Long ago I stopped worrying about being short, but occasionally something happens to remind me that my legs don’t reach as far as others’ do. That can be a good thing, and on a recent occasion, it was an extraordinary thing.
On Oct. 7, the feast Our Lady of the Rosary, I had the privilege of ordaining as deacons 12 fourth-year seminarians from the North American College in Rome (one is an Arkansan, Jason Tyler). The ordination took place in St. Peter’s Basilica, at the Altar of the Chair of Peter.
You can imagine how thrilling it was to ordain deacons in St. Peter’s Basilica. The largest church in Christendom, its scale is massive in every respect. The Altar of the Chair is located in the very back of the basilica, behind the enormous baldachino (canopy) which hovers over the main altar, and beneath the famous alabaster window with the image of a dove symbolizing the Holy Spirit.
That transept of St. Peter’s is distinguished by a massive sculpture designed in the 17th century by Bernini to honor Peter’s primacy of honor in the Church and to enshrine a chair which tradition holds was once his. The chair in which I sat provided a magnificent panoramic view of the basilica from front to back.
On Oct. 7, it was not the building that impressed me so much as its spiritual significance both for me and the young deacons who will serve 12 American dioceses. In the Catholic Church there is an unbroken chain of apostolic succession going back to the Lord’s chosen twelve.
In his recent book, “Rise, Let Us Be On Our Way,” Pope John Paul II reflects on his preparation for ordination as bishop. “I … thought with great humility of the Apostles of Christ and of this long, unbroken chain of bishops who, by the laying on of hands, passed on to their successors a share in the Apostolic Office … I felt personally linked to each of them … their episcopal vocation and work continues … Precisely through their hands … we are joined to Christ, who chose both them and us ’before the foundation of the world’” (Eph 1:4).
Later the Holy Father reflects on the fact that bishops are sent forth to every corner of the world (far from the splendor of St. Peter’s Basilica) as signs of the catholicity of the Church.
“The mystery of the bishop’s vocation in the Church consists precisely in the fact that he is situated in this particular visible community (diocese) for which he was made a bishop, and at the same time in the universal Church … The bishop is the sign of Christ’s presence in the world, going out to meet men and women where they are: calling them by name, helping them to rise, consoling them with the Good News and gathering them into one around the Lord’s table” (p. 157).
On Oct. 16, only nine days after the ordination in Rome, I was privileged to ordain another deacon for our diocese, Shaun Wesley, at Sacred Heart Church in Morrilton. Shaun and Jason Tyler are both from Sacred Heart, and a third seminarian, Jason Sharbaugh, is also a member of the parish, which is celebrating its 125th anniversary this year.
The ordination in Morrilton was as beautiful as the one I had celebrated the previous week in Rome. Parishioners and friends of Shaun had prepared a moving liturgy with excellent music. The church was filled with Shaun’s family (Jason’s family, who had just returned from Rome, was also present), friends, priests, deacons and seminarians from around the country. Shaun was visibly moved by the liturgy, a sign of the depth of his love for the Lord.
With exactly the same gestures and prayers I had used in Rome, the laying on of hands and the prayer of consecration – gestures and prayers with roots in the time of St. Peter – I ordained Shaun a deacon.
There has been a place of prayer over St. Peter’s tomb on the Vatican hill since the first century, a church in Morrilton since the 19th. Owing to the unbroken line of apostolic succession and to the universal presence of the Catholic Church throughout the world, those who pray in both places are the one body of Christ, united in the same faith. Jason and Shaun are now deacons for the Diocese of Little Rock, but they are also deacons of the Church universal.
So what of my being short and my legs not reaching as far as others’?
Sitting beneath the massive reliquary of Peter’s Chair, my feet did not touch the floor. I don’t think anyone noticed, but I did. And I’ll tell you a secret: the first time I sat in the cathedra at the Cathedral of St. Andrew in Little Rock, I had the same experience. Msgr. Marczuk adjusted something before my next liturgy – he won’t tell me what – and now my feet firmly rest on the floor during Mass.
A simple thing, my dangling feet. On the one hand, it made me laugh to think that my feet couldn’t touch the floor either in St. Peter’s or in our Cathedral. On the other hand, it clearly reminded me that as I follow the path of the apostles and wear their shoes, my legs will never be long enough. Neither were theirs.
As I celebrate the sacraments and gather the Church in Arkansas, it is Jesus at work, not I. His feet were nailed to the cross and so touch every place on earth.
Do you have an intention for Bishop Sartain’s prayer? If so, send it to him at Bishop Sartain’s Prayer List, Diocese of Little Rock, 2500 North Tyler St., P.O. Box 7239, Little Rock, AR 72217.