Homily for the Funeral Mass of Fr. Kenneth J. Johnston

As a seminarian, I once heard a rather stark statement that I never forgot.  It was attributed to the late John Cardinal Krol, former Archbishop of Philadelphia.  “There’s no one deader than a dead priest.”  Wow!

I understand the general sentiment.  Celibate male clergy have no biological heirs.  We come in and out of people’s lives only for a limited time.  We have no committed relationship to an individual person, no companionship or attachment like a husband and wife do.  Following Jesus, our spouse is the Church.

And when we die, who will remember us?  Who will be there to mourn?  We will all be replaced.  Even popes, cardinals and bishops.  Our current assignment filled by someone else.  I thought some of these thoughts when I stood by and viewed the late Cardinal’s body lying in repose in the Philadelphia Cathedral back in 1996.

Last night I “googled” Fr. Kenneth Johnston’s name to see what I would find.  In fact, I found very little:  a brief obituary, mention of his Golden Jubilee as a priest, his sister Patricia’s obituary, a couple of online condolences.  This hardly tells the story of a man who served Jesus Christ, the Catholic Church, the Diocese of Camden, for 50 years as a priest.

I realize that most of Fr. Johnston’s life and ministry were pre-Internet.  When he taught in the classroom he had none of the modern tools that today’s educators use regularly.  Father gave us mimeographed handouts, we read text books, he wrote on the blackboard with chalk.  That’s how I first met Fr. Ken Johnston, as a teacher and vice-principal of Wildwood Catholic High School.  It was back in 1974 and I was a 14-year-old freshman.

Fr. Johnston was a born educator:  well-organized, interesting and informative.  For as long as I knew him, he aged slowly and gracefully.  He looked the same, just a bit older.  He was comfortable being alone, reading, praying.

If I could reformulate an old movie title to capture Fr. Johnston’s life, it would be “An Educator and a Gentleman.”   He was truly both.  His priesthood assignments had him in five of the diocesan high schools.  He served on the Continuing Education and Spiritual Formation of Priests Committee (C.E.S.F.) for many years.  He was proud of his education at the American Seminary in Louvain, Belgium.

Many who interacted with him mention something about his “gentleman” qualities and demeanor.  I realize that he was not perfect and that he struggled with his personal demons at various points of his life.  Yet, he would continue to get up when he fell, to move forward and persevere, generally without complaint or the need to be noticed.  Whenever we shared a meal and the conversation would seem to drift in a negative direction or criticism of someone, he would simply change the subject.

Fr. Johnston was pastor of three parishes, before health issues and a couple strokes led to his eventual retirement.  The fact that he died so quickly, caught me and many others off guard.  You know neither the day nor the hour . . . (See Mt. 25:13).

As I remind my parishioners so often in my parish funeral homilies, the funeral is more about what Christ does for us than what we do for Christ.  We cannot save ourselves, we cannot forgive our own sins.  Only Christ can do this.  Funeral Masses should not be solely celebrations of life or mini-canonizations.  Death and Christian funerals are about Christ’s salvific action and the accountability of our lives before Him.  Recall the 2^nd reading from this past Sunday:

For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense according to what he did in the body, whether good or evil. (2 Cor. 5:10)

We will all be judged by Christ and I dare say we humans are not perfect.  I, for one, want people to pray for me when I die.  Please have Masses offered for my soul.  I beg you now for those prayers and Masses for me, for Fr. Ken, for all priests.

It is our faith in Jesus Christ and His Resurrection from the dead that carries us through difficult times like these.  The souls of the just are in the hands of God . . . (Wisdom 3:1).  We are connected to Jesus in baptism, adopted by God as sons and daughters—children of God—through Christ.

 

Additionally, Fr. Johnston was transformed by priesthood ordination into another Christ—an alter Christus—called to serve the People of God.

As an alter Christus, the priest is profoundly united to the Word of the Father who, in becoming incarnate took the form of a servant, he became a servant (Phil 2: 5-11). The priest is a servant of Christ, in the sense that his existence, configured to Christ ontologically, acquires an essentially relational character: he is in Christ, for Christ and with Christ, at the service of humankind. - Pope Benedict XVI, 24 June 2009 (Year of the Priest)

The priest acts in persona Christi—in the person of Christ—in every sacrament.   We are especially privileged, as priests, to feed the People of God every day of our lives with the Bread of Life at Mass.  We speak the words of Our Lord:  This is my Body, this is my Blood.  And it happens!  Christ becomes truly present!  Fr. Johnston did this as priest for 50 years!  Think of those powerful words of today’s gospel from St. John—Jesus’ Bread of Life discourse:  . . . Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day . . . (John 6:54).

