Memorable Moments in Ministry

In the Beginning…

I remember moving into the parish - my first. Trying to remember which key opened which door, learning how to lock the church, fearful that I would enter the wrong security codes and set off the alarm and not know how to turn it off. I wasn’t just starting a new job. Becoming a priest and moving to a new city, into a new house, and a church with 5,000 families was more akin to getting married, starting a new career with a new company, moving to a new city and having children - alot of them - all at the same time. I moved into the parish in July and my pastor reminded me he was going on vacation in August. As August approached I asked him when in August he would be gone and, to my great distress, he replied “August”, the month of August! Three weeks in a parish, new vocation, new job, new people, new everything and I’m in charge for a month? Fear. Well, before August came around I realized how much the pastoral staff knew and did. The parish didn’t – and doesn’t - rely on me. No fears.

On my first Sunday at the parish I celebrated the two Spanish Masses. It was my first time ever celebrating Mass in Spanish. During the first Mass I looked out over the crowd of about 900 people of dark complexion and wondering "why am I, the only person here who can’t speak Spanish, doing all the speaking"? Then I remembered that a priest isn’t merely a public speaker but one ordained to proclaim the Gospel and celebrate and offer the Sacrifice of the Mass. I am here to speak the words of Christ himself and to represent Christ. Indeed the homily is a privileged opportunity to connect the Word of God to the lives of the community and to lead the people into the mystery of the Eucharist, the Bread of Life, but God's Word in the Scriptures and God's Body should be the focus of attention, not me.

I will never forget my first funeral, it was in Spanish. Did I mention earlier that I knew very, very little Spanish? And I really expected to celebrate a Funeral Mass for the first time in a foreign language? The reality that I am the only Spanish-“speaking” priest in the parish was a terrifying reality. In case the above reality was not daunting enough it was a funeral for a still-born. I’ll never forget watching the father of the baby process into the church holding the tiny coffin of his tiny baby.

My First Wedding, Opps.. I Mean Boda.
You might be seeing a trend here. My first wedding (in Spanish boda) ever: Spanish. I quickly found out what a lazo and las arras were. I’m sure I butchered the language but in the end they were validly married. I had to remind myself that the wedding wasn’t about me it was about them – God, the couple and their family and friends.

Anointing of the Sick...Close to Home
Within a few months of priesthood my pastor asked my to anoint him. He was going to be having a surgery the next day. Me anoint my pastor? He is twice my age, has been at the parish for over 25 years and has anointed more people than I could imagine. What if I mess up? Do I give a homily? The Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick was still very new to me and I relied entirely on the book to read the words and gestures for the rite of anointing.

You probably haven’t thought about this before but it’s hard to hold and read from a book held in one hand while holding the sacred oil in the other and to anoint the head and hands of the person all at the same time! The pastor was patient and understanding. By the way, I didn’t preach, I was moved however, by the experience of being asked by my first and new pastor to anoint him. The Anointing of the Sick – like every Sacrament - is a very personal encounter with Christ through the person of the priest. After placing my hands on his head in a moment of silent prayer as the rite calls for I spoke Christ’s words of healing and forgiveness over him: "Through this Holy Anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Freed from sin may he save you and raise you up." At the same time I placed my thumb in the oil and marked the sign of the cross on his forehead and the palms of his hands.

In the first year of priesthood my mom found out she had massive blockage in 3 arteries and needed a triple-bypass as soon as possible. Combine the experience above with the reality of this being my Mom. I never cease being a priest but I’ve always been a son; being a priest to my Mom was a new and indescribable experience. My Mom had given me life 36 years earlier and now I was truly giving her Life in a way that very few sons have been able to do, not by any merit or power of my own but by virtue of the gift – God’s gift – of ordination. Perhaps this is a stretch, however, as a the Virgin Mary gave birth to her Creator by the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit and her consent so too was the gift of God himself truly given to my Mom through the power of Christ through me his priest.

One day, a couple of months after being in the parish, I received 2 calls at the same time to anoint two different people. I knew where one address was but looked up the directions for the other. When I walked out of the rectory, to my frustration, I saw a long line of cars waiting to pick up their children from school and my car was blocked in. I waited about 15-20 minutes for the cars to clear out and left to anoint the first person. After the first anointing I called the house of the second person to let them know that I was on my way. The person who answered the phone cried and said “he just died a few minutes ago.”

"Father Forgive Me"
It’s one thing to practice confession scenarios in the seminary and a completely different thing to really forgive sins. I will not forget a man who knelt behind the screen in the confessional and in a voice that revealed his very old age said “Father forgive me for I have sinned.” Wow. Can you try to enter into the profundity of that experience. An old man calling me “Father” and the reality that I really am Father, Fr. Brendan. I forgave his sins, not in my name but “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit." Amen!

People have the tendency of speaking quickly and softly when confessing their sins. Who wouldn’t? The problem is when you add Spanish into the mix. I can only say “mande?” or “lo siento pero no entendi” (“What” or “I’m sorry I didn’t understand”) so many times! Here again, I was reminded I’m not here to talk but to listen, to receive the person’s sins, the person’s very self, and to bestow upon the penitent Christ’s words and the reality they confer. As my Spanish has improved I can understand and respond a little better, however, I pray that I will always remember this first experience of why the penitent is there and why I am there: they confess and “I absolve you from your sins”.

I sometimes have the temptation to diminish the important role that I have as an instrument of God. There exists only one Priest and that is Jesus. He has willed to share his one priesthood with those he himself has called and chosen. However, the priest is not a mere puppet, repeating words and actions. Rather, Christ exercises his priesthood in and through the person, the whole person/humanity of the individual priest. It took a 7 year-old to teach me this lesson. At times I invite the penitent to recognize the presence of God in the confessional, to make sure we both realize that the penitent has not -or should not have- come to the this Sacrament to see me but to see Christ who is present here and now. This is true, of course, but it can tend to separate the integrity and unity of the priest. These two realities - Jesus Christ and an ordained priest -are infinitely different and distinguishable but they are also infinitely inseparable.

In this case, a 7 year-old girl walked into the confessional and hopped into the chair a few feet in front of me. I said “Hi” and she returned a big smile and said “Hi”. I asked her “how many people are in this room?” She looked around as if to say "is someone hiding here" and then responded “two”. I smiled back and asked “then where is God” and without hesitation or thought she quickly responded “where you’re sitting” Wow. After 9 years of the seminary I am learning from a 7 year-old about God and the theology of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. She is right of course. God is not a third person in the confessional. Where the priest is, there is Christ. “Out of the mouth of babes you have found perfect praise.” (Psalm 8)

Another memorable experience of confessions was during a weekend Confirmation retreat. For about 3 hours or more I heard the teenagers’ confessions one after the other until 2am. While parents are often baffled and frustrated by the lack of communication of their teenagers they shared the very sacred depths of the lives with me, with Christ. We all left that confessional forever changed and transformed.

My Pride and Joy
I have long had a devotion to St. Brendan, my namesake. I take pride in this name because it is very Catholic and very Irish. For that reason, I am known for suggesting the names Brendan or Brenda to families expecting a child. They usually laugh; I hope.

There is a lovely Hispanic family in the parish who selflessly love and serve their family and parish. When they told me they were expecting another child I naturally suggested that Brendan might be a good name, although they don’t speak much English and like most Hispanics have an impossible time pronouncing the name correctly. When the baby was born they called me to say they had named their baby boy Brendan. I laughed, they didn’t. After they assured me it wasn’t a joke I asked why they named their son Brendan and they said they – the parents – couldn’t decide on a name so they asked their 3 children and they unanimously said “Brendan, after Fr. Brendan.”. I baptized Brendan, my pride and joy October 20, 2007. We will always and forever have a very special bond. He is named after me, I baptized him, we are Christian brothers, and we have the special intercession of St. Brendan. I wonder how many other Mexican children have the name Brendan?

First Communions
I will always cherish celebrating First Communion Masses. What an honor to be the priest who through the power of the Holy Spirit changed bread and wine into the Bread of Life for these children for the first time. You can’t take away “first times”. I will always be the priest who celebrated and gave them the Eucharist for the first time. It was an honor and will be every first time.