The sun was just beginning to rise as I stumbled into the kitchen, still wearing my sleeping clothes. To my surprise, my dad was already there, brewing the family’s Sunday morning coffee. “Good morning Dad,” I mumbled in a raspy voice. “Good morning son,” he answered. We were both finally feeling at ease after the culmination of a jam-packed Saturday the night before. Over three-hundred of our family and friends had gathered for a huge dinner reception at the parish hall of Good Shepherd Catholic Church in Elk Grove to celebrate my ordination to the priesthood. It was 2011, at age 31, after over 7 years of relentless study and prayer, I finally “married” the Church. The title “father” that people now called me still sounded utterly alien. As I poured my morning coffee into my favorite mug, my dad just stood there in the kitchen staring at me in silence; it was obvious he wanted to say something. “Brian…” he said. “I really am proud of you.” I was stunned. His words pierced my heart. Growing up, my father was never the affectionate type. He was always and still is the strong, provider and protector of the family. As a young kid I always tried to impress him, like many boys at that age. Whether it was playing sports, or working on his car together, I sought his affirmation but from my perspective he seemed critical instead. Looking back all these years later, I now understand he was only challenging me to do better. That Sunday morning, however, after my ordination, that little kid finally felt validated. In some way, it was as if God’s voice Himself had said directly to me, “You are My beloved Son; in You I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:11)

Our father and son relationship deepened that morning in that kitchen. As men, I think we underestimate the impact we can have on our children, especially towards our sons. We search for affirmation in a culture, which conveys a very different message about what it means to be a man. If we do not get it from our fathers in the home, we will try to get it from somewhere or in something else, like a big truck (not that there is anything wrong with big trucks but often times we men try to define ourselves by our things). Our deepest identity comes from our relationships. That is why, in the Gospel this Sunday, Jesus teaches us his most famous prayer--the Our Father. His followers saw Jesus intimately enwrapped in profound prayer and asked him, like any good disciples, to teach them the secret to his prayer life. He first teaches them to recognize their relationship with God as their father. In the Aramaic language that Jesus spoke, the word for “Father” is more akin to our English word “daddy” or “papa.” It rings with the confidence and closeness of a child. The Christian life is radically more than just rules and obligations. It’s about our Heavenly Father who delights in his sons and daughters, you and I.