Keeping the Faith: Hanging Your Coat at the Good Shepherd Catholic Church

Every morning, Father Charlie Amershek of the Good Shepherd Catholic Church questions his decision to become a priest.

“It’s a choice, a commitment, I have to make every day. I ask myself, ‘Is this how I’m called to live my life? Is this the best use of the talents I’ve been given?’” Father Charlie says, his soulful blue eyes gleaming.

“Some days the answers is, ‘Hell no, leave me alone.’ But other days, the commitment is deep and life-giving.”

The life of a Catholic priest, as Father Charlie well knows, can be a difficult road to walk. Perhaps, on the days when he’s tempted to forsake it, he wishes he’d chosen to be a sportswriter as he’d once dreamt when he was young.

If he had pursued that path instead of entering the seminary, Father Charlie would never have had to feel the sorrow of taking over for his mentor, the \”brilliant prophet\” Father Steve Slavik, at the St. Rochus Parish in his hometown of Johnstown after Father Slavik died in an accident.

Father Charlie would\’ve never felt the grief of losing his home when the St. Rochus Parish, the very church where he had first learned to love God and neighbor, closed its doors for the final time after preaching there for 28 years.

And he never would\’ve had to watch another dear friend and mentor – Father Phillip Bender, the founder of the Good Shepherd Catholic Church – die of cancer after he personally selected Father Charlie as the man to lead his fledgling congregation into the future.

But in times of trouble, when Father Charlie has found himself in the throes of grief or doubt, unsure of what wisdom he could possibly impart to his parishioners, he has always kept the faith.

“I tried to listen in the quiet, and in prayer, to where the Spirit wanted us to go,” he says. “The message I got then, and the message I’m getting now, is ‘Charlie, it ain’t your church; it’s my church. These are my people.\’”

Father Charlie regards a mural depicting his friend and mentor, the late Father Phillip Bender, giving communion at Mass. Photo by Michael Martin Garrett/StateCollege.com

A Place to Hang Your Coat

When you attend Mass at the Good Shepherd Catholic Church, even if you aren’t Catholic yourself, you can find an immediate intimacy beneath the rituals, the sitting and standing, the call and response.

Artwork contributed by congregation members is scattered throughout the church, reinforcing Father Charlie’s commitment to helping his flock use the talents the Lord has given them.

Even the building itself, which was designed at a time when the congregation was still meeting in a warehouse, was created to foster a feeling of family. There are no steeples, no towering archways, and no grandiose murals of stained glass. 

A meeting space in front of the doors to the chapel offer children a place to play and adults to sit and talk, an uncommon feature of Catholic churches. The chapel itself is designed so the priest can make eye contact with every parishioner – a radical departure from the Catholic church of yesteryear, in which Mass would often be conducted with the priest facing away from the audience.

Congregation member Steve Hair, who married into Catholicism, was never much of a staunch churchgoer before his adult life. But there’s something about Good Shepherd – the passionate homilies given by Father Charlie, the joy he sees in his daughter when she plays with the other children – that always make him feel at home.

Deacon Jack Orlandi helps Father Charlie administer Communion near the end of Mass. Photo by Michael Martin Garrett/StateCollege.com

Steve\’s wife Kerry Hair is a lifelong Catholic and says Good Shepherd is different in many ways from the churches in which she grew up. She says the churches of her childhood never had a place to hang your coat, which seems like something silly to focus on. But that lack of a coatrack represented a mindset: people came, kept their coats on, and left as soon as they could.

But that\’s not Good Shepherd. After Mass, families linger in a space that feels almost like a living room, enjoying coffee, donuts, and each other\’s company. At Good Shepherd, there\’s a place to hang your coat.

\”Even something that simple is important,\” Hair says. \”It feels like your coming into a home rather than an obligation.\”

Who We Say He Is

As Father Charlie preaches to his parishioners one Sunday morning, walking back and forth before his congregation in his royal green robes, he bases his homily around a probing question.

“And you,” he declares. “Who do you say He is?”

The question comes from Jesus preaching to his disciples before his crucifixion. When Peter answers that He is the Christ, Jesus begins to explain how he must suffer, die, and rise again – which causes Peter to rebuke Jesus himself.

\”You gotta love Saint Peter,\” Father Charlie says. \”He\’s not afraid to say things he knows will get him in trouble.\”

And, as Father Charlie points out, Peter does indeed get in trouble. Jesus rebukes him right back, chastising him for letting his worldly worries cloud his vision of divine will. Jesus tells Peter that his purpose is to carry the cross of the world, to suffer for others so that others might not.

“We must think not just of ourselves, but about God and about other people,” Father Charlie says. “We take up our cross of suffering, but He takes up that cross with us. We have to carry each other’s burdens.”

Father Charlie then paints a scene in Germany in World War II of a Jewish woman named Anna riding a bus in Munich. The bus stops, and on march two officers of the SS demanding to see everyone’s papers. A man whom Anna has never met before notices her trembling, and asks what’s wrong.

When Anna tells the man she has no papers because she is Jewish, the man doesn’t hesitate. Without thinking of the consequences, he begins to yell, “You stupid woman! Stupid, stupid woman!” The SS officers ask the man what’s wrong, and he informs the officers that he is aggravated because his wife always forgets her papers no matter how many times he reminds her. The SS officers merely laugh and move on. Anna got safely home, and never saw the man again.

“It is not what we believe that matters, but that what we believe moves us to act on behalf of other people,” Father Charlie says. “So ‘who do you say I am?’ If I truly believe He is the Christ, then I will deny myself. I will put God first, I will put other people first and help them with their burdens.\”

Father Charlie pauses a moment, his eyes moving from face to face in the crowd before him.

“And you. Who do you say He is?”

Father Charlie asked to have his picture taken with other members of the church\’s administration. \”This is church is not about me,\” he said. \”It\’s about us.\” Photo by Michael Martin Garrett/StateCollege.com