3WW (Heartache, Jangle, Restless): Holy Silence

The middle-aged bishop stared down at the plain wooden coffin sitting in the small church’s main aisle, his heartache apparent in his deep blue eyes and the wrinkles of his brow. He then looked out at the congregation, a group of miners, farmers, and small-town merchants garbed in their Sunday best. He had been at the parish multiple times. To visit the friend in the box before him.

He, Albert, and his friend, Michael, attended the same seminary 30 years prior. From different dioceses, they became fast friends. They prayed together, certainly. But they also shared a love for beer and all things sports. Michael loved the Steelers and Pirates. He loved the Browns and Indians. A few of those Steelers-Browns games caused some of what the bishop might now consider reckless behavior, given that each of them had to make good on certain ‘bets’.

It was during the summer of their last year of theology that Albert received a call at his parish in North Pittsburgh. Michael told Albert he had laryngeal cancer. Albert traveled to be with his friend just outside Cleveland every other weekend. And he was there when they removed Michael’s larynx. Michael’s journey to the priesthood seemed to have been put on permanent hold.

Albert was ordained later that year; Michael attended and made it known to his skeptical friend that he would be a priest. Albert didn’t think it possible. And when, in fact, Michael met with Cleveland’s bishop, he was told that a man who couldn’t speak could not consecrate the Eucharist and therefore could not become a priest. The bishop encouraged Michael to stay involved but told him the Lord had other plans.

Michael didn’t agree. Instead he began sending letters to archdiocese around the country asking if they wanted an aspiring priest with three years of theology. Of course, he was honest about his condition. And all dioceses gave the same reply. For 25 years.

Michael nevertheless persisted. And a bishop in West Virginia – of all places – took notice. This bishop of Wheeling-Charleston decided – partially because of the lack of vocations and partially because he thought a man who wanted to be a priest should have that chance – to grant him entry. He subsequently gained entry for Michael into Mount Saint Mary’s Seminary in Maryland to finish his last year.

It was in his fourth year that he had to practice the mass. And no one had a solution to the problem that he couldn’t consecrate the Eucharist. Other than having another priest on the altar, which wasn’t a good option in a diocese where priests were at a minimum. The rector suggested that a member of the congregation could assist Father Michael until the consecration, at which point Father Michael would simply continue while praying the words silently. They tried the solution. And though odd, it seemed like it could work.

The bishop assigned Father Michael to St. John the Evangelist in Mullens, WV where Father Michael was tasked with leading a small parish of 50. And for five years, Father Michael – with the parishioners’ help – celebrated the Eucharist. Until Michael discovered his cancer had returned. It spread rapidly and killed him within weeks.

So there stood Bishop Albert looking at the congregation from his chair on the altar and readying to start the mass. He was surrounded by the bishop from the archdiocese as well as the priests from the surrounding parishes. Instead of making the sign of the cross to begin the mass, he walked from the altar and in front of the casket.

‘I would appreciate it if one among you could assist me with the mass.’

The stunned parish sat in silence for a moment. And then a young woman in a plain brown dress rose and said, ‘I’ll do the reading.’

She accompanied Albert to the altar and spoke the lines the priest would usually utter.

When it came time for the Eucharistic prayer, the woman knelt beside the altar. And Albert didn’t say a word. Instead he prayed silently and lifted first the body and then the blood of Christ to the heavens.

No bells jangled. No one made a sound. Instead, Albert listened to the undying faith the parish had in their beloved pastor. And he understood that everything is possible with God.