Yesterday marked the one month anniversary of the day that Fr. Tom left this earth. On one hand, it's hard to believe that it's already been a month. On the other, it feels like it's been absolutely ages. Grief, it seems, has an odd sort of way of forming a deceptive time-space continuum.
Still, I can think of no better way to mark the passage of time than with this beautiful tribute slide show made by the Sundays at Seven Group at the UW Newman Center. (This original song was written specifically for Fr. Tom by the Sundays at Seven Group.)
23 February 2009
07 February 2009
Making Sense
Friday evening was Holy Hour in our Young Adult Group. It's a once-monthly tradition started back in October by our dear priest and friend, Fr. Tom. It's a beautiful, contemplative evening that consists of Eucharistic Adoration, Benediction, rosary recitation, contemplative music, and a reading and reflection. Fr. Tom used to lead us in the entire Holy Hour. There was something so powerful seeing him kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament, guitar in hand, leading us in a peaceful rendition of "Holy is His Name". As Fr. Tom became increasingly more ill, we the Young Adults in our parish community had to fill in the tasks. Last night was our first Holy Hour without Fr. Tom. Even though many of the Young Adults in our group stepped up and volunteered their talents, it was still difficult. The music was beautiful! My task, which I found to be rather daunting, was to write the reflection on the select reading. Fr. Tom always used the Gospel reading for the following Sunday. Check out that reading (and below it, my reflection). I couldn't believe it!
And truly, that gentle reminder to follow the “will of the Lord as we serve others” is the example incarnate in this evening’s reading, both in the action of Jesus, and in the action of Simon’s mother-in-law.
Tonight we are presented with Jesus’ first healing miracle that we read about in the Gospel of Mark. In this passage alone, we hear a reference to Jesus healing many others in Capernaum, and in the rest of the region around Galilee. Why did Jesus heal these people? Well, it was done out of deference to the will of the Father. He had, after all, just left the synagogue, which incidentally was right next door to Simon’s home, and surely he had spoken with the Father there. Jesus was, and is, in constant communion with the Father. The healing, too, was also done out of tenderness and love. Mark doesn’t tell us that Jesus ordered the fever to leave Simon’s mother-in-law. Rather, it says that Jesus took her by the hand and helped her up – a true act of mercy, one borne out of tenderness and love – a tenderness and love that can only come from the Father, through his will.
After Jesus healed Simon’s mother-in-law, he healed more people in Capernaum. The next morning, he woke up early, “left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed.” This action further highlights how we too (as Fr. Tom said) must "focus our thoughts on the Lord and doing His will". It also offers a response, in some sense, to the question of not understanding Fr. Tom's death. Shortly after Christmas, Fr. Tom wrote, “My duty is to subject my life totally to the Lord in prayer and service and He will do the rest; Jesus is my only desire.” And so it should be for us as well. Fr. Tom asked that we turn to the Lord and offer our lives in the service of others, just as Jesus does in this evening’s reading through his own example of prayer and service. Only by answering that call to holiness will we be able to let go of the questions and anxieties that often plague us and keep us from living with peace and joy.
Let’s look now at Simon’s mother-in-law. The moment the “fever left her”, “she waited on them”. It is a beautiful action. Here is a gravely ill woman who was bestowed a beautiful gift – the gift of life. Her gratitude is simply stated in the words of Mark “she waited on them”. She served Her Lord and Saviour and his disciples too. We also are called to follow in the example of Simon’s mother-in-law. For, we too have been given the gift of new life though our baptism with the Lord. And every time we receive the Eucharist, we are also receiving Christ, (as He is before us now) – the gift of new life, Christ dwelling within us. Like Simon’s mother-in-law, we are called to give thanks to that gift of life, to honour our Christ by serving Him (through our service of others) in our thoughts, words, and actions in every facet of our lives.
And so, as we adore the Eucharist this evening, let us like Simon’s mother-in-law, and like Fr. Tom so often did, “focus our thoughts on the Lord and [on] doing His will as we serve others” so that we, too, may live our lives in the “simplicity and holiness” and peace of Christ.
Mk 1:29-39
On leaving the synagogue
Jesus entered the house of Simon and Andrew with James and John.
Simon's mother-in-law lay sick with a fever.
They immediately told him about her.
He approached, grasped her hand, and helped her up.
Then the fever left her and she waited on them.
