A blessed Feast of Saint Melangell to you and yours in this year of our Lord two thousand and twenty-six.
Today is a tender and meaningful day for me. Twenty-one years ago, on May 27, 2005, the Feast of Saint Melangell, I was ordained to the Holy Priesthood within the Free Catholic tradition at Shepherd of the Hills Episcopal Church, the church of my baptism and confirmation. I was ordained at the hands of Archbishop Robert M. Bowman, assisted by Bishop Larry Cameron, of the United Catholic Church, a jurisdiction within the Independent Sacramental Movement. I was surrounded by friends, family, and members of my ministry who had gathered from the four corners of the country.
Last year, for the twentieth anniversary of that ordination, I ordered an icon of Saint Melangell from the monks of Mull Monastery on the Isle of Mull. It seemed fitting to mark such a milestone with the image of a holy woman whose life speaks of refuge, gentleness, courage, and protection for the vulnerable. She has become dear to me, not only as a saint of the Church, but as a quiet companion along the strange and winding road of vocation.
In some ways, that day seems like another lifetime. In other ways, it feels as if I can still hear the prayers, still feel the weight of hands laid upon me, still sense the trembling gravity of what was being entrusted to me. Time is a strange river. As we age, it seems to move where it will: gathering sometimes in clear pools of gratitude, sometimes in murky swamps of half-remembered sorrow, and sometimes in dangerous riptides of regret. Yet grace is there too, moving beneath it all like a current deeper than memory.
When I first began to sense a calling to the priesthood, I told my mentor and friend, Fr. James Martin, an Episcopal priest of blessed memory. His first response was, “What took you so long to figure that out?” Before I began the formal process of discernment, he gave me advice I have never forgotten. He said, “Brian, if you can do anything else with your life, go do it and don’t become a priest. Only follow this path if you absolutely cannot turn away from it.”
He knew, firsthand, that the priesthood is not for the faint of heart. It is both heartbreaking and heart-healing. It will empty you and fill you. It will expose your wounds and ask you to bless others from the very places where you yourself still ache. It will teach you, sometimes gently and sometimes not, that the grace of Christ is not an ornament we wear, but the only ground beneath our feet.
I thank God for my calling, though I still ask God from time to time why He called me and why He would not let me go. I thank God for Fr. Martin, who was one of the most godly men I have ever known. I thank God for all those who have walked with me, prayed for me, corrected me, forgiven me, and loved me along the way.
I am not a perfect priest. Truth be told, I am often a poor one. That is not false humility; it is simply an honest confession. I fail more often than I wish. I can be stubborn when the Holy Spirit is gentle. I can want my own way when Christ is calling me into surrender. I can let passion, ego, grief, and frustration speak louder than obedience, mercy, and grace. More than any enemy outside myself, I am my own greatest obstacle in the priesthood.
And yet, Christ remains faithful.
That is the mercy of it all. The priesthood was never about my strength, my wisdom, or my worthiness. It has always been about the grace of God working through a cracked vessel, a stubborn heart, and trembling hands. If anything good has come through my priesthood, the credit belongs to Christ. If anyone has found comfort, refuge, blessing, or hope through my ministry, then God has once again drawn water from a stone.
There is a traditional prayer to God and Saint Melangell whenever one sees a hare hopping about:
“May God and Saint Melangell save thee, and may a thousand angels guide thy steps.”
So, on this Feast of Saint Melangell, and on this anniversary of my ordination, I offer a small and self-indulgent prayer for myself and all of us:
May God and Saint Melangell save us, and may a thousand angels guide our steps.
Amen.