Righteous Men

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Cycle C
Am 6:1a,4-7
1 Tim 6:11-16
Lk 16:19-31

Here we are, in the middle of Ordinary Time, those dog days of the liturgical year when nothing special is happening. The 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time. I guess the only thing noteworthy about today is that this is one of those rare occasions when the 26th Sunday in Ordinary time falls on the 26th of the month. No big whoop.

But for me, the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time has special significance, and is a bittersweet remembrance of two of my closest friends. For me, the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time is time to reflect on that reading from first Timothy we heard just now, and how two very special men of God lived out St. Paul’s admonition to Timothy, and how I often fall so very short of that charge.

On the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time in 2004, Deacon Gerry Shea taught a Sunday school lesson, served at two Masses at St. Thomas More parish in Sandy, preaching on these very readings we heard today, performed a baptism after Mass, and then fell dead of a deep tissue thrombosis as he was getting ready to go to the Octoberfest at Snowbird. Gerry had been a deacon for eight months.

On the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time the following year, Deacon Aniceto Armendariz served at the 7 pm Spanish Mass here in this beautiful church, surrounded by the people he loved so very much. Afterwards, on his way home to Heber with his wife, Alma, he was gunned down in a senseless murder just outside of the Jordanelle reservoir. He was 44 years old.

The 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time is far from ordinary, because of these two extraordinary gentlemen. Their lives of service to God’s people are perfect examples of the devotion, faith, love, patience and gentleness in the pursuit of righteousness that St. Paul urges upon Timothy. And it’s not just because they were deacons. Both Gerry and Aniceto lived righteous lives long before they were ordained. Their ordinations simply gave a structure to their commitment. In many ways they were just like the rest of us, because we are all called to be righteous men and women of God. We are all called to be heroes.

Gerry Shea was a military man. Air Force. He was a lawyer, a JAG. He served many years in Central America during the 80s and then came home to Utah to work with his wife in the financial services field. Gerry was an unassuming man, sort of ordinary looking. Quiet and thoughtful. His wife was the outgoing one, and Gerry had no problem with that. We often wondered why he thought he was being called to be a deacon. During formation he sat in the last row and rarely participated, except to mutter smart aleck comments under his breath. He was also the only single candidate, since his wife had died of cancer a few years before. It was hard on Gerry to go through formation by himself, without the support of his wife alongside him.

The practical stuff of the diaconate was hard for Gerry. He rarely got the liturgies right when he presided. He never could find his way around the prayer books. He was a wonderful poet but just an ok preacher, and he never seemed very comfortable in the role. He was a wonderful teacher. For two years he drove up from Sandy every week so that he could teach in our RCIA program. He prepared for hours for every class, and had every word he wanted to say figured out ahead of time, as if he were preparing a brief for court. But he could be absent minded. One time he read the wrong gospel during Mass. Another time his cell phone rang while he was preaching. Gerry was the accidental deacon.

What Gerry loved most was working with teens. He was very involved in confirmation preparation and the ACTS program in the diocese, and he would often spend hours counseling kids. He even brought one young man into his home when he had been thrown out by his parents. That teenager gave an amazing testimony to Gerry at his funeral. Gerry worked very hard to be a deacon.

Aniceto, on the other hand, was a natural. A charismatic figure, he was a born leader. Aniceto came to this country from his native Chihuahua while still a teenager, working in the oil fields of Brownsville, Texas. He moved to the Park City area with his family ten years ago, and began work as an electrician. He may have helped build your home. In his native Mexico he had been active in his parish, especially in a program called Evangelization, where he helped identify and train leaders from the local community. It was natural that he took that same experience and applied it in Park City. He quickly became a very strong leader in the Hispanic community, both inside and outside the church.

Aniceto undertook all this even though he knew very little English. He had to work twice as hard to understand the complex concepts that go with Catholic theology and teaching. As a deacon at St. Mary’s Aniceto did a variety of sacramental work. He baptized babies, prepared couples for marriage and then presided at their weddings, he preached powerfully on Sundays, and presided at funerals. He basically ran the Hispanic ministry. When he arrived there were perhaps 10 to 15 Hispanic families at Sunday Mass. Today there are between 500 to 600 families.

Aniceto was one of those unique individuals who could effectively bridge the differences among cultures. He assisted immigrants in finding their way through the daunting government red tape we natives take for granted. He was one of the founding workers of the People’s Health Center. He founded the Santa Cruz Driving School and an after school program for local kids. He helped local law enforcement and officials in their dealings with the Hispanic community. He did all this not for the rewards, which were few, but because he truly loved people. Everyone seemed to know him. He was simply “Aniceto”.

Aniceto was a very gentle, patient man. In eleven years I never saw him angry. He was a wonderful father and husband. He worked hard, paid his taxes, built and owned two homes, sent his three sons to college and planned to send his daughter. In short, he was like all of us.

Two very different men from very different backgrounds and with very different gifts, from both ends of the spectrum, but both just as committed to God’s people. It’s funny how God carries out his plan for us, and who he chooses to lead us. Just as Ordinary Time is far from ordinary, what made Gerry and Aniceto extraordinary was that in so many ways they were so very ordinary. Their story is the story of hundreds of people like them who live here in Utah. Perhaps their greatest legacy will be that they helped so many people to be like them. And that can only make our community stronger. Maybe we’ll fill the hole they’ve left us with the people they’ve left behind. Maybe we’ll fill it with ourselves.