When it was evening, after sunset,
they brought to him all who were ill or possessed by demons.
The whole town was gathered at the door.
He cured many who were sick with various diseases,
and he drove out many demons,
not permitting them to speak because they knew him.
Rising very early before dawn, he left
and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed.
Simon and those who were with him pursued him
and on finding him said, "Everyone is looking for you."
He told them, "Let us go on to the nearby villages
that I may preach there also.
For this purpose have I come."
So he went into their synagogues,
preaching and driving out demons throughout the whole of Galilee.
******************
Last November Fr. Daniel said in one of his homilies that, “everything, everything is open to the healing power of the Lord”. His statement gave me, and everyone who heard it, so much hope. Fr. Daniel is correct. Everything, especially as demonstrated in tonight’s reading, is open to the healing power of the Lord, but only if it is His will. Still, I must admit that this reading presented me with quite a challenge. My first thought, which took me quite a while to shake, was, “Well, Jesus, you went around curing people in the area of Galilee. You cured Simon’s mother-in-law. Why didn’t you cure Fr. Tom?” Admittedly, it’s a question we won’t be able to fully answer. And yet, we can look to Fr. Tom’s own words for guidance. On the feast of the Epiphany this year, Fr. Tom wrote to us, encouraging us to look to Jesus, our Christ “who shows us how to live life, in simplicity and holiness, always focusing our thoughts on the Lord and doing His will as we serve others.”And truly, that gentle reminder to follow the “will of the Lord as we serve others” is the example incarnate in this evening’s reading, both in the action of Jesus, and in the action of Simon’s mother-in-law.
Tonight we are presented with Jesus’ first healing miracle that we read about in the Gospel of Mark. In this passage alone, we hear a reference to Jesus healing many others in Capernaum, and in the rest of the region around Galilee. Why did Jesus heal these people? Well, it was done out of deference to the will of the Father. He had, after all, just left the synagogue, which incidentally was right next door to Simon’s home, and surely he had spoken with the Father there. Jesus was, and is, in constant communion with the Father. The healing, too, was also done out of tenderness and love. Mark doesn’t tell us that Jesus ordered the fever to leave Simon’s mother-in-law. Rather, it says that Jesus took her by the hand and helped her up – a true act of mercy, one borne out of tenderness and love – a tenderness and love that can only come from the Father, through his will.
After Jesus healed Simon’s mother-in-law, he healed more people in Capernaum. The next morning, he woke up early, “left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed.” This action further highlights how we too (as Fr. Tom said) must "focus our thoughts on the Lord and doing His will". It also offers a response, in some sense, to the question of not understanding Fr. Tom's death. Shortly after Christmas, Fr. Tom wrote, “My duty is to subject my life totally to the Lord in prayer and service and He will do the rest; Jesus is my only desire.” And so it should be for us as well. Fr. Tom asked that we turn to the Lord and offer our lives in the service of others, just as Jesus does in this evening’s reading through his own example of prayer and service. Only by answering that call to holiness will we be able to let go of the questions and anxieties that often plague us and keep us from living with peace and joy.
Let’s look now at Simon’s mother-in-law. The moment the “fever left her”, “she waited on them”. It is a beautiful action. Here is a gravely ill woman who was bestowed a beautiful gift – the gift of life. Her gratitude is simply stated in the words of Mark “she waited on them”. She served Her Lord and Saviour and his disciples too. We also are called to follow in the example of Simon’s mother-in-law. For, we too have been given the gift of new life though our baptism with the Lord. And every time we receive the Eucharist, we are also receiving Christ, (as He is before us now) – the gift of new life, Christ dwelling within us. Like Simon’s mother-in-law, we are called to give thanks to that gift of life, to honour our Christ by serving Him (through our service of others) in our thoughts, words, and actions in every facet of our lives.
And so, as we adore the Eucharist this evening, let us like Simon’s mother-in-law, and like Fr. Tom so often did, “focus our thoughts on the Lord and [on] doing His will as we serve others” so that we, too, may live our lives in the “simplicity and holiness” and peace of Christ.
06 February 2009
Lost
My mind just hasn't been with me lately. I've been spacey and forgetful, much more so than usual. This is evidenced by the multitude of things I have lost - yes, truly lost - in the past week or so. The list is long, but here are two of the more entertaining (and frightening?) stories.
