Second Sunday of Advent

Today at mass I was struck by an unexpected sadness. Our pastor has recently taken a very unexpected leave of absence. The parish was so surprised that the bishop came to us last weekend to try to comfort us.

We lost a holy man of God, arguably the best homilist in the diocese. A man we had over for dinner a few weeks prior to his departure. He ate with us and spent hours talking with us and giving us counsel. He did not speak like a man who was debating taking a break from the priesthood. He gave no indication of problems.

And then, just like that, he was gone. And this morning the reality of the whole situation hit home and I felt sad.

As the mass went on a calm security snuck up on me. The visiting pastor stopped before the consecration so that "we might all ponder the miracle that was about to take place in front of our eyes."

As I knelt there in that church, I could no longer muster up the sadness that overwhelmed me before. Regardless of the choices of my former pastor, I was still going to receive the Body of Christ. Regardless of the entertaining qualities of his homily, Jesus was still there.

Suddenly, I was in love with my faith all over again. No matter the music, no matter the church building, no matter the presiding priest, the miracle is still the same. And, it is the same here in Augusta, GA as it is in Rome, Italy. It always has been and always will be.

Instead of leaving church bitter or upset, I left feeling very grateful to be a part of a faith that is bigger than the people passing it on. Not bad for the second Sunday of Advent.