The Calling

“I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me, just as the Father knows me, and I know the Father; and I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd.”-John 10:14-16

We arose with the sun. And on this fine day we would embark on a five day spiritual journey of sorts. And it would begin today in both conformity and contrast to that of pioneer settlers traversing the Western Territories, traveling on faith along the Oregon Trail. But contrary to common lore, this trip would be all about destination rather than journey…or would it?

We drove westward along the Platte River through the plains of central Nebraska. For some, traveling through these plains can be mundane – an uninspired flatness. For me it’s, well…home. Eventually though, as we travel westward, the crop lands dwindle and the views are replaced with native prairie grasses. Soon the flat terrain rises to the gentle undulation of the western Nebraska sand hills. And in this steady progression of time and place and terrain I began to reflect upon how we got here.

Our middle daughter M met David Kuttner in the winter of 2007 while studying in Rome. She spent her third year abroad as a student in the School of Architecture of the University of Notre Dame. David was a third year Theological Studies Seminarian at the Pontifical North American College in Rome. M grew to treasure her friendship with David Kuttner during studio visits and on the basketball court. And similar to our trip to Pittsburgh a year ago for the ordination of Fr. Joe Freedy, this trip would culminate in a Priestly Ordination - this time of Fr. David Kuttner at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Lourdes in Spokane, Washington.

The invitation arrived to eager anticipation. And when it arrived our plans for travel had already been made and our accommodations in Spokane were already set and awaiting us. The invitation read in part:
“With Praise and Thanksgiving to Almighty God the Diocese of Spokane, David J. Kuttner and Bernadine M. Kuttner request the honor of your presence at the Ordination of their son David Bernard Kuttner to the Sacred order of the Priesthood…”
I know little of David Kuttner really. However, I do know that on our first meeting last year in Pittsburgh I felt a connection with this young Seminarian that seemed somehow more congruous to my spirit than the connection registered between me and many of the other young shepherds I met there. That’s not to say that I treasure less the time spent with the other Deacons or Fathers. I received from each a treasure of compassion, reasoning, and guidance toward self-appraisal and searching of soul. It was simply a feeling that I could more closely relate to David. I never mentioned this to him and I doubt that he even realized his influence on me. At the time I took this connection to be one of simple age differential. David is a mere ten years younger than me and many of the other Deacons and Fathers that I met in Pittsburgh are probably ten years younger yet. But now I believe that it was, and is, more than that.

Growing up in a United Methodist environment kept me from knowing or even interacting with Priests. They were distant but not purposefully distant, it was more circumstantially distant. And the reality was that it probably wasn’t much more of a distance than I would keep from the clergy in my own church. Still, from time to time I would encounter the Priesthood on television, at the cinema, at Catholic weddings and funerals and occasionally at one of the many Lenten fish fries held in Parishes and social halls in Omaha on the Friday’s leading up to Lent. I’ll have to write more about that sometime...

Anyway, the many wonderful Deacons and Priests that M and I met in Pittsburgh transformed my image of the Priesthood and of the Clergy in general. I saw their more personal side in meeting with their family and friends. I began to see and understand the mission, the duty, the discipline, the honor, the sacrifice. Still these people of God were somehow special, mysterious and seemingly pre-destined toward their calling. And then meeting David Kuttner brought it home for me - I could see myself. That sounds silly to say but I recall the feeling vividly. I remember that he was “real” to me. That was a year ago and today we are driving to see David again.

An early start and dogged determination to just keep driving landed us in Cheyenne, Wyoming before noon, having gained an hour entering the Mountain Time Zone a few hours back. A few miles later we pulled off the road in Buford, Wyoming for a quick survey of the thriving metropolis. And as luck would have it, all but one of the town’s residents was on hand to pose for our picture. Interestingly, this same sign as pictured on Wikipedia bosts the much larger former population of "2".

Traveling through Wyoming, one gets a little sense of historic travel. The feeling is of dry dusty travel over hills and through canyons by horseback. And in this place I'm always reminded of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. And constant travel, whether by horseback or SUV affords one the luxury of time. Travelers have time to think, time to enjoy each other’s company, and lots of time to talk.

By way of explanation of age difference between David and many of his Seminary peers, M told me that David had not followed a direct path to his Priesthood. Not certain of the exact sequences, she believed that he had earned a college degree and then had taught for several years. It was at this time of teaching that he also coached the high school’s baseball team – a lifelong passion. Later he would decide to join the Seminary.

