Shoes of the Fisherman

Celebrating five years as pastor of Immaculate Conception

12/02/2018

Jeremiah 33:14-16 The days are coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and Judah. In those days, in that time, I will raise up for David a just shoot; he shall do what is right and just in the land. In those days Judah shall be safe and Jerusalem shall dwell secure; this is what they shall call her: “The LORD our justice.”

On November 6, 2013, I received a littler from Bishop Taylor that profoundly changed my life for the better. May I read it to you? Don’t worry, it is short. The bishop wrote: “Welcome back! I am glad that your sabbatical with the Carmelite Friars in Texas was spiritually fruitful and doubly glad that the Lord is leading you back to the Diocese of Little Rock. By means of this letter I am happy to appoint you pastor of Immaculate Conception Church in Fort Smith effective December 1, 2013.” In other words, today is my five year anniversary as your pastor. I remember feeling overwhelmed at the time, thinking: how will I ever live up to the expectations of pastoring one of the most prominent parishes in the diocese, which is standing at the head of Garrison Avenue as if spiritually watching over the city, and walking in the shoes of legendary pastors? Here are a few of those pastors.

There was Fr. Lawrence Smyth, who was so nervous to meet Pope Pius IX in the 1860’s that he forgot this parish was originally called St. Patrick’s and said he was pastor of Immaculate Conception! And that’s how the church’s name changed: true story. Msgr. Patrick Horan bravely built Immaculate Conception School in 1930, at the outbreak of the Great Depression.  When no one had any money, he was building a Catholic school. He rode his horse on Wildcat Mountain, which his family owned, and you may know the street that’s named for his family. There was Msgr. Tom Walsh, who expanded the rectory by building what was dubiously dubbed “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” by later occupants. The pastor’s quarters now has wood-paneled walls and features a fireplace and a commanding view of the church and downtown. You feel more like pastor of a city, not just a church.

 

Of course, who can forget Msgr. William Galvin, who trained an army of associate priests over thirty years? Each one was “Galvinized” under the good monsignor’s gaze and learned the tricks of the trade to be a shepherd of souls and a fisher of men. Then the reverend rockstar arrived, Msgr. John O’Donnell, who packed the church not only on Christmas and Easter, but every Sunday. Listening to Msgr. O’Donnell preaching on Sunday, you felt like you were personally present for our Savior’s Sermon on the Mount. Only fools skipped Sunday Mass in those days. These pastors of I.C. cast their nets wide in the teaming waters of Fort Smith, hauling in a great catch of souls for the kingdom. And so to me, an immigrant from India, my feet felt pretty small as I slid them into those mighty shoes of the fishermen worn by the former pastors of this parish.

I feel very fortunate that I was appointed as pastor on December 1, which usually marks the beginning of Advent, a new liturgical year of the Church. That is, I became a new pastor at the dawn of a new year. Every Advent, therefore, we have a chance to hit the reset button on our spiritual life, our relationship with Jesus, much like we make New Year’s Resolutions on January 1st and make a fresh start each year. Let me offer you the three priorities I would like to work on as a pastor this coming year. Maybe they will give you some ideas on how to improve your own relationship with Jesus and with others. They all begin with the letter “p” so they are easy to remember: prayer, patience and presence.

First of all, prayer. Of course, we priests pray all the time, especially when we celebrate the sacraments, which should feel like peak experiences of prayer for all Christians. But an occupational hazard lurks for priests because prayer can become routine, or worse, it becomes a chore, a burden rather than a blessing. Sometimes I feel like little more than a sacramental machine. I know that when you ask for my prayers you make a serious and solemn request, something you don’t take lightly and neither should I. So, this coming year I will work hard to make my prayer life – both public and private – more heartfelt and intentional. Maybe you could try to make your own prayer life less routine and more real.

Second, patience. Let me apologize to all of you with whom I have lost my patience in the past five years. On several occasions I have been demanding and insisted that people work harder to meet my expectations. And I lost my patience and my cool. A priest in the seminary taught us that our people will forgive many failings of a priest, but they will never forgive a lack of kindness, a lack of patience. I will never forget Fr. Jon McDougal’s sage advice in such circumstances, he said: “Most people are just doing the best they can.” And by the way, Fr. McDougal was also “Galvanized” so you can guess who taught him that lesson first. I will try to be more patient with you, and I beg you to please be more patient with me. Most people, including priests, are just doing the best they can.

And third, presence. I know I am not around and as present as you would like, nor is it as much as I would I like. You may know that besides being pastor of I.C., I am also the administrator of Trinity Junior High, the pastor of our mission church in Winslow, as well as a judge on the marriage tribunal in Little Rock. I once heard it said that when you earn a Ph.D. you know more and more about less and less. Well, I believe that when you go higher in leadership, it feels like you can do less and less about more and more. In other words, the higher up you climb the ladder of leadership, the more distant you feel from others. It’s harder to reach people because there are so many people to reach. Nonetheless, I would like to be more present to the people and groups I have not spent much time with in the past. I hope you won’t tire of my presence, like Benjamin Franklin warned: “Fish and visitors start to smell after three days.”

As we stand on the doorstep of a New Year, maybe we can work on prayer, patience, and presence to make this year better than the last. I hope to serve as pastor of Immaculate Conception as long as Msgr. Galvin did, which means I have another 25 years to go. I hope to leave here “feet first” like he did. When you carry these feet out of this church, I pray they will have been half as worthy as those of previous pastors who wore the shoes of the fisherman. And I hope my feet don’t smell like fish.

Praised be Jesus Christ!