Priests also proclaim and explain the Scriptures so that Christ is alive and present in the Word as well!  Priests anoint the sick, forgive sinners, witness marriages, baptize, and occasionally confirm.  Fr. Johnston did all of this for 50 years!

Exactly how many lives did he touch in the process?  Only God really knows.  However, I read about one of those times online yesterday: 

“God bless and reward Father Ken Johnston. He lost his parents as a young boy and overcame this to encourage others facing life's difficulties. He was good to me and my family.”

So today we pray for Fr. Johnston.  We ask God to forgive his sins.  While we mourn, we still have hope—Christian hope—that he is not dead, but very much alive.

Death is swallowed up in victory.

Where, O death is your victory?

Where, O death is your sting?

. . . Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Cor. 15: 55, 57)

Rest in Peace, Fr. Ken.

Homily for the First Solemn Mass of Thanksgiving of Fr. Anthony M. Infanti

Fr. Anthony M. Infanti.

Ordained a Priest June 16, 2018
First Solemn Mass of Thanksgiving, St. Agnes Church, Blackwood, NJ, June 17, 2018  

It is said that you don’t really get to know a person until you live with him.  I know that is true with Fr. Anthony and me.  Although, at that time, I was pastor of St. Joseph Parish, Somers Point, and he was a—how should I put this?—a wanna be (once again) seminarian.  In other words, Anthony really wanted to return to the seminary to be a priest.

In case you don’t know our precise history:  Bishop Sullivan asked me to take Anthony for the fall of 2014—until Christmas.  This subsequently turned into “Can he remain with you until the Spring?” which then morphed into “Can you keep him there for the summer months until he re-enters the seminary?”  Like the guest who comes for a short visit and then doesn’t know when to leave, I had Anthony for the year.  What was it that Ben Franklin said?  Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.  Although, I must say, Fr. Anthony, I never noted any glaring problems with your personal hygiene.

Once he re-entered the seminary, Anthony would return to the parish on various occasions.  I affectionately referred to him as our feral seminarian.  You know—like a feral cat who shows up at the back door of the house wanting to be fed.  Admittedly, out of compassion, I, in a moment of reoccurring weakness, fed him and took him in.

I was charged with evaluating Anthony and his suitability to return to the seminary to become a priest.  And this I did.  What I found was the following when I asked myself some questions:

·       Was he a man of PRAYER?  In the rectory we had a small oratory/chapel.  I would often see him praying there.  He asked me if I would like to pray Evening Prayer with him.  I noted his love for the Blessed Sacrament.  I checked off yes in answer to this question.

·       Did he have REVERENCE for the sacred?  I looked at his disposition at Mass. I saw reverence toward sacred things in his actions.  He exuded a reverence and respect at the altar as a seminarian, deacon and now as a priest.  Another check mark in the yes column.

·       How was his INTELLECT?  I think it would be fair to say that Anthony struggled a bit with his studies.  Things did not always come easily for him.  But he was willing to learn.  He would ask me questions and advice.  And I realized that Jesus chose fishermen and a tax collector who were not always the best or the brightest.  My intuition was that Anthony would be okay, with the proper guidance.

 

·       Did he have a big EGO?  It didn’t seem that Anthony took himself too seriously.  Nor did he suffer from a cult of personality wanting only to be liked all the time.  We need only to look at Jesus on the cross to see that He was not liked by all and that there would be some people in opposition to His message.  I didn’t see Anthony’s ego getting in the way of him being a good priest, but rather a sense of humility.  Another check in the yes column.

·       Would he be a good SHEPHERD?  I noted how Anthony was attentive to his Communion Calls and took care of the needs of the sick and homebound.  He would remind me when one of them wanted to go to confession or needed to be anointed.  He went over to the parish school to teach the children.  He was received well by the parishioners, in general.  We are reminded in Sacred Scripture:  A Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep (John 10:11).  I thought of the example of St. Maximilian Kolbe to whom we both have a devotion.  He gave his life as a priest for a family man in the concentration camp at Auschwitz. Another check.

·       Did he have a sense of THANKFULNESS?  One only needs to have received one of Anthony’s “thank you” notes to realize that he had a profound sense of gratitude for what is done for him.  Check.

Take all the above qualities, Prayer, Reverence, Intellect, (a diminished) Ego, Shepherd and Thankfulness, put them into the blender and there seems to be many of the necessary ingredients needed to be a P-R-I-E-S-T.

My evaluation was one evaluation among many others to come—from the seminary, from his parish assignments, from the vocations office and the Bishop himself.

 

It all culminated in the formal “call” to priesthood and ordination by Bishop Sullivan yesterday.

