Whenever my parents got into an argument, as a child it was somewhat of a confusing experience. I didn’t understand how two people who loved each other could disagree, especially when they seemed unanimously in agreement on my own behaviour and how I was to be punished…lol. They were a united front in most things, and so an argument was an experience that was out of the ordinary and an unexpected experience of observing my parents relationship. However, arguments happen often because we “care” and we are willing to discuss the issues we think matter and the issues we are passionate about. I would think that most healthy marriages demand an argument from time to time to demonstrate a spirit of indifference hasn’t taken root, and that our own perspectives are going to continue to be perfected and purified by dialogue and discussion. But as a child, knowing that divorce was a possibility in many people’s homes, my immediate thought, when I observed arguments fostered a devastating fear that my parents might get a divorce. As a child I didn’t have the tools to realize that arguments, even heated arguments do not imply that love is absent. And so I remember asking both my mom and my dad, separately: “Are you getting a divorce?” Their response was exactly the same, and it has made a rather large impact on my own priesthood. Their response was unequivocally, and unconditionally: “never.”
For our culture, to say “never” is to place limits on our own personal autonomy and freedom. It is to close off possibilities in the near future, possibilities we feel entitled to preserve for ourselves. But in reality, love requires a sacrifice of personal liberty, because it recognizes that liberty is not an end in itself, but is there primarily to give way to love. When we slam the door on unfaithfulness and never allow even the thought to be entertained, we are committing ourselves to love. But the moment we begin to reserve for ourselves the hypothetical possibility of going back on our word, we have already lost the deeply rooted spirit of faithfulness, as we have built within our soul an escape-hatch that will always remain a cause of temptation and lead to a lack of interior freedom to say “yes” to our commitment to love.
This April marks my 5th year in the priesthood – and it is has been an incredible adventure. There has been a great deal of hardships, humiliations, failures, arguments, and other things that are best kept between me and those to whom it concerns. There have also been incredible graces, moments of encountering God in a new way through ministry, and also incredible moments of watching others encounter God in miraculous ways. I have seen people experience ecstasy in prayers, grade 8 students receiving the gifts of the Holy Spirit during Adoration, having faith become borne in their own heart. I have heard confessions where massive wounds and heavy burdens have been lifted or healed. I have made relationships with many people in time of death, sickness and joy and sorrow. I have been greatly encouraged by those who have returned to the faith or returned to confession as a result of something I said or did that God blessed with grace.
Whether it was a moment of desolation or consolation, it matters not – my love for Christ and the priesthood has not changed, it has grown. This is simply another way of saying that the Priesthood does not “need me” but that “I need the priesthood.” This vocation is changing my heart every day, humbling it, giving me tougher skin, helping me to put others before my own needs, and above all, placing God in the centre of my life’s priorities, because it is “Truly Right and Just.” If anyone would ever think I would waver, let me re-echo what my own parents said without qualification, without conditions: I will never leave the priesthood.
One of the blogs I posted earlier on in the beginnings of this call of the priesthood pertained to my wearing of the Roman Collar. I still fervently practice this because the level of my commitment and love for the priesthood has taken on this particular means of tangible expression. That is to say, my commitment to being available in serving others has taken on the tangible sign of being visibly present in public, wearing my collar. This is both a chance for consolation and desolation, but it is a commitment not to an external practice itself, but through this external practice to achieve the very spirit behind the ministry I am called to. Not only do I continue to adhere to the wearing of the Roman Collar, but I also maintain boundaries with most people, gently and politely hoping they will refer to me as Fr. Chris, and not the familiar “Chris.” This comes with some challenge, as people often interpret this to mean that I want respect, personally. I have, however, never called my own father “Mike,” and I never plan to. Not because I consider my father as having more dignity than I, and not because “Dad” is a title – but rather because it is a type of relationship that I am called to have with him, and one that I cherish. I have spent a great deal of time reflecting on the type of relationship I have with others, and with a few exceptions, I always realize that I am to be first a Father to others, not just in name, but in the manner of relating to others. This means I am called to provide for their spiritual needs; I am to not ask them to serve me, but I am meant to serve them. I am to die for them, and stand in the way of anything that could harm their spiritual life. These are the things that come to my mind when I hear “Father Chris.” What does not come to my mind is, “special me.” This paternal role is not meant to be denigrated to mere authority and power as some begin to believe it is or some have twisted it to mean for clericalist purposes. Rather, it is more deeply and profoundly a call to love those whom God has entrusted to me, as my own Heavenly Father has loved me.
People have been most receptive of this – with a minority of exceptions. The exceptions normally come from those who have been taught by others to interpret these external signs to only communicate something pejorative. The most enjoyable experience I have of the collar is not when people scorn you publically for being a priest, as I experienced a few times. Rather, I enjoy the times that I have walked into a Pub in Windsor and had people ask me, right there, to hear their confession. Or as I walk through Wal-Mart, the same takes place, with a person who hasn’t been to confession in years. Sometimes at the mall, youth ask for a blessing or simply say hello, and request prayers or we simply share a laugh. These are not exceptional cases, they happen quite often, and it always makes me wonder how much good would I not accomplish today, had I hidden this simple white tab in my shirt? More importantly it has made me deeply aware of how to penetrate the secular culture we live in, by simply being visibly present, showing up, and communicating to others that I am willing to drop everything for them – that is to be: Salt and Light for the world.
It has been five years since I was ordained, this month, and amongst the failures, successes, and the fruitfulness of ministry, harsh remote-judgments and odd canonizations (others oddly think I’m a saint) – all I can say is I’m in it for the long run. And with my brother priests who have proven time in again that they have my back, and that I have theirs, we march forward. To five years in ministry, God I say to you, thank you for this tremendous gift and I will never abandon it: never.