There are some days which seem to run one into another without ceasing. On days like this, there never seems to be enough time to accomplish the things that need to be attended to, much less finding the time to reflect and appreciate what is taking place before our very eyes.
Then, there are days when certain activities lend themselves profoundly to the realization that there is indeed something happening in our very midst and we do well to pay attention to the signs that speak (or try to speak) to us.
Many of the days in the immediate past fit nicely into the former category, but today there was at least one moment which had to be put into the latter.
I received a phone call yesterday from a (shall we say) paniced high school chaplain who had only just discovered that the priest who was scheduled to celebrate Mass this morning with the almost 900 students at one of the local high schools, had indeed come down with something horrid and would be unable to be present. His panic was audible as he asked, 'would it be at all possible for you to help?' I try my best to be available to schools whenever possible, so of course I acquiessed and made plans to be present at the beginning of today to preside at the Mass.
The scene upon my arrival at the school was typical: students arriving and disembarking from their various buses, proceeding to their lockers and then to home room. Everyone seemed to know where they were headed ... except for me and my companion. It was only a few moments though before one of the staff members noticed the two lost souls and came to our rescue. Accompanying us to the door of the chapel (for fear perhaps that we would continue to wander aimlessly if left untended), she then left us there to await the iminent arrival of the chaplain, who she assured us would have all the answers. So said, so done.
The welcomes were very cordial; I even met a number of students and staff who I know. I'm not sure whether they were more surprised than I to find me presiding this morning, but be that as it may, here we were.
It's been a while since I presided at a liturgy in a high school, and particularly in this high school. As the liturgy continued, and I remarked to myself the absence of familiarity on the part of the students with the accusomed responses which are only too well known by others who know this ritual, I couldn't help wondering whether something has been lost since the departure of the Basilian Fathers who spent so many years teaching in these parts.
From outward appearances, one would agree that these students were very polite. What is usually a place of sport and raucus vocalizing was transformed for an hour or so into a place of worship, but I still wonder whether those gathered were truly interested in what was unfolding in their midst. All around me, there were signs of small conversations going on between neighbours and friends.
Given the fact that the deacon had himself reflected upon the authority of the Baptist's voice as he spoke to crowds on the bank of the Jordan river, and contrasted it with the inquietude in his words as he spoke to his disciples from prison, I couldn't help wondering whether these students, so unfamiliar perhaps with the reality of what is taking place in their very midst, truly appreciated the gift that was being offered to them. I thought for a moment about stopping the proceedings to wake them up as it were with an explanation about the gift of self-giving that is offered to us in the body and blood of Jesus himself, poured out in love for us all, but of course I didn't follow through.
Still, the musing continues. I wonder whether the seed planted in this soil, the hearts of youngsters who seldom have the opportunity to celebrate sacraments, or to deepen their faith, has the nourishment necessary for full and abundant growth. Even if the food is offered to them, do they accept it, or do they leave it by the roadside, get choked by the thorns of daily life and its accompanying worries, or do they just get lost in the rocks that are scattered hither and thither?
In the end, ours is not to question, but to believe that somehow, God will continue to do His work. We are only cooperators with Him, and He alone is the master builder.
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