As I was riding in my car one day listening to music on the radio, I heard a song that made me think immediately about your journey to the priesthood.  Although you will probably kill me for mentioning the artist—Miley Cyrus—at your First Mass, Fr. Anthony this is your song.  It describes your journey, your climb.  Here are some of the words:

The Climb

I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming but
There's a voice inside my head saying
You'll never reach it . . .

My faith is shaking but I
Gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high . . .

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down but
No I'm not breaking
I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I'm going to remember most . . .

Now it’s time to get to work—Jesus’ work continues.

Yesterday was a priesthood ordination, not a canonization.  Fr. Anthony, your work as a priest is just beginning.  May I remind you and all of us of the concluding words from today’s second reading:

For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense according to what he did in the body, whether good or evil. (2 Cor. 5:10)

Priesthood is not about you or me or any of the priests here today.  It is about Jesus Christ, the Great High Priest.

Like St. John the Baptist, He (Jesus) must increase, and I (we) must decrease.  (See John 3:30)

Learn a couple valuable lessons from today’s gospel.  The planting of seeds will be like your preaching and words—Christ’s words—that will go out to the people. May they take root in them.  Then there is the parable of the mustard seed.  It is the story of the Church that started with twelve apostles and grew into over two billion Christians—1.2 billion of them Catholics.  It is the story of St. Teresa of Calcutta who began by ministering to the first dying person in the streets of Calcutta with no plan, no budget.  This ministry grew into the Missionaries of Charity all over the world.  It is the story of St. Francis of Assisi who divested himself of his family’s business after hearing the call from the Lord to Rebuild My Church.  People today as then probably thought he was crazy. Today there are so many different types of Franciscans throughout the world following his spirituality.  It is the story of two newly ordained priests for the Diocese of Camden who, with the Grace of God, will do great things for the People of God.

  

Please remember the example that Jesus gave His disciples in the mandatum or washing of feet at the Last Supper.  According to a commentary that I once read in preparation for a homily, no Jewish slave could be compelled to wash someone’s feet:

At the Last Supper, Jesus would have been the “host” and the apostles the “guests.” Washing the feet of weary travelers would have been a job delegated to a gentile slave by the host.  Not even a Jewish slave would be expected to wash feet. The host of a meal would certainly not lower himself to performing this vile task himself.

Yet we see in the Gospel how Jesus humbles himself to wash the feet of His disciples.  The God of Heaven and Earth who is responsible for us--His creatures—being here in the first place, not only became one of us (a human being) in Jesus, but He stooped to do something that not even a Jewish slave would do.  This washing of feet is an example of how Jesus poured Himself out for us—how He extended Himself for the sake of others.  It was a profound act of humility.  No wonder Peter would object to such an action!

Today is Father’s Day and I know it is bittersweet because of the recent passing of your father Michael. Our hope, as Christians, is that he be in heaven with God looking down on us and spiritually present with us now.  Now, you as a priest, you carry the title Father as a spiritual father to your people.

While your own mother, Patti is here to support you, do not forget to pray continually for the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary. She is your spiritual mother. She is the mother of the Great High Priest, Jesus Christ, and is mother of all priests.

As a former high school principal, I would frequently express the following sentiment to my graduating seniors:  Go out and Make me proud.   I say the same to you Fr. Anthony:  Make me proud.  Make your mother and father and family proud.  Make your Bishop proud.  Make your parishioners proud.  Make us all proud.  No pressure!

Ad multos annos.

Homily for the Silver Jubilee of Fr. Joseph T. Szolack

June 2, 2013

Infant Jesus Parish, Woodbury Heights, NJ

I thank Fr. Szolack for giving me this opportunity to preach at his Jubilee Mass.  I consider it an honor.  The verdict is still out, however, on what he will ultimately think of his choice of homilist by the time I reach my conclusion.

We go back quite a long way—to 1979 to be precise.  We met while attending college as students at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary.  Put together by some unforeseen Divine plan, we were two young men, among various others, who entered the seminary right out of high school.  It was something rare then; perhaps even more rare today.  We seemed to hear a similar “call” from God to be His priest.  He was a freshman, and I, a sophomore; 1^st and 2^nd college as it was referred to by those who attended Overbrook.  I was glad to have another seminarian from the Camden diocese studying at the same seminary as me, since so many of our men were being sent to another seminary at a different location for their formation.

