The Chosen
Nov. 13th, 2011 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dedalus_1947It was not you, who chose me,
But I who chose you,
And appointed you
To go and bear fruit that will remain,
So that whatever you ask
The Father in my name,
He will give you.
This I command you:
Love one another.
(John 15: 16-17)
The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels has been in operation for nine years now, but many Catholics in Los Angeles still don’t like it. I have to admit that it is a challenging structure to appreciate, having none of the soaring aesthetics and inspiring pinnacles and towers of the beautiful gothic cathedrals of Europe. The first time I saw it in 2002, Our Lady’s Cathedral looked like a boxy, adobe mission church on steroids. Standing with my wife Kathy on the corner of Grand Avenue and Temple Street, I again thought that while the architecture might complement the semi-arid topography of Southern California, it still looked like a sandstone-colored presidio with a bell tower. That impression would change, I knew, once we entered the building, and passed through the enclosed hallway, along the side of the church. Suddenly we would be met with an explosion of all-embracing, streams of golden-hued light, which fills the vast worship space with glowing color. It’s as if the floor, aisles, and pews vanished in a splash of glistening air molecules, leaving only the elevated, tapestry walls, and hovering windows to guide our way to the altar. The interior of the Cathedral, with this incredible use of light through specially glazed windows, always affects me that way. I feel as though I’m actually in the company of the “communion of saints” suspended on the wall tapestry, and in a place no longer on this earth. Only the feel of the printed program in my hand reminded me that we were in this holy space on this particular Saturday morning to witness the ordination of our brother-in-law Dick, as a Permanent Deacon of the Catholic Church.
About five years ago, when I learned from Kathy that Dick intended to study for the diaconate and become a deacon of the church, I was surprised. Oh, I knew that he was a good family man, a serious Catholic, and very active in his home parish, but to actively seek ordination into a sacred order of the Catholic clergy was something else. I always thought of the diaconate as a transitional order for men on their way to the priesthood. For example, Father Dave, Prisa’s Carmelite friend who baptized her daughter Sarah in May, was ordained a deacon before receiving Holy Orders as a priest (see Child of God). Dick, on the other hand, was already a loving husband, a caring father, and a successful banker and businessman, so I couldn’t conceive of him aspiring to anything like the priesthood. I still remembered Dick as the determined young suitor from Notre Dame University, who was so in love with Kathy’s sister, Patti, that he followed her to Los Angeles after his graduation in 1975, and courted her relentlessly until they married in 1977. Dick was a serious-minded kid from Green Bay, Wisconsin who, once you got to know him, loved to converse, argue, and laugh. He had a wry sense of humor and was doggedly persistent in achieving all his goals. I got to know him best during his early-marriage days, when he and Patti moved into their second-floor apartment in Glendale and we lived in Reseda. We doubled on dates sometimes, but mostly visited each other. Patti and Dick were also regular babysitters for our first child, Toñito, and loved playing with him, and watching him unfold into childhood. They became annual guests at my mother’s Posada parties on Christmas Eve, after my sister Stela invited them during an Oktoberfest encounter. When their own children, Danny and Brigid, came onto the scene, they purchased homes in the South Bay section of Los Angeles, and our interactions became scarcer and scarcer, occurring mainly during general family celebrations and get-togethers.
I knew Patti had become deeply involved in the religious activities of her parish when she was named Director of Religious Education (DRE), but I knew little of Dick’s religious interests, other than his membership on the parish’s Finance Committee. When I learned that his pastor had recruited him as a candidate for deacon, I was surprised. When I was told of the time and training required for the diaconate, I was stunned. The diaconate required a four to five year commitment for both the candidate and his wife for weekend classes twice a month, and a weekend retreat twice a year. On one occasion, while visiting us after one of these training days, Dick described his curriculum. His work consisted of a lot of academic study of the bible and exegesis of the Old Testament, and lots and lots of spirituality workshops to foster constant prayer. Prayers, and the integration of the Liturgy of the Hours into his daily life, were the best part of the experience, he explained, and the hardest. I remembered thinking at the time that prayer was probably the keystone to a meaningful church ministry. Dick had the intelligence, common sense, patience, and caring to do all the work required, but prayer, and the support of his wife, Patti, would be his only real help in the years ahead.
It has been five-months now since Dick’s ordination on June 11, 2011, and I couldn’t tell you why it took me so long to write about it. I suppose I was a little awe-struck by the occasion, the setting, and the ritual, and needed some time to process the event and everything I learned about duty, service, and Christian love.
The day was overcast and cold – perfect weather for a June morning when formal attire is required, and men and women come dressed in robes and miters, suits and dresses. I had never been to an ordination ceremony of any kind and was unsure about what was going to happen. The interior light of the cathedral glowed in a rich golden hue, and cast an ethereal haze on all the proceedings. The pews were divided into clearly marked sections with red signs on golden rods, indicating the different seating arrangements. The tapestry saints hovered above the heads of the seated guests, giving the impression that they too had joined the viewing of this important event. An usher guided us to an area at the side of the altar, reserved for the candidates and their families, and there Kathy and I found the rest of our party. Dick’s mother and two sisters were already seated, along with three members of Patti’s family, her sister Tootie, with her daughter Maria Teresa, and our brother-in-law, Luis. We quickly spotted Patti and Dick’s children, Danny and Brigid, standing in the back of the pews, and looking to the needs of their grandmother, aunts, and uncles. Eventually Dick’s brother, Bob, and Patti’s sister Tere, with her two daughters, Maggie and Nora, would join us before the start of the ceremony. We were near enough to the altar to insure close-range photography of the sacramental ritual, and I began snapping pictures of the setting until a booming pulpit voice from the presiding priest stopped me cold.
“This liturgy is being photographed by a professional photographer,” he stated, in a firm and commanding tone. “To maintain a spirit of reverence and solemnity for the ceremony which is to come, please refrain from taking photographs or videotaping during the liturgy. Also, please turn off cell phones and pagers. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Normally I would have interpreted this prohibition as a ban on the use of flash photography, but something in the unyielding voice and manner of the priest cowed me for the remainder of the ceremony. To my regret, I sullenly obeyed these instructions for most of the rite, until Kathy and Luis’ urgings finally melted my self-imposed resolve in time for me to take some photos of Patti at the conclusion of the ceremony.
Even my dampened mood could not dim the pomp and majesty of the opening procession, as wave after wave of bishops, in their immaculate white robes and mitered hats, followed by tides of monsignors, pastors, priests, and deacons, flowed down the center aisle to take their places in the sanctuary of the altar. At the end of this ribbon of gold and white, came 14 men in plain, white albs, accompanied by their wives, who joined their families in the side pews to listen and watch the unique ceremony that followed. It became obvious to me right away that the readings and gospel were designed to spell out the duties and obligations of these future deacons. The first reading from the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 6: 1-7) was very forthright, and it explained that when the early Christians began complaining to the 12 apostles that widows and orphans were being neglected in the daily distribution of food, the apostles decided that “it is not right for us to neglect the word of God to serve at table.” So they chose 7 reputable men, “filled with the Spirit and wisdom, whom we shall appoint to this task, whereas we shall devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.” Those seven became the first deacons of the Church. Similarly in the second reading (1Timothy 3: 8-10, 12-13), the epistle itemized very precisely how deacons were to live and act: “deacons must be dignified, not deceitful, not addicted to drink, not greedy for sordid gain, holding fast to the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience. Moreover, they should be tested first; then, if there is nothing against them, let them serve as deacons. Deacons may be married only once and must manage their children and households well. Thus those who serve well as deacons gain good standing and much confidence in the faith in Christ Jesus.” Thankfully, the Gospel of John (John 15: 9-17) was a little more uplifting in its message to the deacons. In it Jesus explained, “it was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you”. Then Jesus gave his disciples their clearest order: “This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.” At the conclusion of the Gospel, each of the 14 men were called up by name before the archbishop, and formally “elected” as worthy candidates for the diaconate before sitting around the altar to hear the homily by The Most Rev. Jose H. Gomez, Archbishop of Los Angeles. I remember leaning over to Kathy and saying something like, “I didn’t realized how difficult this ministry was going to be.”
