{"id":126,"date":"2015-08-29T19:29:55","date_gmt":"2015-08-29T19:29:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/?p=126"},"modified":"2015-09-01T19:42:16","modified_gmt":"2015-09-01T19:42:16","slug":"father-bernie-finds-a-listener","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/?p=126","title":{"rendered":"Father Bernie Finds a Listener"},"content":{"rendered":"

Father Bernie Finds a Listener<\/strong><\/p>\n

by Robert J. Marton<\/strong><\/p>\n

Father Bernard Smith, known to parishioners as \u201cFather Bernie\u201d or just \u201cBernie\u201d to his boyhood friends, had been assistant pastor at St. Francis of Assisi parish in Mayefield for two years.\u00a0 It was his second assignment as assistant since his ordination five years ago.\u00a0 He assumed his next step would be as a pastor somewhere in the diocese.\u00a0 It was unusual for a priest to be assigned to the parish where he grew up, and Bernie hoped he could stay awhile longer in this place he knew so well.\u00a0 His father and mother were deceased, but he still had his older brother, Walt, as well as aunts, uncles, cousins and many old friends in Mayefield.\u00a0 He wasn\u2019t particularly interested in becoming a pastor:\u00a0 he became a priest to be a teacher, a mentor, a confessor, a healer of souls, not an administrator.\u00a0 But the Bishop makes those decisions.<\/p>\n

\u00a0Father Bernie was content in his vocation.\u00a0 He heard the call as a teenager, and answered it in college. The result was as fulfilling as he expected it to be.\u00a0 The priesthood could be a lonely life, but he was a loner by nature, and his hours of thought, contemplation and prayer seemed to energize him, just as too many hours of interaction with parishioners, fellow priests, and people in general seemed to wear him out.<\/p>\n

He wished he was a better preacher, however.\u00a0 He prepared and practiced diligently, but looking down from the pulpit on Sundays, he got the feeling no one was really listening.\u00a0 He really envied fellow priests who were truly eloquent from the pulpit, like his current pastor, Father Jim Verrant.\u00a0 Father Jim was a story and joke teller.\u00a0 His homilies engaged the congregation.<\/p>\n

But even Father Jim\u2019s eloquence failed in comparison to old Monsignor O\u2019Brien of his youth.\u00a0 Even in his seventies, Monsignor O\u2019Brien never preached for less than thirty minutes \u2013 a half-hour or more of blind faith, condemnation of sin, and the threat of swift and eternal punishment in a lilting \u2013yet powerful\u2014Irish brough. He preached in a small church, but Monsignor O\u2019Brien\u2019s booming voice \u2013emanating from a short, frail looking man– was made for cathedrals.<\/p>\n

Father Bernie did his best in the pulpit every Sunday, trying not to get distracted by bored faces and glazed-over eyes. He used all the tricks taught in seminary \u2013 short sentences, modulated voice, meaningful pauses– but what he read in the faces of the congregation was disinterest.\u00a0 So he kept his homilies brief to lessen the pain for everyone, including himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cCrazy Patrick\u201d Fagan –before he moved away and abandoned his family– had suggested that Bernie \u201cshould tell jokes like Father Jim.\u00a0 He keeps us in stitches.\u00a0 The one he told last week about the old nun was hilarious.\u201d<\/p>\n

Father Jim\u2019s joke:<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

Elderly Sister Ursula was on her death bed.<\/i><\/p>\n

The other sisters gathered around her, trying to make her comfortable.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i>They gave her some warm milk to drink but she refused.<\/i><\/p>\n

Then one of the sisters took the glass back to the kitchen and added a liberal dose of Irish whiskey to the milk.<\/i><\/p>\n

Back at Sister Ursula\u2019s bed, she held the glass to her lips.<\/i><\/p>\n

The dying sister drank a little, then a little more and drank the whole glass down to the last drop.<\/i><\/p>\n

“Sister Ursula,” the other nuns asked, “please give us some wisdom before you pass to the Lord.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

She raised herself up in bed and with a pious look on her face said, “Whatever you do, don’t sell that cow.”)<\/i><\/p>\n

