The old, wise, priest

It was a random Sunday just three weeks before easter and we actually made it to church. We had a visiting priest come through. A robust, white man with white hair in his mid-70s. The last thing I expected was for him to give the most common sense, bilingual and ecumenical homily I've heard in my entire life as a Catholic.

But that he did. A month has passed, He has risen, and I still vividly recall quite a few moments from that mass. In an effort to spread his message of love and education, here they are, recounted in what I believe to be chronological order.

The silence from a mostly, though not entirely, anglo congregation after the priest had said "Amen" following a prayer, in Spanish, for the adults studying the catechism in hopes of converting was suddenly broken by the priest himself. He looked up and, encouraging us to follow suit, repeated "Amen," followed by an explanation that went something like: We can all say Amen. It's not Spanish or English. It worked. The congregation responded, "Amen."

This should have been my first clue as to where he was headed. He's right. "Amen" traces it's roots all the way back to Aramaic and is used by Jewish, Christian, and Muslim people.

At some point not too long after the "Amen" debacle, the priest went on to explain how lucky we were, as a congregation, to be worshipping in a school cafeteria (our temporary location while our old church is renovated). He reflected on biblical passages that teach the Church is not a place but a people, His people. He seemed to be telling us that we were getting to practice what will eventually be necessary, the gathering for worship wherever He leads us, wherever His people are, rather than where we've put these "churches, temples or mosques." And this was the beginning of his ultimate message.

Delivering what to me was a clear statement of love and repudiation of the injustices occuring in Palestine, he said (I paraphrase): the promised land isn't that place. It doesn't look like that. It isn't a temple, mosque or church. The promised land is the place where all His people gather in peace and love.

And he went further, so much further, stating that the Bible, the Quran, the Torah and other religious texts are very important and should be referenced for their teachings, but they aren't the be-all-end-all. They are just one source, among many, for truths.

He invited us to look beyond those holy books for the truth. He encouraged us to speak and act simply, remembering, always, that, and this I do quote:

"Love received, is love passed on."

So here are the two questions I'll now ask myself and my kids whenever I can, right around dinner time when we share "happies and crappies" (i.e. "highs and lows for those less prone to "bad words"):

1. What are you most grateful for today?

2. What have you done for someone else today?

And here's a question for you. What if you also asked yourself these questions each night?