The homily was a reflection on the readings and a clarification as to what the archbishop saw as the role of the modern deacon. He reiterated that “by the laying on of hands” they would join the long line of deacons and saints that stretched back to the very founding of Christ’s Church. He stressed the gospel’s message that they were chosen to this service by Christ himself, and it was incumbent on them to continue a life of prayer, wisdom, and knowledge. He reminded them that their ministry of service was not only about actions and activities, but doing them with love. Archbishop Gomez repeated Christ’s words that they were commanded to love, “to love even to the point of laying down your life for the love of God and the love of your brothers and sisters”. He ended his message by demanding their obedience. Although he stated it gently, by saying, “As those early deacons did, I urge you: stay close to me as your archbishop, and I will stay close to you as my deacons” – it was very clear that they would be working for him.
To be honest, I was more than a little stunned by the readings and the archbishop’s homily. A job description was being announced that stressed four points: 1) There weren’t enough priests to proclaim the Word of God and serve the needs of the people of the Church, so deacons must provide those services; 2) Deacons must lead righteous and selfless lives, and act beyond reproach; 3) Deacons are chosen by Christ and they are commanded to serve and love the people they serve; and finally, 4) Deacons are to obey the archbishop – they were the bishop’s men. This is not what I expected to hear in an ordination that I imagined would be akin to a graduation ceremony. I assumed that for laymen not continuing toward the priesthood, the deaconship was a sort of honorary degree given by the Church to recognize their dedication to a parish. On previous occasions, I’d seen deacons on the altar with priests, participating in the sacrifice of the Mass, or acting as a priest’s representative at the burial portion of a church funeral. These appearances seemed ceremonial, and the deacons, in their robes and vestments, were simply acting as sacramental substitutes. That image of a deacon didn’t fit the job description I was hearing now. In essence, deacons were to do the heavy lifting of the Church, and they showed up when a priest was not available, or could not complete the Spiritual and Corporal Works of Mercy that were necessary to sustain a church.
Following the homily, the proceedings resumed their traditional ritual flavor, with carefully choreographed words and movements. The ceremony resembled a sacramental production number filled with inspirational singing, movements, and prayers, all meant to transport these men into another realm beyond the senses. It began with each candidate kneeling and placing his hands in those of the archbishop and declaring his promise to fulfill his duties by saying aloud, “I promise”, or “prometo”, as a sign of obedience and commitment. Then they prostrated themselves before God and the assembly to pray the Litany of Saints, and beseech their help and intercession. Caught up in the significance of this posture and prayer, I actually felt for a moment that the candidates were joined in communion with the saints on the wall tapestry, who leaned forward to answer the supplication with a resounding, “we will”. Then came the laying on of hands in which the archbishop placed his hands atop the head of each candidate in silence and conferred the sacrament of ordination. Finally, after a prayer of consecration, the new deacons stood around the altar as their wives and pastors vested them with the symbols of their office. There I saw the two people most instrumental in Dick’s investiture, his wife, Patti, and pastor, Monsignor Barry, hang the stole from his shoulder to his side, and then dress him in his dalmatic robe.
I thought the ceremony was over at that point, until I saw the new deacons lining up for another ritual. Once again, each deacon knelt before the archbishop, who handed him an oversized, Book of Gospels, with the words:
“Receive the Gospel of Christ, whose herald you are today. Believe what you read. Teach what you believe, and practice what you teach”.
Archbishop Gomez stated this litany 14 times, and each repetition drilled the significance of the words deeper and deeper into my consciousness. What a simple and overpowering mandate: To be consistent in believing, teaching, and practicing the lessons of the gospel.
“Man”, I thought to myself, “if there was ever a hint of envy or awe at the ministry Dick was choosing, it disappeared with those words.” The new deacon was beginning an amazing journey on a new and challenging road, and the map was being spelled out for him in those 23 simple words.
