Home
I had the wonderful opportunity to speak with someone the other day who grew up, just as I did, at St. Paul’s in Waco, Texas. St. Paul’s was my home!
I did not have much of a home life, but St. Paul’s filled in many a gap – the Clergy, the people, the beautiful church. I began serving as an acolyte when I was only eight or nine. I suspect the Clergy knew that experience would help me grow up. It did. I took it very seriously. And, of course, Sunday after Sunday, the words of the liturgy spoke to me in ways that shaped and formed my character. I can close my eyes and see this little boy, redhead with freckles, kneeling at the altar. I was home. I was safe. I was loved. I had a place.
In junior and senior high school, every Sunday afternoon, in the “old gym,” the youth gathered. We, some 50 to 60 kids, were all trying to find our way. I imagine that we all felt at home and safe at St. Paul’s. In those days, much energy was spent, as the boys tried to impress the girls with their basketball skills. Late afternoon, we had some teaching in the faith, ate some hot dogs and, by then, Sunday was done. I pray daily that the youth of St. Martin’s feel about this place as I did (and do) about St. Paul’s.
It seems to me that to be really at home is to be really at peace. As Frederick Buechner once wrote, “There can be no real peace for any of us until there is some measure of peace for all of us.”
We carry many memories with us in all sorts of ways. One way, for me, has been my lifelong experience with the liturgy, in general, and these concluding words from the Eucharist, in particular:
“The peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be amongst you, and remain with you always.” AMEN.
I pray that peace for you! It means you are home and grounded.