David's Seminarian studies began in Washington and included a year in Minnesota. At one point David left the Seminary in question of his true calling. His Dad told me that David spent almost every day of that soul searching year fishing. He would eventually return to Seminarian study, his calling confirmed, and found himself at the Pontifical North American College - America's Seminary in Rome. And this is where M and David would meet. David spent many hours offering support and spiritual guidance to Notre Dame Students of Architecture in Rome as part of his Deacon years’ responsibilities. And on Tuesdays David and his fellow Seminarians played basketball on the Deacon’s league where M, invited to join in as a Notre Dame student, would be their lone female player. She loved this sport and cherished the camaraderie.

As I considered David’s long journey to Priesthood I began to understand that the connectivity I felt toward David might be a result of this. The years of teaching, the coaching and the questioning all suggested a tangible normality about David that was somehow more in tune with my way of life. Normal that is, as opposed to a lifetime spent following a “straight-arrow” calling that I had previously imagined all clergymen to live, seemingly from birth. I thought that a calling kindled, questioned, confirmed and then pursued might perhaps be stronger than a calling pursued and having never been tested. Probably though, the reality is that they’re ALL tested.

At day’s end we found ourselves 1,350 miles from home in Baker City, Oregon. And we slept. In the morning we learned two things - you can’t pump your own gas in Oregon by State law and we were within five miles of a fifteen mile stretch of preserved wagon ruts along the original Oregon Trail. I paid the man for fueling our car, muttered something about supporting a law that would require him to also wash my windshield and we headed out into the country in search of the Oregon Trail.

The website for The National Historic Oregon Trail Interpretive Center at Flagstaff Hill in Baker City, Oregon describes its mission through its use of “artifacts, graphics, videos, and quotes from pioneer diaries to acquaint you with…mothers, fathers, and children who walked with their wagons across endless prairies, scorched deserts, craggy summits, and swollen rivers. Days were hot and nights were bitter cold. Often, they fought starvation, and for five months straight they marched as far as twenty miles a day.” By contrast, we had traveled the same route covering 1,400 miles (2,250 km) of the Oregon Trail passage, touched six states - Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho and Oregon and only consumed 19 hours and $150 in gasoline. And under the watchful eye of Saint Christopher, we both survived the ordeal.

The views from Flagstaff Hill were vast. And standing there looking out toward the east along the remnants of trail and especially walking down among the sage and brush along the preserved wagon ruts, one begins to get a sense of the magnitude and the “realness” of the westward pioneer pilgrimage.

Back on the interstate we headed north to Toppenish, Washington where I would tend to some business (a potential future project for our office) and M would rendezvous with her sister J who was traveling from Seattle to join us. From here I would drive the final 3-1/2 hours alone and meet up again with my two daughters in Spokane.

Our host couple was arranged for us by David. They were described to us as friends who had offered us a couple of spare bedrooms for our stay in Spokane. M was thrilled at the prospect of meeting friends from David’s past and I, being twenty-five years out of college, was naturally skeptical. Not that I was untrusting, I just am more comfortable not relying upon someone else to provide for me something that is really my responsibility. I’m not a skilled receiver of generosity. Moreover, this was not a simple matter of offering a college student a bed for the night. We were a group of three, staying for two or three nights and I feared that their generosity could be sorely tested. M reminded me that if the tables were turned, then we would make the same genuine offer to a family of a friend. And so I softened. The Stucky’s would ease what remained of my self-conscious hesitancy immediately.

Rick and Debbie Stucky knew a young David Kuttner as baseball parents. David was only a few years older than their young son, but still, David was the coach. And the stories recounted to us by the Stucky’s told of an intesely competitive young coach and a tough young team offering stiff competition in a league dominated by strong teams. They were proud of their son and they were proud of young David. Not surprisingly a mutual respect grew between players and coach and between parents and coach. And David Kuttner has remained in close contact with the Stucky family for all the years since. The Stucky’s were wonderful hosts and we certainly hope someday to return the favor if they ever find themselves in Omaha - perhaps they will. And I hope they can bring their little dog Pepper. I really liked her.

We slept well and awoke to fresh fruit, coffee and a spectacular view through acres and acres of trees across a small gorge that was in effect the Stucky’s back yard. Later this day J, M and I would find ourselves relaxing and talking, 40 miles east of Spokane at a shady lake side City Park in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.

