There are times in our lives that are points of definition; points in our life history that define and shape who we are. As a priest, there are often many moments that, over a long period of time, determine the shape of the priest we are to be. There are births and baptisms, weddings and life-changing confessions, deaths and funerals in our parish life that help shape us. Present in all of this are the people who themselves are going through life changing events in their lives: the birth of a child, the marriage of a daughter, the death of a spouse or parent.

I know for myself there were several defining points that utterly changed my life and influenced me to become a priest. Some of these `points' occurred over a length of time, such as watching my grandfather pray at liturgy. This man who taught me as a child to eat pie with my hands and whose hands were never far from either dirt from his garden or grease from the engines he repaired, is the very same man who I saw pray Sunday after Sunday before the altar. The intensity of prayer upon his face as he called down the Holy Spirit upon the bread and wine at liturgy is something that I will always carry with me. God was made real to me through my grandfather because I could see Him in the face of my grandfather.

It is this intensity of prayer that I have seen in the faces of many people throughout my life that has encouraged me through the joys and sorrows of my life and the life of my parishioners. I saw it in the faces of my family at my ordination. I saw it in the faces of my brothers as we prayed the Panachida for my mother in the hospital moments after she died. I have seen it in the eyes of parents at their child's baptism. I have seen that face of prayer in the eves of our children at our beloved Camp Nazareth. It was this same face of prayer that I saw and experienced in the faces of the priests at the consecration of Sts. Cyril and Methodius Church. It was present at the recent funeral of Fr. Stephen Sedor and the celebration of Metropolitan Nicholas' 45th anniversary of ordination.

I have much hope-- hope that God is alive and active in the lives of all of us. It is a comfort and a sense of great hope that many people have not forgotten God and that they have not turned their back on Him. More importantly, I have hope in a God that is ever present with us. The simple joy is that the one constant in our life is God and Him alone. People change and everything that we have will one day decay, but St. Paul was correct when he said that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever. (Hebrews 13:8)

If we want stability, if we want to be immortal, than we must imitate Him in Whom there is no variation or change. It is the same Jesus Christ Who I experienced at the altar with my grandfather; it is the same Jesus Christ Who cried with me and my brothers at my mother's death bed; it is the same Jesus Christ Who is with me as I laugh and play with my children, and it will be the same Jesus Christ Who will be with me as I close my eyes to this life. Christ is in our midst. He is with us and He has not abandoned us.

Our faith is passed on from one generation to the next like a flame is passed on from one candle to another by placing the wick into the flame of another lighted candle. This is what my grandfather did for me. His intensity of faith, his flame was passed on to me and it is my hope that this same burning faith be passed on to my children's generation and to the next.

But it is very important that we do not mistake sentimentality for faith. We should drive you and inspire you to learn and better know just Who this God is, this God of our Fathers. As we enter the Lenten period, may each of us take the time to learn more about our Faith and fill our experience of God with the knowledge of truth. (1 Timothy 2:4) So that we may be more than hearers of the Word of God, but rather, with understanding, doers of the Word.