Almost Grown

“How do your boys see this journey for you?” is probably the most frequently asked question by friends and acquaintances when they speak with me about my entrance into the seminary and study for the priesthood. Every once in a while, a unique variation on this comes up, as a good friend asked recently:

“Who takes care of your boys?”

That one made me stop and think about not only how to answer, but to look into the depths of the question. A significant part of the timing of my decision has to do with the fact that my sons are growing up into young men, and as I like to say, on any given day two out of the three are on my “good list.” They, like most twenty-somethings, wrestle with layers of challenges in their daily lives as they are maturing. Each has a unique, personal perspective on my journey that reflects their current status, with two still students in college and my oldest son out in the “working world.” Every parent will tell you that you never stop worrying about your children, whether they are in their teens, twenties, thirties or forties, so as their Dad, I do my share of worrying.

Which makes this question a little bit haunting: “Who takes care of your boys?”

In considering this, I was drawn to two items framed on the wall of my bedroom at home. The first was a gift from my brother, a calligraphy print that states, “A brother is like a strong tree to lean against in a storm.” That phrase is one that applies in a very real sense to my three sons today, who are not just sons, but have become mutually supporting brothers. As they continue to mature in the years ahead, they will learn more and more the value of their friendship as brothers, both in supporting each other and in the loving support and encouragement they offer to me.

The second item is a framed watercolor print by Sandi Gore Evans titled “Almost Grown.” It was a Father's Day gift many years ago from Ellie to me, and it illustrates a sneaker next to a baby shoe, a remarkable analogy to the stages of growth they have gone through, as have I.  When that watercolor was new, the sneaker was “mine” and the baby shoe was “theirs.” Now, however, both are theirs, and it captures the notion that they have “almost” grown into young adults. Some days they seem closer than others to that goal. At any rate, for them, my phone sounds the same whether they speak to me in South Orange or Mount Laurel, and their respective time away at school or work is simply where each of them, and I, need to be right now. When we find the chance to actually be together in the same place, it is a great blessing; when we meet this year, it will be me as well as them coming home during fall break and holidays.

Some of you know of my particular trust in the Blessed Mother, and I try to say a Rosary daily for my sons. On each mystery, I contemplate not just the biblical moment for Mary and Jesus, but I apply that particular mystery to what they need, or what I hope for them. The “Visitation” might have me calling to mind an interview they have coming up as a visit of sorts, or the “Presentation” might have me asking the Blessed Mother to watch over them as they get ready for a test or paper in college. While meditating on each mystery, I place my needs and concerns for them under the protection of the Blessed Mother; each day, this Rosary is said just for their needs. (Don’t worry; the rest of my readers are included in other petitions during the Liturgy of the Hours each day!)

So the answer to the question, “Who takes care of your boys?” is really very simple for me: I have a role to play as their Dad, and it is a role I enjoy and cherish, but the real care comes from the Blessed Mother, whose intercessions for my sons with her Son I implore and count on every day.

Any parents reading this, consider talking to Mary about your kids each day; she is Our Lady of Good Counsel, the Seat of Wisdom, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, the Queen of Heaven. Trust her to take care of your boys, and girls, each day.

Week One and the Eve of Classes

It is an amazing thing when dreams start to blend into reality; that has been my experience this past week, when Sunday evening a week ago I moved into Lewis Hall to continue my discernment for the priesthood. For about two days, our community was small – the sixteen of us who entered Immaculate Conception Seminary as the “new men.” During those first days, I described my feelings to a friend as feeling like a kid at Christmas – everything wrapped in excitement, both because of the newness of each part of our orientation together, but also because the dream has indeed started to become a reality. Each long day was packed from dawn ‘til night with newness: new information, new friends, new structure to the measurement of our days between cycles of community prayer.

The last half of the week was spent on a retreat with all the community – new guys, returning seminarians, and faculty. Those who may know my challenge with remembering names can imagine that as one of my personal speed bumps when meeting about sixty or seventy people in the span of five days. I’d like to hope I have about two-thirds of the names down so far, and I’ll give myself the coming week or two to remember the rest; the retreat with the returning men became a special time to get acquainted, and to hear stories of just what I can expect in the community living for the next year. I still feel like a kid at Christmas, perhaps more so as one on Christmas Eve, knowing there are surprises right around the corner with each new day.

Tomorrow begins the academic term, with classes starting at 8:30 after morning prayer at 6:30 – does everyone get excited about starting their Monday morning with Canon Law? (Let’s see if I say that two weeks from now!)

Most significant about this week has been that time is now measured by prayer; sure, there are lots of scheduled meetings and classes, but all center around and make way for when we gather to pray together, along with the encouragement to extend that prayerfulness into our personal time, too.  What a gift that has been! In the closing comments of our retreat, the seminary rector offered this insight to us: “God is inviting us to so much more than ordination.” In a very real sense, that comment defines so much of what has happened this week, and what will happen in the weeks ahead. For me, the academic class work is a gift and opportunity, along with the gift of time to sit with God, to enter into God’s time, kairos, and to find hidden there the invitation to simply listen to what Jesus has in mind for me each day.  The good news is that we have the time for this quiet reflection. The better news is that we are learning how to make this time count for the rest of our lives.

