Everybody Calls Me Father: Stories, Inspirations and Reflections of a Deacon in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia

By Deacon John Farrell

Everybody Calls Me Father is a collection of stories, reflections, and musings with a down-to-earth touch. From amusing anecdotes about Catholic geography to touching explanations of the gift of tears, from stirring thoughts on eternal values to remembering the last gift to a dying man, Everybody Calls Me Father will brighten your outlook and bring a smile to your days.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512791594

Deacon John Farrell

Deacon John Farrell was ordained in 2010 and assigned to his home parish of St. Charles Borromeo in Drexel Hill Pennsylvania. A graduate of Villanova University, a U.S. Navy Vet and a teacher for 41 years in private and public schools, Farrell has a rich background for his pastoral work that includes a weekly articled for his church bulletin. Married to his wife Lori for 34 years,they have four children:Colleen, Sean, Dan and Andrew and two dogs, Eli and Ollie, who have suffered getting their nightly snacks late due to the Deacon’s writings.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-9158-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-9160-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-9159-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017910378

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/30/2017

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1—Born and Raised Catholic

1. Catholic Geography

2. Growing Up in Holy Cross

3. Remembering a Gentle Nudge of Faith

4. Poems from a Dusty, Old Binder

5. Feed the Hungry

6. Puzzle Pieces

7. Gift for a Stranger

8. The Man in the Old Rain Coat and Hat

9. The Many Levels of Guilt!!!

10. Christian Inclusion

Chapter 2—First, You’ve go to Show Up

1. First, You’ve Got to Show Up

2. The Important Skill of Self-Analysis

3. Resilience for the Last Month of Winter

4. Promises to Keep

5. The Justice of God

6. Faith Beyond our Circumstances

7. Doubt and Faith

8. Texting and Paying Attention

9. Practical Wisdom

10. Consultants and Specialists

11. Nurturing our Flower

12. Homespun Wisdom in our Christian Lives

13. Turn Off and Connect

14. Big Decisions or Small Ones—Trust God

15. Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

16. Working with Wet Socks

Chapter 3—Stories of Faith

1. Being Mad at God

2. Moments of Light and Understanding

3. Acts of Kindness

4. The Many Faces of God

5. Reparation for a Sacrifice

6. A Spark of Goodness

7. The Power of One

8. Miraculous Medal Intervention

9. The Art of Spiritual Storytelling

Chapter 4—God in our Lives

1. God’s Boatswain Signal

2. Waiting in Line: God’s Little Spiritual Break

3. The Gift of Presence

4. The Gift of Tears

5. Special Gifts of God’s Love

6. The Cry of the Wild Geese

7. Thankfulness

8. Living Without the Full Symphony

9. The Fruits of God’s Graces

10. Embarrassment: God’s Gentle Reminder of Humility

11. When the Puzzle Pieces Don’t Fit

12. Breaking Through the Thermocline

Chapter 5—Saints that Walk Among Us

1. I See Friends Shaking Hands, Saying, How Do You Do"

2. Keeping Our Promises to God

3. Giving Thanks for an Old Gift

4. Ministering to God’s People

5. How Can I Serve You?

6. Father Emil Kapaun

7. Father Emil Kapaun: Three Possible Miracles

8. Knights of Malta

Chapter 6—Lessons of our Catholic Faith

1. Waiting for the Morning Train

2. Are you Catholic?

3. Becoming an Olympic Christian

4. Emulating the Patience of God

5. Jesus Took Him Aside

6. Develop Selective Amnesia

7. Where is Jesus?

8. The Spirit of Vatican II

9. Old Family Stories

10. Doing a Favor for God

11. Hanging Up Our Coats

12. Christian Graciousness

Chapter 7—Connecting Streams of Light

1. Lest We Forget

2. A Prayer for Peace

