By Deacon Mark Baumgarten
So much has happened since I last wrote that I barely know where to start. Perhaps I should begin with my ordination to the diaconate, which took place on October 3, last year in St Peter’s Basilica.
It was an occasion of immense joy, though the fact that I was only metres away from where St Peter endured a gruesome execution in the name of the faith I was now professing was also a sobering reminder of the responsibilities I was inheriting.
Furthermore, I was a little overwhelmed by just how much work so many others had put in for us in the lead-up to those days.
Actually being a deacon took a little getting used to. As with a marriage, we say “yes” with some idea of what we’re getting ourselves into, but we probably then spend the rest of our lives learning the full implications of what that “yes” actually meant!
The ordination was followed by something of a spiritual honeymoon period, accompanied by a noticeable shift in responsibility: as deacons we have a more central role in the liturgy, we are asked to assume greater leadership within the seminary community and in our various volunteer works, we undertake more specialised courses of study, and we are generally subject to less oversight overall.
Being in Rome, another one of the perks is the opportunity to assist at the occasional papal liturgy, and offering communion to the many faithful who gather for the various high points of the Church’s year.
On the other hand, the most challenging moment of my diaconate took place following the death of my father Charles this past January.
His health had been poor for some time and his passing was not entirely unexpected, but the fact that my siblings and I all happened to be away from Perth at the time added to what was already a difficult situation.
I had the privilege of preaching at dad’s funeral and presiding at the vigil and committal ceremonies, which was both an honour whilst also being quite surreal.
There was a degree to which I was in “work mode” during those days, and it was only in the days that followed that I was able to slow down and start to process all that had taken place.
I was obviously disappointed that dad would not live to see me ordained to the priesthood, since he had played a large role in the development of my present faith.
However, there was consolation in knowing that his considerable sufferings had finally come to an end.
Furthermore, I was touched when dad’s doctor spoke to us of his admiration for the equanimity with which dad had accepted his increasing physical difficulties over the years, an equanimity he attributed to dad’s strong Christian faith.
Upon my return to Rome I had some catching up to do regarding school work and ordination planning, which I had to juggle alongside continued grieving and trying my best to prepare spiritually for the life-changing event on the horizon.
Moreover, the past couple of months I’ve been particularly struck by the now-and-not-yet nature of seminary life (“Ora, e non ancora” as the Italians say).
On the one hand, seminaries are training-grounds, and their whole rationale is based around preparation for a future reality.
On the other hand, any encounter – either with God in prayer, or with others in our daily life – necessarily takes place in the present, and we will not learn much from either if we are forever thinking about the future.
In other words, if we do not cultivate an ability to be present here-and-now – to God and to others – we will not have much to offer anyone in the future reality that we are indeed preparing for in sometimes painstaking detail.
This dichotomy has been particularly apparent to me of late, though perhaps dealing with this increasingly intense conflation of present and future in our current situation is itself a necessary preparation for the demands of parish life.
Nonetheless, such tensions are grounded in the fact that my desire for pastoral ministry grows daily, which is surely something to be grateful for, given that my priestly ordination is only a couple of months away.
Following ordination, I will have the opportunity to enjoy a few weeks of parish life as a priest in Perth, before returning to Rome for one final year to finish my post-graduate studies.
I nonetheless look forward to returning to Perth for good next year, and beginning this next phase of the great adventure of service that I have had the privilege of being called into.
Know that I keep you all in my prayers each day, and that I wish you all the peace and joy of the risen Lord.