin to prepare a homily. “Lord, let this be YOUR word to the people, not mine.” (Fr. John and I take this part of our ministry very seriously.) Preparation, reading the scripture background and commentary, takes a good 3 to five hours during the week, along with prayer asking for the Holy Spirit.
Reading for pleasure has been a real gift in these days and each of us find an hour or two to follow our various interests. Fr. John is a voracious reader. He just finished all the Killing Kennedy, Jesus, Patton, Lincoln, etc.
I like to read stuff on anthropology (how humans developed) and biographies (Churchill recently).
Dinner happens around 5:30. We have so many parishioners to thank for bringing meals to the rectory. (I mentioned a few weeks back how we like spaghetti, and we do. But not three nights in a row. Cool it with the spaghetti please!)
After dinner, (still with me?) we catch the evening news in John’s room then it’s off to our own apartment. Reading, prayers, phone calls, music fill this time.
“Cocktails?” you ask. Why yes, I’d love one thank you. This starts at nine and goes to ten. Truly a cocktail HOUR. We watch more news (we’re junkies), some- times switching between MSNBC and Hannity on Fox. They’re on totally different planets. Someday we’ll end the name calling.
Ten o’clock, in our rooms, lights out soon after. “Good night Lord. Thank you.”
I presumed I’ve bored you to death, but now you know what it’s like for Fr. John and me in the rectory. Com- pared to us old guys maybe your life looks a bit brighter now!
Please know we both miss you, pray for you, and can’t wait till we’re all together again. Don’t be afraid.
Fr. Tim
