This past weekend our new Bishop came to our parish. We had gone to 5:00 mass the day before. There was a poster in the gathering area that showed Bishop Gruss as both Bishop and the person underneath the robes as well - the human person on his own journey toward sainthood. One photo showed him holding up a string of fish and another on his motorcycle. My kids were of course drawn to seeing this side of any priest, yet alone...the Most Reverend. When it was announced he would preside at the Sunday masses the next day with a social after, I decided to pick up my mom so she and my children might have an opportunity to meet him between masses.
Of course, after seeing the picture with the fish, I suggested to Paulie he give him one of his homemade minnow traps as a gift. Paulie loved this idea. We arrived just at the end of the closing hymn and we were some of the first people Bishop Gruss encountered when exiting the church after the closing hymn.
Paulie introduced himself and gave him the gift. The Bishop then asked the younger boys their names as well. When Paulie tried to explain how it worked, throngs of people began exiting mass and of course Bishop was there to shake their hands and meet them. I ushered Paulie away. Seeing Paulie’s anxiety at not being able to complete his thoughts, our pastoral administrator let Paulie go in her office and write out how the minnow trap worked.
To give perspective, the trap is made out of a recycled water bottle. It is cut in half and then the spout is placed facing inward. I feel very proud to have been in charge of the hot glue during the factory stages of production.
Dear Bishop Gruss,
The minnow swims into the little hole after the bait (hot dogs and bread work best). He tries to find the hole to get out, but he can’t. You can use the minnow to catch a bass.
From,
Paulie Martindale
As I was scribing parts of the letter to make the process go more quickly, I thought of being trapped and all of the things that bait me.
In the first reading from last weekend (ECC 2:22-23), St. Paul writes, “ For what profit comes to mortals from all the toil and anxiety of heart with which they toil under the sun? Everyday sorrow and grief are their occupation; even at night his mind is not at rest. This also is vanity.”
This verse struck a chord with me as the past two nights I was woken by my children who had their own anxiety about “stay together” days coming to an end. Once awake, I could not fall asleep again. Anxiety crept in about everything…the upcoming school year, unmet tasks, unknown outcomes, people for whom I’m concerned and praying for - trapped. Worries about my parenting, my leadership, my discipleship.
Trapped - In a little hole trying to find the way out. It’s literally right in front of me. But I can’t find it. I know it’s there too. So, why can’t I sleep? Vanity of Vanities. I’m just a little minnow, I whispered to Jesus, have mercy on me!
Of course, I begin to pray. I ask the Holy Spirit to calm my mind and give me rest. Eventually, I fall asleep again.
You can use the minnow to catch a bass.
I think of our new Bishop. He is a shepherd. He is our leader. I am a little minnow. I imagine him gently taking me out of the trap and placing me beside his crosier (which strongly resembles a hook). He wants me to go out and help catch the next fish and the next. As you can tell by my latent blog posts and summer commitment to set boundaries and begin writing again, I think in my simple encounter with the Bishop - through the Holy Spirit - he did just this.
For each disciple, this looks different. Leadership is influence, not the position you hold. Discipleship is Christian leadership. How do I influence others? Do I judge? Create shame? Or, in an encounter, do I give hope and help another to seek the Lord for His endless mercy and healing. Do I help others see the potential in themselves and inspire them to seek it out?
Who does God give me daily to influence?
I influence my husband.
I influence my children.
I influence my co-workers.
I influence my family and friends.
I influence bystanders and strangers who see me.
Oh, how I would like to “catch a bass” and to “lure” even the seemingly bigger fish around me to the little hole where there is an infinite light.
