Meeting a friend in Baltimore

 

Meeting a friend in Baltimore

This morning I got a call from a young man, someone who I would call a friend, and who I knew from my days as the Pastor of St. Wenceslaus, a wonderful "inner-city" parish in East Baltimore. My friend begged me to come and see him in the city because he said he'd been going through some very difficult times and he needed my "help."

Although my schedule was filled, and my time very limited, I decided to respond to his call and so in the early afternoon I took a "quick" drive into the city to see him. I made this decision to visit him somewhat reluctantly because to be honest, my friend has "issues," and sometimes interactions with him can be quite complicated.

He asked me to meet him in front of St. Wenceslaus, and as he said it, he told me how much he missed my presence there. Back in the day he would often come to Mass on Sundays at St. Wens, and in those days he would literally sit in the very last pew of the church-like the tax collector in the Jesus' Gospel parable of "the Pharisee and the Publican" (see Luke 18:9-14). Many times and on many a weekday afternoon, this friend of mine and I would sit together in the front parlor of the rectory of the church, and over coffee and a little something to eat, we would talk about life and the struggles and even the joys therein. I fondly remember those wonderful conversations!

This afternoon, as I drove up Ashland Avenue and arrived in front of the church, I saw him on the steps of that beautiful house of God. It was completely heartbreaking for me to see him when I caught sight of him: he was laying on the highest of those steps, close to the doors, and he was seemingly "passed out." It was as if being on those steps, his frail body hugging those doors, was a place of refuge and some kind of comfort for him. And I knew that entrance so well from my years of warmly greeting parishioners near those very doors. Today, anyone else who might have seen my friend like that may have assumed he was just another "homeless bum" and a "degenerate person." But I knew better! (I quickly snapped this photo of him, hoping I could show it to him at a later time and use it to talk to him about why he had ended up in such a way).

Truth be told, my friend is a heroin addict, and he's homeless and he has many "issues," but he is a human being and he's a real person with feelings and dreams, and he has genuine hopes for better tomorrows. This young man is actually a very good person with a most beautiful heart! I know him to be a person who cares for others, especially those who are suffering, and he, like most of us, wants this world to be a better place for all people.

I got out of my car and I went over to where he was resting on the steps of the church, and I asked him if he was okay. "Are you okay my brother?" I said to him, and then he opened his eyes and looked into mine and he broadly smiled, as if to say "thank you for being here my friend!"

He then looked and stared off into some distant place, and his eyes, changing in that instant to something hollow and sad, spoke loudly to me of some deep inner pain. He told me things haven't been too well for him lately. As I looked into his very tired face, and I observed how frail indeed he looked, I had no doubt he was sharing a great truth, and the reality of tremendous inner pain and struggle.

Among other very sad and unfortunate things, he told me about how just the previous night someone had aggressively approached him on the street, and as he was verbally assaulted and spit upon by that most unfriendly stranger, was told he should "just roll over and die."

Yes, my friend is a drug addict, but he doesn't want to be enslaved by the illness he has. I strongly believe he wants to be like any one of us who desire happiness and contentment in this life.

Think about this: We are quick to say drug addiction is an "illness" but aren't we less willing to treat it as such?

Would I walk into the hospital room of a friend or loved one who is dying of cancer and raise my fisted hand toward them and loudly scream at them saying "how dare you suffer with this illness?" Of course not!

Drug addiction is a very complicated illness, and those of us who have family and friends suffering with this disease certainly must be careful not to become "part of the problem." And often that is a difficult road to walk!

My friends, please don't harshly judge our sisters and brothers who struggle every day with the disease of substance abuse and addiction.

They are people too! They may even be members of our families and/or our own dear friends.

And frankly, none of us are perfect, and we are all sinners!

Please pray for my friend. He's really going through a difficult time during these days.

Thanks. Friar Timothy

COVID-19 Funeral Ministry

COVID-19 Funeral Ministry

For the past year and a half, I have been assigned to the three-parish 'Pastorate' of St Michael the Archangel, the Church of the Annunciation, and St Clement Mary Hofbauer, in the Archdiocese of Baltimore, Maryland, USA. Collaborating with a fantastic Pastorate staff, there are four of us who are Franciscan-friar-priests assigned to this ministry; I serve as the Pastor, one is a full-time Parochial Vicar, while the others are part-time and 'semi-retired' Pastoral Associates. These other wonderful priest-colleagues in ministry, ranging in age from 75 to 80, are each "old enough to be my father" and at the age of 57 I am the youngest of the crowd! I am also far younger than a religious sister on who is our Pastoral Associate, and two of our deacons who are both advanced in age. Normally on any given weekend we see about 1,500 parishioners who come through the doors of our three worship sites; we have both English and Spanish speaking parishioners. Usually, the sacramental and liturgical lives of our parishes keep us all busy!