1) My credit card. I lost my credit card last Saturday evening. Last I remembered, I had paid with it at the yarn store earlier in the day. Then, the next thing I know, I'm at the grocery store trying to pay with (gasp!) no credit card! I tried calling the yarn store, but they were closed - and closed on Sunday, too - so I decided not to worry about it till Monday morning. Monday, I called the yarn store only to discover that they didn't have my card! Yes, this would be about the time that panic set in. I called Chase to cancel my card. They were very helpful, but also pointed out that I had a "pending" charge of $100 -- one that hadn't been made by me, or so I thought. (Lots of complicated details here.) Thanks to some fill-in-the-blank moments from Chase, I was able to sort out the whereabouts of my credit card, though it is still (as of yet) not in my possession.
So, here it is... apparently, I stopped by a cash machine, inserted my credit card instead of my debit card, and proceeded to withdraw $100 cash, which ultimately resulted in a cash advance, but that's okay. I then walked away from the ATM, leaving my card inside. Oops. The great irony is that this is exactly how I lost my debit card last October. Yep, I'm a smart one! ;)
2) My shoe. Yes, shoe, singular. I only lost one shoe. It was a nice shoe: right, grey and white, size 9 1/2. (Don't worry. This story has a happy ending; unlike me and my credit card, my shoe and I were eventually reunited.)
Oh, so this is great! Tuesday morning, I tied my Nike Free shoes to my backpack so I could go to the gym after work. This afternoon, I was getting ready to walk over to the gym, and I realized that I only had one shoe. I retraced my steps on campus -- no shoe at the bus stop, no shoe in the lab, and no shoe anywhere in between. I was hoping that my shoe had fallen off my backpack on the bus. BUT, I was also (slightly) worried that some crazy guy on the bus with some crazy shoe addiction would have found it and not turned it in! (If you ride the 44 you'd certainly understand.) Fortunately, when I arrived home Tuesday evening, I discovered that I had done a HORRIBLE job tying my shoe (back to kindergarten, I guess) and that my shoe had actually fallen off on my couch where I had been packing my backpack. Phew.... Happy to have my shoe back! ;)
It's like a Cinderella story, but with no prince at the end.
1) My credit card. I lost my credit card last Saturday evening. Last I remembered, I had paid with it at the yarn store earlier in the day. Then, the next thing I know, I'm at the grocery store trying to pay with (gasp!) no credit card! I tried calling the yarn store, but they were closed - and closed on Sunday, too - so I decided not to worry about it till Monday morning. Monday, I called the yarn store only to discover that they didn't have my card! Yes, this would be about the time that panic set in. I called Chase to cancel my card. They were very helpful, but also pointed out that I had a "pending" charge of $100 -- one that hadn't been made by me, or so I thought. (Lots of complicated details here.) Thanks to some fill-in-the-blank moments from Chase, I was able to sort out the whereabouts of my credit card, though it is still (as of yet) not in my possession.
So, here it is... apparently, I stopped by a cash machine, inserted my credit card instead of my debit card, and proceeded to withdraw $100 cash, which ultimately resulted in a cash advance, but that's okay. I then walked away from the ATM, leaving my card inside. Oops. The great irony is that this is exactly how I lost my debit card last October. Yep, I'm a smart one! ;)
2) My shoe. Yes, shoe, singular. I only lost one shoe. It was a nice shoe: right, grey and white, size 9 1/2. (Don't worry. This story has a happy ending; unlike me and my credit card, my shoe and I were eventually reunited.)
Oh, so this is great! Tuesday morning, I tied my Nike Free shoes to my backpack so I could go to the gym after work. This afternoon, I was getting ready to walk over to the gym, and I realized that I only had one shoe. I retraced my steps on campus -- no shoe at the bus stop, no shoe in the lab, and no shoe anywhere in between. I was hoping that my shoe had fallen off my backpack on the bus. BUT, I was also (slightly) worried that some crazy guy on the bus with some crazy shoe addiction would have found it and not turned it in! (If you ride the 44 you'd certainly understand.) Fortunately, when I arrived home Tuesday evening, I discovered that I had done a HORRIBLE job tying my shoe (back to kindergarten, I guess) and that my shoe had actually fallen off on my couch where I had been packing my backpack. Phew.... Happy to have my shoe back! ;)
It's like a Cinderella story, but with no prince at the end.
