When I was a seminarian, one of my summer assignments was St. Paul Parish in Highland Park. This hamlet adjacent to New Brunswick, Piscataway and Edison is predominantly Jewish. There were four synagogues in town, Reformed, Conservative, Orthodox and Hassidic. All the children of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob were represented – from Ashkenazi Jews, whose roots lay in Eastern Europe to Sephardic Jews whose olive skin speaks of their origins in the lands of the Mediterranean.
Given this melting pot of Judaica, it seemed only appropriate that the Bishop of Trenton who founded the Catholic parish in Highland Park should place that community of faith under the patronage of the Apostle to the Gentiles, St. Paul, whose roots were Jewish. Now, St. Paul Church and Guardian Angels, Edison, form the consolidated parish of the Transfiguration.
As my summer assignment progressed, I found myself fervent in prayer, deep into the Scriptures and in admiration of St. Paul – whose stained glass window, depicting his conversion, occupied a place of prominence in the church.
Well, toward the end of my assignment in Highland Park, I remember standing in the sacristy with my pastor, the late Msgr. Emmanuel Vernon, who was seated before Mass. As I stood there, I prayed that I, too, could undergo a conversion like St. Paul. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a ball of light flashed before my eyes – and Msgr. Vernon blurted “Glenn, lightening just struck the doorknob next to your arm.”
Well, I wasn’t thrown from a horse, I didn’t find myself blinded by cataracts or nestled in the bosom of Ananias but the whole experience convinced me that my prayer was heard and God was telling me: “Glenn, be careful what you wish for.”
Needless to say, I never asked God for anything resembling the Pauline conversion experience again.
As we know from Scripture, St. Paul’s ancestry originated in Israel. In fact, he could trace his family back to the Tribe of Benjamin. His conversion on route to Damascus was sparked by what appeared to be lightning. This bolt, this divine catalytic converter, triggered a complete metamorphosis of the man. Overnight, he changed from Saul the persecutor of all things Christian to Paul, the master of apologetics and defender of the Christian faith.
Paul’s Hebrew upbringing proved to be quite helpful in as much as he bridged the integration of the Christians of Palestine with the Christians who had no ties to Judaism, the Gentiles. He was a negotiator, a unifier, a diplomat, an apologist, a great debater, a teacher and an evangelist.
Paul’s conversion to Jesus may have been extraordinary but, his three missionary trips through Asia Minor were perilous, riddled with dissent, imprisonment and the worst blow to his ego, the credentials of this Apostle were constantly called into question by those who remembered Saul, persecutor of Christians.
As a Roman citizen, Paul could travel easily from Israel to Ephesus, from Colossae to Corinth, from Thessalonica to Rome. In each of these places, this convert to Christianity preached with the authority of the Twelve. He not only established Christian churches in Asia Minor – he helped those who erred from the true faith to avoid heresy. He prevented schisms within the Church. He helped Gentile Christians to appreciate the Jewish roots of Jesus and he helped Jewish Christians to accept their Gentile confreres.
Two thousand years later, Paul continues to bear meaning and fruit for us, who follow in his steps, who ponder his writings, who endeavor to follow the way of the Lord Jesus.
In my case, I was so moved by my summer experience at St. Paul’s in Highland Park that I chose to engrave a verse from Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians on the base of my personal chalice. For almost 38 years, these words have served to remind me how I, as a priest, disciple of Jesus and member of the Church, am called to live. It reads: “May Christ dwell in your hearts through faith and may charity be the root and foundation of your life” (Eph. 3:1).
Father Comandini serves as coordinator of the Office of On-Going Faith Formation.