Gobsmacked: What a perfect word! It's taken me a lifetime to discover one word that describes the spiritual experience of prayer.

Gobsmacked! 

This singular English word captures perfectly the sense of gratitude and communion that prayer often brings to me. Or, perhaps better put... brings me to.  

A few summers back, a brother priest and cherished friend once snapped a quick picture of me in prayer with his cell phone camera as we enjoyed each others company at my cottage, nestled alongside the majestic Ottawa River. With the grace of years of discipline and experience, I saw in that photo the look of a happy man. When I was young and far less practiced in the regimes of prayer, penance and discipline, I think I would have probably thought the old guy in the picture looked spaced out... or asleep! Today, as I once again sat here in prayer and quiet, the word suddenly came to me which captures the expression on my face in that photo: Gobsmacked.

I’ve written from my personal experiences of pain, shame, and difficulty in the wake of the clergy sex and financial scandals many times, and in in many places, that these wounds have been wrought on the Church by clerical concupiscence. We have no one to blame but ourselves for the current situation of our diminished influence within the larger community. I believe that convicted members of the clergy, irrespective of rank or honor within the communion should be expelled from the clerical state. I deeply regret each time I think it necessary to repeat this position, however the injury is both self-inflicted and necessary to try to win back those who have left the Church as a direct result of their malfeasance and infidelities. 

Mercy and forgiveness are the principle teachings of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Both seem to be missing through the application of such a costly penalty as I propose. It is only through the grace of a rich and bountiful prayer life, nourished often and fruitfully in those sanctuaries of rest, peace and quiet I’ve been fortunate and capable of maintaining that I find the clarity and peace of communing alone with my God and experiencing so fully his blessings.

That is essential for me as a priest who is responsible principally to the demanding needs of a large and rural parish. As pastor, I am called often at a moments notice to put aside any previous plans so as to help, educate, and accompany people at many points in their life’s journey. In Mattawa, which is a elderly community, the watch word given to Funeral Directors, parish groups, and others is that ‘funerals trump everything’. By the time the sun has set on this last night of a rare two days off, I’ve discovered that since my departure from town Sunday night, four more funerals have been scheduled for the end of this week and the start of the next. I marvel deeply into the mystery of God’s providence and kindness. He continually replenishes my spiritual strength with experiences of utter joy, love and communion; moments when I slip the grasp for a few moments of sufficient inner quiet and focused ‘emptiness‘  as final surmount my own agenda, fears and desires and catch again that powerful, all consuming and exaltation of God’s expression of joy.  When I’ve finally surrendered and let him rush in to talk with me believe me, such a moment gives one a profound experience such that they will say they truly know the expression on the Father’s face with the young prodigal child who has finally comes home to spend some ‘quality time together and listen to the old man‘ for a while. 

Aside from a singular occasion where I was able to visit the holy land on a 10 day exposure tour of biblical sites, there is no place were God has so radically touched and changed me as often as when I spend time alone with him in prayer at my cottage. The days spent in silence, time measured not by appointments, funerals, or television shows, but by the number of pages read, words written, and hours wiled away, talking to no one all day but my canine companion, (a Beardie who hails by the name, Mateo) and the God whom I have pledged my life to love, honor, respect, and obey in the priesthood of Jesus Christ.  

These long hours of silent communion and the fruits are born of years of practice turning my thoughts to praising God in interior prayer whenever and wherever I notice my mind empty or idol. It provides me with a reservoir that’s always sufficient to sustain me when sustained tranquility is available only late in the day. Then too often silent prayer and meditation is quickly followed within seconds by the loud and regular sounds of me snoring. 

I’m told the sound has convinced some of the grandchildren of a neighboring cottage a little bit further up river, that a bear sleeps in the woods between our two cottages I overhead them tell their Pepère on the dock that they had heard fearsome animal that very afternoon! He told them it was a good thing I've got a trusty dog who keeps us safe by eating lions, tigers and bears and not even leaving the bone! Oh my!

From early days when every visit meant fighting with a finicky jet pump that was temperamental.  Plumbing was an issue.  Often it would take its prime to draw water when it would be time to leave. When I returned, the battle was joined again as another hard battle had to be waged coaxing water up the hill to the cottage. Until that is I gave up and started saving until I could afford a plumber!!

The first item for that got written on to the list of renovations and repairs was written down that first night that I took possession of the cottage. It was accompanied by a night and day of pelting rain, lightning, thunder, and wind ... and an old outhouse too many steps outside. There was no argument that a plumber would be the first of many tradesmen that would help me renovate what was a summer cottage into my sanctuary of peace 12 months of the year.

After almost of 25 years of saving, scraping, hammering, painting, cursing, praying and crying - and with the kindness of many friends and family, and more than a little good fortune along the way, I’ve reached finally done all that was necessary to be prepared materially and spiritually when/if I ever get the joy of drawing my first pension cheque.   

When I finally lay down my fruits of my priestly ministry at the feet of the perfect and eternal priest, I expect to see with that loving and joyous expression radiating from Christ’s face when he comes to greet me. It will be the start of a new, wonderful experience,  that will encompass all and more as I am privileged to experience on my little quiet corner of the Ottawa Valley.

Thank God (literally) and Mateo, for they are always present no matter where I am, to mount a defense when such dangerous creatures like bears or trolls attack. I would lack sufficient grace need to fruitfully sustain both my ministries, real and digital, had I not come to appreciate how both perfect and important it is to find the time and place to get ‘Gobsmacked’ by God as often as possible.

(Personal note to Larry Green... thanks for the inspiration!)