While I only spent my college years there, I think Fr. Szolack really, really liked it at St. Charles.  Not only did he tirelessly devote hours upon hours of sleepless nights not studying there during his college years, but he remained there for four additional years of theological study and formation.  After ordination, he returned to the seminary initially for three years, then again, by the most mysterious Hand of God, as Dean of Men for the Theology Division for another six years.  Seventeen years in an institution—it explains an awful lot, doesn’t it?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As we pray and offer this Mass during the Hour of Divine Mercy, I remember being on retreat several years ago at Trinity Retreat in Larchmont, NY.  The retreat master, Fr. Gene Fulton, told the priests a story of a newly ordained priest.  He was giving his first priestly blessing to the congregation after his ordination.  In the crowd was a rather famous Russian baroness, Catherine de Hueck Doherty, the foundress of Madonna House  (Combermere, Ontario) who is now being considered for sainthood.  After receiving the priest’s blessing, the baroness took the priest’s consecrated hands and began to kiss them.  The priest then pulled his hands back.  Looking directly him, she spoke something quite forcefully in her thick Russian accent to this newly ordained:  “It’s not for you!”  It’s not for you.

I’d like to remind all of us that while we are celebrating and honoring Fr. Szolack for his 25 years of priestly service, all of what he has done and, with God’s grace, will continue to do as a priest is truly about Jesus Christ.  Fr. Szolack is a priest of Jesus Christ.  The priest is an alter Christus—another Christ.

Pope Benedict XVI tells us the following in a general audience in St. Peter’s Square:

As an alter Christus, the priest is profoundly united to the Word of the Father who, in becoming incarnate took the form of a servant, he became a servant (Phil 2: 5-11). The priest is a servant of Christ, in the sense that his existence, configured to Christ ontologically, acquires an essentially relational character: he is in Christ, for Christ and with Christ, at the service of humankind. Because he belongs to Christ, the priest is radically at the service of all people: he is the minister of their salvation, their happiness and their authentic liberation, developing, in this gradual assumption of Christ's will, in prayer, in "being heart to heart" with him. Therefore this is the indispensable condition for every proclamation, which entails participation in the sacramental offering of the Eucharist and docile obedience to the Church. (June 24, 2009)

Additionally, the Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that a priest acts in persona Christi (capitis) when administering the sacraments.  Jesus continues His saving work among His people, among His Church, through the working of His priests.  When the priest baptizes, it is Jesus who baptizes.  When the priest anoints, it is Jesus who anoints.  When the priest forgives sin, it is Jesus who forgives sin.  When the priest says “This is my Body,” it is Jesus who once again gives Himself to us in the Holy Eucharist.  And Fr. Szolack, in fact every validly ordained priest, embodies Christ to the world.

Do we deserve this great honor, this most sacred privilege?  Certainly not.  We are sinful, frail human beings “called” nevertheless by God to do the most spiritual, indeed supernatural actions.  Pray for your priests.  Pray for Fr. Szolack.  Without your prayers and the Grace of God, I don’t know how any of us could stand at the altar each day.

While we are aware that this day honors Fr. Szolack and his 25 years as a priest, let us not forget the solemnity that we celebrate—Corpus Christi (The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ).  The mysterious high priest and king, Melchizedek, in our first reading and psalm offered gifts of bread and wine in thanksgiving.  This foreshadowed and anticipated the sacrifice of Christ at the Last Supper.  Jesus feeds the five thousand with five loaves and two fish in the Gospel.  Again we see an anticipation of and a prefiguring of the Holy Eucharist in Christ’s action.  St. Paul echoes the words of Christ in his first letter to the Corinthians:  “This is my body that is for you. . . this cup is the new covenant in my blood.”  We hear the words that the priest continues to speak at each Mass.

The priest is so completely tied into the offering of the sacrifice, to the Mass itself.  Pope John Paul II reminds us:

The Second Vatican Council recalled: "Priests act especially in the person of Christ as ministers of holy things, especially in the Sacrifice of the Mass" (PO 13) and that without a priest there can be no Eucharistic sacrifice. However, it emphasized that those who celebrate this sacrifice must fulfill their role in intimate spiritual union with Christ, with great humility, as his ministers in the service of the community . . . In offering the Eucharistic sacrifice, presbyters must offer themselves personally with Christ, accepting all the renunciation and sacrifice required by their priestly life--again and always, with Christ and like Christ, sacerdos et hostia (priest and victim). (June 9, 1993)

Fr. Szolack has faithfully offered Mass essentially every day during the duration of his priesthood.  Whether with his parish congregation, privately, on vacation, on a cruise ship, in a hotel room, on an island, or in a private home, he has prayed and offered the sacrifice of Jesus for the People of God.  Together with his Divine Office (Breviary or Liturgy of the Hours) he has been faithful in praying for himself and for those whom he is called to serve.

         

I don’t know exactly who is aware of it but one of the things that Fr. Szolack did after he became pastor was to establish a small chapel in the rectory so that he could reserve the Blessed Sacrament there for prayer.  I guess that he was in tune with something else Pope John Paul II reminded priests:

To priests the Council also recommends, in addition to the daily celebration of the Mass, personal devotion to the Holy Eucharist, and especially that "daily colloquy with Christ, a visit to and veneration of the Most Holy Eucharist" (PO 18). Faith in and love for the Eucharist cannot allow Christ's presence in the tabernacle to remain alone (cf. CCC 1418). Already in the Old Testament we read that God dwelt in a "tent" (or "tabernacle"), which was called the "meeting tent" (Ex 33:7). The meeting was desired by God. It can be said that in the tabernacle of the Eucharist too Christ is present in view of a dialogue with his new people and with individual believers. The presbyter is the first one called to enter this meeting tent, to visit Christ in the tabernacle for a "daily talk." (June 9, 1993)

On Friday, Fr. Szolack called me and asked me to wear the vestment that I currently am wearing.  He informed me that he had been given a similar one by his mother.  The vestment is in honor of Our Lady of Czestochowa, reflecting our common Polish heritage.  We had visited the shrine in Poland together where the sacred icon is revered by multitudes.  I know that he and I have entrusted, consecrated our priesthood to the care of Our Lady.  She who is the Mother of the Great High Priest, Jesus Christ, continues to intercede for us, to watch over us and to lead us to Jesus, her Divine Son.  Fr. Szolack and I have a tremendous love for Our Lady, her rosary, her scapular as did the Pope that we both greatly admire, John Paul II.

With a new Holy Father Pope Francis now leading us, I conclude with a few of his words in reference to Mary, Our Mother:

Jesus from the Cross says to Mary, indicating John: “Woman, behold your son!” and to John: “Here is your mother!” (cf. Jn. 19:26-27). In that disciple, we are all represented: the Lord entrusts us to the loving and tender hands of the Mother, that we might feel her support in facing and overcoming the difficulties of our human and Christian journey; to never be afraid of the struggle, to face it with the help of the mother. . . The mother teaches us how to be fruitful, to be open to life and to always bear good fruit, joyful fruit, hopeful fruit, and never to lose hope, to give life to others, physical and spiritual life. (May 4, 2013)

May Our Lady, Our Mother, continue to assist you and all of us priests in our ministry.  May she be revered as a loving Mother for all the faithful.  May she lead us all to Jesus Christ, the Great High Priest.

I mentioned earlier that priesthood itself is essentially not about you, Fr. Szolack.  However, I think that I speak for all here and for all the people who have seen you trying to live out your priestly vocation by saying “thank you” for responding to the call of Jesus and becoming His priest.  Thank you for your many years of dedicated service to the People of God.  May God give you the health and the strength to serve many, many more years as His priest at His sacred altar.

Ad multos annos.

Homily for Priests’ Jubilee Mass

Diocese of Camden

May 8, 2012

Bishop Galante, Fellow Jubilarians and my Brother Priests,

Truth be told, I started gathering the material for this homily about half a century ago—or more accurately, God started writing this homily in me that long ago.  That’s because I/we are all dealing with a “calling”—a mysterious, spiritual inner call from Jesus Christ through which He somehow touched all our  lives and invited us to be His disciples—some of us, His ordained priests.

The call comes differently to all of us, but I believe that it is there at the core of our being:  Come, follow me. (cf. John 1:43)

My calling started in my childhood days when I somehow realized and felt the inexplicable presence of God in my life.  As a very young introspective boy—somewhere around age 3 or 4—I vividly remember having a peculiar awareness and fear of death, crying myself to sleep at times, and praying to God that I never die.  I remember celebrating private Mass in my bedroom around age 6 using corn flakes—the available material in my family’s kitchen at the time—with a rosary hanging from my mirror.  I knew even then that there was some definite attraction to the priesthood.  I would serve Mass as an altar boy from around 3^rd grade on, being in the presence of priests and close to the Mass regularly.

Fast forward with me to a time in my teenage years when I was standing timidly along the cafeteria wall of Wildwood Catholic High School at a dance—checking out the girls, wondering whom I could ask to dance—when an annoying priest comes up to me and asks “Have you ever thought about being a priest?”  Go away.  Not now.  Bad timing, Father.  Sometime later I returned to admit to him how God was indeed moving me, moving my heart, in that very direction. 

On far too many occasions while following this call, I was nervous and concerned as I would echo the words of St. Peter:  Leave me Lord, I am a sinful man. (Luke 5:8)   I grew up in the 60’s and 70’s amidst the drinking and drug culture and free-love society present at the time.  I helped my parents operate a hotel and restaurant and later a motel while living at a seashore resort—Wildwood.  These surroundings were only one of the many tests of this vocation, this calling from God.  I realize over and over again my own total unworthiness—as we all should—and pray that I continue to seek conversion and holiness in my life.  I have fallen to my knees time and again seeking forgiveness and healing in the Sacrament of Penance.