3. Living God’s Call for Patience in a Cold February

4. Tempo Gusto— The Right Speed

5. Ephphatha—Be Opened

6. The Joy of Truth—A Time to Stand

7. Following our Way

8. Our Daily Bread of Graces and Blessings

9. Cristo Rey and the Sign of the Cross

10. Spontaneous Compassion

11. We Are the Threads of God’s Weavings

12. The Work of our Hands

13. Old Stories

14. The Just War Doctrine

15. Wisdom: More than just an Opinion

16. Wisdom: Going Beyond Original Impressions

Chapter 8—Some Things I Gleaned from Teaching

1. Attitude

2. Cleaning out our Spiritual Lockers

3. If you Had But One Day Left …

4. Life Preserver Lockers

5. The Power of Gestures and Suggestions

6. The Season of Receiving

7. Faith is our Heritage

8. We Can Be from Nazareth

9. The Faith of a Lioness

10. Peace Be With You

11. Gleaning

Chapter 9—Inspiring People from the Past

1. Turning to Prayer in Times of National Crisis

2. A Climate of Mutual Respect and Integrity

3. The Armored Angel

4. Weihsein Prison: The Running Shoes

5. Weihsein Prison: The Gregorian Chant

6. What Child is This?

Chapter 10—Our Liturgical Year

1. TheGifts of the Magi

2. The Awe and Mystery of the Birth of Jesus

3. Advent: Recalling us to The Way

4. The Dawn of Redeeming Grace

5. Stories of Silent Night

6. And the Word Became Flesh and Dwelt Among Us

7. Snapshots and Kairos Time

8. Ash Wednesday

9. Receiving the Greatest Gift

10. Pay Attention to your God Sense

Chapter 11—Living our Faith

1. The Glory in Living

2. You Are Invited to a Banquet

3. Fulton Ousler and a Meaningful Universe

4. A Meaningful Universe

5. The Gifts of Forgiveness

6. The Fog of Truth

7. How Do We Love God?

8. Remembering God: Two Stories, Two Perspectives

9. Imitating the Compassion of God

10. The Geography of our Spiritual World

Chapter 12—The Importance of Prayer

1. Prayer 101— What is this Thing called Prayer?

2. Prayer 101: The Need to Pray

3. Prayer 101: Walking with God

4. Prayer 101: Actions, Gestures and Signs

5. The Music of Prayer

6. Leaning on the Strong Pillar of Prayer

7. The Letter

8. On the Wings of Eagles

9. The Beautiful Music of Quiet Prayer

10. Three Anecdotes on Prayer

11. Prayers of the Church

12. Private Prayer

13. A Prayer

Chapter 13—Eternal Virtues and the Modern World

1. Pride and Humility

2. Through the Looking Glass

3. The Gospel According to Thomas Jefferson

4. Jesus—Fully Human, Fully Divine

5. Consider the Weight of Words …

6. The Face of Perseverance

7. The Gift of Growing Older

8. The Threads of a Kindness

9. Let God Out of your Box

Epilogue

Introduction

On June 5, 2010, my class of deacons (5) was ordained at the Cathedral of St. Peter and Paul in Philadelphia. On that beautiful Saturday morning, before hundreds of friends, relatives and brother deacons, the five of us said our vows and then Justin Cardinal Rigali laid hands on our heads, gave us each a badge of our office, The Book of the Gospels, and called us to faithful service in the ancient order of the Diaconate. Officially, in the records of the Archdiocese in the Office of Clergy, I am listed as Deacon John Farrell. The only trouble is everybody calls me Father. Most of the people at my church call me, Father. Many of the students in our religious education courses call me, Father. The associate at the Wawa who makes me a hoagie calls me, Father. Even the UPS driver delivering a package calls me, Father.

It must be the Roman collar. Then there are the vestments and the gray Witness shirt. These can confuse not only Catholics but many Protestants. I’ve sometimes been called pastor or even reverent. In a supermarket, one man called me bishop. Out in the community when people are not sure what to call me, the best guess in this large Catholic region is to call me father. I usually don’t try to correct people because it might embarrass them. I just accept being called Father.

