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It was a few minutes before noon as I slipped out of the office rather discreetly.  Heading out through the lobby and onto East 9th Street, I could feel the tension of the workday about to release outwards as thousands of office workers would embark on their lunch breaks in a few moments.  As I hurried through the brisk Cleveland winter air, I felt a strange sense of isolation.  i was one man leaving the ordered & understandable world and entering a deeper & less defined spiritual world.

I am not sure what specifically inspired me to go to Mass that day, whichever day it was.  Most likely it was my uncle, suffering from cancer at that very moment.  He was a devote Catholic, attending Mass every morning downtown also at St. John’s Cathedral.  Over the last few months, as his cancer had grown more serious, I saw less and less of him.  Earlier in the year we had talked about getting together for lunch like we used to do.  My favorite spot was a small little dinner in one of the office buildings, humble yet full of goodness - much like him.  But after receiving his diagnosis and as winter set in, our lunch plans were postponed to, “maybe when the weather’s nicer.” Not long after this, I knew we would never see nicer weather together.  It may have been at that realization that I decided to spend my lunch break at church.  I knew how fondly he felt for the Cathedral and his Church as a whole, and I was even told that many of the people that went to daily Mass knew him well, so on some level I wanted to see life from his perspective.

I remember entering the church the first time & being pleasantly surprised that I wouldn’t be alone.  Fifty people or so had already gathered with another fifty or so filing in just before the start.  I do not recall many of the details from the first few trips.  But looking back, I realized that each time I returned, often on consecutive days in a row, I became more and more apart of that lunchtime community.  I began to recognize faces.  There were the corporate executives, married men and women, expecting mothers, college students, young professionals, couples and widows.  It was a cross section of Cleveland, present with one commonality.  

As the weeks progressed my uncle’s condition became worse & his suffering intensified.  My heart grew heavier and I found myself in church at noon daily.  I distinctly remember the day after he passed away, going to church per my usual routine, and feeling a very indescribable connection - with him, with God, with the deep meaning of life?  Maybe all of these.  I remained in the church after & spent some time after talking to my uncle, knowing he was at peace, hoping he would hear me.  Up until this time, I still felt very much alone at the church..and in the world.  I began to realize more and more that I was on a journey through this life.  In many ways I felt as if I was trekking through the world alone and unsure of my direction, knowing only that it was best to keep moving.  As I was leaving that day, however, a very memorable encounter occurred.  As I was about to stand up, the priest who had celebrated that day’s Mass happened to be walking back to the front of the church.  Just as he passed me, for no reason (from what I can tell), he turned back and came over and simply said, “Hi.  How are things?” But not in the generic manner of politeness that strangers ask one another, but in a way in which was much deeper, as if he knew the burden I carried in my heart.  In a somewhat surprised state, I simply (and inexplicably) replied, “Father, you know, I think this week is going to be good.”  It was in that moment that I knew I was no longer alone.  

Not long after, maybe even within a week,  I realized that everyone, both those present there that day and those that were not, all have burdens and hardships that we encounter on a daily basis - many known and public, but many more are carried quietly internal, with no one else aware of their existence.  This was summed up one day when the priest, in his sermon for the day, simply said, “you know…its been a long, hard winter, but we have the hope of spring right around the corner.”  What a perfect metaphor for life.

As weeks turned to months, I kept returning as often as I could.  Showing up on good days as well as bad, I took great comfort in the regularity of my break from the world - a refreshing moment to sit quietly and consider my daily existence & refresh my soul.  Without question, I know that these times helped me through some of the more challenging times of my life - from the greatest joys to the most despairing, darkest days…these lunch breaks helped me find a greater presence that I quietly carried with me as I went through my day.  It certainly hasn’t made me more perfect of a person.  I still have my imperfections as well as my hardships.  But I came to realize that there is a greater meaning for all of our struggles.  It was a daily reminder of the greater meaning of life, and the need to bring hope and good into a world often filled with uncertainty and fear.  More importantly, it taught me the value of patience and allowing a certain surrender to God’s will.  In just a short time, a little over a year, I am amazed at how I’ve been positively affected.  How I’ve become less concerned with my own struggles and more focused on finding ways to better the lives of others.

I will soon find myself outside of Downtown during my workday.  At first, this was greatly disappointing, being unable to continue my lunch tradition.  But perhaps I am called to serve in a new way, taking with me the foundation of a stronger relationship with my God, bringing goodness and hope into the world elsewhere - constantly trying to improve my own existence in the world and helping those around me do the same.

As I’ve been announcing my resignation to coworkers, I’ve noticed a common response.  “Well, its a small town, I’m sure our paths will cross again soon.”  

I have a good feeling the same applies to God.