The Gospel reading for Sunday, July 24 was Luke 11:1-13 in which the disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray. “He said to them, ‘When your pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. . .’” Jesus gives them and us the now very familiar Our Father prayer. To the disciples the first word was probably quite shocking. Calling God – the creator of all things – Abba, Papa, Daddy! That Jesus should have that familiarity with the Father is understandable as He comes from the Father and returns to the Father. What is difficult to grasp is that the Father in Heaven wants us to have that intimacy with Him.
For each of us the name, Dad, or Father immediately brings up the image of our own father and our relationship with him. If Dad was a good man, we likely have an easier time relating to God the Father. If Dad was emotionally distant, harsh, or abusive, then it will take time and healing for us to feel like we can approach God as Father.
In my family I was the fourth child of ten. Coming after three brothers, I was Daddy’s little girl. As we grew up and more children were added to the gang, I attained ELD status (Eldest Loverly Daughter). When the kids wanted something from Dad, they would send me in to negotiate.
Dad was a general contractor and small business owner. On Saturdays, He would often take the older boys to the office to help him get equipment and supplies readied for the jobsite on Monday. Actually, it was a way to get some busy boys out from underfoot and give Mom a bit of a break. From a kid perspective, I didn’t want to miss out on time with Dad. So sometimes I got to go along. While the boys were loading stuff out in the garage, I was in the office balancing the company checkbook or typing up a transmittal letter.
I knew I was loved and cherished. I loved being with Dad. Sometime around age 12, Dad was doing some significant excavation work on our property up north. He was on the bulldozer for hours at a time. I remember running a cold beverage out to him and then climbing up and sitting on the armrest as he pushed the sand. No conversation over the roar of the diesel engine, just sitting with him.
Praise from Dad did not come easily. We were never coddled. He would give a task to be performed without much in the way of explanation and would leave expecting the job to be done when he returned. No questions asked. As soon as he left there was a scramble to see if anyone could decipher the instructions not knowing which tool or device he was talking about. No one wanted to face him with the task incomplete.
Dad would often leave for work before we were up and come home after dinner particularly in the summer when the daylight was long. By his diligence and hard work, he provided our family of twelve a large home, food in abundance, a summer home up north and nearly 80 years of Catholic tuition. “He is a hard worker,” was the highest compliment that he ever gave instilling in us a strong work ethic.
A few encounters with Dad stand out for me. One spring morning in my 5th grade classroom the office secretary called me up to the front of the room and asked me, “Is this man your father?” As Dad peered through the door he said, “Get your homework and come with me. We are going to Beaver Island!” It was a spontaneous trip for the weekend with just the two of us. I am sure there was some purpose in going but he wanted someone to go with him. What a delight!
Two thirds of the way through the first semester of my sophomore year at college I was really missing my family. I realized I hadn’t been home since school started. I called home and talked to Mom for a few minutes and then asked to talk to Dad. As soon as he came to the phone I started sobbing. (I am not typically a person who cries easily). He asked what was wrong and I just said that I missed being home. He was at my dorm room within an hour and brought me home for the weekend. I didn’t ask, he just came – immediately.
Another time, I remember telling Dad that I loved him. And he replied, “But not as much as I love you. You won’t understand the love of a parent until you have kids of your own.” When my first child was born, I was overwhelmed with love for this tiny person who could do absolutely nothing and I would do ANYTHING for him. I recalled Dad’s words and realized this was how much my father loved me. A few moments later it dawned on me that this was the kind of love that God, the Father has for me but to an infinite degree.
In my childhood and teen years my prayer life was always directed toward the Father. Having a good, loving, earthly father it was natural for me to relate to God that way – with confidence in his love for me, and with deep gratitude and reverence. At night before bed, I would pray the Lord’s prayer and then just sit there thinking about Him. Much like sitting with Dad on the bulldozer – no conversation, just being present.
During my ninth-grade year my religion teacher taught us about a new movement within the Catholic Church called the Charismatic Renewal emphasizing a personal relationship with Jesus through the Baptism of the Holy Spirit. When I prayed that night, I asked God to baptize me in the Holy Spirit and to give me the gift of tongues. (I didn’t really know what I was asking for but I wanted a closer relationship with God.) I sat there waiting for something big to happen. Nothing happened that night so I figured I wasn’t ready for it.
Two years later, while I was sitting in my 11th grade homeroom waiting for dismissal, random syllables came into my head. They seemed to be a foreign language but I had no idea of the meaning. Without a clue as to what this phenomenon was, I dismissed it.
It wasn’t until my freshman year at the University of Michigan that I would begin to understand. I started attending charismatic prayer meetings off-campus and signed up for a Life in the Spirit Seminar. This was a seven-week course beginning with basic Christian principles leading up to a time for prayer to receive gifts of the Holy Spirit. When it was my turn for prayer I asked for the gift of tongues and was surprised to realize that what I received that night was the same thing that happened to me in 11th grade. God, my Father in heaven heard my prayer in 9th grade, answered it in 11th grade and renewed it college.
God, our Father in heaven wants us to know, trust, and love Him. He puts people, places, and circumstances in our lives that invite us to look for Him. It could be a challenging illness, a newborn baby, the loss of a loved one, a beautiful sunset, or a stout hug from Dad. I love Peter Kreeft’s description of God being like a child playing Hide and Seek behind a curtain with the feet showing beneath. He may be hidden, but He isn’t hard to find.
I am so blessed to have had a great relationship with my dad. He wasn’t perfect and we certainly had our rough patches. But I always knew he loved me and wanted the best for me. That relationship paved the way for my own relationship with God, the Father. In a society that likes to muddle distinctions between genders it often devalues the unique role of the father in the home.
One of the best homilies of Deacon Dave’s was his last homily given on Father’s Day June 21, 2020; “Fathers Matter”.
I echo the challenge given at the end of the homily; today, make that call or better yet stop by and let your father know that you love and appreciate him. If he has passed away, you can still let him know by saying a prayer for him. And then say a prayer of thanks to God the Father for all the good He has done for you.
You Are Loved 