Typical Day
Father Phil wakes up early on Wednesday morning. He has to rise before dawn to fit in his morning routine before 6:00AM Mass. He has a quick bowl of cereal, does his morning prayers, gets dressed for Mass, and heads out of the rectory toward the church so he can greet his parishioners.
"Good Morning, Father Phil," some groggy pre-work folks mumble as they enter the church. They are all looking to squeeze in a quick prayer before they have to scoot off to the office.
"Good Morning! What a beautiful morning it is! Don't you agree?"
The woman who plays the organ on Sundays is not here for Mass today. This and a lack of sermon makes the ritual much quicker. Father Phil reads a passage from the Gospel, goes about the regular prayers, gives communion, and it is over. It's only 6:30AM. Father Phil bids adieu to the much livelier crowd than the one he greeted a half hour ago. His crowd isn't going to be stage diving or anything, but they're listening. That's all he needs.
"Loved the reading today, Father," one of the daily church-goers, Bea Liever, says on her way out. "It actually has reminded me a lot of something I have been struggling with in my life. Do you mind if I ask for your advice?" It will be another two hours until Father Phil has to be at the hospital, so he nods and leads her inside.
"I am struggling with my son and his decision to stop going to church. I am worried about him and I just want the best for him. I feel I may be losing him, Father," Bea pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at the corners of her eyes.
Father Phil has dealt with this worry from parishioners many times. He reminds Bea that she cannot control the actions of other people, and everyone processes their spirituality in a different way.
"Your son needs to discover his faith for himself. Give him the space he needs, while leaving the door open to talk about his concerns. If you shut him down without discussion, you run the risk of pushing him away. I find that children who can explore their questions in a healthy way often find their way back to the church all on their own."
With tears in her eyes, Bea leaves feeling a little less conflicted, but still concerned. After all, priests aren't magical. They can only help so much.
Father Phil looks over the calendar for the week and works on his sermon for Sunday before his 8:30AM appointment at the hospital. He has to perform Last Rites (or Anointing of the Sick) on two terminal patients today. It's a task that always leaves him heavy-hearted. Luckily, his sermon for the week will tackle how to deal with death, so he has spent some time with the comforting teachings of the bible that he so often needs to be reminded of himself.
The hospital appointment is long and difficult. The families are present; families who have come to his church every Sunday since they were kids. Father Phil needs to provide these devastated people with wisdom, comfort, and support. He sticks around to hear them all discuss better times with their dying loved ones.
"Remember the time she picked you up from school wearing that dress you bought just to show you how ridiculous you looked in it?"
He liked to hear these stories for the funerals he would most likely perform later. He wanted to make sure he captured the personalities of the people he was putting to rest in his eulogies.
When he finally gets back to the church, he is scheduled to be available for confession. For two hours, a seemingly endless line of people flow in and out of the confessional as he sits patiently listening to their sins. With a little less than ten minutes to go, a man sits down beside him, breathing heavily.
"I...I...shot a man. An hour ago. I didn't mean to do it...it was in self-defense. But he's dead."
Hemmed in by the sacramental seal, Father Phil despairs knowing he will never be able to reveal the identity of this man to the police. This is not the first time someone confessed to something like this in his confessional. That doesn't stop the priest from feeling shock and dismay knowing that one of his parishioners committed such a heinous crime. He listens to the details and the genuine remorse of the confessor. He urges the man to turn himself in and to spend the rest of his life devoted to the word of God in order to repent. He assigns 165 Our Fathers, 30 Rosaries, and 89 Hail Mary's. It still feels like underkill.
Father Phil knows the police will probably come to him looking for information, but he won't be able to help them. The most he can do is to offer to accompany the man to the police station to turn himself in. He will not be able to tell anyone about what he knows.
But it's all in a day's work. After making a few arrangements with some of the nuns about the church craft fair happening on Saturday, he prepares a lesson plan for his eighth grade bible study class. He has been teaching these kids since their first holy communion and now he is preparing them for their Confirmation. He feels overjoyed that this moment has finally come.
For every difficult moment as a priest, Father Phil believes God rewards him with a feeling of deep fulfillment and gratitude. Before he meets with the kids, he says a prayer, asking God to give him strength to protect all of the members of the church that need him—especially those who have sinned the most.
At 7:00PM, Father Phil goes to the bible-study classroom. The eighth graders file in and open their books, waiting for Father Phil to teach them. His lesson today is reviewing the Ten Commandments—a simple concept, really, but one that can never be over-learned.
"...and thou shalt not kill, right guys?"
The kids nod lazily from their seats.
"Except in one case."
The kids perk up.
"Mosquitos. If a mosquito comes into your home, you can kill it. That's coming from a priest."
Everyone chuckles and the mood is considerably lighter as they continue to review the rest of the Commandments. Father Phil assigns some readings from the Bible and watches as the kids race out to meet their parents in the parking lot.
It's 8:00PM and Father Phil is ready for bed. He walks to his living quarters, says his evening prayers, and conks out. He'll have to be up bright and early tomorrow.