My Son, the Cleric

My Son, the Cleric

The countdown to the priesthood begins.
By Jim Moore, Contributing Writer

Recently, I was outside pulling grass that always seems to grow better in the seams of our sidewalk than it does on our lawn.

It makes me wish our HOA would approve all-rock landscaping. With apologies to Joni Mitchell, I might even consider paving the so-called paradise that is the suburban lawn if the bylaws allowed it.

For those of you who recognize the Boomer song reference, I thank you.

Anyway, as I knelt on the concrete pondering cosmic injustice, my wife approached me, holding her smartphone and crying softly.

Any other husband would be concerned by such a sight. I, however, had an inkling that something less-than-sorrowful was going on.

The tear-inspiring news turned out to be a text from our son, Michael. It read, “I officially just gave new life through water and the Holy Spirit to my first children!”

Michael had just performed his first baptism service as a transitional deacon, and it was a trifecta—three children!

It was a happy piece of news, but it was in no way surprising. It’s been one surreal experience after another for Mary Ann and me since Michael was called from a pew we shared to be ordained to the transitional diaconate. 

Off to the liturgical races . . .

As if the ordination itself wasn’t emotional enough, we were only getting started the day my son became a deacon.

Just before our celebration party at a lovely monastery, Michael led our guests in solemn vespers in the monastery chapel. He provided all present with a beautifully reverent opportunity for prayer. 

And for him, it was a chance to do something deacon-y, right off the bat!

The next day, we were at Mass when Michael proclaimed the Gospel for the first time and then preached his first homily. I had made it through the ordination in one piece, but there was something about watching Michael being prayed over prior to proclaiming the Word that misted me up.

My son is now a cleric in the one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic Church. The diaconate stole. The dalmatic. The cope. The humeral veil. Access to the monstrance and Eucharist during adoration. Authority to give blessings. Authority to baptize. Authority to witness wedding vows. The whole nine yards.

He’s not simply a seminarian anymore. He has turned pro.

Have faculties, will travel . . .

While Michael isn’t a priest yet, he’s doing things we the laity can’t. And you can never tell when an opportunity to use those faculties will arise.

About a week after ordination, while Michael was home for a few days, I drove him to the bank to deal with some matured savings bonds. When we got there, we were told that the only person at the main branch who knows savings bonds protocol wasn’t in that day. Who knew savings bonds were such a highly complicated financial instrument? 

Fortunately, there’s a smaller satellite branch not too far from the main branch, so I asked the main branch folks to call over there and ask if they could help us. God being good, the savings bond specialist at the satellite branch was working that day. 

So, off we went . . . to a place we had driven by on our way to the main branch (insert frustration emoji here).

While we were waiting for the satellite branch specialist to finish a phone call, a teller spotted my son’s clerics, pulled a rosary out his pocket and asked him to bless it.

I’m pretty sure Michael hesitated a second before realizing, “Hey, I can do this!”

And there I was, witnessing another milestone: my son’s first blessing of a sacramental.

Was there Providence involved in maneuvering us toward that unblessed rosary? Maybe. It was, at the very least, a very happy coincidence—for Michael and for the teller, who got trained in the closely guarded art of dealing with United States savings bonds.

Blessed, and then some . . .

The extraordinary nature of Michael’s visit home continued on the day of our 30th wedding anniversary. 

He had asked our pastor for permission to give us a blessing after Mass, which of course was granted, our pastor being a great guy. We figured we’d stand in the aisle after everyone had left, do the blessing, and then go home.

But our pastor had other plans.

When Mass began, with Deacon Michael beside him on the altar, Father announced that the Mass would be a Mass of Thanksgiving in honor of our 30 years of marriage.

Michael didn’t even know about it. Mary Ann and I just turned to each other and stared. 

I don’t know about you, but I never expected to be a Mass intention on this side of eternity.

After a lovely Mass, complete with a homily shout-out, Mary Ann and I were called to the foot of the sanctuary. There, our baby boy, who once played with vestments during his Catechesis of the Good Shepherd classes, pronounced a beautiful blessing over us with the full authority of the Church and with our fellow parishioners as witnesses.

There’s no point in trying to describe having your own son pronounce a blessing over you when the immortal words of St. Joseph say it best: 

“. . .”

And it doesn’t end there. Another incredible moment of blessing came a few weeks later when we got together again to see some of Michael’s friends ordained to the priesthood. That week, we were able to join Michael for adoration and benediction.

One of the most amazing experiences to be had as a Catholic, as far as I’m concerned, is the moment during benediction when the celebrant dons a humeral veil, uses it to grasp the monstrance, and then moves the Blessed Sacrament through the Sign of the Cross, allowing Jesus Himself, present in the Eucharist, to impart a personal blessing.

That experience is all the more potent when the celebrant assisting Our Lord is your own son.

I just stared and quoted St. Joseph again.

Witnesses to joy…

In addition to the amazing moments above, Mary Ann and I have since had the privilege of seeing Michael participate in several liturgies and deliver other homilies via livestream. Every time, whether he’s smiling broadly or looking serenely content, his demeanor speaks eloquently of a full heart. 

There is no greater joy for a parent than seeing your child happy. That is what Mary Ann and I experienced on ordination day and what we’ve seen on each livestream liturgy and FaceTime visit since. 

Michael is exactly where the Lord wants him and is delighted to be there.

Over the coming year, he gets to learn the ropes of parish life as a deacon. He had a great primer course with a fabulous mentor during his pastoral year, but now he can assist in ways he could only imagine then.

Mary Ann and I can’t wait for news of Michael’s next milestone.

That amazing trifecta of a baptism was only the beginning.

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Jim Moore is a copy and content writer by trade and an obscure playwright and songwriter in his spare time. A 20^th-century graduate of Seton Hall University, Jim’s career has included stints in broadcast journalism, Catholic magazine editing, the world of greeting cards, in-house writing for a telecom company, trade association communications, political activism, and freelance work for a broad spectrum of industries. His songs have been heard by dozens of people and his plays have been produced in both the US and Ireland. Weekly, he can be found sharing an open mic with other old men and their guitars.