22 January 2009
Saying Goodbye
Yesterday, I said good-bye to a dear friend of mine, Fr. Tom Kraft OP. Fr. Tom died today at 10am, in the Priory that he so loved. Saying good-bye to him, though a great honour and privilege, was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
My hour with Fr. Tom was at once most precious and most difficult. I held his hand, talked to him, read to him from the Bible, and prayed with him. I know that he heard me because he smiled a couple of times, mainly at my silliness. Everything, and I mean everything, came pouring out of my heart. And then I told him of anything else that came to my mind. I shared stores of the past with him and re-told him stories that he had shared with me.
Interspersed throughout our conversation was prayer.
We prayed the "novena" to Bl. Teresa. And we prayed the rosary together. The same rosary that he had blessed for me. The same rosary that my Aunt's best friend had prayed with her before she died. The same rosary that contains the history and love of generations gone before me. I prayed that same rosary with my dear Fr. Tom. As I held his hand in one of my hands and my rosary in the other, I uttered the words, "Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen." Tears streamed down my cheeks, and my voice broke, but I knew that Mother Mary was right in that room, praying with us, holding Fr. Tom in her ever-loving embrace. The Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary will forever be my special Fr. Tom-prayer!
I am heartbroken at having said good-bye to my dear priest, spiritual adviser, and friend. (He was - and still is - in many ways my "Seattle Dad", even offering to bail me out of jail, should I ever need it. Thankfully, I didn't!) More than heartbroken, I find myself awash in emotions: I am sad, yes. But angry and confused, too. Fr. Tom's death brings back the memories and tears from my childhood. Saying good-bye to one father is bad enough. Saying good-bye to two seems unusually cruel and unfair. And oddly, I feel happy, too. Happy for Fr. Tom that he is no longer suffering. Happy that Fr. Tom has now partaken in that beautiful reunion on High that he had been so eagerly anticipating. Reflecting on this, I find myself consoled in knowing that Fr. Tom is now at peace living in eternal glory with our Lord and Saviour. While we, on earth, are left weeping, he is in heaven rejoicing in delight with our Lord and with his Blessed Mother.
Yesterday, we read Psalm 18 together:
I love thee, O LORD, my strength.
The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer,
my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
In my distress I called upon the LORD;
to my God I cried for help.
From his temple he heard my voice,
and my cry to him reached his ears.
Yea, thou dost light my lamp;
the LORD my God lightens my darkness.
This God -- his way is perfect;
the promise of the LORD proves true;
he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him.
For who is God, but the LORD?
And who is a rock, except our God? --
the God who girded me with strength,
and made my way safe.
Rest in peace, Fr. Tom. You are now with our Lord, our Rock and our Strength.
My hour with Fr. Tom was at once most precious and most difficult. I held his hand, talked to him, read to him from the Bible, and prayed with him. I know that he heard me because he smiled a couple of times, mainly at my silliness. Everything, and I mean everything, came pouring out of my heart. And then I told him of anything else that came to my mind. I shared stores of the past with him and re-told him stories that he had shared with me.
Interspersed throughout our conversation was prayer.
We prayed the "novena" to Bl. Teresa. And we prayed the rosary together. The same rosary that he had blessed for me. The same rosary that my Aunt's best friend had prayed with her before she died. The same rosary that contains the history and love of generations gone before me. I prayed that same rosary with my dear Fr. Tom. As I held his hand in one of my hands and my rosary in the other, I uttered the words, "Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen." Tears streamed down my cheeks, and my voice broke, but I knew that Mother Mary was right in that room, praying with us, holding Fr. Tom in her ever-loving embrace. The Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary will forever be my special Fr. Tom-prayer!
I am heartbroken at having said good-bye to my dear priest, spiritual adviser, and friend. (He was - and still is - in many ways my "Seattle Dad", even offering to bail me out of jail, should I ever need it. Thankfully, I didn't!) More than heartbroken, I find myself awash in emotions: I am sad, yes. But angry and confused, too. Fr. Tom's death brings back the memories and tears from my childhood. Saying good-bye to one father is bad enough. Saying good-bye to two seems unusually cruel and unfair. And oddly, I feel happy, too. Happy for Fr. Tom that he is no longer suffering. Happy that Fr. Tom has now partaken in that beautiful reunion on High that he had been so eagerly anticipating. Reflecting on this, I find myself consoled in knowing that Fr. Tom is now at peace living in eternal glory with our Lord and Saviour. While we, on earth, are left weeping, he is in heaven rejoicing in delight with our Lord and with his Blessed Mother.
