Brother’s Keeper
I’m thinking that it was likely the summer of
1969. I was camping with my parents and
my older brother, Mike. It was the
second summer that we had the little pop-up camper, the brand was Nimrod. I’m thinking that we must have been camping
at the Nicolet National Campground on Bear Lake. I’m making all those guesses because it was a
Sunday and we were on our way into the town of Wabeno, Wisconsin to attend
Mass.
I was much closer to fishing and swimming than I was
to God at that time in my life. I remember that inwardly I was resentful that
we were “wasting” good camping time on going to church. This time it was especially costly because
Bear Lake was a good hike north of Wabeno and then you had to take County T
another twenty minutes or so to get into the forest road that led into the campground. My parents’ sense of religious obligation was
chewing up basically the entire morning.
We arrived before Mass began, but we must have cut it
a bit close because I remember that the parking lot was full, so we had to park
out on the state highway that doubled as Main Street. When we entered the church we discovered
seating was at a premium, but we did manage to squeeze into a pew about two-thirds
back. It was a blazing hot July day;
there was no breeze coming through the open windows. I was suffocating.
The priest had no mercy on me – I would say, “us” but
I can assure you that I was only thinking about my own misery at the time. His sermon seemed to go one for an eternity. I was thinking of this is what eternity feels
like, I am in no hurry to get there.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I heard
the priest say something about someone being baptized. Sure enough.
A family was called up to the front of the church; the mother was
holding a baby all dressed in white. The
baby was Jackie Lamont. I’m not positive
that I have the spelling correct, but that was his name. I remember it well because the priest said it
a number of times, and I recall thinking that it was a bit of a strange name,
at least for those times.
I also remember his name because for the next number
of years that we still camped together, any time we drove through Wabeno, as we
passed by the church my mother would question, “I wonder how ‘little’ Jackie
Lamont is doing these days.”
Now, 57 years later, I still wonder about ‘little’ Jackie
Lamont.
I’m thinking about Jackie today because last night we
were with friends. He is currently in
formation for the diaconate. We were
discussing baptism and I said directly and honestly that probably my favorite
part of being a deacon is celebrating a baptism. Who says God doesn’t enjoy a little irony now
and again?
Yes, that little resentful boy who pouted about
missing out on a couple of hours of camping time, voluntarily laid down
prostrate on the sanctuary floor of St. Francis Xavier Cathedral in 2009 and said
to God, “Yes please – give me more of this, give me more of you, give me more
of serving others, give me a lifetime of Sunday mornings, even in July!”
Yes, I admit it; I am my brother’s keeper. And, ‘little’ Jackie Lamont, wherever you
are, know that I think of you often in a much-kinder way – and still always every time I drive
through Wabeno. I remember you. I’m praying for you. Please say a prayer for me.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
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