25 years later

 In November 1999, my seminary class was privileged to go on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land -- Israel.  We were in Bethlehem for 5 weeks, traveled through Galilee area for another week, then spending another 5 weeks in Jerusalem.  We returned to the United States on Valentine's Day 2000.

It was an amazing trip overall.  As so many people have reflected upon in the past, it's an incredible thought to having walked through "streets" that were graced by the feet of the Savior of the world at different times in His life.  Bethlehem holds the great honor to have the Nativity grotto, traditionally known to be the place where Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was born.  It doesn't look like much from the outside, hidden within a building that had seen better days I'm sure.  However there is a stairway that one enters through an opening in the stone walls.  That stairway is not wide nor very deep to go down, but what is at the bottom of the stairway IS deep -- very profound!  There is a "structure" that is perceived as the manger where Jesus rested and stayed warm, but across the "room" there is a small area with a gold star in the ground.  It is the place where the Blessed Virgin Mary gave birth to Jesus.  While many would probably still doubt the authenticity of such things, authenticity is NOT the goal.  If it were definitively true, Palestinian authorities (as Bethlehem is in Palestine) would not likely be letting a great deal of humanity be there.  There would probably be MUCH higher security.  And there is no entrance fee to this site.  If someone took a notion, they could spend hours in prayer basking in the gospel story and all of the events that led up to it.

Another site that was very powerful in Bethlehem was Shepherd's Field.  It is traditionally as it sounds -- the place where the shepherds were keeping their sheep, and lo, the angel of the Lord announced to them that Jesus the Messiah was born, and the choirs of angels joined in singing "Gloria in excelsis deo!"  It was a place I went to more than once in the weeks we were there.

The pilgrimage was not without personal spiritual pain, however.  I don't travel very well, being haunted by motion-sickness for much of my life (and continues to this day, but that is a longer story).  I have had to work through separation anxiety for a long time.  I am a home-body.  I prefer to be close to my family and friends.  My classmates were great in helping me to focus on the pilgrimage.  However, there was one major piece of my heart that was left behind in the United States - Lou.

Lou, some of you know having read my book, became a wonderful friend in the two years we were in the seminary together.  He was an ordained permanent deacon for the Archdiocese and had become interested in continuing his education and formation to move to priesthood.  He was never married as many permanent deacons are, so there was less of a chance of anything impeding the plan.

I was very hopeful when Lou accepted my invitation to be my roommate overseas.  He was an older man already and began trying to make excuses as to why he thought it might not have been a good idea - "worst of all," he snored.  That was the worst thing he could come up with.  He eventually said "yes."  I was so happy.  Then life hit me hard.  On the day we were leaving in two separate groups, I went to Lou's room looking to make sure he was ready too.  He was not there.  He wasn't anywhere.  I fell into a real panic.  I was crying and was not going to leave without knowing he was there.  The truth of the matter was that everyone at the seminary, including my best friends, knew that Lou was not coming back after Thanksgiving -- everyone but me.  My close friends were insistent that I get in the limo to get to the airport.  I still didn't know that reality about Lou until two days into our trip when the second wave arrived and Lou was not with them.  That was when our pilgrimage director told me about Lou's dropping from the seminary.  Maybe it hurt all the more because it was late at night when the 2nd group arrived.  I look back and I must believe that what hurt the most was that he was not up front with me about it.  Secondly, that even my closest and dearest friends and classmates knew.  They were sworn to not tell me.  About a year later, I received a Christmas card from him from Florida where he had moved to with his phone number inside.  I had to call him.  I had to know why.

That phone call was long, but there was one point of business that he knew I was going to ask.  Why didn't you tell me?  I explained the scene I just described above to him.  It haunted me.  I asked.  He responded "You really don't know?"  "No."  He continued "You would have never gone.  I knew you needed to be on that trip with or without me.  I couldn't take a chance that anyone would spill the beans.  I'm sorry, but I had to make a choice that your future was much more important than mine."  My heart sank and my soul was swelling, but not with sadness anymore.  He didn't say anything because of his love and respect for me.  And that is not just about the trip, but not returning to continue on for priesthood ordination.  My love for Lou grew from that day forward just hoping our paths would cross again.  They did a couple of times over the years and each time was extremely joyful.  Then one day, he called to ask for a big favor -- for me to be the celebrant for his funeral.  He had been diagnosed with lung cancer.  Sadly, after I agreed to do the funeral and we finished the conversation, it was the last time I would hear his voice.  He passed on Good Friday of 2013.  Yet, again, out of love, he made his sister promise not to say anything to me until after Easter so that I wouldn't be distracted for my parish.

The man knew me.  That love is deep and not in any sexual intimacy way.  He was an enigma.  He was a gift, not only to me, but to the world.  Probably one of very few cops I ever truly respected.

That is what I think about as Advent begins this year.  25 years later.