Yesterday, we read Psalm 18 together:
I love thee, O LORD, my strength.
The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer,
my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
In my distress I called upon the LORD;
to my God I cried for help.
From his temple he heard my voice,
and my cry to him reached his ears.
Yea, thou dost light my lamp;
the LORD my God lightens my darkness.
This God -- his way is perfect;
the promise of the LORD proves true;
he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him.
For who is God, but the LORD?
And who is a rock, except our God? --
the God who girded me with strength,
and made my way safe.
Rest in peace, Fr. Tom. You are now with our Lord, our Rock and our Strength.
20 January 2009
Octapeds at the Beach!
On Sunday, March 8th, 2009 my cousins and I will be walking, as the team, "Octapeds for Langerhans", in the second annual Lustgarten West Coast Walk in Santa Monica, CA. The Lustgarten Foundation is a fabulous organization that sponsors pancreatic cancer research and supports pancreatic cancer patients and their families.
The Octapeds for Langerhans (affectionately known as The Octapeds) were created in support of our friend and biology professor, Dr. Becky Houck, who was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer on Sept. 17, 2007. Dr. Houck is a Marine Biologist by training and has studied octopuses (yes, that really is the plural!) for many years. Those of us fortunate enough to have been taught by her remember all sorts of fabulous marine bio stories, not the least of which is that of an octopus in Hawaii with an excellent memory and a penchant for trouble.
The Islets of Langerhans are cells in the pancreas, though not ones that typically give rise to pancreatic cancer. Put it all together and you get the fashionably-nerdy team name: Octapeds for Langerhans!
Last year, the Octapeds participated in the first-ever Lustgarten West Coast Walk. It was such an amazing experience that we're doing it again this year! Not only that, but Dr. Houck will be joining us at the walk this year!
So, if you're in the area or want to fly out - come join us! And no pressure, but if you can, please sponsor our team! No amount is too small and everything is appreciated to help in the battle against pancreatic cancer. Here's the link to our team:
http://www.lustgartencommunity.org/octapeds
Honestly, all cancer sucks, but pancreatic cancer is especially vile. The 5-year survival rate is less than 5% - a fact that has not changed in 30 years despite improved survival rates for other cancers. We need more research – both for early detection and for mechanistic understanding that will lead to cures. Please help us support the Lustgarten Foundation as they support life-saving pancreatic cancer research.
The Octapeds for Langerhans (affectionately known as The Octapeds) were created in support of our friend and biology professor, Dr. Becky Houck, who was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer on Sept. 17, 2007. Dr. Houck is a Marine Biologist by training and has studied octopuses (yes, that really is the plural!) for many years. Those of us fortunate enough to have been taught by her remember all sorts of fabulous marine bio stories, not the least of which is that of an octopus in Hawaii with an excellent memory and a penchant for trouble.
The Islets of Langerhans are cells in the pancreas, though not ones that typically give rise to pancreatic cancer. Put it all together and you get the fashionably-nerdy team name: Octapeds for Langerhans!
Last year, the Octapeds participated in the first-ever Lustgarten West Coast Walk. It was such an amazing experience that we're doing it again this year! Not only that, but Dr. Houck will be joining us at the walk this year!
So, if you're in the area or want to fly out - come join us! And no pressure, but if you can, please sponsor our team! No amount is too small and everything is appreciated to help in the battle against pancreatic cancer. Here's the link to our team:
http://www.
Honestly, all cancer sucks, but pancreatic cancer is especially vile. The 5-year survival rate is less than 5% - a fact that has not changed in 30 years despite improved survival rates for other cancers. We need more research – both for early detection and for mechanistic understanding that will lead to cures. Please help us support the Lustgarten Foundation as they support life-saving pancreatic cancer research.
12 January 2009
What a gift!
Yesterday, Sunday, our dear priest and friend, Fr. Tom Kraft OP, surprised the entire Blessed Sacrament community by concelebrating the noon Mass. For me, there are no words to describe it, except by mere pittance to say that receiving the Eucharist from Fr. Tom was singularly the most emotional and profound experience of my entire life.
