My Last Column As Your Pastor

Pastor’s Column

June 30, 2026

I want to begin my last Pastor Column by pointing out that all of my past writings, going back to 2004, and all my sermons since we've been taping them are on my own website, which is www.frgary.com and they will remain there, even though it won't be linked to the parish website anymore. In the same way, I won't be officially linked to the parish anymore as Pastor either, but I'll still be around and helping Fr. Jaspers out when he needs me. With my illness, I need to rest between events, so I have to build that into my schedule. That makes me a better helper than leader at this point. I may still continue writing a web blog on that website. Check it out!

When the bishop called me I was still pastor in Tillamook; he asked if I would take the late Father Phil Sopke's place, and it was a complete surprise. At the first Mass that I celebrated here, I knew there was something special about this place. I learned that our people had been through so much together with the various difficulties we had had with one pastor getting in an accident (and having to leave), another unable to return from overseas due to visa issues, one dying in office, and endless sub priests. But those parishioners who stayed were very fervent and committed to this community. The church was not a beautiful building, but a building doesn't make the church. It's Jesus that makes the church, and the people here were special. My goal was to honor St. Ed's as I found it, and grow in the grace of God by the power of the Spirit. And we were ready to grow!

People often ask me what the highlights of my 22 years here have been, and at first glance, building projects come to mind, like our beautiful sanctuary which was so difficult that I think it took a couple years off my life! I am so proud of the fact that we did it together; for example, the final design was the one that got the most votes at a town hall meeting. It seems miraculous to me in light of the decrepit state of the old building, so much in need of coming down. Hurtful things were said as well, but that's part of taking leadership risks. One wonders what we would have done if we hadn't built when we did. That was the Holy Spirit operating! Our new church was our gift to the future and all that happens within it, because it contains Jesus and a vibrant community. The building is not important; Jesus is the center. The parish wanted orthodox, northwest, lots of light, and a little bit of flair. I think we succeeded.

Putting up the Cross on River Road was one of my favorites because it began with our major landscaping project. One of our parishioners put the large circle where the cross is now, intending to put some Douglas firs and things like that in to populate the space. Somebody happened to come by and said, "Well, what is this, a church or a nursery?" That began the discernment as to what kind of cross to put there. At the time, it seemed absolutely enormous, but now, of course, with the church, we could have made it even taller. So many people were involved in that project to make it work. That's what I love about it. Plus, there's more concrete under that cross than Hoover Dam!

The Adoration Chapel. When I got here, we had two hours, I think, on first Fridays once a month and couldn't fill it up. I've always been a fan of Eucharistic Adoration and have established it everywhere I've gone, even when I was a monk. It's one of the reasons I became a priest. I arranged for an adoration retreat for the parish (pastoral council idea), and the priest that came out would only preach perpetual adoration. Six weeks later, we had our Adoration Chapel in the Old Church. It was in a converted closet with four chairs, and it's been operating ever since.

It was very pleasing to me to see that the first three walls that went up on the new building were the Adoration Chapel. The orientation of the church, meaning where the front doors are, do not face River Road precisely because we wanted people coming and going in Adoration to feel safe, and so we put them out in the open. My one regret with that chapel, with its gorgeous window and life-size (expensive) crucifix is that it's too small. A nice problem to have! So many feel welcome to come and pray there. Only God knows how much grace has been given by the prayers said there, whether in quiet, desperation, joy, gratitude or love.

Going through COVID together, Easter Sunday with ten people in the church, is something I'll never forget as long as I live. All over the world, Christians could not go to church on Easter Sunday. This is the first time in the whole history of the Church, Catholic, Orthodox or Protestant, that this has happened worldwide. Then there was the eminent domain issue with the school system that was resolved equitably and helped pay off our church (more gratitude). The Family of Mary, who came to give a retreat, are now staffing three parishes because of their connection with St. Eds.

None of those things are a “legacy.” Our legacy, each of us, should have human faces. In that regard, the last ten or twelve years of my pastorate were the best years of my life. The best thing about being a pastor is that you are invited into people's lives in ways that nobody else can. We know their stories. We go where nobody else can, sacramentally and spiritually. There's a connectedness that develops over time, and it cannot be rushed. The pastor becomes part of many families. Being a pastor is, or ought to be, very challenging. At times, many demands are made on us. It can be very sacrificial. One has to love what one is doing. I've been in attendance at many death beds. We see all of life, and it's precious from its beginning to its end. Everyone is unique. God loves everyone, but it's up to us to choose. Jesus uses us pastors sometimes to make that possible. I've always found that to be really cool.

In this time for me of letting go, I remember that grief and love are in the same filing cabinet; when you truly love the community and love what you do; when you know that you'll never be a pastor again, but always a priest, always part of people's lives. To have loved means to risk grief and loss, but only until heaven. What I will miss the most is sharing the Word of God with you, celebrating the sacraments with you, encouraging and growing our ministries, seeing you every Sunday, the endless confessions (a good thing), trying to listen to people, and yes, even the difficult challenges that are inevitable when you're in leadership.

Some of the sick calls have been quite moving, especially when someone is brought back to the Lord and the church on their deathbed. Everything a priest does is a work of mercy, which is what I love about this life. All of us are called to do works of mercy; I'm just glad it's part of my job description. What I wouldn't give to have one hour and walk invisibly through our old church the weekend after I first arrived and see the people who are no longer there because they have passed away. They were friends, and they will be friends in heaven. We are all interconnected.

This is exactly the right time for me to go out and for Father Jaspers to come in. I say this because the Holy Spirit has arranged everything. Just like I am joined at the hip with Father Sopke by his passing, a man I never met, so Father Jaspers is joined to me at the hip by an illness that I did not ask for. I'll be helping him out as needed and praying for you up the road here. Please pray for me. I hear retirement for a priest is a great gig, but we have to get used to it. I will miss being pastor of St. Ed's more than you will ever know.

Blessings

Father Gary

frgary.com