Then later that same evening we would be back in Spokane and seated in The Cathedral of Our Lady of Lourdes to witness the spectacle of Ordination.

The very first Mass in what has become The Cathedral of Our Lady of Lourdes in downtown Spokane, Washington was held in 1881. This was twelve years after the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad and about the time that much of the reason for the Oregon Trail was evaporating. The present building was begun in 1903. And in 1913 Our Lady of Lourdes became the Cathedral for the newly created Diocese of Spokane.

We arrived early for the 7:00 Ordination. And much like the Ordination of Joe Freedy a year ago in Pittsburgh, the ceremony was spectacular.

The procession of Knights and Priests and Deacons, the promise of obedience, the supplication, the laying of hands, the investiture, the blessings of 90 some Priests, the calling of Saints, the sights, the sounds, the incense, the Spiritual presence…it was all there and it was all amazing.

Creating an additional sense of familiarity, I actually recognized several of the Priests from last year’s trip to Pittsburgh. And I recognized Mother Adela Galindo and a group of Sisters from the Servants of the Pierced Hearts of Jesus and Mary who were there from Miami.

A lengthy reception followed. M met one of David’s acquaintances from Rome – a young woman named A from Louisiana - perhaps a few years older than M. It is my understanding that A has been living and studying in Rome for four or five years. I believe she intends someday to teach at Seminary although I may have gotten these facts a bit off. A mentioned to M her desire to approach and speak with Mother Adela as she had heard much of this amazing woman. When M indicated that she had met with her a couple of times in Pittsburgh, they decided to approach her together. A and M appeared to find a mutual respect in their short meeting and scurried off together in hopes of greeting M. Adela.

M and A found M. Adela back in the Cathedral sharing a gift from her and the Sisters with the newly ordained Fr. David. Their gift was a Priestly stole with their Institute’s symbol, a pelican, emblazoned in gold thread on the front. M was pleased to be recognized and M, A, and M. Adela shared a quiet discussion and prayers together. Then a few minutes after leaving, M Adela returned with two most miraculous gifts. M. Adela presented M and A each with a small medallion. Placing one in each girl’s hand she explained that these two medallions had been blessed and placed on the Tomb lying in State of Pope John Paul II at the Vatican. M. Adela received these two medallions in Rome about the same time that she met David Kuttner. She then left the two young women teary eyed and speechless. It was then that I arrived and snapped a picture of them cradling their precious gifts from God.

Then M approached David to deliver her gift. And as J and I looked on, David removed the wrapping and opened the package to reveal its treasure and M began to recount for him the story of her chosen gift…

Months ago she decided she would make him something special. She had enrolled last semester in a pottery class, her first quarry into this art form. She learned about various types of clay, the many techniques of working with clay, and the cause and effect of temperature, moisture, density, time and talent upon clay by the master (or not so masterful) potter. She also would learn how each of these variables, especially heat, together with various glazes can be used to create, sometimes unpredictably, different colors and characteristics within a clay pot or sculpture. And as one of her projects she decided upon creating for David a tea pot. Her conceptual thought was David as a vessel through which God’s love could be poured out for others – beautiful.

She chose to make the outside of the pot slightly rough and textured. This would symbolize the imperfection of mortal man and the graining textural effects of mortal living upon all of God’s creatures. During the glazing process she imprinted her thumb in the exterior glaze as a symbol of the lasting impression of human interaction. She chose to make the inside perfectly smooth and clean to symbolize God and God’s presence within each of us - God’s perfection within the imperfect human. As she contemplated glazing the pot’s interior she pondered the monumental question “what color is God?” She settled on an interior glaze that, depending upon the temperature of the kiln and the duration of the firing would either result in a red color or a gold color. She surmised the God would be equally satisfied being either color and so she would leave the choice up to Him.
The inside of the tea pot was glazed, the lid was set in place and the tea pot was left for firing. Due to the inherent shrinkage of fired clay, pots are routinely fired with lids in place so that pot and lid shrink together thus to insure the maintenance of a proper fit. All the next day she wondered what color God would “choose” for Himself. As she relived her past impatience, David too became anxious to “see” God. Would He be Red? Had God chosen to be Gold? As she grasped the lid and gave it a mock pulling gesture she explained to David that the lid had somehow fused itself to the pot during firing. It could never be removed. God has chosen to remain unseen – a mystery. And so indeed, God is present within and can be whatever "color" you think He is. The scarred human vessel, the pristine clarity of the Holy Spirit within, the pouring out of God’s love, the unseen mystery of God, the labor of love art from M was a perfect metaphorical gift for this new Priest.

