“It’s such a lonely life!”
I heard this from an earnest parishioner less than two years after my ordination to the priesthood. I know this because I was still Associate Pastor at Holy Spirit, my first assignment between June 1999 and September 2001. I had just shared my experience about my first year of ministry in a meeting when this parishioner, a well-intentioned mother with several sons, said those words to me.
I am known for being quick-witted, and I recall my immediate answer to her statement. With a smile, I said, “Follow me around for twenty-four hours so you can show me the lonely part!” It was a good retort and was met with a genuine chuckle, but ever since that evening, I have returned again and again to that brief conversation.
Sooner than I ever anticipated, I was moved suddenly from a serene position at Holy Spirit to becoming temporary administrator of Church of the Ascension where the parishioners had learned of their pastor’s sudden resignation on September 11, 2001. Yes, that day of all days! I had no idea of what I had “gotten myself into,” and rather quickly I formed an idea that “I was in way over my head.” Within months, I applied to be the pastor, was appointed during Thanksgiving week, and it was another two years of adjusting, learning, making mistakes — some of them whoppers before I began to feel as if I had a handle on my new role.
After those rocky first years at Ascension, I went through a controversial debate about closing the parish school and merging it into a regional school with two other parishes. I listened to my heart – and more important – to my parishioners and said, “No” to the invitation, with the anticipated backlash and resentment from the archdiocese as well as from the other pastors. Six years ago, I went through the same whirlwind feelings regarding St. James School, again facing backlash and resentment from the archdiocese. Once again, I followed my heart and my conscience and my parishioners but felt the loneliness of estrangement.
The woman at Holy Spirit was being a prophet when she warned me, “It’s such a lonely life.” However, she wasn’t really describing priesthood, but rather the experience of any of us when we are faced with controversy, confusion, disagreement, and estrangement. I have seen it in families, in marriages, in workplaces, as well as in people on an uncertain spiritual journey. Twenty-five years since my ordination in 1999, I have experienced the roller coaster that each of us experiences one way or the other as our life unfolds. There have been lonely moments, yes, but in the end, there have been many more rewarding moments.
As I complete a quarter century of ordained ministry, the last ten years in these two parishes, I am so grateful and appreciative of how all of you have been with me in spirit and in person on this roller coaster ride. I feel blessed. I wouldn’t call it “lonely,” but I can say with certainty that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