     

The rest is history.  Two seminaries and eight years later, with an unexpected and might I add unwanted pastoral year thrown in just for the fun of it, I made it to the altar as a priest.

Could you imagine what I thought when a diocesan official (to remain nameless) said the following to me while I was on the way up the aisle at my ordination:  “You can still get out of this right up to the very last minute!”  I suppose he was just testing me.  Obviously he had no clue of how loudly and distinctly God had been calling me for years.  I realized in an indelible way that even diocesan officials are far from infallible in their decisions and actions.

My brothers, be careful what you say and do.  You can hurt people, even scar people—the People of God—in the process. 

Here I am a priest of Jesus Christ 25 years later.  My brothers, I hope that you can continue to say with me: I love being a priest.  I am convinced that it is what God called me to be.  Even in these days of scandal, confusion, lack of moral integrity, and ongoing struggles in the Church, I am proud to be an ordained Roman Catholic priest.  I am proud to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.  I still hear His call.

It hasn’t always been easy.  The letter M in the name of one of my former assignments wasn’t for the many ways they loved me.  Yet, I still try to this day to love and pray for all of my parishioners—former and current.

If we get to the core of what ministerial priesthood is all about, we see that God has given us the privilege of sharing what I refer to as a spiritual intimacy with Him and with His people.

We need to encounter God in prayer continually.  Whether in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, while reading and praying the Scriptures, while praying the rosary or our Divine Office, while attempting centering prayer, meditation, lectio divina, praying in tongues or most importantly, praying the Mass, we need to be in love with Jesus Christ.  If the romance and intimacy has faded, it needs to be rekindled.  Nothing that we do, nothing is more important than this!      

We share God’s intimacy with His people in all the sacraments, but especially and exclusively as a priest in the Holy Eucharist, in the confessional and when anointing the sick. 

Having just given our 1^st Communicants Our Lord for the first time these past two weeks in the parish reminded me of how we are privileged as priests to feed the Lord’s little lambs as well as His big sheep each and every day of our lives at Mass.  We speak the words of Our Lord:  This is my Body, this is my Blood.  And it happens!  Christ becomes truly present!  We proclaim and explain the Scriptures so that Christ is alive and present in the Word as well!  Even during those times when we may have to pray the Mass alone, we are never really alone as we join with the angels and saints in Heaven at the Eternal Banquet table praying for the People of God on earth as well as the Holy Souls.

During Advent and Lent I have the custom of asking people, after I hear their confessions, to pray for people who are away from the Church, away from the sacraments or away from God.  I ask that they pray for people to return to the faith.  Could you ever imagine how for years now I have never been disappointed by the power of this intercessory prayer?  This past Lent, among many, many others, someone returned to the Sacrament of Penance after being away for 40 years.  As priests, we bring Christ’s healing and forgiveness; we are instruments of His grace, to a world, to His people who need the forgiveness that can be experienced uniquely in this sacrament.

Visiting a hospital, a nursing home or a home-bound person affords us another spiritually intimate moment when we again can bring the presence of Christ to a hurting world.  To an elderly person, a seriously ill person, to someone alone or afraid we have the opportunity to be Christ’s presence, the Divine Physician, the Wounded Healer, as we anoint.  Sometimes the call leads us to assist someone on his or her journey back to God.  Always thank God for that privilege and pray that a priest may be at your side at the time of your death.

We also experience Christ’s intimacy when we baptize a child or adult, when we confirm at the Easter Vigil and other extraordinary times, when we witness a marriage and, especially when we are called to renew the grace of our own ordination as we see a deacon, priest or bishop ordained.

In conclusion, I read for you a few of the words by Blessed John Paul II to all priests on Holy Thursday, 1979:

. . . We must all be converted anew every day. We know that this is a fundamental exigency of the Gospel, addressed to everyone (cf. Mt 4:17; Mk 1: 15), and all the more do we have to consider it as addressed to us.  If we have the duty of helping others to be converted we have to do the same continuously in our own lives.  Being converted means returning to the very grace of our vocation; it means meditating upon the infinite goodness and love of Christ, who has addressed each of us and, calling us by name, has said: "Follow me". Being converted means continually "giving an account" before the Lord of our hearts about our service, our zeal and our fidelity, for we are "Christ's servants, stewards entrusted with the mysteries of God" (1 Cor 4:1).  Being converted also means "giving an account" of our negligences and sins, of our timidity, of our lack of faith and hope, of our thinking only "in a human way" and not "in a divine way".  Let us recall, in this regard, the warning that Christ gave to Peter himself (cf. Mt 16:23).  Being converted means, for us, seeking again the pardon and strength of God in the sacrament of Reconciliation, and thus always beginning anew, and every day progressing, overcoming ourselves, making spiritual conquests, giving cheerfully, for "God loves a cheerful giver" (2 Cor 9:7).

