Well,
maybe not.
My
complete lack of interest in sports was neatly explained by my father when he said,
“Gregory doesn’t like anything he wasn’t good at the first time.”
And
since I didn’t play sports, I didn’t follow sports. I never once opened the
sports pages, even though I was reading the newspaper shortly after I learned
to walk. My father did get me to read a story about his late uncle, an NHL star.
But since the article was full of mistakes it didn’t inspire me to change my
reading habits.
By
a quirk of fate, in my forties I got to know a BC Lions football player, a
Vancouver Canucks hockey player, and one of the best known local sports writers.
So, I was pretty much forced to start reading the sports pages. And I read them
still.
I
noticed something early on about the reports of victorious games, winning
goals, and athletic trophies. The players almost always said the same thing: it
was really just a team effort.
Of
course, they said it in different ways. “I don’t really think the trophy
belongs to me but to my teammates” or “I really just tipped the goal in after a
great setup.”
I
didn’t believe a word of it! Since the only team I ever played on was a
political party I was used to people following a script with reporters. This
“aw, shucks, it was really the other guys who made this happen” struck me as a
formula; they were saying what was expected.
Tonight,
I apologize to all those athletes whose sincerity I doubted. I have heard so
many kind and generous things about my ministry here over the past sixteen
years that I feel like a winner of the Grey Cup, Stanley Cup, and even the
World Cup. Yet I can only say exactly what those athletes say in the post-game
interview.
I
say it with sincerity and almost urgency: this amazing parish, this
irresistible parish, is the result of shared responsibility, collaboration,
brilliant staff, generous volunteers, and engaged disciples. And, of course,
dedicated assistant pastors, one of whom liked it here so much that he’s come
back for more!
My
single greatest contribution was getting out of the way of those who were listening
and responding to the Holy Spirit.
Sad
as I am to be leaving, I want to make it very clear that I’m very happy
tonight. I never dreamt that I would experience such an outpouring of love,
affirmation, and support in my life. I am a happy and grateful priest beyond
anything I could have imagined on my ordination day, joyful though it was.
This
incredible celebration, for which I warmly thank the dedicated and hard working
organizers and volunteers, has only one negative aspect for me. I want so badly
to name names, to thank individuals … but I can’t.
There
are at least three reasons for this, beginning with the fact that we want to go
home before midnight.
The
second, of course, is that speaking of the debt that I and the parish owe to
certain individuals would reduce me to tears faster than ice cream melts on a
hot summer day.
And
finally, any attempt to name names risks both missing some and failing to
acknowledge the hidden contributions of those who have quietly prayed and
sacrificed for the mission of the parish.
An
overflowing heart is a dangerous thing because it’s hard to stop the flow of
words; I think I’ve said enough.
I
give the last words to Dag Hammarskjold, the mystical secretary-general of the
United Nations, whom I have been quoting all week: “For what has been, thanks.
For what will be, yes.”
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