Fall priesthood ordinations are not typical. They usually happen around the time of Pentecost in late spring, paralleling with the end of the school year. It was thrilling to have the opportunity to photograph this momentous occasion.
I came in with an extensive plan to cover this event. Having a plan in place is useful, because of its guidelines and rails for where I want to go with coverage, but it needs to be held with a loose grip. Once you begin photographing a large-scale event, moments come up organically that trump anything you could have tried to drum up on the Excel sheet. That’s the beauty of it. It’s original, unplanned, raw, and authentically human. That’s where a lot of my love of photography comes from; the ability to showcase life unscripted and to its fullest.
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The early morning conditions at St. Catharine of Siena Church in Bexley were nearly perfect for capturing great photos. The sky was overcast, creating an even layer of lighting across the area, and the wind was minimal. Excitement bubbled inside me rapidly as I noticed the brilliant fall trees down the lane across from the church. The hues of orange and red glowed as the backdrop for where the priests would walk in the entrance procession. I couldn’t have scripted a better setting myself.
Adrenaline raced in my heart, knowing there were ample opportunities for beautiful shots in a short amount of time. The entrance procession goes quickly, and the large number of priests huddled outside of St. Catharine was a blank canvas my camera was ready to paint.
My shutter button went into overdrive. Left and right I framed photos of priests laughing, embracing, sharing smiles of the joyful celebration ahead of them. Kneeling on the concrete, leaning over the railings, I outlined the photos with the radiant leaves surrounding them. One photo I captured with the magnificently lined street, with its deep oranges and reds shining, took me aback. A few priests stood, waiting for their turn to process in, sharing in the joy of the day. I knelt down, used one of the short concrete walls as a leading line for the eye, waited for them to share another laugh, then shot away.
This moment wasn’t just another one of the many. This photo included Father Zachary Goodchild, who was only ordained six months ago. Upon seeing the newly ordained priest in the shot, it caused me to pause in deeper reflection. Seeing these jovial priests placed against the richness of fall, it revealed a parallel of death to self in the foreground and background. With the uniqueness of the season, fall is known as the time when the leaves die, and that’s when the radiance shines forth. In the same way, these priests, and the ones soon to be ordained, have also died to self. They’ve given up their lives to serve God and His people. They died to who they used to be and took vows of complete surrender to the Lord. Yet amid their total death to self, they are profoundly joyful.
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Isn’t that a strange paradox? In the ways of the world, you would think that getting everything you wanted would make you the happiest, but that’s not the truth. These priests who have given their whole lives are some of the most joyful people I know. Why? The things of this world do not provide fulfillment for which our hearts are made. Our hearts were made for God and for one another, two things that are outside of the prescribed happiness formula the world gives us. In the materialistic world of more things, more distraction and more stimuli, it’s when you cut out many of those things that you discover greater fulfillment and closeness with God and with others.
These priests provided a beautiful example, that in truth, there is a great joy in dying.