Minister and Mediator

A Reflection on the Second Reading for October 24th, 2021:
Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Hebrews
5.1-6

Every high priest chosen from among men is put in charge of things pertaining to God on their behalf, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He is able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is subject to weakness; and because of this he must offer sacrifice for his own sins as well as for those of the people. And one does not presume to take this honour, but takes it only when called by God, just as Aaron was.

So also Christ did not glorify himself in becoming a high priest, but was appointed by the one who said to him, “You are my Son, today I have begotten you”; as he says also in another place, “You are a priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek.”

In my early twenties, I returned to Nova Scotia after two years of studying and living in Christian community in Western Canada. I moved to an apartment in Halifax, close to work and school, and I started attending a nearby parish. One morning, I chose to go to daily mass; as the liturgy progressed, I became increasingly sensitive to areas of my heart that needed healing. The celebrating priest was not someone I knew personally, but during his homily I perceived the Holy Spirit gently reminding me of past hurts and inviting me to examine the fear and anxiety that was impeding my freedom. But I was afraid; I felt alone, and I missed my friends who I’d grown so close to in community. I didn’t know where to go as a next step.

After mass, I stayed behind to pray after everyone else had cleared out of the church, and I got teary. The priest returned after socializing in the hallway, noticed me crying, and decided to approach and ask if I was okay. He kindly listened, invited me to chat, and offered practical advice with genuine care and concern. Over the next several weeks we met a few more times and eventually, Father formally became my spiritual director.

In one conversation, we discovered that part of my hurt was related to the challenges I had in mourning the loss of my grandmother when I was nine. Nanny died in her sleep, unexpectedly, and her loss since impacted my relationship with God and others. As I described life events surrounding her death, I shocked myself after accidentally saying aloud that I felt as if she had “abandoned me”; I gasped audibly, because it came from such a sub-conscious place. Although I understood logically that this was not the case, my heart as a child had felt the pain of abandonment. I had harboured anger, resentment, and distrust towards God that wasn’t fully healed, even after I’d experienced a profound conversion of heart in my adult years.

In response to this realization, Father carved out time in his schedule to celebrate a small memorial mass in his community’s chapel, dedicated to my Nanny. We gathered, with a couple others, and he reminded me of the communion of saints and encouraged me to pray the mass while trusting and believing that Nanny was present there — as a member of the Body of Christ. The liturgy was so simple, yet immensely powerful and I perceived God’s love, mercy, compassion, and restorative grace in new ways in my heart. The memory of this mass is one I will treasure always, and it stands out as a clear example of personally experiencing a priest acting as a mediator between God and humanity. God chose Father for that moment of restoration, and to cooperate in many other of His works of salvation, and I am so grateful for all priests who respond to their call to priestly ministry with courage and humility.




Kendra L.

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