Thanks to all who have shared thoughts and prayers, text messages, and e-mails this week. I value that prayerful support more than words can describe in this blog, so I will leave it as simply repeating my thanks to each of you.

The campus bells have just tolled 8 o’clock; the hustle and bustle of the undergrad celebrations that filled Seton Hall today have quieted down to simply night birds and cricket sounds from my window; night prayer will be calling us together in the beautiful chapel in about an hour or so. I can’t imagine a better way to wrap up a busy day than with these moments of quiet solitude.

Thank you, God, for the gifts that have filled my days this past week, and for the graced moments in the day ahead. “Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive.” So much more than a prayer for meals; so much more than an invitation to ordination!

P.S. – Many have asked what my address is here. I can be found at Rev. Mr. Jim Grogan, Immaculate Conception Seminary, 400 South Orange Avenue, South Orange, NJ 07079 until next May

Hope, Dreams and Letting God Find Me

This past week was an interesting one – in very real terms, a “transitional” week for me. After nine years as a permanent deacon, I began the formal path toward seminary study by joining the annual Diocese of Trenton Seminarian Retreat. Curiously, that formal action of joining with my brother seminarians changes my classification to that of “transitional deacon.” English majors among my acquaintances have had fun speculating on how you change from “permanent,” but transitional captures more than just a designation within seminary progression; it speaks to the hopes and dreams that anticipate transition and transformation along the path ahead of me, intellectual and spiritual transformation as I seek God in my daily life.

This week-long retreat was a profound experience of praying with and getting to know the 30+ men I have joined who are studying to become priests for this Diocese. Spending time in prayerful community highlighted the sense of freedom I feel as I approach the two-week countdown to moving into Seton Hall. As a seminarian – and later as a priest – it becomes not only our obligation but our privilege to commit ourselves to deeper prayer life.

The retreat created the opportunity to celebrate morning and evening prayer together, along with joining for the daily celebration of the Eucharist. Equally important was the fellowship shared, and getting to know the other men who represent the future priests of our Diocese. Young men in their twenties and thirties, and a couple of us in our forties and fifties, with a common dream: to serve the People of God in the Diocese of Trenton. These men have come from the Philippines, from South America, and from throughout New Jersey to pursue this dream. Some from other states, such as California and West Virginia, have found their spiritual home here in the Diocese of Trenton, just as I have called this Diocese home for almost thirty years now. These men give me such a joyful sense of hope for the future of our Church and Diocese.

Naturally, my own excitement is high as August 18^th, move-in day, draws near; the paperwork is complete, classes are registered, and I already have a couple of the books for courses that will both challenge me and continue my “transition” from the secular life to more fully participating in the life of the Church. Many of my family and friends ask, “So, are you ready?”

Simply put, the answer is “yes!”

So much of the year ahead is an unknown, and that’s OK; joining the seminary community in a few weeks will begin to reveal what God has in store for me. I’m expecting surprises – some good, some perhaps not so good, and that is wonderfully OK. Those who know me well understand that I always see the glass as half-full, never half-empty.  That means that each surprise will add to the excitement that this is God’s path for me. I am so very blessed that I have long-time friends who want to keep an eye on my journey, and I look forward to sharing it with you in this blog, and in e-mails, and yes, in the occasional visits. As for me, I look forward to getting to know the men from my Diocese at ICS even better than the retreat opened up this past week, and in joining this community that forms priests for other diocese throughout New Jersey, New York and more.

The prophet Jeremiah tells of God’s plans for us, and speaks of our basis of hope: “For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope.  When you call me, and come and pray to me, I will listen to you. When you look for me, you will find me. Yes, when you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me.”

This past week, the Gospel reminded us to knock and the door will be opened, to seek and we will find, to ask and we shall be given from God all that we need. I am ready, and full of hope, and can’t wait for the surprises when God lets me find Him.

A legacy of service to God

I was looking at a chalice the other day, after dinner at my sister’s home. On the bottom the inscription read, “Rev. James J. Grogan, Ordained May 29, 1943.” Just a bit surreal, my brother offered me the use of this chalice that he has used over the more than thirty years of his priesthood; Bill has been fortunate to have the use of two chalices, each having belonged to our Uncles Tom and Jim, who together served as priests in the Philadelphia Archdiocese for 72 years before their deaths some decades ago.  As my brother pointed out, it might only need to have a new ordination date inscribed a few years from now, as the name is the same.

