Oct. 17, 2012

By Bishop Terry R. LaValley
Diocese of Ogdensburg

A few months ago, Pope Benedict XVI  announced that the Year of Faith would begin on October 11, 2012 and conclude on November 24, 2013, the Solemnity of Christ the King.  The opening date coincides with two significant anniversaries that have marked the recent history of the Church:  the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Council (1962) and the twentieth anniversary of the promulgation of the Catechism of the Catholic Church (1992).

As the beginning of this special time nears, and as I continue to reflect on my own faith story, it becomes clearer and clearer to me that my family, particularly my mother and father, helped to form the image I have of God.   A few examples will illustrate my point. 

I grew up with a mother who was (and is) constantly doing things for others.  The first one up and the last one to go to bed at night, I grew up with a mother who defined unselfish giving for my siblings and me.  When we were sick, the first word that would come out of our mouths was “MA!!”  Never mind if she wasn’t feeling well.  In her case, my dad and her children--others always came first.  My mom taught me about my God who gives Himself without limit for others. Being an excellent cook, she could (and still does) put on some awesome meals.  Seconds were a given.  She, also, made sure that we never missed the Eucharistic Feast.  Opting out of the Meal at the Altar on Sunday was never an option.  During Lent, as soon as we were off the school bus, we walked to 4pm Mass.  That meant we missed The Edge of Night and the Secret Storm before supper!  Oh well, they are no longer numbered among the soaps, and I have grown in my faith and love of the Mass. 
My mom saw to it that both our bodies and our souls were nourished.

My father would contribute to my understanding of God in powerful ways, as well.   He could fix anything that needed fixing.  My God makes everything right when things and people seem broken and irreparable.
My father was the disciplinarian and I learned that there are consequences for what we do or don’t do - the Crucified One is the Example Par Excellence. When traveling as a family, while sitting in the back seat (my older sister always got to sit in the front seat!) I always felt completely safe even though I couldn’t see the road ahead because no one could drive better and no one knew how to get anywhere better than my father.  I knew at an early age that my God would protect me and I was always safe in His arms, headed in His direction.   I, also, learned from my father what justice meant.  No matter what everyone else is doing or what they say, I had to do the right thing.  So, you see, I have no doubt that ours is a just God.  Another lesson that we learned from my dad was to always respect my mother.   Jesus would have it no other way!

My grandparents, too, helped provide for the fertile ground from which my faith would grow. Kneeling around their bed at night during summer vacation when barn chores were done and before we called it a day, we prayed the Rosary.  Even though my grandfather prayed in French, I figured God understood.   

God can understand what’s in our hearts, no matter the way we communicate it. Regardless of how hard we worked during the day, prayer to conclude the day was fitting.

I remember, too, the pastor coming to my other grandparents’ to celebrate Mass in their home.  My aunt would proudly tickle the keys of her portable organ, inviting us to sing familiar hymns.  We prayed and Jesus was our special Guest, present in the form of bread and wine. 

God’s awesome Gift of Life was made real in a special way for me when my nieces and nephews were born.  The Paschal Mystery continues to unfold and take on deeper significance when I grapple with the death of loved ones--my brother-in-law, grandparents and father.

It must be so very difficult to live without family and faith, particularly during those heart-wrenching moments of our lives. 

So, you see, my family and my faith go hand in hand.  As I left home and entered the military, I was gifted to befriend chaplains who asked me to teach religion class on base and who shared their own faith story with me. 
As I entered Wadhams Hall, my family expanded and close friendships developed with other men discerning the Lord’s will for them, too.  Their faith and their prayer life inspire and nurture my own faith.

As a priest, the strong faith of parishioners and coworkers has supported, influenced and inspired my own pilgrimage of faith.

I pray that you, the good people of the Diocese of Ogdensburg will begin this Year of Faith thanking God for the treasure of your faith.  As you see, there is nothing sophisticated about my faith story, but it is real. 

Our children and youth need to hear your faith stories.  Share with them your lived experience of God.  Pray for our parents and spouses who are struggling to live the faith at home.  Pray for a greater appreciation of the Mass and devotion to Mary, the Mother of God.  Seek to enhance your own knowledge of the faith.  Tend to your soul.  Follow Jesus, with the rest of your sisters and brothers. 

Taste again for the first time your personal encounter with Jesus Christ and be not afraid to tell your story of that encounter!