I have been called a lot of different names in my life. I started out as Johnny to my family and friends. Then my sister has always called me Jonathan. In High School I was given my older brother’s nickname when he graduated–Fuzzy—which didn’t make any sense at all since we both had straight, flat hair. In Navy boot camp during the Vietnam War, I was called every colorful name and derogatory label the company commander could come up with—and he had an impressive array of obscene words, epitaphs and brands to hurl at me and my fellow recruits. (Personally, I was always fascinated by the creative groupings that he was able to put together. I believe the Navy awarded him a Master Chief rating for his use of profanity)

I was a teacher for 41 years—there too I have heard some interesting name and labels of respect and humor. Now being called Father is not all that new to me. I am married and have four children. But my own children call me names that range from Dad to Pop to Old Man.

It is the members of my parish, the St. Charles Borromeo community of Drexel Hill, that have never really gotten use to my official title of Deacon. They mostly still call me Father. This happens a lot in the Church: As I welcome people before Mass or as I stand at the door after Mass, I will usually be called Father, even by people who know that I am the deacon. I’ve tried to make it simpler for people by going by the name Deacon John or DJ but that only works sometimes. Do not get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I am not having an identity crisis. I am not on a crusade to change the title of a deacon. It is just the way it is in the Archdiocese. I would be willing to bet it is the same in other Catholic regions of our country. I go by the old joke, call me anything you like, just don’t call me late for dinner. In my case just don’t call me late for Mass.

For those who are unfamiliar with the role of a deacon in the Roman Catholic Church, there are two types of deacons: the first is the transitional deacon. Seminarians in their last year before being ordained priests are ordained transitional deacons. They will do various duties in parishes in the archdiocese as part of their last year of seminary study. After a year as a transitional deacon, these men are ordained priests. The other type of deacon is the permanent Deacon—that’s me and about 260 of my brother deacons here in Philly. We went through 5-7years of classes at the seminary at nights and on weekends. A permanent deacon is not on the road to become a priest. He is ordained to assist the priest at Mass, deliver some of the sacraments (Baptism and marriage) and help in pastoral work. But the foundation of being a deacon is to be a direct link with the people to the priests. With that in mind, deacons need to be out and among the people as much as possible. Now this can be a little difficult if the Deacon also has a full time job and a family. It can be challenging to juggle so much, but somehow the Lord provides the time and energy for all of these things. In my case, my six years of Diaconate training before ordination and for the six years since, I have worked full time as a teacher. Such a schedule called for some really creative juggling at times. Yet I can’t complain. I believe my teaching career helped to really prepare me for my work in the Diaconate. I started teaching in December of 1975 at Holy Cross Elementary School—the same school I had gone to as a child. More about that learning experience later. After marriage and the need for a larger income I took a job at Girard College in North Philadelphia. This is a boarding school for functionally orphaned children. Three children and four years later I took a position at a public school in Haddonfield New Jersey and taught Geography there for 28 years till my retirement in 2016. It was the last six years at Haddonfield that I also functioned as a permanent deacon in my parish of St. Charles.

A Permanent Deacon in the Catholic Church can be single or married. If married, he must have been married before being ordained as a deacon. If, after being ordained, his wife should die, he would be considered for the priesthood if the bishops approves. Such a situation has not happened very often in the United States. I mention it only because Canon Law permits it. But let’s not get into Canon Law—I have trouble spelling Canon Law not to mention knowing and understanding it. The one good thing about having to deal with Canon Law is that if you have a question, the Archdiocese has several good Canon lawyers we can call on. Not only are they knowledgeable, but they have some pretty interesting stories to relate.

An important job of a permanent deacon is to assist at Mass. He is the guardian of the Eucharist. It is the deacon’s job, after Communion, to return the Blessed Sacrament to the tabernacle and cleanse the sacred vessels. Also, one of the important roles of the deacon at Mass is to read the gospel. Even if the Pope, a Cardinal or a bishop was presiding at the Mass, a deacon would read the Gospel. Of course, I don’t know any deacon in Philly who would argue with the Pope, a Cardinal or a bishop about his role during Mass unless he wanted a transfer to some island in the middle of the Delaware River. Other duties include: teaching the faith in the PREP program to young Catholic students; the RCIA program—the program for instructing people interested in becoming Catholics; Pre-Jordan—instructions for parents before baptism; Pre-Cana– instructions for couples planning to marry. There is also attending various parish committees, visiting the sick and homebound, and advising the pastor. Also there is anything else a normal or diabolical pastor can think up. All of these duties need a certain amount of diplomatic skill and patience, and it helps a great deal to say the Serenity Prayer quite often.

A deacon needs to be the eyes and ears for the parish priests. To stay informed means talking to people whenever you get a chance—at Church, on the street and even in the grocery store. Sometimes though you need help in finding out about things. I have my network of scouts in the community that help to keep me informed. These are neighborhood people who help me keep in touch. They include parishioners, apartment building managers and a nice Baptist lady who texts me about members of my congregation who are taken away by ambulance from a nearby apartment building. This way the parish staff can offer our help and spiritual comfort when it is needed, not two weeks after the fact when a family member gets around to telling us. This is important and this is what is expected by the parish. There are some that say this could be an invasion of privacy. It could be. But I’ve never walked into a hospital room or a house without feeling very welcomed. And at hospitals or even just walking down the street I’ve been approached by people seeking help or prayers. Being known in the community as a deacon does open doors and helps me do my work. Whatever I can do, I’ll do.

The duties of a deacon also include preaching homilies periodically at Mass. This is done at the discretion of the pastor. The pastors I’ve worked for in St. Charles and I agreed to an every other week schedule for preaching. I have also morphed into writing an article every week for the bulletin. Between the articles and the homilies, I’ve spent a lot of time in front of my laptop. From all this writing I have learned two valuable lessons. The first is that you really don’t know how you think or feel about something until you’ve really prayed about it, thought about it and researched it so that you can write intelligently about it. And second, the most important lesson is something that I was taught in my second year in Diaconate training by Deacon Dan DeLuca—when it comes to writing a homily or an article write what you need to hear. I’ve learned that you can’t write to impress people. It will definitely backfire. You preach and write to express the truth and give your witness to the truth to the best of your ability. These homilies and articles really help me in my own spiritual journey. It is sometimes quite amazing to me that they may help others, also.

These years working as a deacon have been a real blessing. I have had the opportunity to help many people in our parish and community in many diverse ways. I’ve had opportunities to grow and share things I have learned. At the moment there is really no organization of these stories or articles to follow. They represent several years of writing, praying and studying. With this in mind, I’ve started writing this book for my own amusement and with the hope that maybe someone else would enjoy it and get some spiritual insights from it.

CHAPTER 1

Born and Raised Catholic

1. Catholic Geography

In Philadelphia, if you were born a cradle Catholic (born and raised Catholic) you will find some interesting distinctions about your geographic awareness of the world. First, everyone is designated by the parish you were raised in. Even today, people will identify themselves this way. Father Dan Devine tells of being raised in Transfiguration parish in Southwest Philadelphia and referring to himself and his friends as from Transie. This identification was so pervasive that some Jewish friends of young Dan Devine always referred to themselves as coming from Transfiguration. Parishes within Philadelphia might be only a few blocks apart but they still gave rise to identification and pride. Before World War II, the parishes and neighborhoods were strongly ethnic in makeup. There were Italian, Irish and Polish neighborhoods. It wasn’t until after WW II that ethnic tensions started to crumble. One elderly lady at a funeral told me that her family had been in Our Lady of Angels parish but was kicked out of the predominantly Irish Church because they were Italian. Her relatives shuddered when they heard that old family joke being repeated to a deacon. But when I told the story in my homily everyone laughed including the relatives. In Catholic High School my classmates all came not from Springfield, Havertown or Newtown Square, but from St. Francis, St. Dennis or from Annunciation. I was born and raised in Holy Cross Parish in Springfield, Delaware County—right outside the city. For fellow Catholics that will spatially put me between St. Francis of Assisi in Springfield south of us, St. Eugene’s east of us and St. Charles Borromeo (my present parish) north of us. I recently met a man from the Clifton Heights neighborhood who had moved away 35 years ago. He told me he was from St. Eugene’s. When I told him I was born in Westbrook Park, he immediately responded, Oh, Holy Cross.