Under normal circumstances and on a regular basis, our work within these faith communities requires us to minister to grieving and bereaving families; we typically have one or two funerals per week within our Pastorate. More recently the number of funerals has increased: we know some have died because of the COVID-19 pandemic, the reasons for the deaths of some others were not made known to us, but most were probably within the usual spectrum of funerals we would normally have. There is no doubt all our funeral these days have been terribly impacted by this awful pandemic. It has been very heartbreaking and difficult for everyone, but it is especially true for the bereaved who have been unable to give proper funerals and burials to those they have loved. I have experienced this very directly, and as a friar-priest and minister in the church, I cannot even begin to describe the emotional and spiritual pain these strange funeral encounters have caused me, and everyone so sadly affected!

In Baltimore, Maryland, on Thursday, March 12th of this year, and just a couple of days prior to the onslaught of changes to our lives forced by the COVID-19 pandemic, I officiated at what would be my last "normal" funeral. It seems strange to me now to characterize this funeral as "normal;" it was celebrated for a five-year-old boy named +Javier who had struggled for most of his life with some rare form of childhood cancer. Funerals offered for children are never "normal," or so I thought!

On the evening before +Javier's funeral Mass at St Michael, and as is customary, his distraught and grieving parents, his young sister, and numerous others were able to gather for many hours in a local funeral home, and it was crowded there. Family and friends were able to keep vigil for +Javier, they prayed together, they showed their respects, and they gathered closely as they shared great care and affection and offered consolation to all who loved +Javier and his family. Among the tears, there were warm, compassionate, and prolonged handshakes, there were many hugs and long sympathetic embraces, and there were many consoling words closely and quietly whispered into the ears of Javier's parents and loved ones. The next day there were lots of people in the church for +Javier's funeral: along with the many mourners, we had the usual musicians, a cantor and choir, our sacristan, a lector and altar servers, and the funeral director came with his usual entourage of support staff. It was a wonderful show of support for +Javier's grieving family, especially for his most bereaved mom and dad. After the Mass, we had a traditional and solemn funeral procession to the nearby cemetery; many cars followed in the motorcade behind the hearse as it somberly took Javier's mortal remains to his final resting place. And there in the cemetery, and as I recited the final prayers, those gathered huddled together and clutched each other tightly as together they shared the intensity of their grief. This was a "normal" funeral.

Almost overnight, the "normalcy" of funerals, and church services in general, changed for all of us. Because of the COVID-19 pandemic, and just a couple of days after +Javier's funeral, our state and local governments issued strict and unprecedented health guidelines; phrases like "social-distancing," "stay at home," and "shelter in place," concepts especially alien to church people, suddenly became "the norm." Many were already suggesting the use of facial masks, and it was mandated by the government that "social gatherings" be limited to less than ten people. In the blink of an eye, we were no longer able to have "normal" funerals as I had celebrated for +Javier just a few days earlier.

Yet phone calls from grieving families, and from the funeral directors who serve them did not stop, and the volume of calls even seemed to increase. We were going to have a lot of funerals. Very early in this crisis I consulted with the other friar-priests, the religious sister and the deacons with whom I work, and we decided that it was best for just about everyone to observe the "shelter-in-place" guidance as much as possible. Far more than for me personally, their senior ages, and each of their unique health issues would possibly put them at a greater risk for contracting the dreadful virus. They really needed to "shelter in place" so I volunteered to cover all funerals within the Pastorate for as long as necessary.

As I was starting to become accustomed to the new COVID-19 era way of conducting funerals, I began to learn that some of my own friends and acquaintances had also been infected. Most of them survived, but a few did not. And everyone had to deal with new and awkward funeral restrictions. This affected everyone: it made no difference if someone died because of complications due to COVID-19 or if they had passed-away from completely natural and "ordinary" causes. Now, no one would be able to receive the proper funeral respects usually afforded to the dead. These realities have heavily impacted my own emotions as I have proceeded to celebrate quite a few "COVID-19 season" funerals!

How strange it is to visit nearly completely empty funeral homes where the few who gather are required to maintain "social distances," and are not allowed to shake hands and/or to give sympathetic hugs to those who mourn. How strange it is when there are no "in person" opportunities to console grieving children, grandchildren, other family members, loved ones, and friends of the deceased. How strange it is to be a part of "live-streamed" funerals knowing most who are "attending" are those watching from at great distances where they need to remain "safe." How strange it is for me, and even outside of my wildest imaginations, to wear face masks while praying at grave sides! How strange it is when only a few can be present for those graveside prayers, and where sadly we need to say these orations practically shouted from afar.

