Last Sunday, you’ll recall, I had noon mass at the parish where I was baptized, All Saints Church in St. Peter’s, Missouri. As mass began, the pastor came out to briefly introduce me before I continued on with mass. His introduction was something like:

Today, I want to introduce to you Fr. Dennis Schenkel, a priest of the Diocese of Memphis who was ordained only a week ago. Fr. Dennis is here today because this is the parish where he was baptized.

Now, many of you may know the legend that has been in this parish for many many years, that back in the earliest days of this parish, one of the pioneer Jesuit fathers who worked here was mistreated by the parishioners, and in response he placed a curse on this parish that we would never have a vocation to the priesthood.

Today, Fr. Dennis has broken the curse because he’s the first priest from this parish in the 185 year history of All Saints! Thank you, Fr. Dennis!

It was like playing for the 2004 Red Sox.

It’s not going to be a mass because, while the deceased is Catholic, no one else is (except me, the priest, of course). The funeral service will take place at the funeral home. I went through the ritual this afternoon, and I feel like I can get through it without too much fuss.

Toward the end, I will be trying out the idea of letting someone speak about the deceased on behalf of the family. We can fight about whether that’s a good idea or not, but I’m planning on doing it anyway. It’s pretty much expected as the norm in the African-American community, and I want to do what I can to accommodate their customs.

I hope it goes well. I won’t name him on this blog, but if you remember to pray for the deceased of my first funeral which takes place tomorrow, I would appreciate it.

Back on Monday.

Understanding is the reward of faith. Therefore, seek not to understand that thou mayest believe, but believe that thou mayest understand.

Facebook will not allow me to change the name of my Facebook account to “Fr. Dennis Schenkel.” When I attempted to do so, the name was kicked out. When I contacted the company, someone named “Diego” wrote back, addressing me as “Hi Dennis,” even though I had signed my email as “Fr. Dennis Schenkel.” Diego claims that religious titles are not allowed and are a violation of Facebook’s terms and conditions. I read all the terms and conditions. Nothing about this “policy” is mentioned.

Turns out I’m not the first to encounter Facebook’s anti-Catholic bias, as you can read about here.

Here is “Diego’s” lame email to me:

Hi Dennis,

I apologize for the inconvenience, but we no longer allow users to list religious titles on their names. Additionally, users who currently have religious titles on their names are in violation of our Terms of Use and may have their accounts disabled. Unfortunately, we will not be able to make the name change you have requested. Let me know if you have any other questions.

Thanks,

Diego
User Operations
Facebook

Suggestions?

He’s a good writer, I think, and his blog is called Walking on a Thin Line. Check it out!

There is a point in the ordination rite, just after the bishop imposes his hands and calls down the Holy Spirit upon the ordinand (person being ordained), when every other priest who is present at the mass comes and imposes hands as well, participating in the ministry of the bishop and signifying the intimate sacramental brotherhood of the presbyterate. I was kneeling on the hardwood steps that lead up to the altar, and one by one, each priest came past me and imposed hands on me.

The floor was hard, and the particular angle of my knees was such that the floor seemed to be digging into me. The line of priests was long, and many of the priests, when placing their hands on my head for prayer, added just a little bit of pressure, just a little bit of pushing down, as they prayed. It wasn’t much. It was just a little. But my knees noticed it. After 10 or eleven went by, and there seemed to be many more still to come, I began repeating to myself: “Priesthood is about the cross. Priesthood is about the cross. Priesthood is about the cross.” The last priest in the line had actually grown up down the street from me and my brothers and his dad had been Scoutmaster when I was a kid.

But then it turned out he wasn’t the last priest. All the priests had gone back to their places, but one was still making his way down. He couldn’t move very quickly. Every step involved pushing a metal walker forward, and then taking a step-and-a-half and pushing the walker forward again. I happen to know that diabetes has wrecked this man’s feet and legs, and every step for him is a painful thing. If I thought my knees were sore at that moment, it couldn’t have been anything like the struggle of this priest to work his way down to the front of the altar.

Father John and I know each other well. When I was in high school, he was made pastor of our family’s parish. He is known for being outspoken on issues around social justice and civil rights, and I remember times when his zeal for “full, active and conscious participation” of the people of God in the liturgy resulted in new and creative liturgical practices that my more conservative friends would frown at.

There have even, sometimes, been personality issues and some unresolved slights or offenses. I don’t say this as gossip but to show how very moved I was that this man, this particular priest, struggled from his seat to touch me and pray over me.

He and I are of different generations, and of different ideological perspectives. Yet despite our differences, he was a priest. He had seen many changes in his time. Many of his peers, the ones who graduated from the seminaries of the 60’s and 70’s filled with a fire to bring the Church kicking and screaming into the realities of the modern world, did not remain in ministry. But he did. He did not leave or quit when it got hard. He did not abandon his vows out of frustration or hardship. He toughed it out. He remained faithful in his own way to the Lord and to his vocation.

And on Saturday, he was still toughing it out, making his way across the hardwood floor, ignoring the pain in his feet and legs, bringing the sacred mysteries of the sacraments to a member of the faithful on his knees before God. No one would have blamed him if he had stayed in his seat. Everyone knows how hard it is for him to do what he was doing. He didn’t have to go. But there he was.

He not only touched my head, but my heart as well. Priesthood is about the cross.

Then, someone showed me today’s issue of the local paper, the Memphis Commercial Appeal, with the article in it about the Diocese of Memphis, priestly vocations and my ordination yesterday. Very cool.

Then I find out the article is quoted extensively at Whispers in the Loggia, where he mentions my ordination. So now I’m not only mentioned in my local paper, but I’m mentioned by name on Whispers.

Thankfully, he wasn’t circulating any rumors of my being made bishop yet. Whew! I don’t think I could take that kind of thing just now.

If you’re around, come to mass at 2PM at St. Louis Church in Memphis today.

In the meantime, pray for me, and pray for all the other men being ordained as Catholic priests today in the US, especially my friends Joseph (Indianapolis), Aaron (Indianapolis) and Matthew (Phoenix).