The Sacred Work of Father's Day

Holidays invite us to recognize, commemorate, and cherish what feels like a gift or a blessing. When I recently wrote about Mother’s Day, I explored how complex the holiday can be for many people. Now, we find ourselves at Father’s Day, which carries its own heavy significance. Relationships with father figures are rarely straightforward. They are a patchwork of shifting seasons, layered emotions, and vivid memories.

As I researched the history of Father’s Day, I was struck by how long it took for the world to embrace it. People hesitated, unsure how to define or celebrate it. While Mother’s Day found its place quickly, Father’s Day had to fight for recognition. This says so much about the winding journey of honoring fatherhood. Even when the road looks clear, it can be unexpectedly rough and uneven.

Reflecting on the challenge to define fatherhood led me back to Scripture, which also holds its own tensions around what it means to honor our parents. Scripture does not shy away from tension. It holds together truths that stretch us, inviting deeper discernment rather than simple answers.

We are commanded to “honor your father and mother,” yet Jesus also teaches that “whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.” These teachings seem like they are in conflict; however, they reveal the layered nature of love and loyalty. Honoring our parents is a sacred duty, but it is rooted in a higher allegiance to God. When held together, these verses remind us that love is ordered, not divided, and our earthly relationships find their deeper meaning when they flow from our devotion to God first. This is the heart of ordered love and the wisdom behind honoring parents.

Holding those verses together has shaped the way I’m walking through my father’s final days. My personal reflection on fatherhood is very close to my heart right now. Three weeks ago, my father entered hospice care. Since then, I have been traveling back and forth to Columbia, South Carolina, to spend as much time as I can with him.

Looking back, I feel gratitude for all the times my dad was there for me. Our history is far from a picture-perfect story, but it is a real one with love. We have shared highs of deep laughter and lows of real pain. Our relationship has endured many sharp disagreements, priesthood being one of them, but love has prevailed, and the tension has not severed us.

Ultimately, loving my dad taught me that love does not wait for someone to change into your ideal. Love is patient and enduring. It is not about constant agreement, but sometimes about releasing your grip even when you feel certain you are right. Every memory, every moment, and every tension we have shared paints the intricate portrait of who my dad is to me.

Those years of imperfect love prepared me for a moment that felt both deeply human and profoundly holy. Recently, my relationship with my father took on a profoundly spiritual dimension as a priest. I was able to administer unction, the last rites, and holy anointing to my own dad.

It is hard to find the words that convey how deeply that moved me. In that sacred moment, the roles of child and priest came together. I was able to offer him back to God, wrapping all our mutual laughter, pain, and love into one final prayer of peace. I believe my dad felt that moment too. This Father’s Day, I hold space for the messy, beautiful reality of love, and the gratitude that remains through it all.

O gracious and loving God, you hold our stories, and you know the weight of them all. We lay all of it down before you to receive. For the fathers who knew how to love, for the fathers who struggled, and for the fathers we are learning to forgive, gather every memory into your mercy.

Wrap us in your peace that surpasses understanding. Teach us the grace of ordered love, that we may honor our parents with compassion while centering our hearts first in you.

For the fathers still shaping us, and for the fathers we carry in our bones, bless them, keep them, and draw them deeper into your healing light.

And for any who feel the ache of this day, those who long for reconciliation, those who never knew their father, those who carry wounds that words cannot name, be near to them. Let the wings of your love shelter them.

Receive our gratitude for the love we have known. Redeem what was broken. Strengthen what remains. And hold us in the mystery of love that is stronger than death. In Christ's name, Amen.

Only by grace, Tara+