Being converted meant to pray continually and never lose heart" (Lk 18:1). In a certain way prayer is the first and the last condition for conversion, spiritual progress and holiness.

And so I have preached my homily and you have heard my particular story and learned about my calling.  You have had an opportunity to reflect with me on the gift of the ministerial priesthood.  Hopefully you have seen along the way the wonderful, mysterious way in which God works in my—in fact, all of our lives.

I am always in awe of how he has taken a shy, introverted boy from Wildwood—one who at one time thought it would be no problem being priest as long as he didn’t have to speak in public—and given him the opportunity to address the presbyterate of the Diocese of Camden for his Silver Jubilee.   I hope and pray that you continue to experience the love that Jesus Christ has for all of us, His priests, and for His people. 

My brothers, go forth and continue to tell your own stories.  Your people, God’s people, are anxiously waiting to hear them.

May Our Blessed Lady, Mother of the Great High Priest and Mother of all Priests, intercede for us.  Amen.

The People Who Shape Us

Over the years there have been a number of people as well as various experiences that helped shape who I am today.  Whether they are parents or grandparents, parish priests or religious sisters, teachers, friends, students or just random acquaintances, people in our lives leave impressions and can influence us tremendously.  Additionally, varying circumstances and events can leave a similar, lasting effect.

Let me tell you about some of the people and factors making me who I am and influencing the way I think.

Growing up as I child I served Mass as an altar boy from the time I was in about 3^rd grade all the way through high school.  This allowed me to observe and interact with many, many priests.  In addition to the resident parish priests, we had dozens of visiting priests helping at the parish annually, since I lived at a seashore resort—Wildwood, NJ.  Moreover, there were the priests who taught me in high school.  Briefly stated, priests were part of my life from its earliest days.

 

While I would like to say something about all of them, let me focus in on some of the now-deceased priests whom I knew personally.  It is fitting that I conclude with my patron saint—also a priest.

Msgr. Joseph Conlon was my pastor for my adolescent and teenage years.  He was nicknamed by some friends and admiring priests “Holy Joe.”  I knelt beside him many days praying the rosary, serving Stations of the Cross and Benediction and, of course, when he offered Mass.  To this day I recall how I sensed his deep love and reverence for the Holy Eucharist.  His eyes were fixated on the host and on the crucifix (sitting on the altar) whenever he celebrated Mass.  It was an experience I can only describe as truly mystical.

Fr. Peter Jones became my confessor and helped me through my seminary years.  His jovial spirit and sense of humor lifted me up time and time again.  His kindness and practical insight in the confessional personified for me Jesus’ love, compassion and forgiveness.  No wonder a number of priests from our diocese sought him out as a confessor!  He was slated to preach at my first Mass as a priest, but died suddenly the year prior—my diaconate year.

In my time as a deacon, Msgr. Edward Kennedy was the pastor in charge of me in Transfiguration Parish, West Collingswood.  Monsignor had spent part of his priesthood as a missionary in Brazil.  He took me under his wing and showed me the ropes of what it meant to be a parish priest.  I still remember what he told my superiors prior to my ordination:  “I think Eddie will make a good parish priest.  He is best suited for life as a parish priest.  I think that you should keep him in this ministry.”  Well, his advice lasted for about four years—until I began 20 years in high school work! 

Msgr. James McIntyre became the homilist for my first Mass after Fr. Jones’ death.  “Fr. Mac”—as we called him as kids—was our fun-loving parish priest.  He was a friend who showed me that the path to holiness often involved lifetime struggles and a need to adapt and change when necessary.  Eventually he became the one in charge of Priest Personnel (including me!) for the Diocese of Camden.  It was certainly nice to have a friend to look out for me as a newly-ordained priest.

In my East Vineland assignment at St. Mary’s Church I had the pleasure and honor to live with and to get to know two good, holy priests:  Fr. Paul Onufer and Fr. Julian Karczewski.  Fr. Onufer was a prayerful, soft-spoken, saintly priest whose infectious smile could warm and soften any person’s heart.  He had a great sense of humor, being something of a practical-joker at times.  I would usually find him at prayer in his room when I came home from school.  Very often he could be seen praying in front of the Blessed Sacrament—especially each morning before celebrating Mass.

