A new first...

We headed out to the countryside this afternoon. We had been invited to a "first" and we needed to be there. We turned down one country road after another until we saw the two towered church rising before us.

Upon entering this church - built in 1894 - one is immediately drawn to the bright stained glass and statuary. We knew no one and so simply looked for empty seats, finding them midway up the main aisle. We were early, but the church was already filling up.

This Catholic church is located in a small farming community surrounded by other farming communities. The area was settled by Germans and Czech families.* They broke the ground and built their lives here. Together they built churches and schools. People of faith, they have raised 13 priests and 35 sisters. Some of them returned for this celebration.

The noise of people entering and greeting each other ceased as the choir began to sing and priest after priest walked towards the altar. Finally we saw the youngest priest, newly ordained, son of the land,** son of the community, and my friend approach the altar. Dressed in his green vestments he began to sing the mass, his first.

At the reception that followed I helped to fill the tea glasses and spoke with the ladies of the church (you know the ones - they are ever present and ready to feed a crowd for a celebration or a grieving family). I then found the wine station where I commented to one of the priests, "I find that when this many priests are gathered in one place I am in some kind of trouble."*** He laughed and we talked about the newly ordained of the diocese.

Before long the new priest, my friend, DK, made his way into the hall and I was able to visit with him for a moment. I had planned to ask him for a blessing. But he had blessed us repeatedly through the service. And, after all, he had also blessed me with his presence, his faith, and his friendship for the past 8 or so years. 

I know he will continue to pray for me as I will for him.

NOTES:

*I have written before about feeling at home among folks sharing the last names of my early classmates and friends - Havelka, Psencik, Vanecek, Valenta, and Schmidt, among others.

**He was a farmer when he received the call to the priesthood. I knew he was serious when he told me he had sold his cattle. He was also a member of the choir that sang the hymns for his first mass.

***I save the tales of the misspent youth of this long-time Catholic school student for another day. I suppose you could ask the Havelkas, Psenciks, Vaneceks, Valentas and Schmidts (among others) for the stories, but we of an age now where details begin to blur.

Additional note:

My mother's priest, SM became a friend of the family years ago. She used to remind him that he had to stay healthy as he promised to say her funeral mass (and he did). Mother would call him from time to time, just to check on him. I have not seen him since 2010.

I was shopping in the city near my home town recently. My nephew and I had taken a break at the coffee shop in the local book store. I noticed a familiar looking man at the coffee bar and realized it was SM. I walked over and greeted him and was doubly blessed. We talked about this and that. I told him of the first mass.

I also took his appearance as a sign from Mom.