Thirty funerals in the first six months of my priesthood left me stunned. No natural disaster. No terrorist attack. No viral epidemic. Just part of life and death on the Rosebud Reservation: poverty, diabetes, addictions, and accidents.

Two years teaching on nearby Pine Ridge Reservation taught me that death is a constant companion on the South Dakota reservations, but it had not prepared me for how many funerals a priest serving five parishes in a 2,000 square-mile area would preside at in an average year. Had I known, I tell myself, I would have focused more of my theology studies on funeral and memorial rites, grief counseling, and pastoral presence, etc.

Then I recalled what a neighbor in the West Oakland neighborhood where I lived during theology studies told me: “Don’t worry, we’ll get you through.” He had befriended Jesuit scholastics before me on the busy street in front of our house. When he met me, he simply reassured me that I was not alone there while learning about God; the neighbors would help. His words became a mantra for me throughout theology studies.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you through,” captures the importance during my theology studies of hands-on pastoral experience in a parish, living with the people I served, and studying the academic with my eyes and ears open to what people around me were doing and saying.

My decision in the first month of theology studies to be part of the Bible study prayer group at a West Oakland parish, Sacred Heart, transformed my scripture studies at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley. I spent more time with scripture than I ever would have if simply left to my coursework. Preparing study materials each week pushed me to do more, and the hour that we spent reflecting on, praying with, and discussing the scriptures for each Sunday revealed rich experiences of people applying scriptures to everyday life – experiences I would be hard-pressed to find in books.

The crime-ridden, economically poor neighborhood where I lived also was a boon for me because the circumstances and situations arising there ensured that I wrestled with things I otherwise might not consider. For instance, a knock on the door by somebody asking for a handout kept me from resting easily with social justice issues on a theoretical level. I had to seek God’s wisdom and justice in the midst of the frustration, anger, and annoyance of being asked constantly for money. A dangerous walk down a dark street, knowing that it’s the only way home, kept me aware of how much fear exists for many who are in situations they cannot control. Neighbors’ generosity to others who were in need – giving them supper whenever they stopped – was so pure, unselfish, and unheralded that it dwarfed any institutional goodwill I might claim as a member of a church or religious order.

Each discomfort and complexity I faced in my living situation lifted my eyes and pulled at my heart and stimulated my brain so that I better grasped what I learned in the classroom.

The context changed as I spent my first year as a priest serving the Sicangu Lakota on the Rosebud Reservation, but my quest remains: learning about God from those around me. Theology studies in evangelization, community organization, and culturally focused scripture study provided helpful information on which I can build. For instance, the concept of “second evangelization” in which the one-time evangelized now evangelize their evangelizers can be witnessed first-hand in the Catholic Lakota influence on Jesuits who have worked here over the years. The Lakota sense of prayer, of God in nature, and the sacredness of ritual and place influence Catholicism here.

For example, the Lakota funeral commonly has a twonight wake of prayers, music, and eating, followed by a day for the funeral and burial, more music, and more eating. Initially, one wonders why the family of the deceased is asked to handle such a huge task at a time when they are grieving. Wouldn’t it be better if they could quietly mourn?

Fr. Chris Manahan, SJ, logs on average more than 800 miles behind the wheel every week traveling to a wide range of appointments and scheduled services.

But I have witnessed in the wakes and funerals a sacredness that develops throughout the ritual and the place where people gather together over an extended time. The family and friends experience in a public way the roller-coaster of emotion – despair, sadness, anger, relief, exhaustion, hope, and other dips and turns – until they often are spent, buoyed only by the support of those around them who have come to mourn with them and pray with them. The experience puts flesh and bones on the laments of the Old Testament psalms in which anger, frustration, sadness, grief are yelled out to God. The Lakota wakes and funeral ritual give the family and friends the time, place, and support they need to speak so familiarly with God i d suffering.

I work now at listening, watching, and learning from those around me so that I gain a greater understanding of God in this world. Information and methods picked up from my theology studies serve this quest.

God dwells in the Eucharist, the sacraments, the scripture, the people, the priest, and in creation. Understanding how God is present is a lifelong process, and it will remain a mystery in the sense that I will never fully understand. Yet, of all the revelations that came during my theological studies, the truth that God is present in every culture and in every place and in every people trains me to seek God where I am.

Searching for God in this way turns the theoretical into the real. It is that familiar relationship we have with God, when we know God is real in our life, that turns us more and more toward God and helps us recognize God in others’ lives as well.

Remembering the neighbor’s promise, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you through,” reminds me of that need to draw others’ experiences of God into my life. The idyllic image of a parish priest as one in the midst of everyday life’s nitty gritty – Bing Crosby in “The Bells of Saint Mary” – portrays someone very much engaged with the world around him no matter how challenging, because that is where God is present.

Among the challenges of the world where I serve as a priest are physical isolation and distances, limited church resources, lack of catechesis among Catholics, a lack of jobs and adequate housing, chronic diabetes and alcoholism, broken homes, sexual and physical abuse, and a history of oppression and cultural destruction. I could not expect theology studies to have prepared me to meet all these challenges. (Bing Crosby, where are you when we need you?) Instead, the studies prepared me to stay engaged with what I find here, watching and listening to those around me to learn where God is present and where God is leading us.

Staying engaged is not always pleasant or comfortable. The two-night or three-night wakes, followed by meals, and a full day for funeral and burial, can be tiring for one who is accustomed to a one-hour visitation and simple funeral and meal. Greater interest in baptism and anointing of the sick than in regular Mass attendance leaves the pews nearly empty some weeks. All seems lost at times.

Then I recall the mantra, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you through,” and I look for God where the people are, and watch, listen, and learn from them.

To learn more about the work of the Jesuits on the St. Francis Indian Mission and the Rosebud Reservation, go to www.sfmission.org

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