About five months ago I wrote a post called, And the Bishop Cried. In it I reported about our bishop’s reaction to the news that one of my fellow priests, The Very Rev. Fr. Paul Moses, had terminal cancer and was expected to last only four months. He actually lasted five and a half months. Tonight, I received the news of his death. It is appropriate that he passes away during Pascha season. “Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and to those in the tombs restoring life.”
But, if you think of Fr. Paul as merely a life-long priest, you would be sadly mistaken. He grew up as the son of immigrants from Lebanon, but spoke no Arabic. Like many immigrants of yesteryear, he grew up in New York. He was raised as a Maronite (a Roman Catholic from a particular Byzantine Rite), but became Orthodox. He had no particular calling to be a priest at that time. Fr. Paul is on the left in the photograph. On the right is Bishop Antoun. The photograph is of the day that he became an Archimandrite (a celibate Archpriest).
Like many young people his age, his moment of truth came on December 7, 1941. He signed up and became part of the US Army Air Force. He started out as a young fighter pilot, but quickly became the commander of a bomber. He was part of the D-Day invasion on June 6, 1944, flying repeated bombing missions in support of the invasion. The statistics show that about 175,000 Allied soldiers fought on D-Day, facing about 250,000 German soldiers in Normady. And the statistics show a high death rate over the first few days. Fr. Paul nearly became part of the death rate. His plane was shot up, but he managed to guide it to the English Channel where he ditched. One man died in the original attack. A second man died in his arms on the inflatable raft on which they were floating. When his men asked what they should do, he suggested prayer. And, he then prayed, promising the Lord that he would become a priest if they were saved. Eventually search and rescue picked them up.
After the war, he married his beloved Hilda. They were to be married 54 years. And, he kept his promise to God. Although he worked for a few years, he was also in contact with his bishop about becoming a priest. He was afraid that he would be rejected to go to seminary because of his age. And, he was right. The bishop did not send him to seminary. Instead, the bishop decided to ordain him directly and have him train by studying under another priest. His bishop’s comment was to the effect that what he learned as a plane commander was more than adequate to teach him the leadership he needed as a priest, and that the theology he could learn while he pastored. I doubt that such would be the approach nowadays. Frankly, this reminds me of some of the stories of how some early bishops were chosen by acclamation.
He went on to pastor for many years, and many are the stories that could be told about his ministry. Eventually, his beloved Hilda died. It was after that that the bishop decided to further honor him by making him an archimandrite. But, that did not matter to him. He told me when he first found out about his cancer that he was looking forward to rejoining his beloved Hilda. That was more important to him than the many honor he received. And, so, today, Fr. Paul is with his beloved wife. And, I know that the homecoming was with great rejoicing.
“Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and to those in the tombs bestowing life.”
Memory Eternal!
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