Examples of Communion

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For me, last Thursday was a day of lessons of how we are church.

I began the day in St. George at the funeral of Deacon Mark Bourget. I had only met him once or twice, so didn’t know him well at all, but I knew of him: the motorcycle deacon whom the kids sometimes said looked like Jesus because of his long hair, beard and white alb.

At the vigil, the hall was full, and the funeral Mass was standing-room only. Children and adults, women and men, Catholics and non-Catholics – all had been touched by Deacon Mark’s ministry. There were children he had baptized, couples he had married, people he had worked with. There were also men and women in uniform – military, law enforcement and biker leathers, because Deacon Mark had served in the Navy, ministered at the Purgatory Correctional Facility and enjoyed riding his Harley Davidson motorcycle.

At the vigil, Deacon Rubel Salaz, who was in the same diaconate class as Deacon Mark, told the story of how, as ordination approached, Deacon Mark was told he should cut his hair and trim his beard because he was going to be representing the Church in the community. Deacon Mark replied, “I am who I am.”

I think it is precisely because he did not try to disguise who he was that he was able to touch so many people. I suspect there were those who felt it inappropriate for a deacon of the Church to have long hair and tool around on a Harley, just as I’d be willing to bet that some bikers didn’t think an ordained Catholic minister belonged with them. But Deacon Mark both lived his faith and was a biker, and touched thousands of lives in doing so.

I look at my life in light of his example, and I see compartments, not a seamless whole. I want my work and my faith and my personal life and my hobbies all separate. For example, the people in the birding group have no idea I’m Catholic because religion isn’t something we talk about, and I don’t mention some of my hobbies at work because they don’t seem Catholic enough.

Confronted by Deacon Mark’s example, I wonder what kinds of conversations I might have if I talked about spirituality with other birders, and maybe eyes wouldn’t roll as much as I think they would if I admitted to reading books like Genevieve Cogman’s “Invisible Library” series and some – but not all – of Dean Koontz’s work.

From the funeral I went to the rededication of St. Ambrose Catholic Church. Again it was a gathering of community, with people of all ages, but it was a joyful celebration, full of music and smiling faces. The parish is rightfully proud of their refurbished church. It is a beautiful space with many sacred elements that serve as reminders of the intricacies our faith: the altar, the icon of St. Ambrose, the white dove. Some of these items are new, others like the stained glass windows were retained, while still others were relocated: The statues of May and Joseph now are nestled in alcoves rather than resting on the altar. The 14-foot crucifix of course retains pride of place but now is suspended under a light fixture that is symbolic of the light of the Resurrection.   

This symbol brings me back to Deacon Mark’s funeral Mass, during which Fr. Martin Picos reminded those present that our faith teaches that at the end of time we will all be together with Christ. This is our Church – we are to serve one another like Deacon Mark did, and we build sacred spaces in which to worship and receive the sacraments because we need to be reminded of our purpose and strengthened for our journey. In all instances  we gather as community because ours is not a faith of individuals but rather the manifestation of the Body of Christ on earth. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church states, “The fruit of sacramental life is both personal and ecclesial.”

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic.