Farewell Homily
(Weekend of June 20-21)

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Farewell homily
on occasion of my 30th anniversary of
Priestly ordination

             I want to welcome three of my brother priests today:  Monsignor Bill Carr (ordained 40 years), Fr. Kevin O’Brien, (ordained 30 years), and Monsignor Kevin Irwin, (ordained 37 years).  Together, we represent 137 years of ministry.  Its not numbers, you see, its quality! 

My text today is much longer than normal; I pray that you will forgive me if my homily is too.  I can only promise you that this is the last long homily you will hear me give. 

Almost 30 years ago, a blond haired, starry eyed optimist walked down the marble center aisle of the Cathedral to present himself to Bishop Sullivan for ordination.  After the liturgy of the word, I moved from the front row where I had been sitting beside my family and lay prostrate on the floor as the litany of the saints was sung.  Following the bishop, some 100 of my brother priests came forward and silently imposed their hands upon my head, praying that the Holy Spirit fill me.  Then, placing my outstretched hands within the Bishops, I promised obedience to him and his successors in office.  I promised to be shaped by the Gospel I would preach; to live, with the help of God, the vows that I spoke.  The cantor intoned “You are a priest forever, according to the order of Melchisedeck”  I was then vested; the dalmatic of a deacon was exchanged for the chasuble of a priest, and for the first time, I took my place at the altar as a concelebrating priest.

Just like the hundreds of couples whose vows I have witnessed in marriage, little did I (or do they, for that matter!) know where the path (started long before the altar was first approached) would lead us.  In faith, we promised to embrace our vocation, and to follow the one who taught us best.  On the cross he taught us most clearly:  give completely, and you will live fully.

Much that has occurred in the past 30 years has slipped from my memory, but those moments are frozen in time. 30 years, and the memories are as fresh as yesterday.  Unlike some other priests, I have had few assignments:  Holy Spirit in Virginia Beach (where Fr. Carr was my first pastor), St. Andrews in Roanoke, St. Anne’s in Bristol and finally here at Saint Mary’s in Richmond.  Although in just 4 parishes, literally thousands of families’ lives have intersected with mine.  Their lives have certainly enriched mine, and I hope that mine has enriched theirs as well.     

I come to the ambo today with profound gratitude. 
Thank you for the trust and the opportunities you have offered me over these past 14 years:

• 1,307 times, you have entrusted your sons or daughters to my hands in Baptism.  As you either held them, or entrusted them to me to be plunged into the waters of Baptism.
• 1,680 children have received their first communion as we celebrated the Eucharist.
• 968 young adults pledged to grow in their love of Christ and the Church through the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in Confirmation.
• 366 couples have been married during these years.  They stood before their families and friends and asked God to join them in the covenant of love created in the sacrament of Marriage.
• 402 times I have gathered here with you to finally and lovingly bring one whose life touched ours to return them to the Lord in the funeral liturgies.  Among them was my own mother who came to this place as we returned her to the Shepherd who called her by name.
• I have called you to the altar at daily Mass or at weekend liturgies  7,193 times!  Each time has been an awe inspiring moment when heaven and earth are wed, when the word made flesh is shared with us.

Upon reflection, I can tell you that the life of priest is rich indeed.  The many colors of your lives, as they contact mine have created a stained glass window far richer than even these windows or our ability to imagine. 

I’m not sure about you, but I know that I like to be in control (no one here is surprised right?)  We like to think that we are masters of our own destinies.  We have plastic surgery to delay the effects of aging, vitamins to strengthen our health, satellite maps on our new I-phones… so we never get lost. 
           
Just when we are feeling pretty good, it all comes crumbling down.  A suspicious lump in a routine physical, a mole that turns out to be melanoma, or a recession that eliminates the carefully built nest egg.  A sudden and unexpected death. If you’ve ever been caught in a sudden storm; in a tiny boat tossed about in huge waves on a turbulent sea you know the feeling.  The scriptures we just heard address just those moments. 

The scriptures today tell me to remember that storms are a part of the normal experience of life.  I like to think that if I say my prayers, live a good life, and remain obedient to the vows I took, it will all work out.  But the gospel confronts that notion.  Just because the storm is against us, it doesn’t mean that God is against us.  Most of the time, the storm is simply part of the experience of life itself. 
           
I also hear in the scriptures that I should use the calm times to prepare for the storms. How many of you join me in hating the moments before a plane departs when the cabin crew instructs us on the safety measures of the plane.  (“If you see the mask drop down, place it over your mouth and breathe normally”…. Yeah right!)  But when I think about it, in the event of an emergency   there would be no time to do any instruction. 

Wouldn’t you love to have the power of Jesus?  A simple word:  “Hush” and the turbulence stills.  He stilled the storm not because it was bothering his sleep, but because he wanted the disciples to see that the storm was not as powerful as they thought.  What powerful lessons for us today.

30 years ago, when I stood before the bishop, I had no idea about the turbulence I would face.  How could I know where the road would lead me?  I stand in faith again, not before a bishop this time, but before the people he sent me to serve.  I have no idea where the next chapter will end.  A sabbatical?  A number of you have said:  “What a great vacation.”  While there are many things I do not know, there is one thing of which I am certain:  a sabbatical is not a vacation.  It is a sacred time; a time set apart for one to step back, reflect on what has been and prayerfully prepare for what will come.  I would like to think, that like Jesus, I might get to take a nap in a boat… but somehow I doubt that!  When I was told that the sabbatical was eight months, I thought of what a long time that was.  Standing before you now, I realize how fast 14 years have slipped past.  8 months will slip past in the blinking of an eye.

Today, I am filled with a flood of emotions:
             Immense joy at what has occurred here on Gayton Road.  The community that has evolved, and the lives that have been enriched are powerful indeed.  We can all be proud.
            A fair measure of sorrow at what remains undone; at words of forgiveness not spoken, or healing that hasn’t occurred.  We still have work to do.
            A sense of honor and  profound respect for the staff that has evolved.  They serve you unselfishly, putting aside their frailty in order to serve the needs of the broader community.  They need your involvement and your assistance.  Why wait?  Get involved and take a role.
            Tremendous pride!  During these past 14 years, you have given:
over $14,000,000 to the general offertory;
over $8.5 million to the building process,
over $850,000 to human concerns and Haiti, and
over $800,000 to Diocesan collections. 
That totals almost 30 million dollars, you should be proud of your lack of selfishness. Even when it wasn’t easy, you put your needs aside and gave generously.  You embraced a vision for the future, and a much broader understanding of Church.  You should be proud of how unselfish you were.  I know that I am.  But it has been about far more than money.  It has been about generous hearts, and this space simply reflects your generosity.

In two weeks, your new pastor Fr. Jay Biber will sit in this chair and stand behind this ambo. I beg you to welcome him, and to make the transition simple.  Words (or even thoughts!) like “Fr. Lewis didn’t do it that way” or “Fr. Lewis would have done it that way!” are crippling, I can tell you from personal experience.  I trust that you will do your best to make the transition effective and effortless.

Let me conclude:  before the ordination liturgy is complete, the bishop prays words that are powerful, poignant and applicable to all of us:  May the Lord God bring to completion the good work that he has begun in you!” 
Amen