I stood there with J and was awestruck clutching my meager little wrapped present and wondering why God had chosen me to follow that grandiose presentation. I would soon hear the answer…quite literally.

David was once a baseball coach. You can still see it in him. His demeanor is one of nurture. Even today, as he walked along within the procession of Knights and Priests and the Bishop down the aisle of the great Cathedral, he looked as if he was strolling up to the mound to calm the nerves of a bedraggled pitcher. It was a slow swaggerless saunter with a barely noticeable side to side sway - once a coach; always a coach. And each summer since 1950 our home town of Omaha, Nebraska hosts the NCAA Men’s College World Series of Baseball. I know that players and coaches alike know of the famed “Road to Omaha” for teams vying for their berth in this National Championship Tournament. And I know that David has never had the opportunity to attend, but not from lack of desire. Our family's gift to David was a black polo shirt with the CWS logo, an offer of accomodations in Omaha and four tickets to games of his choice in the 2010 or 2011 Series. As he opened this gift, we sat in a pew of the silent Cathedral surrounded by his family and friends. He seemed to like the shirt and as he picked up the tickets and read them his expression changed, he held them in the air and said at the top of his voice “THANK YOU JESUS!” I think he liked this.

By the time we arrived back at the Stucky residence it was nearing 11:00 p.m. on Friday night and Saturday would be a long day with an early start. Fr. David’s First Mass was scheduled for 1:00 p.m. at Our Lady of Lourdes. But first there was Hoopfest...

Each year the people and businesses of Spokane sponsor a 3-on-3 basketball tournament known simply as Hoopfest. With some 6,000 teams registered and bracketed, this tournament played in the streets of downtown Spokane is billed as the largest tournament of its kind in the world. And in this, its twentieth year, a Guinness Book of World’s Records crew would be on hand to observe the play and recognize the record. Of particular interest were the 70 players who have played in every single Hoopfest since the beginning. And of those, two are still playing on the same team. And to add to the excitement of the day, one of those two is a 40 year old home town man, registered to play in his twentieth Hoopfest on the morning after being ordained as a Priest.

We arrived for the 8:00 a.m. tip off. M sat on the curb with A. And I stood back a bit and snapped off a few pictures. David’s family and a few friends were there as well as the families of his team mates and literally tens of thousands of onlookers filling the streets and walks and shops in Downtown Spokane. Oh, and at courtside by Fr. David was a reporter and camera crew from the local TV news. They remained on hand to film the entire game and interview the teammates and fans of this winded new Priest.
After the game, a close loss, M and A and David and I relaxed for a while at a little table outside of a downtown café. The scene was one of streets packed with courts and hoops and players and the walks jammed with people enjoying the day and the crowd and the excitement of it all. And then, a couple of hours later, Fr. David Kuttner would give his First Mass within four blocks of the makeshift basketball court where his day had begun.

Immediately following the First Mass, we drove seven miles north of downtown Spokane to the church across the street from his boyhood home, St. Thomas More Parish. Here a celebratory reception was being held in Fr. David’s honor. And here we would feast.

As we drove away and began our long journey homeward, I thought of the irony of my being to two Ordinations on opposite ends of the Country and that the home Parish of both Fr. Joe Freedy in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and Fr. David Kuttner in Spokane, Washington are named for St Thomas More. And I thought that there were many more similarities between these two Ordinations – mostly in the look and feel of the celebration. And there were just as many differences. These differences were of a more personal nature and reflected the individuality of the very different lives of these two Priests. Different lives that were ultimately lead by God’s calling to similar tasks.

I would spend much of the time on our homeward journey thinking about how blessed my life has been. I thought about Fr. David and the life change that he was about to realize. I recalled our earlier journey along the Oregon Trail and how most early settlers, if they survived the westward passage, would never return eastward as we were today - their lives forever changed by the journey. And I pondered what the future might hold for the remainder of my life and that of my wife and daughters. And I wondered to myself if God had a calling for me and whether or not I had heard it already.