09/09/2025
Fr. Terry’s 50th Anniversary of Ordination Banquet Address
Good evening, everyone.
First of all, thank you for being here tonight. This celebration is not about me, but about the gift of priesthood — about God’s faithfulness, and about the people who have carried me, sometimes pushed me, sometimes pulled me… and, yes, sometimes dragged me — but always loved me through these 50 years.
I want to begin with my deepest thanks:
To my parents, who gave me life, faith, and the stubborn determination to follow it through. They planted seeds I never could have watered on my own.
To my wife, Verna. You have been my companion, my anchor, and my strength. The vocation of priesthood, for me, has never been separate from the vocation of marriage and family. Verna, you’ve taught me what faithful love looks like. And you’ve also taught me that a priest may think he’s preaching to the whole parish, but at the end of the day he still has to take out the garbage.
To our children and grandchildren. You are the joy of my life. Nothing has kept me more grounded than changing diapers on Saturday night and then preaching about holiness on Sunday morning.
To my brother priests — thank you. You’ve been a support, a sounding board, sometimes a source of correction (which I usually needed), and often a source of laughter. Ministry is never done alone, and I’m grateful for the brotherhood we share.
To my parishioners and friends — thank you for letting me walk with you in the most sacred moments of your lives: baptisms, weddings, funerals, hospital visits, confessions, phone calls. You have invited me into your stories, and in doing so, you have shaped mine.
The Byzantine tradition, in which I have been privileged to serve, has been a constant source of beauty and inspiration. Its prayers, icons, and liturgy remind us that worship is not simply something we do, but something we enter into — a taste of heaven on earth. The chants, the rich symbolism of every gesture and word — all of it has formed me as a priest and deepened my sense of awe before the mystery of God. It is a treasure not only for those who were born into it, but for all who seek to encounter the divine in the fullness of the Church’s life.
One of the great joys of my ministry has been encouraging congregational singing. Too often in our tradition the cantor or the choir can dominate, and the faithful end up as spectators rather than participants. For many years I worked to nurture a culture of singing where the people’s voices rose together as one. That became a distinctive feature of our Sunday Divine Liturgy on 6th Street: not a performance to be listened to, but a prayer to be shared.
And how beautiful that singing was! I will always remember our Christmas caroling, when voices joined in joy and hope during the holy season. I will never forget the thunder of Pascha/Easter, when the whole church shook as we proclaimed together: Christ is Risen! And I still hear in my heart those moments when we sang Amazing Grace — a hymn that seemed to pour from our very souls and carried us with strength through the week ahead. When the whole congregation sings, it is as if heaven itself leans down to join in. It is, I believe, one of the most powerful ways we live out our identity as the Body of Christ.
Pope Francis said that a priest should “smell like his sheep.” Now, that’s not always flattering — sheep don’t always smell that good! But what he meant was that the priest belongs with his people, close enough to carry their burdens and share their joys. If I smell a little like my sheep, it’s only because you’ve let me stand close to you, in the good times and in the hard times.
Archbishop Joseph Raya once said: “The priest is not a man set above others, but a man set apart for others.” His words have reminded me that ordination was never meant to put me on a pedestal — but to root me more deeply in service.
Sister Joan Chittister reminds us that ministry is not about power, but about empowerment. If my ministry has borne any fruit, it is because I have stood among people who already had gifts beyond measure. All I had to do was fan them into flame.
And Fr. Richard Rohr puts it so well: priesthood is not about doing sacred things, but about revealing the sacred in all things. That’s been my guiding star — to remind people that God is not locked up in a sanctuary, but is walking with you in your kitchens, your workplaces, your struggles. The ordinary is already holy.
Now, fifty years is a long time. I’d like to say I’ve always been wise, always been patient, always been faithful. What I can say is this: every time I’ve fallen short, God’s grace has been greater. Every time I thought I was the one doing the giving, I discovered I was the one being given to.
Priesthood has taught me that life is not about success but about faithfulness. Not about being perfect but about being present.
There’s an old story of a shepherd who grew tired after many years walking the hills. One day, he realized the flock reached the meadow faster than he did. So he called a younger shepherd, placed the staff in his hand, and said, “Guide them with patience, because sheep follow the heart more than the stick.”
From then on, the old shepherd no longer led the flock across the hills. He kept a few sheep close by, and when the young shepherd faced trouble, he came back for counsel. The old shepherd discovered that retirement didn’t mean the end of his calling — it meant passing it on, so the flock could keep moving forward.
I like that story. Because I don’t see these 50 years as a finish line. I see them as a reminder that my calling has always been about walking with people — and that the journey is bigger than me.
So tonight, I don’t stand here to take a bow, but to say thank you.
Thank you to God, who called me.
Thank you to my family, who loved me.
Thank you to my fellow priests, who stood by me.
Thank you to my parishioners and friends, who carried me.
If there is one prayer in my heart tonight, it is this: that the church of tomorrow will keep raising up servants who live with the smell of the sheep, who empower rather than control, who reveal the sacred in every moment of life.
The church does not need admirers of Christ, but imitators of Christ.
So may we — together — keep imitating Him, for however many years God gives us.
Thank you. God bless you.