Then there was Fr. Julian.  This truly-unique priest suffered two major handicaps during his lifetime—polio and deafness.  His childhood polio—initially crippling him—nearly kept him from pursuing the priesthood.  Through God’s grace and Julian's perseverance he was ordained a priest.  Later in his priesthood he went completely deaf for no apparent reason.  Fortunately he was aided by technology through a device called a cochlear implant.  He could once again hear and function in a relatively normal manner.  The end of his life found him needing care and professional attention in nursing facilities.  He taught me multiple lessons in perseverance, fidelity and long-suffering.  He let me see the suffering-Christ but not without a child-like sense of humor.  He, like so many other priests in my life, was a man of prayer.

In the college seminary, Msgr. John Foley (later Archbishop, then Cardinal Foley) taught me Metaphysics and Ethics.  He had to be the most ethical, honest person I have ever known.  We joked as students that the shortest distance between two points was John Foley.  He was as straight as an arrow.  Cardinal Foley was a holy, prayerful man noted for his intelligence, his self-discipline, his broadcast voice, and for meeting and/or knowing most of the famous people throughout the world. Despite his importance, he took the time to assist me in various personal matters, to correspond with me, and to take my mother and me out to dinner on our visit to Rome!

In my graduate studies at Mt. St. Mary’s Seminary, Emmitsburg, MD, there were two especially influential priests:  Fr. Anthony Manocchio and Msgr. Richard McGuinness.  Fr. Manocchio was the seminary spiritual director as well as my personal spiritual director.  From him I learned so much about prayer—especially centering prayer—and a love for and a devotion to the Blessed Sacrament.  Fr. Manocchio was so serious about prayer.  He could be found praying entire nights before the Blessed Sacrament in chapel.  He was truly detached from material possessions and lived in humble simplicity.  When he died, he had already given almost everything he owned away.


Msgr. McGuinness, the Rector of the seminary, was a father-figure to me.  I sought him out and talked to him whenever I could—most notably after my ordination.  He always had a ear to listen and time for me.  Once, when I came to him as a young priest seeking his advice (after he had been reassigned from rector of the seminary to pastor of a parish in North Jersey) he handed me his rectory key.  He told me his rectory was open to me at any time.  Wow!  No one had ever done something like that for me before!  Monsignor died of pancreatic cancer.  He was the epitome of gentleness, hospitality and, of course, prayerfulness.


For over 20 years I shared a special relationship with two priests who were part of the Marriage Encounter community like me.  Msgr. Charles Barth and Msgr. William Poyatt would join with me and a few couples almost every other month to share a meal and a dialogue question.  “Skip” or Msgr. “Skip” Barth would tell people how “mean” and “miserable” he was when he was asked how he was doing.  This was so far from the truth!  He was kind and gentle with a happy, peaceful demeanor for as long as I knew him!  He was a true people-person who loved the outdoors—especially fishing—and telling jokes.  “Fr. Bill” Poyatt would never admit to being a monsignor.  In fact, he hated the title.  He was an introvert who enjoyed reading.  Like Msgr. Skip, Fr. Bill was totally interested in relationships—especially between married couples.  He had no time for small talk but would be genuinely concerned about what was happening in those relationships that mattered most in a person’s life.  Over much time, Skip, Bill and I shared with a few couples and some other priests on too many matters to list here.  Most importantly, we learned the importance of feelings and relationship as together we honored the sacraments of Matrimony and Holy Orders.

Until the time of his moving to New York State, Fr. Charles Fehrenback, C.Ss.R. (a Redemptorist priest) was my confessor.  He resided at St. Peter’s Church in Philadelphia—which is also the location of the Shrine of St. John Neumann.  This gentle, knowledgeable priest aided me through the early years of my priesthood as I sought his wisdom and pastoral experience.  I understood very quickly why so many priests and laity alike sought him out for confession and spiritual guidance!


At the time of my ordination St. Maximilian Kolbe appeared on my invitation and holy card as my patron saint.  I wanted people to know about this remarkable priest who gave his life for a married man with a family in the concentration camp at Auschwitz, Poland.  Books have been written about him, so suffice it to say that my life as a priest attempts to give service to God and neighbor in imitation of St. Maximilian’s selflessness and love.  A statement of his—only love is creative—has become my personal motto.


Now that you have met some of the deceased priests who influenced my life, you have a better insight into my life.  Please pray for them and all priests.  While some in the media may single out a priest (or priests) who goes horribly astray and project this on all priests, I thank God each day for those holy men in my life who humbly served the Lord without realizing how they made an indelible impression on at least one other person’s life—mine!  I am touched by their attempts and struggles to follow the Lord Jesus as His disciples—as his priests.

I am proud to be counted as their brother priest.

Fr. Ed Namiotka