Holy Cross has a large area of row houses called Westbrook Park. A little known historical fact of Catholic neighborhoods is the uncanny knack of Catholics to know exactly where they are in their parish and which other Catholic families live on each particular street. I have heard people talk about such and such a street and someone would say, Oh yes, that’s where the McHugh family lives—half way down the block. Or, the other way, the Murphy family can be found in the center of the Parish on Westpark Lane." Now the original builders tried to confuse us, by labeling several streets in Westbrook Park with the same name, just different numbers. This can be confusing to outsiders but not to those born and raised here. The reason is that Holy Cross Catholics when they were born had tiny homing devices installed in their heads by the doctors. This allowed us to know where we were in the parish at any time and kept us from getting lost. At least that’s what Sister Veronica told us in second grade and I am not one to argue with a Mercy Nun.

2. Growing Up in Holy Cross

The Holy Cross parish land was once a dairy farm and was bought by the Archdiocese soon after World War II and turned over to Father Louis J. Meyers—an ex-army chaplain who was given the monumental job of creating a parish amid the newly built sprawl of Westbrook Park row homes on one side of Bishop Ave and a new development of single homes (that strangely looked like row houses turned sideways) on large lots on the Springfield side of Bishop Ave. The single homes and individual lots, what we called Colonial Park, cost about 3,000 dollars more than row houses in the early 1950s. But 3000.00 dollars was a lot of money back then. The good Father Meyers brought a stern military discipline to the running of the parish and a real knack for raising money. Mass was held in the local firehouse while the first structure, an auditorium, was being built. Father Meyers had some definite ideas for building a Church and it would take some 14 years to get it done. Meanwhile, Father Meyers started other buildings needed for the parish. He lived in one of the row houses on the end of Bishop and Springfield roads until a real rectory could be built. A local artist painted a scene of a priest and an altar boy crossing a wintery landscape just before dawn from the row house rectory to the auditorium on an early snowy morning. I have a slightly water-stained copy of it. The painting captured a great deal of the faith and devotion of those early years at Holy Cross. In that old row house rectory, I hold the distinction of being one of the first babies baptized. (Better than a firehouse) Father Meyers, after the auditorium, set his sights on building a school and a convent. The school held upwards of 1600 students with young nuns as teachers being given classes of 100 students in a single room. Today’s teachers might cringe at the thought—but it worked. There were all kinds of organizations that fostered our Catholic character—the Ladies Sodality, the Men’s Sodality, Women’s Club, CYO, Altar servers and others. All groups working together under Father Meyers. In those early years the parish supplied the textbooks and there were very few extras. My sister Mary-Anne always tells the story of her first field trip at Holy Cross—going down to the rectory to see the deer Father Meyers had shot on one of his hunting trips. A great story about Father Meyers was that on a cold winter day in those very early years, he found a local oil supplier unwilling to give him credit to buy the oil needed to heat the school. The good father solved the problem with one phone call- he talked to the superintendent of the local public school and informed him that because he did not have the oil to heat his school than the superintendent would have 1600 new students on his doorstep the next morning. Oil was delivered that afternoon. Cradle Catholics of this time will remember with some fondness the Baltimore Catechism. In this little blue book in question and answer form, were the truths of the Catholic faith—which every good Catholic School student had to memorize. Ask anyone from this generation, Why did God make you? and you’ll get the quick reply, God made me to love Him and serve Him in this world and be happy with Him in the next. There might have been better places or better ways to grow up, but I wouldn’t change a scene, a structure or a moment of it. It was here that thousands of young Catholics had the seeds of faith planted.

