Calls

On the night he was handed over to suffering and death, our Lord Jesus Christ took bread; and when he had given thanks to you, he broke it, and gave it to his disciples and said, “Take, eat: This is my Body, which is given for you. Do this for the remembrance of me” – Eucharistic Prayer A, The Book of Common Prayer, The Episcopal Church

These are the words that are central in every celebration of the Eucharist in the Church. And I silently join in saying these words at every Eucharistic celebration. Well, except for those times that come all too often when my mind wanders from our Lord to the many distractions of our human world. And, again, during the finale of Godspell as Jesus sings “Oh God, I’m bleeding” I again join, to the best of my earthly experience and ability, feeling both the finality of the Jesus last words “Oh God, I’m dead” and the rush of joy as the company continues “Long live God, long live God” returning full circle to the great call “Prepare ye, the way of the Lord”.

To me these are the words, the actions, of God’s call to me. Christ’s life, the last supper, death, and the redemption given to all of us. But what is this call? There was the time, in my thirties, when the joy and power of the Eucharist called me. I asked questions. I looked around me. I wanted to be able to hold the bread, lift the cup of wine, to share them with my fellow Christians… I started the path of discernment to the priesthood. After a number of weeks, it became clear that this was not my Call. But the power of “Call” has always been a center point in my life. While I knew “Call” was there, at the center, I did not know what my Call was, at least beyond what I was (and still am).

But what is “Call”? Something that is “One and Done”? Can you have more than one? Or perhaps is Call – like so much of the rest of life – “Just” part of the journey? Like when Larry E spent what felt like the whole evening talking to just me after my high-school friends had finally convinced me to not drink that one evening in 9th grade and join them at Bible Rap? Or when, during our pre-marital counseling, I asked our priest if I was really ready for the step of Marriage? Or the time, a year or so after that evening Bible Rap, on the Greyhound bus traveling from Rochester to Dansville when, after a weekend of working with other young people in the Regional Youth Council of the Episcopal Diocese of Rochester I just knew that I was giving my life to our Lord and Saviour? When in the dark of the bus in the night I made that personal acknowledgement and commitment that has given me the power to say “Yes” when asked if I am “Born Again”?

As I write this I realize that night on the bus, in the dark, with no other earthly companion, is my Call. It is the time I gave my life to God. No strings attached and no idea of the consequences. My life is God’s.

Not that it keeps me from making all sorts of better or more questionable decisions, or following harder, easier, longer, or sometimes more dangerous routes to where I am today. That ninth-grade evening of choosing Bible Rap over going out and drinking didn’t keep me from drinking. It was another ten years before my wife and I (along with our nine-month-old son) were assistant chaperones for an EYC event. After watching Diary of a Teen-Age Alcoholic, the kids could not relate. But I did. And announced that had been my life. Nor does one call mean we don’t make other vows or promises. I made and keep Marriage Vows. I am a parent, and now a grandparent. I have promised stability and continued learning as a Benedictine Oblate. I am a part of my Church’s Christian Community. These, and other commitments, are each calls. They each require discernment to initiate and commitment to continue. All center around the one, central, Call: That I am God’s and I have given my life to God.

Pentecost 2023: On the occasion of a change in direction for a priest friend