The Ordination to the Presbyterate of Patrick Skutch
+
Saint
Martin in the Fields
July 31,
2005
+
Patrick, welcome home!
That
may seem like an odd way
to
begin the sermon at your ordination
to
the priesthood,
but
ordination is, in the best sense,
a homecoming.
So
again, Patrick, welcome home!
It
may even seem odd
that
I say welcome home
to
you here in the precincts of Saint Martin’s.
After
all, you’re new around here.
You
don’t go on the payroll until tomorrow.
You
weren’t born or raised here.
If
this were the Episcopal Center or Emmanuel Church in Athens,
the
places that raised you up for holy orders,
then
perhaps those words of welcome
would
sound a little more natural.
So let’s go a little deeper.
If
today were not Sunday
it
would be the feast of Ignatius of Loyola,
the
16th century priest
and
founder of the Jesuits,
the
Society of Jesus.
As
you know, Patrick,
the
church tries its best
to
ordain people
on
a feast of the church;
a
feast of Christ or one of the apostles,
a
feast of the Holy Spirit,
or
a lesser feast of one
whose
passionate witness
to
the death and resurrection of Christ
remains
a powerfully testimony
to
the church in our day.
So,
by the luck of the draw,
you
are being ordained on the Lesser Feast
of
Ignatius Loyola.
I
hope that in the years to come
you
will develop a particular kinship
with
Ignatius.
Invite
him to be a companion with you
on
your continuing journey in Christ;
bring
him along with you as a priest
and
let him teach you a thing or two
about
modeling the holy life.
Ignatius was from a noble family of great wealth
and
devoted his young life to military service
as
was the custom in his day.
Like
many young and idealistic people,
Ignatius
became disenchanted
with
the world he had inherited.
He
looked askance at militarism and war.
He
was embarrassed by his riches
and
sought the freedom of poverty.
The
trappings of his noble upbringing
he
considered contrary to the gospel.
In
the midst of the counter-reformation,
the
Roman Catholic Church’s response
to
the Protestant Reformation,
Ignatius
could still see a church
in
great need of reform.
So what does he do?
He
establishes the Society of Jesus –
the
Jesuits –
and
becomes the Superior General
of
the religious order
that
is known for its wealth,
its
influence and nobility,
and
which follows
a
heavily military structure.
He
ended up right back where he started.
One of God’s little ironies
that
the divine sense of humor
never
ceases to point out,
is
that most of us end up pretty much where we started out;
the
whole point of a religious pilgrimage
is
to take us home;
to
help us to discover the familiar
in fresh
new ways.
So Patrick,
welcome
home.
While
the faces may be new,
the
surroundings still a little strange,
the
duties assigned you
a
bit daunting,
and
little of what’s going on around you
seems
to have the familiarity of home,
welcome
home, nonetheless.
Your
journey has brought you here
so
in some sense
this
must be where it all began.
Today’s gospel
in a
part of the eucharistic discourse in John’s gospel.
It
is a particularly apt lesson
for
the ordination of a priest
because
nothing is more characteristic
of
the life you assume today
that
celebrating the Holy Eucharist.
You
will be called upon, of course,
to
do lots of things:
you’ll
visit the sick,
counsel
the distressed,
marry
the young
and
bury the dead;
you’ll
teach classes,
play
with the children,
mentor
the youth;
and
model a holy life before all.
You
will also learn
how
to arrange chairs,
repair
toilets,
an
reset the furnace.
You’ll
develop expertise in finance and administration
which
loosely translates into
knowing
how to put new toner
in
the copier.
You
will discover
that
you are a fountain of wisdom
on
things you know nothing about;
an
expert on things you’ve never heard of.
You
will hear confessions
from
troubled consciences
that
have done things you enjoy
and
with a straight face
you’ll
have to give absolution.
But
when all is said and done,
and
as important as many of these things are,
the
absolute center of it all,
from
this day and for the rest of your life,
is
mostly about standing at the altar
and
pleading the eternal sacrifice of Jesus.
It is
mostly about leading the great prayer
of
the church’s gratitude,
of
handling holy things for holy people,
of
lifting heavenward
the
bread of heaven
and
the cup of salvation.
From
this day forward, Patrick,
the
two most precious words
in
your vocabulary are the words
“for you.”
“Broken for you is my body;
Shed
for you is my blood.”
Yours,
Patrick,
is
the enormous privilege of
welcoming
the pilgrims
who
come in an endless procession
in
search of something
that
will satisfy their hunger
and
quench their thirst.
Your
vocation, Patrick,
is
to offer them more than bread for the wilderness,
more
than wine for the journey;
give
them God, Patrick.
Point
them to Jesus, Patrick.
Welcome
them home, Patrick;
day
after day,
week
after week,
year
upon year for a lifetime,
welcome
them home.
No
matter where they have been,
what
they have been doing,
who
they have been with,
or
how long they have been away,
welcome
them home, Patrick,
and
feed them –
saint
and sinner alike
(and
they are easily confused).
You see, Patrick,
you’ve
arrived right back where you started –
at
the altar of God.
And from this day forward,
only
God knows what shape your ministry will take.
The
only thing we can probably be sure of
is
that you won’t be an assistant
at
Saint Martin’s forever.
I
remember well that on my ordination day
when
I was about your age,
with
a relatively new wife,
and
a newborn baby,
I
thought I had a clear vision
of
how my ministry
was
going to unfold.
And
the joke has been on me ever since.
Almost
nothing of what I expected has happened,
and
what has happened
would
have been beyond my wildest thoughts
when
I was sitting where you are today.
Such
are the ways of God, Patrick.
We
don’t know what’s coming for you,
but
we can promise you it will be different
from
anything you dare ask or imagine.
But
whatever you do,
wherever
you go,
you’ll
never be far from home;
because
somewhere close by
there
will be a table,
a
loaf of bread,
and
a bottle of wine.
And
there will be hungry people
standing
around,
with
a shy look of expectation of their faces,
and
they will be looking right at you.
And
you will lift your hands to God
in
thankful prayer,
because
once again,
you
will have found you way home.
Welcome
home, friend, welcome home.
To God be the glory!
The Right Reverend J. Neil Alexander
Bishop of Atlanta