Mark Shea, who is a noted Catholic apologist and also a friend of Fr. Tom's (and my friend, too) wrote a most beautiful commentary on his experience at Mass yesterday. It captures, as accurately as possible with words, what occurred yesterday. Mark posted it on his blog, Catholic and Enjoying It, this morning.
Yesterday, we went to Noon Mass at Blessed Sacrament. It was being celebrated by our visiting priest, but after he processed up to the altar, we were astonished to see that Fr. Tom Kraft had taken a seat beside him.
Fr. Tom is one of the sweetest and holiest men I have ever known. A thoroughly priestly man with a profound sense of his vocation, a deep love for the poor, a beautiful humility and just a sheer radiant goodness that shines out of him.
He is also dying. We've been praying for him for months, but God has made it clear that he picks the fruit when it is ripe. So Fr. Tom ended his chemo-therapy some weeks back, went to Spokane to say goodbye to his loved ones, and returned to us at Blessed Sacrament to spend his last days surrounded by brother priests in the rectory, cared for by Jesson Mata, our valiant liturgy guy--and to say goodbye to all of us.
Fr. Daniel had to give a brief report on finance junk, but then he gave (as he had done at all the previous Masses) a report on Fr. Tom. He was as astonished and moved as the rest of us to see Fr. Tom there, so much so that his normally dry and imperturbable Norwegian demeanor was shaken, as were we all. His voice trembled a couple of times and he said the beautiful truth about Fr. Tom: that he was one of the finest and most beloved priest Blessed Sacrament has ever had (which is saying a lot, because we've been blessed with extraordinary men, some of whom I believe will be canonized someday). Fr. Tom, with typical humility, cried as the people spontaneously applauded him. Well done, thou good and faithful!
But that was not all. This supremely loving man who could barely sit up through the Mass actually stood and assisted at the consecration. You could barely hear his voice, a thin, papery whisper that demanded everything of him (the cancer has metastasized to his lungs). But he did it, gripping a chair to keep his balance and then leaning on the altar itself. "Through him, with him, in him". I've never seen the meaning of the priesthood so clearly incarnated before my eyes before. Alter Christus. Priest. Victim. Sacrifice. This man and his Lord were standing so close together it was hard to tell them apart, especially from my seat up in the Nosebleed Section of the Human Race, so very far from that kind of sanctity.
They made it through the consecration and Jesson hurried to Fr. Tom's side to help him. I thought to myself, "For the love of God, go sit down, Fr. Tom. You've done enough."
But instead, this great man insisted on coming down with the Body of his Lord and distributing communion to us. He gave every last bit of himself out of love for God and for us. I was very tempted to change communion lines and receive from him (and I know others who actually did) because I knew I was looking at a saint. But instead, I just went up in my line, bawling, grieving, moved and grateful beyond words for what I was witnessing.
After it was all over, Fr. Tom processed out and even stood on the steps of the Church in the cold, greeting people, blessing them, giving (as much as any soldier at Gettyburg or Normandy) "the last full measure of devotion". I had the great honor shaking his hand, thanking him (and telling him he should really go lie down and rest). He said, "This give me energy." Later, I'm told, he asked the Dominicans to take him for a car ride around town. They marveled--and complied.
My eyes blur with tears as I write this. Jan said afterwards that she thought of Henry V's speech, "We few, we happy few." I felt so privileged and honored to be able to witness what I saw yesterday. A friend of mine said, "I have been to Mass at the Garden of Gethsemane. I have prayed at the tomb of Christ and seen Holy Week in Jerusalem. But I have never been as moved by a Mass as I was today."
Father, thanks be to God for your holy servant, Tom. We know he has to go soon, but we also know he will be happy with you.
God bless you, Fr. Tom, for your beautiful gift of your heart. We love you.
Fr. Tom at his 55th birthday party on December 21, 2008 in Seattle, WA.
Mark Shea, who is a noted Catholic apologist and also a friend of Fr. Tom's (and my friend, too) wrote a most beautiful commentary on his experience at Mass yesterday. It captures, as accurately as possible with words, what occurred yesterday. Mark posted it on his blog, Catholic and Enjoying It, this morning.
******************************
The Most Heroic Thing I Have Ever Witnessed Yesterday, we went to Noon Mass at Blessed Sacrament. It was being celebrated by our visiting priest, but after he processed up to the altar, we were astonished to see that Fr. Tom Kraft had taken a seat beside him.