Several parishioners had mentioned Father Jim\u2019s joke, all repeating it in different forms.\u00a0 They thought it was very amusing, but when questioned by Father Bernie about its religious message, none was sure.\u00a0 What was the lesson?<\/p>\n

Bernie tried telling a joke once, not from the pulpit but to a class of teens at St.LouiseHigh School.\u00a0 The joke didn\u2019t have a particular point; he just wanted to get their attention:<\/p>\n

\u201cOne Sunday, the priest delivered a stirring sermon on the importance of God in our lives.\u00a0 \u2018Dear Lord,\u2019 he began, with arms extended toward heaven. \u2018Without you, we are but dust…\u2019 \u00a0The priest would have continued but at that moment a young girl in the congregation asked her mother quite loudly, \u2018Mommy, what is butt dust?\u2019\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

The kids thought it was funny.\u00a0 \u201cButt dust\u201d<\/i> \u2026 they chuckled over and over.\u00a0 However, by the time they left the classroom and retold the joke to their friends, \u201cbutt dust\u201d inexplicably became \u201cass dust\u201d (??), which prompted several calls of inquiry to him from the sisters at St. Louise.\u00a0 Correctly retelling the joke to the nuns didn\u2019t elicit much humor.<\/p>\n

It was his last attempt at joke telling.<\/p>\n

Early in his tenure at St. Francis, Father Bernie felt he had made a real connection with a parishioner.\u00a0 One Sunday, as he spoke from the pulpit most eloquently (at least, in his mind) about peace– personal and global\u2014he looked down on glazed-over stares, then noticed one older gentleman smiling broadly and nodding his head in apparent agreement and appreciation.\u00a0 Mr. Munson (as he later discovered his name was) seemed to hang on every word as the priest invoked the simple words attributed to St. Francis, the patron of their parish:<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i>“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.<\/i><\/p>\n

Where there is hatred . . . let me sow love
\nWhere there is injury . . . pardon
\nWhere there is doubt . . . faith\u2026\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

and ending with:<\/p>\n

\u201cFor it is in giving . . .that we receive,
\nIt is in pardoning, that we are pardoned,
\nIt is in dying . . .that we are born to eternal life.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Mr. Munson smiled throughout.<\/p>\n

He\u2019s paying attention!<\/p>\n

He understands!<\/p>\n

I have connected, Father Bernie thought.\u00a0 Somebody gets it.\u00a0 He had planned to end the sermon at that point, but inspired by the sudden interest, he spoke for five minutes longer, pulling out every St. Francis prayer and quote he could think of, concluding with (in honor of Mr. Munson\u2019s smiling countenance):<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is not fitting, when one is in God’s service, to have a gloomy<\/i> face or a chilling look.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

As Mr. Munson continued to smile and nod, Father Bernie –resisting the impulse to give the old guy a \u201cthumbs up\u201d– stepped down from the pulpit on an emotionally high note and resumed the Mass with enthusiasm and vigor.<\/p>\n

Someone listens.<\/p>\n

Someone appreciates him.<\/p>\n

This was a great ego booster.\u00a0 Or, rather, it was until Father Bernie raced from the sacristy to the front door of the church after Mass to greet his new fan, only to discover Mr. Munson nodding silently in a group of parishioners.\u00a0 Everyone was contributing to the conversation except Mr. Munson, who, as it turned out, was stone deaf \u2013could hear nothing\u2014and didn\u2019t even read lips.\u00a0 But he did go through life with an agreeable smile on his face whenever someone spoke.<\/p>\n

Nevertheless, Father Bernie continued to preach directly to Mr. Munson, week after week.\u00a0 Why not?\u00a0 Maybe he was absorbing some of the message, which, Father Bernie assumed, was more than the rest of the congregation was.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

(Robert J. Marton)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Father Bernie Finds a Listener by Robert J. Marton Father Bernard Smith, known to parishioners as \u201cFather Bernie\u201d or just \u201cBernie\u201d to his boyhood friends, had been assistant pastor at St. Francis of Assisi parish in Mayefield for two years.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/126"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=126"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/126\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":196,"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/126\/revisions\/196"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=126"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=126"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.robertmarton.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=126"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}