Going to the Jersey shore is a rite of passage for many children growing up in northern New Jersey. My mother’s family, with five couples and one child each, used to rent a house within walking distance of the Atlantic Ocean in either Long Branch or Lavallette for two weeks. On the Saturday we could move in, all my aunts and girl cousins would clean the house from top to bottom. They would bring our own sheets and towels, wash the dishes, pots and silverware, and mop the floors. Then it was “ours.” I have so many memories of barbecues, playing in the sand, collecting shells, going to the boardwalk, playing skee ball to collect tickets that we could cash in for prizes and betting on wheel numbers to win gifts. That exotic experience, only a one-hour drive down the New Jersey Turnpike or Garden State Parkway, was like being in heaven.
Today, as a pastor in the Archdiocese of Newark, I still enjoy the chance to take a vacation. I know many of my fellow priests feel the same. The Rev. Lewis Papera shares my love of the Jersey shore. “It is where for many years I vacationed as a child,” he recalled. “My parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins would spend the month of July in a large, rented house. To this day we cousins still laugh as we share those rich memories and how it created a strong bond among us that we carry to this day,” Now 10 years retired, his love of the ocean was so strong he has moved from Bergen County and is now living in Ocean County along the shore.
Today, many of my fellow priests in the northern dioceses of New Jersey go to the shore on their days off all year round, rent houses or apartments with other priests for summer vacation or invest in buying their own condos or houses and then eventually retire to those homes. Our vacations may have changed since childhood, but they still give us a chance to take a break from our day-to-day tasks. And our taking time off speaks to the need all people in ministry understand: To be deliberate about rest and to recharge so as to serve more effectively.
There is a surreal spirituality to being at the ocean, in particular. “Retreating to the shore is tremendously restorative and re-focusing,” said Monsignor Michael Andreano, Pastor of Ss. Peter and Paul in Hoboken, where he grew up. He has a residence in Ocean County. “Simply sitting on a boardwalk or beach, gazing out into the immensity of the ocean, quickly reminds us that there is something more, something greater than us, something beyond the here and now.”
That spirituality is clearer to me now as a priest than when I was a child. Back then I was focused on fun. Now my time at the shore is a chance to change my routine and step back for a moment from what I do in my Hoboken parish, where I pastor two churches that have merged, Our Lady of Grace and St. Joseph. When I am ministering, I feel blessed, but it is also hectic. In order to serve others well, I make sure I get a good night’s rest, exercise regularly, eat healthy and take time for prayer and reflection. But there’s nothing like getting on the parkway to head “down the shore,” as we say, and enjoy the quiet. One of my favorite times of the year to drive that bucolic roadway is on a June evening when the honeysuckle plants are in bloom. The aroma is intoxicating.
For many priests, going with other priests on vacation is so sweet because they know the importance of putting work behind them and building friendships outside the context of parish life. The Rev. Al Berner, retired since 2018, resides in Ocean County and has belonged to two priests’ support groups that meet at the shore. They often gather at someone’s home for prayer and then a shared meal. Father Papera recalled how meaningful it was that the group was able to bring together priests both young and old and with different personalities and interests. Recently a priest classmate passed away. The classmate had written a reflection to be read at the wake. Father Papera recalled the words that moved him deeply: “[Father] Papera and I are a testament that two people can think and believe so differently yet still remain such good friends.” Father Papera said those words still make him teary.
I own a modest shore house in Monmouth County. Few people there know me in the context of parish life, so it allows me some time to relax. My neighbors know I am a priest but treat me like any friendly neighbor. I enjoy just cutting the grass, weeding my flower beds and especially planting my vegetable garden. There’s nothing like plucking plump tomatoes and fresh basil leaves that are home grown so I can make an Italian tomato salad with extra virgin olive oil. I recently learned that after summer squash and zucchini are exhausted, there will still be time to plant kale, butter lettuce and broccoli for the fall.
I usually go to the beach later in the afternoon and love to read until dinner. Occasionally, I also enjoy eavesdropping on my beach blanket neighbors. The town attracts many Catholics, and I often hear sermon critiques, general complaints about church—money, money, money—and unvarnished opinions of the church. I might pray about what I hear, but I don’t engage. And my very setting gives me hope and refreshes me. Monsignor Andreano of Hoboken once captured the mood of being at the shore: “Suddenly, the feelings of burden, loneliness, hopelessness and being overwhelmed dissipate into the waves or calm of the sea.”
It is also interesting to attend Mass as a person in the pew and experience our shared worship from the other side. It is sometimes eye-opening. Priests can be tough critics. I have also sometimes used my vacation time to first say Mass at home and then go visit other denominations to see how their churches worship. On one occasion the minister asked if there were any visitors present. For once in my life, I did not raise my hand.
All priests need time to get away for a day of vacation, and the Jersey shore is one wonderful destination. Others may prefer forests or mountains or big cities. There’s a getaway for all kinds of tastes. But nothing renews me like the Atlantic Ocean, where “we can see God more clearly, present to us and all Creation, and know, again, that we are a part of all that God has Created, all that God is, and all that God continues to nourish and care for—including us,” said Msgr. Andreano.
Whether it’s returning after a day off or a week’s vacation, there’s a brief sad feeling when I am loading the car, locking the house door and buckling my seat belt. Yet I then find myself arranging in my head what I will attend to after I pull into my Hoboken garage. And that shows the importance of getting away. When thinking about the work ahead of me as a pastor, I feel refreshed and raring to go. I’m reminded of Jesus falling asleep in the boat with his disciples while a storm stirs up the waves. “Why are you afraid?” he asks after they wake him up. Parish life is full of squalls and an occasional storm. Time away makes you ready to face them with new energy—and joy.
