Recently, I moved back to the city. The one thing I will miss about my former home is one of the priests at the church parish I attended. I remember when I first saw him give a homily. His sincerity struck me more than any homilist I have seen.
This priest is from Vietnam and was sent to the parish as an associate pastor. He barely spoke english, and still forgets to pronounce the 'th' sound when reading the gospel. After I heard that first homily, I found myself listening intently everytime I next heard him in masses.
The most humble aspect shown through when he spoke of his home in Vietnam and the many Catholics there that need good priests. He is older now and was a priest who escaped the communist regime. But his sincerity shines through as he asks the body of parishoners to pray for him.
One last thing, I don't mention his name, because I don't want to massacre the spelling. But I also noticed his hands and the way they were shaped like those on the Shroud of Turin. I will miss hearing his enthusiam and sincerity for the Gospel.
