We
are fundamentally social creatures. Evolution and psychology tell us that we
are hard-wired for living in communities. Even though in our age of instant communication
we are far more networked and our circles of influence are much wider, we still
need other people not only to survive but to thrive. Celebrating milestones reinforces
our connections to other and allows us to know each other better. Even trauma –
traumas like our recent pandemic – bond us together because it reinforces how
much we really need each other.
I
have been reflecting on a couple of significant personal milestones. Last
December, in the middle of our COVID winter (figuratively and literally), I
became Medicare eligible. (Yes, I turned sixty-five.) This was particularly significant
for me, because, in part, none of my grandparents lived that long. My maternal
grandmother lived the longest – 61 years. My parents outlived them but only
because advances in medicine allowed my father to undergo two rounds of
open-heart surgery. Pharmacology prolonged my mother’s life by several years as
she struggled with a combination of chronic illnesses. Both have now been gone
nearly twenty years. Yet, I remain extremely grateful that I have been blessed
with reasonably good health: some reparative surgeries and some physical
therapy here and there keep me going strong. All this makes it hard to believe that I am
now older than my grandparents and seem on track soon to surpass my parents in
healthy longevity.
On
September 1st, I began my seventh year at St. Luke’s – significant
because I have been privileged to serve you as priest and pastor longer than I have
served any other single community. And on the 17th of this month, as
we celebrate our patronal feast of St. Luke, I will celebrate the fortieth
anniversary of my ordination as a priest.
This
last milestone, my ordination anniversary, came into clear focus a little while
ago, when I was referred to as “one of the senior priests of the diocese.”
Senior priest? Oh my. As that conversation progressed, I realized that many of
my colleagues around the diocese were submitting letters of retirement to the
Bishop and Church Pension Fund. It caught me up short. By a quirk of the
calendar, I was always the youngest person in my class – grade school, high
school, college and even seminary. That was a lot of practice at “being the
youngest.” So, being an elder among my colleagues was not something I often envisioned
– until now.
And
yet, I observe these latest milestones with immense gratitude to God, because
it is only by God’s grace in Christ that I have been able to see them pass into
the rearview mirror. I am extremely grateful for the people I have come to know
and serve through more than forty years of ministry – as a lay person, as a
deacon, and as a priest. Every person – each one of you – has influenced my
growth as a servant-leader among you. Without you, the People of God, I would
be nothing – nothing at all.
As I
pass these milestones, and look toward new ones, I earnestly pray words that I
learned many, many years ago and which have become the byword of my life:
Take, Lord, receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, my entire will, all that I have and all that I possess. You have given all to me; now I return it. Give me only your love and your grace. These are enough for me. Then do with me as you will, according to your good pleasure. (St. Ignatius of Loyola)
