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A Celebration of Gratitude Thirteen years is a long time. For so many of us, the parish we have come to love is the parish which took shape during the past thirteen years. For others, the IHM of today, the IHM that bears the distinct imprint of Fr. Jan, is the only IHM they’ve ever known. As deacons, the three of us here in the sanctuary tonight, Fr. Jan is the only pastor we’ve serve since we were ordained. The worship we love, the art and environment that has set a standard of beauty and excellence, this wonderful new worship space, this greatly expanded parish campus, the improvements to our school, the way we have come to pray and sing and socialize together, the involvement, ministry, and commitment of countless people, so many of the things that are the characteristics and earmarks of this grand parish, have all happened in the last 13 years. So tonight, we have a great deal for which to be filled with gratitude, and a great deal to celebrate.
Saying goodbye is never an easy thing to do. It means that our relationships will change—no matter how much we don’t want that to happen. There are so many ways that relationships change. Some people simply drift apart. Others move away and despite all of the promises and all of the convictions that we’ll stay close, that we’ll contact each other once a week, despite promises that we’ll vacation together, call each other on birthdays and major holidays, life goes on and years pass by. It’s one of those things. People drift apart, not because they want to, but because it just happens and it’s something we grieve about. And then one day, without warning, something happens and we become aware of a great sense of loss. It even happens in families—our youngest child insists that he’s ready to walk to the school bus stop all by himself, our daughter gets her driver’s license, our children go away to college, our sons enlist in the armed services, we walk our daughters down the aisle on their wedding day, we care for aging parents, and . . . and we say goodbye to a beloved pastor.
Every time we make a change, every time a change is offered to us, every time a change is forced on us, we’re told that there’s a new opportunity awaiting us—an opportunity to grow, expand our skills and capabilities, and an opportunity to meet new people. Opportunity can be wonderful and sometimes it can bring great distress.
Opportunity—we can either seize it or it will pass us by. We can never be sufficiently prepared for opportunity and most of the time it requires our faithful resignation. Isaiah seized his opportunity in the midst of the smoky temple with the words, “Here am I, Lord, send me.” Jesus, during his agony in the garden, resolved, “Not my will but yours be done.” Fr. Jan was a young associate pastor when he was asked to come to IHM back in 1995, when he said, “Who me?” (Pause)
Opportunity is not a capricious accident. Throughout our long history and tradition as church and God’s people, opportunity is the way God operates with His children. We might not understand every step and every detail, but somehow God’s purpose is there. In the final analysis, most of us end up surrendering not fully sure of what awaits us, trusting and hoping that it is what God wants us to do. Look around here tonight—to anyone who has ever said yes to becoming a commission member, to anyone who has ever felt a sense of unworthiness in becoming a liturgical minister, to anyone who has ever taken a chance to become a part of a ministry and a new program, ask any one of them, ask all of them, “Were you ready, were you sure, were you scared and uncertain, were you sure you were doing the right thing, and they will say, “No!”
Fr. Jan looks for the opportunity in leaving a parish he loves, to lead another. Fr. Howard looks for the opportunity to become a pastor for the first time, after only a short career as a parochial vicar. The world is a better place because Michelangelo didn’t say, “I don’t do ceilings.” Noah didn’t say, “I don’t do arks. David didn’t say, “I don’t do giants.” Paul didn’t say, “I don’t do Gentiles.” Mary Magdalene didn’t say, “I don’t do feet.” And Jesus didn’t say, “I don’t do crosses.” And we are a better people because Fr. Jan didn’t say, “I don’t do IHM.”
We all look for the opportunity today. Even in things we’d rather not do and in places we’d rather not be. God’s grace still awaits us. We bump into grace all the time: every time we give the sign of peace, every time we embrace, every time we prepare a meal for a friend or a parishioner, every time we comfort someone who is struggling and suffering, every time we listen, every time we serve. Grace abounds in this community of ours and binds us together.
There’s a story about two runners who were very close friends. They were running one of those 10 mile mini-marathons. They spent months getting into shape and often worked out together. And then came the day of the marathon. The onlookers noticed that the two men were running together, a few paces apart, coming around a turn with just about a mile remaining in the marathon. They were all alone—no one in front of them and no one trailing them. They appeared to be in a sort of hand-to-hand competition—one would take the lead and hold it for awhile and then he’d appeared to surrender it and the other would take the lead. They were running stride for stride. Then about 25 yards from the finish line they grabbed hands and together they came in linked, in an absolute and deliberate dead heat.
There’s something better in life than the personal desire to win an individual trophy. Sometimes the best achievements are those we share with someone else.
Christian faith is not the triumph of individuals, but rather a community of shared hopes and experiences, frustrations and failures. There is no such thing as a “private” Christian, in the sense of its belonging to me and to no one else. We are all in this together. It is in community that we grow and are formed into God’s people; it is in community that we learn to look beyond our own needs and problems to those of others; it is in community that we are able to see life for what it truly is and keep things in perspective. The phone call to the parish office by a concerned parishioner that sets the prayer circle into action. The home or hospital visit by Sr. Carole. The anointing before surgery by Fr. Jan or Fr. Howard. The teenager who listens to a friend’s tale of family tensions. The team of people who count the weekly parish collection. Those who meet weekly to stuff the inserts in the parish bulletins. The woman, who’s facing cancer treatment herself, who finds the energy to prepare a meal for another parishioner. Ordinary, non-spectacular, run of the mill behavior . . . just the stuff of discipleship where love is chosen. Simple laying down of your life for others. It’s what happens in community; it’s what happens here at Immaculate Heart of Mary every day.
There is this wonderful connectedness we have with one another. It’s the realization that before we cross the finish line, we can join hands and in relationship with one other we can all win the prize together.
We can all build in a life of faith; we can all build as part of this community. But there’s no building by ourselves. We need one another. We need this faith community of Immaculate Heart of Mary. We need our common values and our great hearts. We need to gather around this altar Sunday-after-Sunday sharing in the food that keeps us going and keeps us coming back. We need this community where if you’re missing from Mass someone notices it and calls you to make sure you’re alright. We need this community where 30 to 50 people work late into the night and again the next morning to decorate this church awakening its beauty and transforming it for each season, where your names are added to the list of the sick, where our children and grandchildren are baptized, where tears start to flow when our children line-up to receive First Communion, where our loved-ones are buried and a loving parish wraps its arms of love and support around you.
We each make a great difference in the lives of one another and Fr. Jan has made an immeasurable difference to us as individuals and to us as parish. And while we celebrate much this evening, it is Fr. Jan, more than anything and anyone for which we express our gratitude. When all is said and done, we all count for one another, what we do makes a difference, a bigger difference than we may ever realize, and Christ notices everything we do.
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This page was last updated on 04/29/08. |
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Deacon Dave Shea's Homily
