The summer after I graduated from college, before setting out
for a new life in the unfamiliar city of Seattle, far away from my
family and friends, I took a trip to Spain with my college singing
group that had us follow the Camino de Santiago, the Way of St.
James. Imagine my surprise then, when having Googled the nearest
church to my First Hill apartment, I was greeted at the Cathedral
with a bulletin that highlighted a special event, the “Camino
Seattle” - a series of mini-pilgrimages leading up to Feast of St.
James.
Since that happy coincidence in 2013, I’m incredibly
blessed to say that St. James Cathedral has become my home. I call
St. James my home not because it’s where I live—though there are
some weekends where it can certainly feel like that—but rather
because this parish emblemizes what home is: Home is where you feel
safe and welcomed. Home is where you find comfort and peace. Home is
where you serve, and home is where you are transformed. Today I’d
like to share a few stories of how St. James has been, and continues
to be, a home for me.
Thinking back to the first few months of
visiting the Cathedral, I’m struck by how immediately welcome I
felt. One Sunday evening, the former music director James Savage
tapped me on the shoulder during an entrance procession to say,
“you’ve got a great voice – keep it up!” It was a small gesture, but
it meant a lot to be noticed. Within a few months, I was welcomed as
an EM at the Noon Mass by my fellow servers who insisted I join them
at the fiesta for Santo Niño, for which they had prepared a massive
feast of Filipino delicacies. Even just recently on a Saturday
evening, I encountered a young man who had been kicked out by his
partner and was resting in a pew, looking for somewhere warm to be.
For a short while, St. James was his home, in special part because
of the Sacristan who hunted down a jacket to give him.
Having been so graciously welcomed, I
came to find in the Cathedral a place of peace and comfort. There’s
nothing quite like the feeling of this space when it’s very quiet
and empty, but pregnant with peace. Meditating with others in the
silence of Taizé after a stressful workweek or taking a moment to
pray for a loved one in the Marion Chapel, I’ve always found immense
comfort in this space. But it’s not just the space – it’s the people
of this parish that bring comfort. In 2019, when my dad suddenly had
a brain hemorrhage, I travelled to Florida to say “goodbye” to him
and help make funeral arrangements. During that time, and
afterwards, parishioners were checking in on me and offering their
prayers.
This parish comforts, this parish welcomes, but above
all, this parish transforms. The enriching faith formation,
beautiful liturgy, and humble service opportunities abound, and
dipping my toes into many of these continues to change me for the
better. For eight years I helped our high schoolers prepare for the
Sacrament of Confirmation, and I love seeing many of them go on to
join the choir or become altar servers, living out the gift of the
Holy Spirit. I’ve personally been transformed through helping the
Cathedral to offer safe access to Mass during the pandemic. The
wind, rain, and snow, occasional cranky Mass goer, and countless
hours of rearranging social distanced seating were tough (those
purple “no seating” laminated cards still haunt my dreams). But, I
wouldn’t change a single moment of the past two years because they
have also brought me the joy of getting to know so many
parishioners. I’m grateful to be giving back to a parish I care so
deeply about – a parish I call home.
A home is a place of welcome,
peace, and transformation, but a home also requires care and upkeep,
and our home is maintained and grown thanks to your gifts of
funding, time, and talent. Thanks to your continued generosity, our
parish is a crossroads where dialogue and encounter such as what we
experienced in the Synod flourishes. Thanks to you, our parish is a
hub of music, art, poetry, and prayer. Thanks to you, our parish
goes above and beyond to serve those on the margins. Each year
around Sacrificial Giving time I try to look back at all the
blessings I’ve had in life and challenge myself to do more to
support this place because, who knows, maybe my support will help
another lonely new Seattleite find a home.
Every year on the Feast of St. James,
we open Mass with the hymn, This is the feast, the joyful day. The
last verse of that hymn always tugs at my heartstrings. Referring to
St. James the Apostle, it goes: “Then let our due feet never fail to
follow where he trod, and still to keep the pilgrim way that leads
us home to God.” It’s a perfect reminder of what our parish embodies
– not just a home, but a path. A path along the Camino of life,
nourishing us, comforting us, and guiding us. May we never fail to
follow that pilgrim way that leads us home to God.
John Engel-Kemnetz
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