Wallingford priest leaves pews filled, hearts heavy
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The 10 a.m. Mass at St. Benedict Catholic Church in Wallingford is packed. Every pew is taken; people lean against the back wall and stand in the church's vestibule, listening as Father Paul Waldie delivers his sermon. Children by the dozen waddle about or doze in their parents' arms.
There is no holier day on the Christian calendar than Easter, the day the faithful believe Jesus was resurrected from the dead. Worshipers, many of whom skip every Sunday but Easter and Christmas, cram into churches around the world. The scene looks a lot like it does in St. Benedict.
But this Mass is for Palm Sunday, not Easter. It could be nearly any Sunday of the year. John Brockliss, who's been a member of St. Benedict for eight years, has learned that there are only two ways to get a seat for Mass: arrive at least a half-hour early or choose the 8 a.m. service. "When I joined here you could come to the 10 a.m. 20 minutes late and have a pine seat," Brockliss said. "That's not possible now."
More attention will likely be paid to Waldie's Easter message today because it will be his last in the parish. If Easter is about rebirth, then St. Benedict is about to experience one of its own. Widely praised for building a youthful and energetic church, Waldie is preparing for a new mission away from the church.
When he arrived as pastor seven years ago, St. Benedict was a stable church with an older congregation. Now, children are everywhere, followed closely by their parents, most of whom are in their 20s and 30s. The parish has nearly doubled, growing from about 650 members to 1,250. Parishioners credit Waldie for the resurgence.
"He can speak to all factions of our community — the elderly, youths, all races and orientations," said Sharon Lorkowski, a member for decades. "Everyone hears his message."
Off to Africa
But now Waldie, a member of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate, an Illinois-based order that ministers around the world, is being sent to Africa to help train young Zambian men to become priests. The Oblates, who have run St. Benedict since 1910, are also pulling out, having decided to focus resources where they are more needed. In July, the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Seattle will take control of the parish and its elementary school.
At a time in life when most people are thinking of retirement, Waldie, 69, who has served as a high-school principal and taught in seminaries since he was ordained in 1965, will face a new, somewhat intimidating, challenge.
"I have to go and start all over again," he said. "When you get older, you get comfortable in life. It gets harder to change."
The move, only three months away, has left many parishioners wondering what will happen to the church. "We're happy for Father Paul," said longtime member Flora Stratton, "but we're sad, too. It wasn't a bad parish before he came, but he's brought so much life to it."
The choice is not Waldie's. As an Oblate, his primary responsibility is to the order, which tends to move priests about every six years. (Waldie taught at a seminary in Illinois before coming here.) While many parishioners understand this, they're still upset. Waldie, they say, is a unique kind of priest, a man who speaks plainly about the Gospel, is always available and not afraid to challenge people.
Ask members to explain his preaching style and they're likely to relate a time when he's gone into the congregation to illustrate a point — be it marriage or the Resurrection — by picking on someone in a pew.
"It's definitely not boring like other churches," said Keiku Huckle, 23, who grew up in the parish.
"He touches people at a deep level," said Brett Omri, 27, who was baptized by Waldie a year ago. "His going is a huge loss to our community."
A kiss on the forehead
The smile on Waldie's face quickly gives way to something more serious. His sermon is about the Crucifixion and he's telling a story about a young boy who couldn't fathom why Jesus was nailed to the cross. Taking the child onto her lap, his grandmother rocks him to sleep, telling the boy someday he'll understand.
The Crucifixion, Waldie says, is not easy to understand. The point isn't just that Jesus gave himself up to save the human race from sin.
Suddenly, he reaches into the audience, grabs a man's head and kisses him on the forehead. "If you alone — and no one else — needed him to do that, he would have done it for you," Waldie says. "That's the deepest meaning of the Crucifixion."
Waldie heads back to the altar. "I wish I had a rocking chair so I could rock you all to sleep and tell you it's all right," he says, looking over his shoulder. "Maybe that would make an impression."
Two concerns
Waldie has two concerns now. The most immediate is to overcome worries about heading into a new, unfamiliar culture. This is something he's sure he'll be able to handle.
His second concern is for his parish. Waldie told his parishioners about the move last year, giving them time to absorb the news and talk about what to do next.
There has been a huge increase in programs at St. Benedict over the past seven years. The choir is stronger, the parish has an energetic counselor for teens and young adults, a Mass for young children and a growing program for adult converts. Waldie believes the energy in these programs will not flag when he leaves. The reason, he said, is that a church's strength does not depend on one person's work.
"I would love to leave here with the knowledge that I helped people to grow in their faith, that they're living their faith," he said.
"It's their church, not mine. I'm only passing through."