DIANE URBANI DE LA PAZ: Six words say it well

I’D GIVEN UP on finding the Sacred Heart. Husband Phil and I drove into and all around the Spokane Indian Reservation in search of it, but all we saw were towering evergreens, blue sky and empty roads.

I scrutinized the map in my lap. No clues had appeared since the last time I checked.

Then I looked up. Fairly miraculously, we’d just pulled onto the square of pavement in front of the Sacred Heart Catholic Church, thanks to Phil’s directional skills. Walking across the grass was Father Floch (pronounced “flock”), the guy I wanted to meet.

This priest was a friend and pastor to my long-deceased mother, and now I was seeking a kind of spiritual connection to her. On some level, I knew I’d find it in Father Floch’s church, which covers a wide swath of land.

Between Saturday vigil and Sunday afternoon, he says Mass in five parishes, three on and two off the reservation. I chose the one at 12:30 p.m. Sunday to allow time to, yes, drive around searching.

As so often happens when I travel, I head out looking for one thing and find a mind-expanding something else. One of my favorite examples happened on Italy’s Adriatic coast: We got directions from the tourist office to the flamingo rookery near Polignano a Mare, and found no pink birds whatsoever.

Across the road from the seashore was a magnificent grove of ancient olive trees, each of their trunks gnarled with personality and wisdom.

Back on the Spokane reservation, I was about to receive another kind of wisdom, and for once I let it in. Inside the white church awaited wooden pews just like the ones I’d squirmed in as a kid, and families like those I’d watched. In the pew in front of us stood a dad with two teenage sons and a daughter, a girl of about 6 with sparkling brown eyes, a gleaming ponytail and a T-shirt that said “Best Sister.” She checked me out. My heart melted at her sassy expression.

A petite woman with a long, silver-threaded column of black hair went to the pulpit to give readings from the Old and New Testaments. Then we all stood for the gospel, and settled back into our pews for Father Floch’s homily.

Yes, he seemed weary. But then he got rolling into a story about serving as a military chaplain, and meeting another one who behaved more like a drill sergeant than a spiritual counselor.

We all know people like this: full of wind, blowing too hard. Father Floch recalled someone saying to the sergeant, “You’re so loud, I can’t hear you.”

In other words, message lost in bluster.

We humans — rich, poor and in between — have a need for quiet moments and connection with the divine, Father Floch said and I agree. He quoted Psalm 46’s “Be still, and know that I am God,” then recrafted it into something wholly nondenominational.

“Shut up, and open your heart.”

Six words that make sense, whoever and wherever you might be.

Homily complete, Father Floch and a eucharistic minister, a tough-looking dude with a bandanna knotted around his head, gave us communion wafers and wine sips. Then came the part of mass I’d forgotten after all these years.

“Let us offer one another the sign of peace,” the pastor said. Everybody turned to everyone else, extending their hands to say, “Peace be with you.” No small talk. No “Where you from?” Just peace.

_________

Diane Urbani de la Paz, a freelance journalist and former PDN features editor, lives in Port Townsend.

Her column appears in the PDN the first and third Wednesday every month. Her next column will be Dec. 18.

Reach her at Creodepaz@yahoo.com.

More in Opinion

PAT NEAL: The de-extinction of the 100-pound salmon

Who says there’s no good news? Recently scientists claimed they are on… Continue reading

Derek Kilmer
POINT OF VIEW: Your neighbors are fighting for a stronger local economy

GROWING UP IN Port Angeles, the hum of mills was more than… Continue reading

PAT NEAL: Smells like spring fever

THERE MAY BE nothing more beautiful than pussywillows in the snow. Unless… Continue reading

LETTER: There he goes again

Last Wednesday, President Joe Biden announced that his administration was once again… Continue reading

PAT NEAL: To build a fire

Camping isn’t just for summer anymore. The woods, beaches and campgrounds are… Continue reading

ron allen
POINT OF VIEW: Good stewardship for future generations

IT IS A tribal saying that “Every River Has Its People” and… Continue reading

PAT NEAL: Fishing from a sinking boat

It was another tough week in the news. Steelhead fishing on the… Continue reading

PAT NEAL: The 50th anniversary of the Boldt Decision

It’s been 50 years since the Boldt Decision of Feb. 12, 1974.… Continue reading

PAT NEAL: The green crab blues

The green crab is in the news again. Scientists are tagging them… Continue reading

The monument to the October 1808 wreck of the S.V. Nikolai marks the area where a handful of survivors built a refuge after escaping from the Quileute and the Hoh. The monument at 5333 Upper Hoh Road was dedicated in 2015. (Pat Neal/For Peninsula Daily News)
PAT NEAL: Those crazy Russians are at it again

Those crazy Russians are at it again. In 2022, Russia made itself… Continue reading

PAT NEAL: Remembering a guide’s friend

Like the good Book said, “There were giants in the land.” We… Continue reading

PAT NEAL: A short history of winter

As a kid, I remember the old-timers saying, “We don’t have winters… Continue reading