Strangers & Sojourners No Longer

I don’t remember the details of the first time that I met Father Bert Richman, but I do remember my dad's recounting of his first encounter with him. Father Bert had arrived at Saint Theresa Church in Tiverton, RI, the day after a heavy rain. My father, being a good and faithful Deacon, went to greet the new Pastor and welcome him to the community…and to also (unexpectedly) help him get his car unstuck from the mud. My dad described Father Bert as a big guy – and indeed he was…with a gregarious personality to match!

Twenty years ago today Father Bert went home to the Lord, and I have no doubt that he has received the glorious eternal reward for his 38 years of dedicated priestly ministry. Father Bert treasured the traditions of the Church, but had the unique gift of being able to communicate those traditions to a modern world. He loved Our Lady, the Eucharist, and Christmas. He held a deep devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and the patrons of the Parishes where he had served…and of course, his beloved Saint Francis. More than anything though, he loved his priesthood.

Father Bert played a central role in my vocations story, as he did in the story of the thirty something men at whose First Mass he was asked to preach. While he understood the many aspects of priestly ministry, I think he always identified much of his thinking with the line we providentially heard in the First Reading at Mass this morning from Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians:

“You are no longer strangers and sojourners,

but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones

and members of the household of God,

built upon the foundation of the Apostles and prophets,

with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone..”

When Father Bert was at Saint Theresa’s he instituted a Parish Census, taking the time to connect with every single registered family of the Parish. He personally connected with every soul entrusted to his care to see what their needs were, and in the case of those who had fallen away, to find out why they had left. He made his home the entire Parish’s home, many would say to an excessive degree, but he knew no other way to live his priesthood. He understood a life in ministry to be one that is laid down completely and entirely for the flock he was called to shepherd. His open door policy was consistent throughout his life: in teaching, in parishes, and I can only imagine what a character he was in the seminary.

Father Bert loved every single one of us: and he loved us standing in the person of Jesus.

I could give testimony to all the wonderful things he did for our parish. I could tell you how he led us all to fall more deeply in love with our faith, with the Eucharist, with Our Lady, and with all that he loved too. I could tell you about the many Parish Programs into which he breathed new life, and the CYO that would end up leaving a lifelong impact on me in so many ways. I could share with you his sense of humor: like his running joke with the Bishop (who was short), and how he always scheduled the tallest altar servers he had for Confirmation. I could tell you about his priestly heart, and the morning I walked into the sacristy and found him crying looking over a newspaper: devastated that another brother Priest had been discovered to have been an abuser of children…and the anger that he shared with me at how a Priest could so grossly betray his obligation to God’s people.

I could tell you about his final days, and that precious moment where I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his beloved Regina personally came to take him home to his Father’s house.

Instead I will tell you my most simple memory of Father Bert that I believe despite its simplicity expresses volumes about his spiritual life and personal sense of mission. He called everyone “child of God.” Simple right? But you see, the thing is, he really meant it. Every single person that he encountered he viewed as a child of God: a beloved son, or a beloved daughter. He was so passionate about his ministry because he so fully and completely believed that we were indeed “no longer strangers or sojourners” – we were members of the family of God!

In the years that would follow Father Bert’s passing from this world to the Lord, my own life would take some really crazy twists and turns. About five years after his death I would end up leaving the Seminary in a pretty impulsive decision that was really an attempt to avoid facing my problems. The years that followed would end up being worthy of a movie: alcoholism, leaving the Church, joining another Church, coming back again, and finding my way to the Edmundites and Enders Island. At every twist in the road I would unpack my picture of Father Bert, and say “I wonder what Father Bert would think?” Whatever he would say, I know that it would have begun with, “Child of God…”

I am quite certain that Father Bert has kept his watchful eye on me ever since we last saw one another face to face twenty years ago today. When I met the Superior General of the Edmundites, he asked me where I was from and I told him, Tiverton, Rhode Island. He then recounted to me how he once attended a meeting in Tiverton that was hosted by this priest who told an amusing story about scheduling his tallest altar servers for Confirmations with his short Bishop. I just smiled, and in my heart I looked to heaven, where I am sure I heard that familiar voice, "Child of God..."

Eternal rest grant unto him , O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen,