FATHER'S DAY

FATHER'S DAY

Father…father

            A Spanish proverb has it: “An ounce of father is worth a pound of clergy.” The priest may offer his Mass, and the nun her sacrifices, and the contemplative may gaze into divine realities, but it is the father, that undistinguished man you see in the early morning, leaving home for the shop, the office, the factory or the coal mine, - that tired, troubled person you see returning home late evening with a smile and a cheerfulness that are sometimes hard to tie together – it is he who is the first guardian of the home and warrior of the faith. He comforts and is comforted by the children who run into his arms. “A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms even if his hands are empty!”

            He is the captain of the home, the rock on which Christian civilisation is built. There is no order or organisation to record his heroism or promote his beatification. He is the common, often inglorious beast of burden. Yes, indeed. But there was a day when the Son of God had personally to arrange for a beast of burden to carry him triumphantly into his holy city!

            The dedicated father today is a hero, and if you ask why he carries himself so bravely, I can answer only because in him is the stuff of saints. Not for him is the boost of applause. The mother is praised in song and extolled in story, and she deserves it. But the father walks the common way without bugles, drums and flags. Truly, he has given hostages to fortune. Those holy men and women who have given up the world are the glorious children of God, but if there were no harassed, poor, slaving fathers, there would be none of those glorious children!

            Peace of mind and soul are lovely possessions, but they are not for the dedicated father. The particular saint in him demands that he go out and meet the challenges of the day, that he be concerned not with his own well being and serenity but with those in his care, that he venture forth into the world and there, thick in the mass of men, seek the opportunity to love his neighbour and his enemy, so that, in advance and not in retreat, in battle and not in seclusion, he may prove himself worthy of Him from whom all fatherhood is named.

            All fatherhood is named from heaven. And all earthly fathers have rightfully kept hold of that old truth that God is Father. He is the Father of creation, the Father of Abraham and the patriarchs. You look at the starry sky and are moved with awe at this mighty God’s power and management. You look at the failures of his creation and are moved by his patience and endurance, by how he continues, despite it all, to be merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. You look at your own frailty, moral and spiritual, and are moved with his understanding and his forgiving kindness.

            To call this great God “Father” is a privilege and a blessing, and this is how, over the centuries he has made himself known. It is a title you use with respect, just as your child uses it for you: “Papa, Dada, Pop, Hi Dad.” What beautiful sounds! And when you use it for God, it tells you of his eternal care that holds you and all life secure in those eternal arms that are underneath and around you.

            This is the faith into which you were born, and this is the love that will not let you go. And when you met Jesus, he confirmed all that for you, as he spoke and acted in the name of that God of fatherly love and authority.

When fathers are gathered on Judgement Day, the Lord will gently say, “I was hungry and you fed me, thirsty and you gave me a drink, naked and you clothed me, homeless and you sheltered me, imprisoned and you visited me. Come, enter the kingdom I have prepared for you.” And the fathers will be bewildered and will ask: “Are you sure, Lord? When did we see you hungry and feed you?” The Lord will reply, “Do you really not know? Do you not remember the way you carefully fed me when I was a baby; the way you loved me into my first small steps across the living room into your arms; and, later, my bigger steps into the waiting world?” “All the time that was me you were nourishing. Yes, of course, it was your child. But it was me, your God, as well.”

“When were you thirsty, Lord?” they ask. “I needed your love and comfort. You held me to your chest and I could hear your heart. As tenderly as the sun opens the daisies in the morning, your gentle voice and loving eyes opened my soul to the mystery of my true identity. I, your God, became your vulnerable child so as to experience your tenderness to me.”

“But naked, Lord, and homeless?” The Lord will reply, “I was born naked and homeless, and you sheltered me, first in your wife’s womb and then in your arms. In my rebellious years I left home, blinded by lesser lights and loves. You did not judge me, your great heart never doubted me; you forgave me, you believed in me, you drew me into a higher way of life, light-making and love-making. No matter what, on my return home, your face at the door was always a smiling sacrament of welcome.”

“But imprisoned, Lord? Surely not!” The Lord paused. “There are many kinds of prison. When I was imprisoned in my fears I cried out in the night; you came and lifted me from behind the bars of my cot and folded me in your arms. Years later you lifted me from behind the bars of bigger fears  -  fears of my own inadequacy, of my own intense emotions, of the terror and beauty of the unknown life ahead. You were the brave one, Dad, wielding the gun that defended the family and kept us together; and you gave me the guts to leap into the jaws of death like a good soldier. So, because of you I can soldier on. Bless you, Dad.”

            Jesus embraces every family, each with its own stories to tell him – the hurting and the healing, the sinning and the gracing. He then sits down and explains to us, amazed, how those ordinary moments of raw human life are his life too. His eyes are twinkling as we struggle to understand what he is telling us. Comforted, we eat and drink his words with the bread and wine of joy. He kisses each one of before we leave. Our hearts are burning within us as we recall his parting words of comfort – our kitchens, too, are little Bethlehems, our breakfast tables are small altars; our whole lives, with their calvaries and resurrections, are one long consecration and communion. But now we are slow to leave.

“Don’t be sad,” he says, “I’ll be waiting for you at home. There are many rooms in my Father’s mansion.”

FATHER’S DAY PRAYER

Blessing of Fathers

Lord God, Father of Jesus and of us all, from you all fatherhood in heaven and on earth is named.

Your Church on earth invokes your benediction upon the fathers assembled here, that in their gift and task of fatherhood they may perceive your blessedness,

in their decisions your righteousness,

and love in their undertakings towards their families and the universal family of man.

And despite the difficulties and confusions

of modern life,

may they be supported by the serenity

 of the original creation and the smile of the rainbow

and the affection of their families and friends,

and may they be finely tuned to interpret your word, through Christ our Lord.

Amen