My first pastorate showered me with German blessings

For a young priest, the first pastorate is one of the most challenging moments in his life. He wants everything to work out. Of course, that is not the way life unfolds, and certainly not the life of a priest.

The priest must be ever aware of the grace of God working through the events of life. He must be patient and await the unexpected. I was not yet aware of these thoughts as I drove up to that lovely Germanic looking church, St. Leo IV, in Roberts Cove (three miles northwest of Rayne) in the winter of 1983.   

How grateful I am to those good people, mostly descendants of German immigrants who came to America in the 1880s, fleeing all sorts of persecution and threats. Their ancestors from the vicinity of Geilenkirchen in the region of Rhine-Westphalia had for centuries seen armies pass through on the way to battle.

These remarkable people were hard-working and efficient. Their contribution to the rice-growing industry was legendary. However, what made them truly stand out was their tenacious adherence to Catholicism. They were highly protective of the “Cove,” as they referred to it. There was a road as one approached the “Cove” referred to as “Frenchman’s Road.” That was the boundary!

They also maintained numerous heart-warming traditions. On the evening of Dec. 5, old St. Nicholas himself with his assistant would visit before the feast day. The children gathered that night in the appropriate houses, determined by tradition, and at some point, the “holy guests” would arrive. Old German carols were sung, and some English ones, too. Then St. Nicholas would distribute candies and gifts to the delight of the children.  

Music always stirs memory. The old Christmas carols were some of the most beautiful: “Stille Nacht,” “Ihr Kinderlein kommet,” “Schönstes Kindlein” and “O Tannenbaum.” 

The parish still maintained a Corpus Christi procession. On Easter Sunday, I would bless the Easter breads and pastries brought to the church. They also retained the venerable practice of Rogation days. And on the grounds of the parish church under ancient oaks stood the Wallfahrtskapelle, a pilgrimage chapel and the oldest remaining structure in the parish, with a lovely Pietà bearing the inscription, “Magna velut mare contritio mea” (“My contrition is as big as the sea”).

All that I have described remains to this day. 

I returned just recently for the parish’s festag in July. The young had grown older, some were no longer with us, and there were new faces. However, the spirit was the same. 

I thought of my Communion calls on First Fridays to the homebound. Some would still greet me with “Gelobt sei Jesus Christus!” (“Praise Jesus Christ!”). I soon learned the response, “In alle Ewigkeit!” No translation was necessary. How beautiful is our Catholic faith!

Bishop Glen John Provost has been bishop of Lake Charles since 2007. (For those who actually need a translation of “In alle Ewigkeit,” it is “In all eternity!”)