But I live in hope! When life returns to some semblance of normalcy, we will be able to honor these beloved dead with memorial Masses in our churches. When that day comes, and as not too long ago I had done for +Javier and his family, we will be able to show these dearly departed the "normal" and proper respects they rightfully deserve, and for which their families and friends surely long.

In your kindness, and in these COVID-19 days, please pray for the repose of our recently deceased sisters and brothers +Javier (age 5), +Constance (age 94), +Marion (age 92), +Jose "Pepe" (age 50), +Elmer (age 88), +Margaret Mary (age 99), +Freddy (age 47), +Daniel (age 85), +Santo (age 92), +Lawrence (age 79), +Maria (age 55), +Patricia (age 74), +Salvatore (age 85), +Josephine (age 93), and +Antoinette (age 101). Please pray also for the consolation of their more than usually distraught families during these difficult days!

Friar Timothy

Easter Sunday 2020 COVID-19

My Sisters and Brothers:

Today we celebrate Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord!  On this day we usually gather in our parish churches and we celebrate this day of our salvation with great excitement and joy!  Today we typically dress in our most “Sunday-best” Easter attire and we meet others with warm embraces and greetings of happiness.  On Easter Sunday our churches are always lavishly decorated with vibrant flowers and colorful banners.  As we worship together on this day, we sing triumphant hymns of praise!  We burn incense and use their plumes of mysterious smoke in order to symbolically lift our community’s prayers to heaven!  Normally, and with enthusiasm and jubilant passion, we sing together the EASTER ALLELUIA!  In our homes, families and friends come together for celebrations, and we gather around our Easter tables for traditional and festive meals.  While we share lots of food, we also enjoy Easter sweets, and tons of chocolate!  

This Easter and unfortunately, we instead find ourselves in the middle of this strange coronavirus crisis.  Most of what we know to be “normal” in our lives has been put on hold.  Our celebration on this Easter Sunday, this most solemn day of our liturgical year, has taken on completely different forms.  Yet perhaps, at least from a spiritual growth perspective at this moment in our lives, we may be able to contemplate more deeply the experience of the disciples on Easter morning.

According to the Gospel of John proclaimed in today’s Mass, “Mary of Magdala went to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and she saw the stone removed from the tomb.”   Then, as recorded in the Gospel of Matthew, an angel proclaimed to her: “Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified; he is not here, for he has been raised just as he said; come and see the place where he lay” (Matthew 28:6).  All the Gospels tell us that Mary, and the other women who were with her, then ran to report this news to Simon Peter, to “the other disciple whom Jesus loved,” and to the other disciples.  With these reports of the empty tomb, the disciples began to realize Jesus had likely risen from the dead!  But John’s Gospel also tells us: “they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead” (John 20:9). 

It may be difficult for us to completely realize the depths of emotions experienced by Mary Magdala and the others when they discovered the empty tomb.  On the one hand, they had heard the preaching of Jesus about the Resurrection from the dead and many times they had considered Scriptures that promised what he taught.  They wanted to believe!  On the other hand, the tomb was empty, and it was possible the body had been stolen and their hopes would come to a complete end.  At that precise moment, there might have been a genuine collision between the promises and dreams of their faith, and the very stark reality of human disillusionment easily brought on by fears, doubts, and faithlessness.  This might be the type of “collision” many of us are feeling on this Easter Sunday as we are forced to “stay home,” at a time when our normal celebratory practices are put on hold, and when we find ourselves living with fears about what will happen next, and what tomorrow will bring.   But my friends, at this moment let’s not forget we are EASTER PEOPLE!  In fact, those disciples who discovered the empty tomb early on Easter morning used the experience as their reason to have faith.  What mattered for them at that moment was not precise teachings they had previously heard about the resurrection from the dead.  Instead, what was vital to their faith was in fact the very absence of Jesus’s body in the tomb.  Even though the tomb was empty, and they might have been caught between faith and fear, they chose a higher power that promised resurrection and new life.  They firmly believed Jesus had risen “just as he had said he would.”

On this Easter Sunday 2020, even thought our world seems to have been turned upside-down, let’s have the same confidence and hope as those disciples did very early on that first Easter.  The tomb is empty, but we believe Jesus has risen as he said would.  With such faith, the somberness of our Lenten coronavirus journey promises to be vanquished, and again New Life is promised to all of us.  My friends, let’s encourage each other with the message of our Easter faith, perhaps now and today more than ever! 

                                                                                                  
Praise God!  Friar Timothy