Fr. Tom is one of the sweetest and holiest men I have ever known. A thoroughly priestly man with a profound sense of his vocation, a deep love for the poor, a beautiful humility and just a sheer radiant goodness that shines out of him.
He is also dying. We've been praying for him for months, but God has made it clear that he picks the fruit when it is ripe. So Fr. Tom ended his chemo-therapy some weeks back, went to Spokane to say goodbye to his loved ones, and returned to us at Blessed Sacrament to spend his last days surrounded by brother priests in the rectory, cared for by Jesson Mata, our valiant liturgy guy--and to say goodbye to all of us.
Fr. Daniel had to give a brief report on finance junk, but then he gave (as he had done at all the previous Masses) a report on Fr. Tom. He was as astonished and moved as the rest of us to see Fr. Tom there, so much so that his normally dry and imperturbable Norwegian demeanor was shaken, as were we all. His voice trembled a couple of times and he said the beautiful truth about Fr. Tom: that he was one of the finest and most beloved priest Blessed Sacrament has ever had (which is saying a lot, because we've been blessed with extraordinary men, some of whom I believe will be canonized someday). Fr. Tom, with typical humility, cried as the people spontaneously applauded him. Well done, thou good and faithful!
But that was not all. This supremely loving man who could barely sit up through the Mass actually stood and assisted at the consecration. You could barely hear his voice, a thin, papery whisper that demanded everything of him (the cancer has metastasized to his lungs). But he did it, gripping a chair to keep his balance and then leaning on the altar itself. "Through him, with him, in him". I've never seen the meaning of the priesthood so clearly incarnated before my eyes before. Alter Christus. Priest. Victim. Sacrifice. This man and his Lord were standing so close together it was hard to tell them apart, especially from my seat up in the Nosebleed Section of the Human Race, so very far from that kind of sanctity.
They made it through the consecration and Jesson hurried to Fr. Tom's side to help him. I thought to myself, "For the love of God, go sit down, Fr. Tom. You've done enough."
But instead, this great man insisted on coming down with the Body of his Lord and distributing communion to us. He gave every last bit of himself out of love for God and for us. I was very tempted to change communion lines and receive from him (and I know others who actually did) because I knew I was looking at a saint. But instead, I just went up in my line, bawling, grieving, moved and grateful beyond words for what I was witnessing.
After it was all over, Fr. Tom processed out and even stood on the steps of the Church in the cold, greeting people, blessing them, giving (as much as any soldier at Gettyburg or Normandy) "the last full measure of devotion". I had the great honor shaking his hand, thanking him (and telling him he should really go lie down and rest). He said, "This give me energy." Later, I'm told, he asked the Dominicans to take him for a car ride around town. They marveled--and complied.
My eyes blur with tears as I write this. Jan said afterwards that she thought of Henry V's speech, "We few, we happy few." I felt so privileged and honored to be able to witness what I saw yesterday. A friend of mine said, "I have been to Mass at the Garden of Gethsemane. I have prayed at the tomb of Christ and seen Holy Week in Jerusalem. But I have never been as moved by a Mass as I was today."
Father, thanks be to God for your holy servant, Tom. We know he has to go soon, but we also know he will be happy with you.
God bless you, Fr. Tom, for your beautiful gift of your heart. We love you.
Fr. Tom at his 55th birthday party on December 21, 2008 in Seattle, WA.08 January 2009
Happy New Year (albeit a bit late...)
Happy New Year, Everyone!!!
Gosh, it's hard to believe that it's really already 2009! It seems like days ago I was just trying to sort out a Halloween costume. But then, I guess Thanksgiving, fellowship deadlines, and the snow hit. (Oh, the snow!) Suddenly it was Christmas and then the New Year! Wow! Crazy, how it all just happened! Well, despite a frenzied end to 2008... Happy New Year! May 2009 be a good year for us all! And in honour of a new start, and a new year, here's an old, but certainly good, video! Enjoy!
Gosh, it's hard to believe that it's really already 2009! It seems like days ago I was just trying to sort out a Halloween costume. But then, I guess Thanksgiving, fellowship deadlines, and the snow hit. (Oh, the snow!) Suddenly it was Christmas and then the New Year! Wow! Crazy, how it all just happened! Well, despite a frenzied end to 2008... Happy New Year! May 2009 be a good year for us all! And in honour of a new start, and a new year, here's an old, but certainly good, video! Enjoy!
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