Holy Cross Church

(At the Crossroads of the World)

329 West 42 St, New York, New York 10036

 

So I came here last May, 2005 and left and came back

And from here you see New York City

Feel New York City and forever remember

The city that never sleeps.

 

Between 8th and 9th avenues

The oldest structure in 42nd Street

Here, New York is New York

America is America,

Not another monastery, not another country

But America, period.

 

It is not just the structure, though,

But the way I lived my priesthood

And the way I was treated

As a foreigner, as a person and as a priest.

 

We live in a REAL community of brothers and priests

Nobody tells you what to wear,

How to pronounce the English words

Where to place the spoon or the fork

Like a postulant of the Middle Ages,

What TV shows to watch

What books to read

What food to eat;

Friendship here is an unfolding

Not an imposition, period!

 

Nobody treats you as if you are a laborer

Nor a second-rate immigrant,

But a Priest in the Lord's vineyard;

Well taken cared of,

You are who you are, not who they want you to be,

Loved and respected.

 

And when everything has been said and done

When the last drizzle has faded and is gone

Holy Cross Church beckons you back

My home away from home,

Simply, the best!

Period.

 

October 31, 2007

Fr. Jun