Then each vested deacon arose, holding his book high over his head, and walked back to the pews to symbolically place it in the hands of his wife and partner in ministry. It was at that point, with Luis and Kathy urging to take a photograph of that exchange, when I realized I had blown it. Not only had I failed to record all the important scenes and images of this ceremony, but the one I regretted most was the moment Dick’s eyes met Patti’s, and she accepted the Book of Gospels into her hands. I imagined those eyes communicating his love and appreciation for her constancy over these last 5 years, and admitting that he could not travel this new road alone. Only her love and companionship could sustain him. The Sign of Peace ended the investiture portion of the ordination and the mass proceeded with the Liturgy of the Eucharist.
As moving as all these moments were, a particularly emotional moment occurred near the end of the service, when each of the 14 wives was called forth to the sanctuary to receive their certificates of completion of the deaconate program. Patti left Dick’s side and joined the circle of women around the altar, and I finally was moved to take out my camera out and record those important images. Then Archbishop Gomez, the other bishops, pastors, and priests thanked and applauded the work, dedication, and commitment of these women, who were asked to play such a major part of the diaconate ministry. They would not wear a title or the vestments, but they were the rock on which the foundation was laid, and they merited the recognition. I continued taking pictures until the end of the ceremony when Patti and Dick joined the recessional line and walked down the central aisle of the Cathedral and out the door.
Following the liturgy, the newly ordained deacons and their wives proceeded to the Cathedral Plaza where the deacons gave their first blessings to fellow parishioners, family, and friends. There is long-held belief among Catholics that the first blessings of newly ordained priests or deacons are extraordinarily powerful. I’m not sure if I believed that, but I still felt an overpowering imperative to congratulate and hug this man, brother-in-law, and friend who had chosen such difficult and loving journey for the remainder of his life. To me, Dick would always be that Young Lochinvar who came out of the mid-West, to woo and wed the smart and beautiful Patricia Greaney. Only now he was also a deacon, a man of God, in the service of Christ and his teachings. So I figured I’d hedge my bets and ask for his blessing anyway.
If you are interested in seeing more photos of the ordination, click on the link: 2011-06-11 Deacon’s Day.
But I who chose you,
And appointed you
To go and bear fruit that will remain,
So that whatever you ask
The Father in my name,
He will give you.
This I command you:
Love one another.
(John 15: 16-17)
The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels has been in operation for nine years now, but many Catholics in Los Angeles still don’t like it. I have to admit that it is a challenging structure to appreciate, having none of the soaring aesthetics and inspiring pinnacles and towers of the beautiful gothic cathedrals of Europe. The first time I saw it in 2002, Our Lady’s Cathedral looked like a boxy, adobe mission church on steroids. Standing with my wife Kathy on the corner of Grand Avenue and Temple Street, I again thought that while the architecture might complement the semi-arid topography of Southern California, it still looked like a sandstone-colored presidio with a bell tower. That impression would change, I knew, once we entered the building, and passed through the enclosed hallway, along the side of the church. Suddenly we would be met with an explosion of all-embracing, streams of golden-hued light, which fills the vast worship space with glowing color. It’s as if the floor, aisles, and pews vanished in a splash of glistening air molecules, leaving only the elevated, tapestry walls, and hovering windows to guide our way to the altar. The interior of the Cathedral, with this incredible use of light through specially glazed windows, always affects me that way. I feel as though I’m actually in the company of the “communion of saints” suspended on the wall tapestry, and in a place no longer on this earth. Only the feel of the printed program in my hand reminded me that we were in this holy space on this particular Saturday morning to witness the ordination of our brother-in-law Dick, as a Permanent Deacon of the Catholic Church.
