Father Barron's Foolish Happiness Poem by Daniel Brick

Scene One

Father Barron could not think of
a new subject for Sunday's sermon.
He looked through his files of past sermons,
all carefully typed, the margins filled with
annotations. His eyes blurred and he set them
aside. He paused in prayer. Those moments
in his prayer-world cleansed his mind: he felt
his spirit released from moods, those ever
distracting interruptions to his life of service.
He rested, in an emptiness of flesh he waited for
the arrival of the Holy Spirit ease his soul.

That afternoon Fr. Barron performed two baptisms.
For the first couple, it was their third child.
The other children were old enough to participate
prayerfully. He gave them small tasks to perform.
The second couple Fr. Barron had married just
the year before, and they were baptizing their
first-born, a son. Their reverence and excitement
were heavenly manna to Fr. Barron. Late in the after-
noon, a teenage boy, troubled by his sex life, came
for counseling. "I think the Holy Spirit through me
set him on a new course, " he mused. Vespers
with the faithful few closed his day of pastoral duties.

Scene Two

"This day was no different from all
the others this month, so why do I feel
this foolish sadness? " Such was the intrusive
theme of this night's meditation before his final
prayers before sleep. He sat tensely in his old
leather chair with Luke's Gospel in his hands,
his rosary nearby. He assembled all of the day's
scattered pieces into a prayerful whole...
"How do I deal with this current of sadness,
which flows unimpeded, muddying the surface
with dark flotsam and discarded waste? "
His internal river should flow like streams of grace.

He opened Luke to a favorite passage, and read,
"Jesus said to his parents, 'I must attend to
my Father's business.' They did not understand
his words. And his mother kept all these things
in her heart." Of course, that is what mothers do,
make their hearts a treasury of their children's lives.
And when sorrows come, as come they will, those stored
memories flourish. There is something sacred in a mother's
memory. The images of Mother Mary and his own mother
reflected each other for a single golden moment.

Was the world made eons ago to house our sufferings,
because the promised ease of The Garden must be postponed
again and again? Simeon's prophecy to Mother Mary of
Seven Swords of Sorrows came unbidden into his mind.
If the mother suffers, will not the child suffer too?
And what of the suffering we bring upon ourselves,
because we do not bend to God's will? Must we always
carry the weight of sin? Fr. Barron rose and fell to his knees.

Suddenly, the freshness of Mother Mary's prayer flashed in
his troubled self: Blessed be the Lord, for he guides
our feet into the way of peace. A dark veil had been lifted
and divine light poured over him. He grabbed a pen and wrote
excitedly: "The world was made by God for his good people
to enjoy. We fulfill God's plan for his Creation through Joy!
Our daily prayer should be a double Thanksgiving: Father,
we thank you for pouring your goodness into the world
and into our hearts." Fr. Barron, giddy with the delight
of his discovery, knew his sermon would be for weeks to come:
THE FOOLISH HAPPINESS OF BEING CHRISTIAN.