Of course, I knew Bill had these chalices, as with our uncles he has contributed his own 30 years as a priest on this anniversary year; between the three of them, more than a century of service as priests can be counted.  What surprised me was the impact of reading my name on that base, and especially considering the wear on the chalice. The last ministerial act my Uncle Jim performed was blessing the ring I had just given to my fiancée in 1981 from his hospital bed, as he passed to his eternal reward two weeks after our engagement. The chalice, once gold plated, is now very much two-tone, with areas where the plating has been worn off revealing the silver coloring of the base metal. This wear has pre-occupied me for the past week, as I consider the work of priests, sharing the cup around the altar and offering it to those sharing in the Eucharist.  Perhaps in my Uncle’s time, this cup was more likely reserved only for priests, but in my brother’s hands, it has been shared by priests and laity, with parishioners at daily mass and couples on their wedding days.  All those hundreds or thousands of people have contributed to the “silver lining” of ministry that I am now allowed to view.

During this same week, I joined in a celebration of ministry for a wonderful woman, Sister Marcy Springer, a Sister of Saint Joseph for fifty years. Guiding many, including me, as a spiritual director, Sister Marcy is a woman of prayer, just as my uncles and brother have been for decades. As I pursue the discernment of my own vocation to the priesthood, each of these faithful servants stand as models and reminders to me that this journey is first and foremost a prayerful experience, a prayerful experience that hopefully draws me ever closer to Jesus in the Eucharist. I was offered a second chalice a few years ago, a gift from my parish in memory of Ellie, who they loved nearly as much as I have.  That chalice, too, shows some signs of wear; used in our parish everyday liturgies for a few years, it shows some scratches. In these vessels – both the cups and our human existence – we have some scratches, some marks of suffering, of use, and of joy to be found in the silver lining of life. They are symbols of the faith we share, and of the prayers we offer in communion with one another.  Please keep me and all our seminarians in your prayers, especially our newest seven transitional deacons in Trenton as they join the legacy of sacramental service to and with the People of God.

God, don’t let me take today for granted!

This past week, three events have come together to “excite” my discernment journey.  They include providing a catechetical instruction to our parish Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion on the Eucharistic Life, the ordination of four men as the newest priests in the Diocese of Trenton, and I went to mass with my son.

Speaking with fellow members of my home parish about the Eucharist serves as a reminder of the remarkable sacrament we share; Jesus, still incarnate in the world, present as Body and Blood, soul and divinity in the consecrated bread and wine. As I remind others about what this means, if serves to reinforce to me the emotional excitement that comes from sharing Jesus Christ with others as we celebrate the Eucharist together; I reminded those who are serving in this wonderful ministry that they should be awestruck every time they are invited to place Our Lord in the hands or on the tongue, or to carry Jesus to those who are in hospitals or homebound. Speaking about this with others only served to reinforce for me that while so many activities or parts of our busy daily lives may be taken for granted, the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist should never be routine; His presence truly is the source and summit of our faith lives, and I hope never taken for granted.

This past Saturday, four men were ordained by Bishop O’Connell as the newest priests in the Diocese of Trenton. Beyond the remarkable liturgical ritual of the day, I found myself reflecting on the fact that I have many priests – including these new men – who in various ways serve as models of this vocation I am pursuing, and who have and continue to provide counsel to me in my journey. Some, like my pastor, have only known me as a permanent deacon. Others, like the newly ordained Father Garry Koch was part of those who helped me on my last discernment journey, as one of the faculty in our Diocesan formation program for the permanent diaconate.  Others, such as my cousin and brother, have known me for my entire life, and their discernment to the Franciscan and diocesan priesthood were conversations I shared fifteen or thirty years ago – conversations which occasionally come back to my mind in vivid detail. I am indeed fortunate and blessed to have so many good, holy, and different men whose lives and conversations help me in my journey, and whose continued counsel and friendship are essential for the years ahead. The different places at which they have entered my life leads to different questions and challenges they raise for me, and through that diversity they ask questions that help me respond to God’s call. As one who is weeks away from becoming a seminarian, I also understood that attending an ordination for the priesthood is an entirely different experience than for most; as seminarians, we cannot help but wonder about when that ordination day may be ours.  We not only feel joy for the men ordained this day, but both profound excitement and trepidation about our own readiness and worthiness for that step ahead. Discernment is a daily event, but ordination days during this journey are particularly powerful moments, and not to be taken for granted.

Finally, on Sunday I went to mass with my son, who had just returned home from working 300 miles away for the past year.  For many, that “going to mass with my son/daughter” would be an innocuous phrase.  For me, however, as a deacon, it is anything but; besides the fact that recently, most of the time my sons are either away at school or work, but also that most weekends I am up on the altar as a deacon, not beside them in the pew. Being together, responding to points made in the homily, noticing others in the pews around us, and sharing the sign of peace are no longer routine, but special and important moments. They are also moments that will become increasingly rare in the years ahead.  For me, they are also the conversations between a father and sons about the priesthood. For many parents, that conversation is about the son’s discernment, while for me it is seeking the advice and questions of my sons about their father’s journey. They are conversations never to be taken for granted.