Goodbye

Gun’s Quote-of-the-Week:

“A friend is one to whom you can pour out the contents of your heart, chaff and grain alike. Knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.”

-Unknown

When I was a senior in high school, a new priest moved into town. That summer, several volunteers and I helped him move in. This past weekend, that same priest said his last Mass in Cameron, MO, and is moving back into Kansas City, MO.

This man has had a profound impact on the community that he served for so many years. He had a profound impact on my family. There were many hard times he had counseled me through, and there were many times he did the same for my brothers.

Below was his last homily, posted on the internet for all to see. It serves as a reminder that we never know how long we will stay where we are and when we will have to say “Goodbye.” Yet, I hope it also serves as a reminder that while you are there you can touch the loves of those around you and simultaneously be touched by them, too.

Eleven years ago when Bishop Boland first listed options for my next parish assignment, he said in his Irish accent, “It may not be your cup of tea, but Cameron is open.” I said, “Well, if the people there need a pastor, I would not rule it out.” After the appointments, a priest on the personnel board said to me, “You won’t have to stay there long. If it doesn’t work out, ask for a different parish in a couple of years.” But once I moved in, I told my friends, “I’m in no hurry to leave Cameron. It’s a great place to wake up in the morning. It’s less frantic than Kansas City. People get along. They love their parish and they love their town.”

When a priest becomes a pastor, the people end up telling him what kind of priest he should be. You taught me to care about the joys and troubles in your lives, to respect the history of the places I would lead, to meet others from the community, and to support local businesses. You also challenged me to offer my best because you were no less valuable than anyone in the city or anywhere else on this planet. I leave here feeling greatly enriched by the Church and community I came to serve. Cameron and Maysville have definitely been my cup of tea.

We lived through a lot together. I started work here on July 2^nd, 2001, just a few months before the attacks of September 11^th. In 2002, my father died, in 2003 I turned 50, and in 2004 you helped me observe my silver anniversary as a priest. Many times you welcomed my mother here to celebrate her birthday together with your annual St. Patrick’s Day events. You helped me pass my milestones even as you were passing your own. I experienced the support of talented staff, councils and boards. We made it through the difficult decisions to renovate both St. Aloysius Church and St. Munchin Church. You let me go to help priests and people around the world prepare for the revised English translation of the mass, and you stayed with me here as we stepped into those new words together.

On my travels, people frequently said to me, “Be sure and thank your parishioners for letting us borrow you.” You should know this: What made those talks so effective was not my knowledge of Latin, history, grammar, or liturgy. Other people have that. What made my talks effective was that I explained many points with words like “Well, in my parish, we do this.” People knew I couldn't talk about theory without having to deal with practice. They didn’t want a university professor; they wanted a pastor. They wanted me because they respected you; they knew you were keeping me real. And you should know this too: no matter how far I went or how long I stayed, the one thing I wanted most on every trip was to get back home.

Over these years we lived through joy and sorrow, suffering and glory like any family. Even though you call me “Father”, I call you “brothers and sisters” because we have one Father, and we are all his children. Saint Paul says today, “We are children of God, and if children then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.” That inheritance sounds great. But then Paul throws in this reminder. We are “joint heirs with Christ, if only we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.” I have inherited a lot from you - a new appreciation of community, faith and service, even at the cost of tears and struggles. But what we inherit together is something far greater - the glory that we share with Christ. I thank God for revealing the glory of Christ to me through you.



…and that’s why it’s a Gun’s Quote!