That Door Should Have Been Closed

As I was standing in line for Penance, I glanced at the front of the line.  A mother was guiding her young son into the confessional.

She said something to the priest, and I heard him exclaim, "It's his first time, is it?", then to the boy "Hi there!  Have a seat!"  

As the boy sat down, the mother slowly backed out and started to close the door.

"Oh, you can keep that open, thank you," the priest said to the woman.  

She left the door open and stepped to the side, out of view.

As the confession began, and I heard the reassuring tone of the priest, I smiled.  

"What a considerate priest," I said to myself.  "He left the door open so the kid could see his mom if he got nervous."

As I returned to preparing my thoughts, I got a pit in my stomach the size of a basketball.

I realized the priest did not leave the door open because he was being thoughtful.

He left it open because he had to.  

He had to because a few priests did terrible things, and a blood-sucking media stereotyped an entire profession.  So instead of this kid having a private confession, he shared it with everyone standing there.

I stood there in disgust.  

That should have been a conversation between the child, the priest, and Jesus.

That should have been a beautiful first Penance.  

That door should have been closed.

Stirring Up the Pot

I had the pleasure of hearing a wonderful homily on Thanksgiving.

I wanted to pass it on to all of you (I'll paraphrase, of course).

Our priest commented that with so many negative things happening in our country right now, it is easy to question what God is doing during all this.

Unemployment is still high.

We just elected a president that does not share many of the same values as Catholics, namely pro-life initiatives.

Hurricane Sandy just wreaked havoc in the northeast, leaving many homeless.

Etcetera, etcetera.

He then gave us an analogy.

He told us that each morning, he makes instant coffee.  He puts two scoops of powdered coffee in a mug, then two packets of Splenda, and finally some creamer.  

Then he stirs it vigorously, and made the hand motion to emphasize the point.

Finally he adds steaming hot water, to make, in his words, a delicious cup of coffee.

He then asked those in attendance what ingredient made the coffee taste so great?

Was it the coffee?  The Splenda?  The water?

"No," he told us, shaking his head.  "It was the stirring."

Without the stirring, he said, the coffee would have tasted either too black, or too creamy, or too sugary.  

"It was the stirring that made the goodness come out," he said  as he smiled.

"And that is what I believe God is doing right now.  He is stirring all of us to bring out the sweetness... to make all the goodness come out."

What a beautiful perspective, on a day that begs us to look at the silver lining in everything and offer thanks.

God Bless.

They

They devote every day to God. Every single one.

They spend time teaching, so that we can be inspired.

They get up in front of a crowd every week, when many are afraid to do that just once.

They listen for countless hours as we pour our sins and problems on them, yet they rarely return the favor.

They are the vessel for the miracle of the Eucharist.

They are held to unreasonable standards of perfection, even though they are as human as you and I.

They suffer a disproportionate amount of backlash because of the mistakes of a small sample of their peers. (I can't think of a profession with a more unbalanced scale.)

They, despite it all, continue to serve and pray for us. Much more than we do for them.

They are our front line of defense against the evil one.

They need our prayers and our support.

Please say an extra prayer for the priesthood this Good Shepherd Sunday.

God Bless you.