This past Monday was the 6th anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. The date of December 11th, 2017 doesn’t sound all that long ago until I think about how old I was and how old my children were: I was thirty-five when I was ordained, and my Gwendolyn was two. Fiona hadn’t even been born yet. Now it feels like a long time ago.

I don’t have a very good memory, but I remember my ordination distinctly. I remember the worship space and the wonderful congregation in central Tennessee who hosted us. I remember going through the liturgy beforehand and not feeling at all anxious, and I remember standing outside, lined up and ready to process, and suddenly feeling very, very anxious. I remember kneeling for the ordination hymn and both my daughter and the daughter of the cantor jumping on my legs and needing to be taken outside to calm down. I remember the weight of the hands of the bishop and my fellow clergy pressed down on me, and I remember what the bishop whispered to me just before the passing of the peace (“turn around and greet your people”). I also remember the first Eucharist I celebrating after my ordination at a church down the mountain from Sewanee that had a huge, stone Altar and feeling like I was home. I remember so much, even though it was six, long years ago.

Since then, I’ve served a number of congregations in a bunch of different parts of the country, and I served before covid, during covid, and after covid. I’ve learned so much about what it means to be a priest, and I’ve come to that place that all people come in their professions, I think, where I’ve realized that I will never stop learning what it means to be a priest. I’ve also seen my children begin to grow up in the Church, which makes me happy as a father and as a priest. Celebrating Communion continues to be my favorite part of my vocation. I think, somehow, I like the Eucharist even more now than when I first experienced it. And, like with all parts about being a priest, I have come to see how deep and fulfilling the Eucharist can be, and that there is no end to the depth of it.

As I come to mark the beginning of my seventh year as a priest, though, I continue to wonder just how to mark this anniversary. I know it’s important, but I don’t know how to celebrate it. When I tell others that my anniversary is coming, people often ask what I’ll do on the day. Go out for dinner? Read Scripture? Contemplate the vast depths of existence? Sleep? Should people give me presents? (please, you don’t need to give me a present for this anniversary!) Should I do anything at all? I usually tell people that I’m not all that sure, and so people just wish me a happy anniversary, which for me is just fine. I’m happy to receive well-wishes.

Ordination is, however, a Sacrament, and the anniversary of my Ordination should be celebrated as other similar anniversaries are. We usually celebrate our wedding anniversary, and some Christians celebrate the anniversary of our baptisms. One of my professors at seminary called the Eucharist “the only repeatable part of our Baptism”, which I think adds something really beautiful to each Sunday morning liturgy. I don’t know anyone who celebrates their Confirmation, which is kind of a pity. It’s important to remember our acts of Confession, especially when we feel renewed guilt for things for which we’ve already been forgiven. And I know many, especially cancer survivors, who throw parties on the anniversaries of when they were healed, either in a formal sacramental liturgy or not.

Those are a lot of ways to celebrate the Sacraments, but still: how do I celebrate an Ordination. Well, the first thing to do, really, is ask you. If you’re an ordained minister, how do you remember the date of your ordination? Or, how do you remember and mark the date of your Baptism or Confirmation? Or any other important, sacramental or sacramental-like event in your life?

For me, I don’t do anything specific. I’ve long learned that my prayer life is anything but set. I like being with God in the moment, whether that’s reading Scripture, listening to the prayer lives or prayer experiences of others, sitting and listening to music, or standing at the window and watching the seasons slowly change. So I don’t really “do” anything, though I try to remember my ordination throughout the day.

It’s sort of like looking at my life through a lens: how has my ordination shaped my life and how is it still shaping my life on this day? I sat with someone at my out-of-office office hours at a local cafe and, while listening, also had my ear open to that day six years before when the bishop and my fellow clergy siblings laid their hands upon my head and back and shoulders. As I wrote emails, I thought about what it meant to sign my name “the Rev. Tim Hannon” instead of just plain old “Tim.” And walking around all day with my collar on, I let that collar have a bit more weight upon my heart and mind, remembering that to those who see me, that collar means more than just a piece of plastic that I insert into my shirt around my neck.

Did this observance of my anniversary bring me any wisdom? It did, though not as some short, pithy saying that one might find at the end of a didactic children’s book. In a way, it made me feel more grounded in my identity as a priest. It helped me see who I was and how I was with others. And it opened my world from being simply in the present to also encompassing the past (something I think we all need a bit more of). Overall, it quite simply helped me feel closer to God. I felt a deeper intimacy between me and my experiences and the presence of God in the Holy Spirit. And with that presence came and still comes healing from hurts that I never knew I had or could even put into words.

Being a priest is, in many ways, living more and more in proximity to God and helping others remember that living in such proximity themselves is not only possible but deeply, deeply good. I’m so thankful that God led me down this path in life, and I give thanks every day that I’m able to serve God and serve others in this way.