About five years ago, when I learned from Kathy that Dick intended to study for the diaconate and become a deacon of the church, I was surprised. Oh, I knew that he was a good family man, a serious Catholic, and very active in his home parish, but to actively seek ordination into a sacred order of the Catholic clergy was something else. I always thought of the diaconate as a transitional order for men on their way to the priesthood. For example, Father Dave, Prisa’s Carmelite friend who baptized her daughter Sarah in May, was ordained a deacon before receiving Holy Orders as a priest (see Child of God). Dick, on the other hand, was already a loving husband, a caring father, and a successful banker and businessman, so I couldn’t conceive of him aspiring to anything like the priesthood. I still remembered Dick as the determined young suitor from Notre Dame University, who was so in love with Kathy’s sister, Patti, that he followed her to Los Angeles after his graduation in 1975, and courted her relentlessly until they married in 1977. Dick was a serious-minded kid from Green Bay, Wisconsin who, once you got to know him, loved to converse, argue, and laugh. He had a wry sense of humor and was doggedly persistent in achieving all his goals. I got to know him best during his early-marriage days, when he and Patti moved into their second-floor apartment in Glendale and we lived in Reseda. We doubled on dates sometimes, but mostly visited each other. Patti and Dick were also regular babysitters for our first child, Toñito, and loved playing with him, and watching him unfold into childhood. They became annual guests at my mother’s Posada parties on Christmas Eve, after my sister Stela invited them during an Oktoberfest encounter. When their own children, Danny and Brigid, came onto the scene, they purchased homes in the South Bay section of Los Angeles, and our interactions became scarcer and scarcer, occurring mainly during general family celebrations and get-togethers.
I knew Patti had become deeply involved in the religious activities of her parish when she was named Director of Religious Education (DRE), but I knew little of Dick’s religious interests, other than his membership on the parish’s Finance Committee. When I learned that his pastor had recruited him as a candidate for deacon, I was surprised. When I was told of the time and training required for the diaconate, I was stunned. The diaconate required a four to five year commitment for both the candidate and his wife for weekend classes twice a month, and a weekend retreat twice a year. On one occasion, while visiting us after one of these training days, Dick described his curriculum. His work consisted of a lot of academic study of the bible and exegesis of the Old Testament, and lots and lots of spirituality workshops to foster constant prayer. Prayers, and the integration of the Liturgy of the Hours into his daily life, were the best part of the experience, he explained, and the hardest. I remembered thinking at the time that prayer was probably the keystone to a meaningful church ministry. Dick had the intelligence, common sense, patience, and caring to do all the work required, but prayer, and the support of his wife, Patti, would be his only real help in the years ahead.
It has been five-months now since Dick’s ordination on June 11, 2011, and I couldn’t tell you why it took me so long to write about it. I suppose I was a little awe-struck by the occasion, the setting, and the ritual, and needed some time to process the event and everything I learned about duty, service, and Christian love.
The day was overcast and cold – perfect weather for a June morning when formal attire is required, and men and women come dressed in robes and miters, suits and dresses. I had never been to an ordination ceremony of any kind and was unsure about what was going to happen. The interior light of the cathedral glowed in a rich golden hue, and cast an ethereal haze on all the proceedings. The pews were divided into clearly marked sections with red signs on golden rods, indicating the different seating arrangements. The tapestry saints hovered above the heads of the seated guests, giving the impression that they too had joined the viewing of this important event. An usher guided us to an area at the side of the altar, reserved for the candidates and their families, and there Kathy and I found the rest of our party. Dick’s mother and two sisters were already seated, along with three members of Patti’s family, her sister Tootie, with her daughter Maria Teresa, and our brother-in-law, Luis. We quickly spotted Patti and Dick’s children, Danny and Brigid, standing in the back of the pews, and looking to the needs of their grandmother, aunts, and uncles. Eventually Dick’s brother, Bob, and Patti’s sister Tere, with her two daughters, Maggie and Nora, would join us before the start of the ceremony. We were near enough to the altar to insure close-range photography of the sacramental ritual, and I began snapping pictures of the setting until a booming pulpit voice from the presiding priest stopped me cold.
“This liturgy is being photographed by a professional photographer,” he stated, in a firm and commanding tone. “To maintain a spirit of reverence and solemnity for the ceremony which is to come, please refrain from taking photographs or videotaping during the liturgy. Also, please turn off cell phones and pagers. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Normally I would have interpreted this prohibition as a ban on the use of flash photography, but something in the unyielding voice and manner of the priest cowed me for the remainder of the ceremony. To my regret, I sullenly obeyed these instructions for most of the rite, until Kathy and Luis’ urgings finally melted my self-imposed resolve in time for me to take some photos of Patti at the conclusion of the ceremony.
