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A Panda Deacon
I’ve already written several essays on my recent
pilgrimage to Poland and Lithuania over the last few months of Embers. It has taken me that time passage, some ongoing
reflection, and a meeting with my spiritual advisor to be able to better
understand, and more fully appreciate something that I’ve actually been
chuckling about since the trip. Now, I’m
taking this more seriously as one of the most profound spiritual gifts that I
have ever received. I’m talking about
being a Panda Deacon.
It started when my wife Michelle and I signed up for
the annual pilgrimage sponsored by the Diocese of Green Bay. This would actually be the sixth such trip we’ve
been on. I wasn’t surprised to hear that
the pilgrimage sold out quickly and there was a waiting list. I was surprised to learn that I was the only
deacon in the group. Offhand I know of
at least a couple dozen brother deacons who share my strong devotion for the
Divine Mercy message and Chaplet as originally shared with the world by St. Faustina. And on past diocesan pilgrimages there has
been as many as five or six other deacons.
I felt a little like I was hoarding the opportunity to serve at the
altar every day in amazing places affiliated with St. Faustina, St. John Paul
II and St. Maximillian Kolbe.
Our spiritual director on the pilgrimage is a very
well-known and popular priest. I knew
him fairly well as I worked with him at the Chancery for the five years that I
was the Safe Environment Coordinator (child and vulnerable adult protection). This priest also has a reputation as being a
great homilist, so when the diocesan point person for the trip called me to
verify my willingness to preach during the pilgrimage I cautioned her not to
get the cart before the horse. “I know
father loves to preach and he’s very popular,” I explained. “If he is open to me preaching at all that
would be great, but it’s really up to him.”
She explained that she had a meeting scheduled with father that
afternoon, so she would let me know. She
did call me back and to my surprise she said that father told me to pick out
three of the Masses that I would like to
preach at. I was a bit stunned, pleased,
but stunned. I wasn’t expecting that.
I am one of the most introverted people I know. That’s one of the reasons that I felt that my
call to the diaconate was not my idea.
The very thought of standing up in front of a congregation and preaching
was intimidating. Strangely, it has
turned out to be one of my favorite things to do as a deacon.
I have been to Europe before on pilgrimage and have an
appreciation that men serving as permanent deacons is not very common
there. Two years ago, on a pilgrimage
tracing the ‘Footsteps of St. Paul’ in Greece and Turkey, we were met the first
evening after we landed by the deacon of a church dedicated to SS. Cosmos and
Damien where we were to celebrate our first Mass. After giving me a bear hug greeting he
explained that he had volunteered to open up the church for us because he didn’t
want to miss an opportunity to personally greet a brother deacon.
But I was very surprised by the delight and warm
greeting that I received in the sacristy of every church we visited. I noticed our spiritual director watch, many
times wide-eyed, as I received warm handshakes and greetings of “Deacon! Deacon!” when I took my deacon stole out of
my carrying case and put it on. The
highlight of those encounters was at the community of Conventional Franciscans
that was founded by St. Maximillian Kolbe.
One of the members was waiting in the sacristy for our group to arrive. Our tour guide helped interpret his
greeting. He couldn’t have been much
over five feet tall; it didn’t help his stature that he was even bent over just
a bit more with age. With a bright and
warm smile, he shared with us that he was 93 years old. When he watched me don my deacon stole, his
smile lit up even more brightly, he shuffled over to me, put his arms around me
in embrace and rested his head on my shoulder.
After the Mass our spiritual director told my wife and
several others who were in ear shot, “Your husband is a panda bear. Everyone wants to hug him!” I teased him about being a bit jealous for the
remainder of the trip. Since our return
home I have shared that with other deacons and friends, each time with a
chuckle.
It was my spiritual director who changed my viewpoint
last week when we met. I told her the
story as a bit of a light-hearted conversation.
But she looked at me and asked, “But, how did you feel when that priest
embraced you and put his head on your shoulder?” The grin left my face as the question caught me
off-guard. I thought for a moment. “Loved – it made me feel loved.”
“Don’t you think that the whole pilgrimage – being the
only deacon, having the privilege of serving at the altar each day, being invited
to preach in spiritually powerful places, being welcomed so warmly, even
embraced – don’t you think that was God’s way of affirming you in your
ministry? I think God was loving on you!”
I had a 90-minute drive home to continue to ponder
it. She is right, of course. She always is. I have been, I am, and hopefully will
continue to be blessed beyond measure to be called to serve God and neighbor as
a deacon. I’m feel a little foolish that
I almost missed the point of being a panda deacon. As usual when it comes to God’s love, I am a little
slow on the understanding, but that is not going to reduce my gratitude now that
I am more fully aware. Dear Heavenly Father,
I love you too!
His Peace <><
Deacon [panda] Dan
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