A reflection on Ordination

Sarah Katherine invoking the Holy Spirit

I was asked prior to Ordination if I would write about the experience for this edition of the CalvaryConnection.  I agreed having no idea what I would write but thinking somewhat arrogantly that I’d have plenty to say and would be able to say it easily and eloquently.  That has not been the case—so much so that I’m past deadline turning this article into the editorial board.  But I have tried to write it and have written it many times in my head and on paper, and yet none seem adequate or able to fully express what I felt that day and today.  And so I have trashed all those, and I ask to speak to you from the heart.  I want to be as honest and open about this experience as I possibly can whether or not it is poetic and elegant.  I won’t take you back to the day fifteen years ago when I first heard God call me into ordained ministry, but I would like to take you back to the week prior to Ordination.

            Beginning on Sunday, I started re-reading the vows that I would soon be making, and by Monday evening I was in a state of panic.  I was very ready to say I couldn’t do it.  I didn’t feel worthy or prepared.  And so I called the Bishop to set up an appointment and tell him so.  My mind kept saying, “Who do you think you are responding to these vows? You can never live into or up to them.”  Fortunately he didn’t call me back right away but rather I spent all week thinking, praying, and conversing with close clergy friends.

            Thursday morning the Bishop responded to my request, and truly God bless him; he sat with me for an hour and a half in his office as I wept and told him all the reasons I couldn’t do this.  I told him my fears of failure, of not living up to my call, and of becoming cynical and/or arrogant.  I told him I feared putting my family in the spotlight, and I told him I didn’t want to fail the church or the people I served.  It was truly one of the most pastoral times I have ever experienced.  Bishop White did not take my doubts lightly, nor did he feed into my anxiety.  Instead, he sat and he listened.  And then he offered me these words, “It is not about living into them 100% of the time.  It is about faithfully trying to live into them and when you don’t, asking forgiveness.”  And he prayed with me.

            Friday was a whirlwind.  There are few times in your life when those you love most in the world from all parts of your life gather in one place.  By Friday they were coming in, by car and plane.  I was and am eternally humbled and grateful that all these people came in the midst of the busyness of this month.  Thirty six family members and close friends descended upon Louisville.  Some of these people hadn’t seen one another in 19 years—since our wedding.  There was laughter, love and catching up (and a production of Beauty and the Beast in which Caroline played a role along with dinner out for 26.) 

           

Typical Caroline

Saturday morning felt so much like the morning of my wedding.  I knew it was a day that would change my life, and yet there seemed to be nothing to do.  So, I did laundry, made breakfast, and arrived at the church far too early—early enough to get in everyone else’s way.  As we lined up for the processional I held both my sons hands and shook like a leaf.  Right before we entered the

church the Bishop asked, “You holding up okay?”  To which I responded, “You know the day of my wedding on our way down the aisle Daddy said there was a limo waiting outside if I wanted to run.”  In his pastoral way, Bishop White just smiled and began singing.

            So what did it feel like?  It did in many ways feel like my wedding day.  I entered the church and saw so many people who I loved and who loved me.  People I knew would be there and people I didn’t.  My knees almost gave way when I saw a new friend smiling at me because I knew she was missing her son’s basketball tournament to be there and we’ve only been friends for a few short months.  I saw Calvary parishioners, St. Mark’s parishioners, friends from the past, my children’s friends, and my family.  And although my doubts did not dissipate, I was held up knowing that these people believed in me and believed in my call; their presence said so.  As a community of faith we are called to lift one another up, to carry one another’s burdens, and to love one another faithfully and unconditionally.  I am so proud, honored, and humbled to be part of this community of faith.

           

The service was phenomenal.  Honestly, I cannot wait to see the video because I was so affected by each and every part that I know I missed some things.  A highlight for me was receiving a high five from my son after I signed my declaration.  That act said so much—it said I love you, I accept you, I believe in you, and I believe in your call.  In that moment a high five was just as holy as receiving the Bible.  It’s a lesson to be remembered—the love of God and community comes in the grandiose, but it also comes in the simple, everyday acts.  The ordinary becomes holy in the presence of God. 

            I think I began crying at the beginning of the service and didn’t stop.  It has been a long journey—a journey filled with mountains and valleys.  And in these moments it all came together.  All the fear and the doubts united with the love and peace of God, and it was sacred and it was real. 

           

In true and complete transparency I will share with you one of my greatest fears.  Perhaps because I am “older” and have worked in churches for many years, I have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly.  As I told the Bishop, “If that’s what’s going to happen to me, I don’t want it.  I don’t want to change who I am as a person, a mother, a wife, and a friend.  I love being a Deacon and serving others-I never want to lose that.  But, I so strongly feel called to the celebration of the sacraments.  I need to do this.”  The Ordination service spoke to these fears—there are many churches who would

not have “allowed” the full participation of my family members, who would have balked at a preacher from outside the Diocese (much less the country), who would have ignored those from other denominations.  But this community not only welcomed everyone, but you also lifted us all in prayer, understood the importance for each of us, and most importantly you told us so.  The presence of the Holy Spirit was powerfully felt.

            One final aspect to highlight—that of the laying on of hands.  Was it heavy?  Yes. Over 20 priests laid their hands on my head at the same time—very heavy.  Another gift I have of being “older” is knowing so well the clergy in this Diocese.  I count them some of my best friends.  And so yes, their hands were heavy—

the heaviness said to me you are taking on a huge vocation that will not always be easy.  A vocation where you will sometimes feel weighed down by it all, and it will bring you to your knees.  But in those hands I also felt the caresses of friends who loved me and who would continue to love me.  Hands that said, “When you feel the weight, we are here your colleagues and your friends, and we will lift you up.” Hands that would be available to clasp mine in prayer.

            I’m never quite certain how to respond to “congratulations” or “do you feel different?”  I know that I alone did not do this; I alone in fact, did very little.  As my dear friend Father Christopher Halliday said in his sermon, in his Gospel, John writes, “you did not choose me, no I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit.”  Fr. Christopher said, “John is very clear that in our faith journeys it is God who calls us, it is God who chooses us for ministries; it is God who initiates the process and hopefully we recognize and respond.”  Congratulations do not belong to me—do I feel different?  Yes, how I cannot explain—not weighted but not weightless.  I feel different I think because I said yes to the identity that God called me to say yes to.  The Holy Spirit clothed me on Dec. 8 with the ministry to which I was called.  God called and I responded.  I ask for your continued prayers, support and friendship as I continue to try to live into this calling, and you will be in mine—my prayers and my heart.  I am truly blessed that Calvary is the church to which I have been called as I begin the ministry of my priesthood.