Tuesday, April 08, 2014

Rule #1: Always Go To The Luncheon

This is the first in (God-willing) a series of posts on my personal "Rules for the Priesthood." They are not immutable commandments for anyone else - just some guidelines that I try to follow in my own priestly life.

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Rule #1: Always go to the luncheon.

You've just celebrated a funeral Mass.

You've preached a homily attempting to bring the light of Christ into a time of darkness. You've offered the Eucharist, prayed the final commendation, and traveled to the cemetery where you prayed with the family over their loved one's grave. You've tried your best to help grieving people see the hope that exists because of Christ.

And you're tired.

At this point, there is the temptation to just go home and relax - I know because I've given into it. But, after praying for the deceased and their family, a priest should never underestimate the power of just spending time with the people. Our job does not end when we take off our vestments.

Those moments when a priest makes himself available just to talk are important. It's then that a Catholic who hasn't gone to confession in years might realize, "Priests aren't so scary. I could talk to this guy." It's in those informal moments when someone might ask a question about the faith that they've never had the chance to ask before.

They people a priest interacts with in those very normal settings may have never sat across the table from a priest in their lives. Why deny them that opportunity.

I use the example of a funeral luncheon because it's one of the most common occurrences, but I think, for me, this whole idea gets into a priest's responsibility to be present.

We must be a part of the lives of our people, and that doesn't only happen at Mass. It happens when they invite us to a party, when they talk to us in the grocery store, heck, even on Facebook.

I can't say that I always follow this rule - sometimes I'm tired, sometimes I'm in a hurry, or I'm busy - but I always remind myself when that temptation appears: the temptation to hold back, to not give myself fully.

That's not the priesthood. Ours is a life of self-gift, and that gift has to be given everyday.

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