He was there.
Msgr. Robert Weiss, pastor of St.
Rose of Lima Parish in Newtown, Connecticut, went quickly to the scene of the
Dec. 14 school massacre. There were the bodies of 20 little children, six staff
and the 20-year-old perpetrator who killed them and then himself.
And from
that moment on and for days to come, Msgr. Weiss became the face of compassion
to victims’ families, to parishioners, townspeople, and, through the media, the
entire world. He and other clergy said nothing had prepared them to deal with such
a situation, but they may be wrong.
Msgr. Weiss
knew that by right of baptism and later ordination, he must bring Christ’s
presence to the world, especially in troubled times. He had to eschew anger for
caring, point to hope amidst near despair, and give a reason to live to some
who felt their reason for living lay dead. Often he had to do so without words.
As God’s representative,
Msgr. Weiss came from the only world that offered consolation. People attended
Mass in search of comfort. For memorial and funeral Masses, Scripture guided
him.
When it
comes to the human encountering the divine, nothing matches a Catholic funeral.
It stands out at the final commendation of the deceased. “May the angels lead
you into Paradise,” the Church prays. “May the martyrs greet you at your
arrival and lead you into the holy city, Jerusalem….” The teaching that “life
is not ended but changed” lets children, parents, brothers, sisters and friends
know they will see their loved one again.
Msgr. Weiss
became psychologist and counselor. Leave the Christmas lights on, he advised
families who asked what to do. “I saw 20 new stars in the sky tonight,” he said
evoking a human image at an overflow Mass the night of the crime.
The grace
of the moment, that special gift of God, was with Msgr. Weiss. And so was
six-to eight years of training before ordination. Early in his priesthood he likely
labored beside seasoned priests, learning the trade and crafting his own
distinctive pastoral style.
Seminaries are intense, a fish
bowl-like experience in a close-knit community, where praying, studying and
eating together taught him about the human condition. Spiritual directors and
formation directors pushed and pulled him to articulate his inner life, called
him to greater accountability and comforted him when he struggled.
Seminary and the first years of
priestly ministry are a steep immersion into the depths of one’s own humanity
followed by an immersion into the depths of others.’ And it is always filtered
through the lens of faith. Seminarians face queries about how they feel at the
death of someone dear? How has the grieving process been? How do they feel when
a friend leaves the seminary? How do they deal with the loss? And how do Christ
and the seminarian’s faith help him with each of those? This is the undertow of
seminary life, where academic training is but a part.
And then it happens, an unconscionable
act of violence. Perhaps he remembered from his training in visiting hospitals
and nursing homes: the ministry of presence, where sometimes the most soothing
ministry is just being there. Sometimes words can get in the way and people
just need to know that everything has not evaporated, that there is still
someone to lean on, that even if they don’t see the working of faith in this
moment, then perhaps another does.
Sometimes a priest can draw on the
words of Christ and sometimes he simply stands as a presence to show God is not
absent.
Msgr. Weiss, whatever his previousl
experience with grief and struggle, and whether or not he had been tested in
the fire of faith, at Newtown stood as a presence and image of that faith for
others.
Perhaps it was grace, or training,
or both that let Msgr. Weiss touch souls across the nation this week. For right
from the start, like Jesus, he was there.
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Note: Contributing to this was Father Daniel Merz, associate
director of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops Secretariat for Divine
Worship.