Even my dampened mood could not dim the pomp and majesty of the opening procession, as wave after wave of bishops, in their immaculate white robes and mitered hats, followed by tides of monsignors, pastors, priests, and deacons, flowed down the center aisle to take their places in the sanctuary of the altar. At the end of this ribbon of gold and white, came 14 men in plain, white albs, accompanied by their wives, who joined their families in the side pews to listen and watch the unique ceremony that followed. It became obvious to me right away that the readings and gospel were designed to spell out the duties and obligations of these future deacons. The first reading from the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 6: 1-7) was very forthright, and it explained that when the early Christians began complaining to the 12 apostles that widows and orphans were being neglected in the daily distribution of food, the apostles decided that “it is not right for us to neglect the word of God to serve at table.” So they chose 7 reputable men, “filled with the Spirit and wisdom, whom we shall appoint to this task, whereas we shall devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.” Those seven became the first deacons of the Church. Similarly in the second reading (1Timothy 3: 8-10, 12-13), the epistle itemized very precisely how deacons were to live and act: “deacons must be dignified, not deceitful, not addicted to drink, not greedy for sordid gain, holding fast to the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience. Moreover, they should be tested first; then, if there is nothing against them, let them serve as deacons. Deacons may be married only once and must manage their children and households well. Thus those who serve well as deacons gain good standing and much confidence in the faith in Christ Jesus.” Thankfully, the Gospel of John (John 15: 9-17) was a little more uplifting in its message to the deacons. In it Jesus explained, “it was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you”. Then Jesus gave his disciples their clearest order: “This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.” At the conclusion of the Gospel, each of the 14 men were called up by name before the archbishop, and formally “elected” as worthy candidates for the diaconate before sitting around the altar to hear the homily by The Most Rev. Jose H. Gomez, Archbishop of Los Angeles. I remember leaning over to Kathy and saying something like, “I didn’t realized how difficult this ministry was going to be.”
The homily was a reflection on the readings and a clarification as to what the archbishop saw as the role of the modern deacon. He reiterated that “by the laying on of hands” they would join the long line of deacons and saints that stretched back to the very founding of Christ’s Church. He stressed the gospel’s message that they were chosen to this service by Christ himself, and it was incumbent on them to continue a life of prayer, wisdom, and knowledge. He reminded them that their ministry of service was not only about actions and activities, but doing them with love. Archbishop Gomez repeated Christ’s words that they were commanded to love, “to love even to the point of laying down your life for the love of God and the love of your brothers and sisters”. He ended his message by demanding their obedience. Although he stated it gently, by saying, “As those early deacons did, I urge you: stay close to me as your archbishop, and I will stay close to you as my deacons” – it was very clear that they would be working for him.
To be honest, I was more than a little stunned by the readings and the archbishop’s homily. A job description was being announced that stressed four points: 1) There weren’t enough priests to proclaim the Word of God and serve the needs of the people of the Church, so deacons must provide those services; 2) Deacons must lead righteous and selfless lives, and act beyond reproach; 3) Deacons are chosen by Christ and they are commanded to serve and love the people they serve; and finally, 4) Deacons are to obey the archbishop – they were the bishop’s men. This is not what I expected to hear in an ordination that I imagined would be akin to a graduation ceremony. I assumed that for laymen not continuing toward the priesthood, the deaconship was a sort of honorary degree given by the Church to recognize their dedication to a parish. On previous occasions, I’d seen deacons on the altar with priests, participating in the sacrifice of the Mass, or acting as a priest’s representative at the burial portion of a church funeral. These appearances seemed ceremonial, and the deacons, in their robes and vestments, were simply acting as sacramental substitutes. That image of a deacon didn’t fit the job description I was hearing now. In essence, deacons were to do the heavy lifting of the Church, and they showed up when a priest was not available, or could not complete the Spiritual and Corporal Works of Mercy that were necessary to sustain a church.
Following the homily, the proceedings resumed their traditional ritual flavor, with carefully choreographed words and movements. The ceremony resembled a sacramental production number filled with inspirational singing, movements, and prayers, all meant to transport these men into another realm beyond the senses. It began with each candidate kneeling and placing his hands in those of the archbishop and declaring his promise to fulfill his duties by saying aloud, “I promise”, or “prometo”, as a sign of obedience and commitment. Then they prostrated themselves before God and the assembly to pray the Litany of Saints, and beseech their help and intercession. Caught up in the significance of this posture and prayer, I actually felt for a moment that the candidates were joined in communion with the saints on the wall tapestry, who leaned forward to answer the supplication with a resounding, “we will”. Then came the laying on of hands in which the archbishop placed his hands atop the head of each candidate in silence and conferred the sacrament of ordination. Finally, after a prayer of consecration, the new deacons stood around the altar as their wives and pastors vested them with the symbols of their office. There I saw the two people most instrumental in Dick’s investiture, his wife, Patti, and pastor, Monsignor Barry, hang the stole from his shoulder to his side, and then dress him in his dalmatic robe.
I thought the ceremony was over at that point, until I saw the new deacons lining up for another ritual. Once again, each deacon knelt before the archbishop, who handed him an oversized, Book of Gospels, with the words:
“Receive the Gospel of Christ, whose herald you are today. Believe what you read. Teach what you believe, and practice what you teach”.
Archbishop Gomez stated this litany 14 times, and each repetition drilled the significance of the words deeper and deeper into my consciousness. What a simple and overpowering mandate: To be consistent in believing, teaching, and practicing the lessons of the gospel.
“Man”, I thought to myself, “if there was ever a hint of envy or awe at the ministry Dick was choosing, it disappeared with those words.” The new deacon was beginning an amazing journey on a new and challenging road, and the map was being spelled out for him in those 23 simple words.
Then each vested deacon arose, holding his book high over his head, and walked back to the pews to symbolically place it in the hands of his wife and partner in ministry. It was at that point, with Luis and Kathy urging to take a photograph of that exchange, when I realized I had blown it. Not only had I failed to record all the important scenes and images of this ceremony, but the one I regretted most was the moment Dick’s eyes met Patti’s, and she accepted the Book of Gospels into her hands. I imagined those eyes communicating his love and appreciation for her constancy over these last 5 years, and admitting that he could not travel this new road alone. Only her love and companionship could sustain him. The Sign of Peace ended the investiture portion of the ordination and the mass proceeded with the Liturgy of the Eucharist.
As moving as all these moments were, a particularly emotional moment occurred near the end of the service, when each of the 14 wives was called forth to the sanctuary to receive their certificates of completion of the deaconate program. Patti left Dick’s side and joined the circle of women around the altar, and I finally was moved to take out my camera out and record those important images. Then Archbishop Gomez, the other bishops, pastors, and priests thanked and applauded the work, dedication, and commitment of these women, who were asked to play such a major part of the diaconate ministry. They would not wear a title or the vestments, but they were the rock on which the foundation was laid, and they merited the recognition. I continued taking pictures until the end of the ceremony when Patti and Dick joined the recessional line and walked down the central aisle of the Cathedral and out the door.
Following the liturgy, the newly ordained deacons and their wives proceeded to the Cathedral Plaza where the deacons gave their first blessings to fellow parishioners, family, and friends. There is long-held belief among Catholics that the first blessings of newly ordained priests or deacons are extraordinarily powerful. I’m not sure if I believed that, but I still felt an overpowering imperative to congratulate and hug this man, brother-in-law, and friend who had chosen such difficult and loving journey for the remainder of his life. To me, Dick would always be that Young Lochinvar who came out of the mid-West, to woo and wed the smart and beautiful Patricia Greaney. Only now he was also a deacon, a man of God, in the service of Christ and his teachings. So I figured I’d hedge my bets and ask for his blessing anyway.
Ordination
Date: 2011-11-24 01:32 pm (UTC)The church is fortunate to have him (and Patti) as servant leaders. And, they are fortunate to be surrounded by people who love and support them.
Michele (Williams) Abbott
Re: Ordination
Date: 2012-03-20 05:36 am (UTC)