This will be heartfelt, emotional, and potentially embarrassing. Offer it up, Bryan! [The Catholic version of, “Suck it up, buttercup”!—ed.]
When I first met this poor guy, he was picking me up for an Association of Hebrew Catholics lecture, the subject of which was justification and the Council of Trent. Even in 2009, I needed answers. The Reformation was unviable in my mind, even if another solution wasn’t readily apparent. By the way, many Catholics who convert from Protestant communities could tell a story like that, but you’re in a tricky place if you’re feeling and thinking that way whilst training to be a Reformed pastor. Fortuitously, Bryan once was doing the same thing for the same reason at the same institution. The ride/drive was perilous, I’ll say that. And Bryan made the “mistake” of asking me why I haven’t or wouldn’t become Catholic. I had two reasons: justification and Mary. Mother Mary. You know, Mary of All The Things. She just apparently shows up places, obviously so some heathen submit to her Son. I digress.
And I don’t know if other people with severe and obvious physical disabilities can relate to this, but I have a lot to say. It could be just me, but I rather think that we know we have been “Other,” and if we happen to trust someone, maybe all the years of not being seen or heard, of not necessarily being known as having something to contribute that others might need or want, just comes flooding out. I think he could have written a serviceable biography of me by the time we made it to the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis that night. There’s a Lift Story that I am skipping, for brevity, but I will tell you, and I give Bryan permission to tell you, if you want to know.
I can remember when he was later my RCIA/OCIA teacher, and I wanted to ask him to sponsor me for Confirmation. I was terrified to ask him. Maybe I need to get over that thing where I think everyone hates me, and wishes I would go away. Of course he said yes. As did his wife Carol. For either one of them, they could keep safe whatever secrets and fears I had. Probably only our priests in the confessional know more. We’ve wept together; we’ve celebrated together. We’ve been in peril together. I’ve seen 2 of his children reach adulthood. I know some of his deepest griefs, and he knows mine.
When young men want to find themselves, they’ll find a bro, and do something extremely spontaneous and probably poorly planned. Like maybe backpacking across Europe. Old guys are still like those young guys, but if they’re intellectuals, it’ll be a philosophy conference. (With hopefully better planning.)
I can’t say that Bryan is flawless, any more than I am. But he is like another self to me. To lose his friendship would break my heart beyond repair, I think. If you haven’t met him, it’s a deprivation. OK, enough mushy stuff. You get the idea.
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