3. Remembering a Gentle Nudge of Faith

My 8th grade teacher at Holy Cross was Sister Mary Norberta of the Mercy nuns. I remember her gentle, kind smile and her loving approach to teaching us. Of course, I was a 14 year old boy not much interested in learning—more about that later. Her focus was on Jesus through prayers, words and actions. Faith, humility and reverence were modeled every day for us. She ran a tight ship but every nun did. I had the great good fortune of 11 years after being taught by Sister Norberta, of doing my first year of teaching at Holy Cross as Norberta’s grade partner. I had 50 students in my class and she had 15. Now that may sound unfair but it really wasn’t. Sister was given all the kids who had problems—social, educational, discipline-some with broken homes and broken lives. She had her 15 spread out across the classroom- no one within three seats of another. When we went to Church for Mass or Confession she would seat the kids two in a row, every other row. She ran a very disciplined classroom, never raising her voice, always working with the children on their lessons in a very caring but strict atmosphere. She loved those kids and the kids loved her and would do anything for her. The great lessons of faith, reverence and humility were again modeled that year for not only the students but also for me. I once asked her about rules for the classroom. She said The fewer rules the better. You should expect good behavior and they should give it. Loving respect both ways accomplished miracles that year. I remember sitting at lunch with Sister one day and going over our reading program for the 8th grade. I made the mistake of saying to her that when I was in 8th grade in her room I sat in the back in a group of 60 and spent most of the class reading books on my lap while she tried to teach us English grammar. I read most of the 22 Tarzan books that year. Norberta laughed as I told her, then got up out of her chair and came over to my chair and whacked me. She said, I may be late, but I got you. I tell that story to my students today and explain that it is an example of the long arm of justice—it eventually catches up with all of us.

I wrote this story about Norberta in December of 2013 during Advent, a time of expectancy; a time for readiness to welcome the savior of the world, Jesus. I remember sitting in front of my computer that day looking at the simple Holy card given out at Sister Norberta’s funeral two weeks before. It has the poetic words, All for Jesus through Mary, and a picture of a smiling Norberta. I think of all the children who sat in those worn, wooden desks in Holy Cross whose greatest learning from Norberta was probably the real message of Advent—Faith. Advent is a time when we can be shaken by an earthquake or a gentle nudge, to remember our faith and try to live it. Sometimes I need an earthquake, but in 8th grade those many years ago, all I needed was a gentle nudge.

4. Poems from a Dusty, Old Binder

My mother, Mildred Cassel Farrell, was born and raised Lutheran. Her early years were spent in West Philadelphia near 58th and Chestnut and then her family moved to New Jersey, right over the Ben Franklin Bridge. She had just turned 15 when the Great Depression took hold of the country. She, like so many of that generation, did amazing things to survive in that terrible time. Her father had suffered a stroke and was given a small pension. But it was not enough. My grandmother was in poor health also. To keep from losing her house, my mother borrowed some money from her father’s best friend and then renovated the house herself into a twin. She then rented out the second half and was able to make enough money to pay the mortgage and pay back the loan.

I know very little about my grandfather except that he had been a mailman and liked to write poems. Like her father my mother also wrote poems most of her life. She wrote poetry and short stories about some of the things she saw and many of the things she thought about and felt. She kept them all in an old binder that she kept in a closet. When I was a child she would often take it out and read to us some of her poems and stories. The ones I liked the best as a kid were about my brother and sister and I. One story was told of my brother at the age of three—from his point of view. My mother had taken him to the doctor and my brother played and played in the waiting room causing all the other patients to laugh. According to the narrative my brother couldn’t understand what they were laughing at. So he kept jumping up and down on his mother’s stomach and when he started to fall grab hold of her hair. All of us would laugh at this make belief story from my brother at the age of three.

My mother’s poetry took all forms. Here’s one about her favorite Depression era food—Peanut Butter.

As I depart from all things mortal

And set my sights on Heaven’s portal,

With my last dying breath, I’ll mutter:

Please let me take my peanut butter.

For paradise in all its wonder

Would suddenly be torn asunder.

Each golden halo soon would flutter

If I couldn’t have my peanut butter.

With cocoa and crisp toast that crunches

It’s great for breakfast and for lunches

Without it, an Eternity

In Heaven would be hades for me!

Worrying–something that many people deal with, my mother could see a lighter side.