How a Jeep Got Me Inside Church More Often

I bet you didn’t know a Jeep could inspire a person to greater holiness. You might be surprised.

But before getting to the Jeep, let me tell you about my old Ford pickup truck.

While some people get the “new car bug” every couple of years or so, not me. Instead of having an inclination for a new “set of wheels” so often, I maintain, only somewhat facetiously, that I got the “run-’em-into-the-ground gene” from my dad (who sometimes drove what might be charitably described as a “clunker”).

I bought my pickup — which also happened to be my first-ever brand-new vehicle — more than 26 years ago (driving it until last month). That’s not a typo: It lasted for more than a quarter century! One reason: For the first 13 years, I had a short, four-mile (one-way) daily work commute. In the end, it still had low mileage for its age (only around 113,000) — but too many years of winter driving had caught up with it (final repair-bill estimate to fix a rusted frame: $3,500–$4,000). Like I said, I run ’em into the ground!

So, earlier this year it became clear I would need to start shopping for a new “ride.”

After unintentionally turning into a nearby Jeep dealership (this particular dealer sells better than a half-dozen makes, including Jeep, extending down a long block with multiple entrances for its various brands; Jeep just happened to be the one I pulled into). Unfortunately, however, the dealership didn’t have exactly what I wanted: A 2-door with manual transmission (stick shift). I’d never owned a Jeep, but who doesn’t love the Wrangler (and its predecessors)? I discovered, however, that a 2-door with a “stick” (and a hardtop — a necessity, in my opinion, for our long Northeast winters) is practically an endangered species.

Coming up empty at every Jeep dealer (more than a half dozen!) within around a 40-mile radius, I started looking at other makes and models (from Buicks to Fords to Subarus and more). I came close to buying a Ford Bronco Sport (though I would’ve had to compromise on my desire for a 2-door “stick,” as Bronco Sports come in only 4-door automatics).

By late summer, what began in May as an exciting endeavor (it was fun pondering what my “next ride” might be) had evolved into an exasperating ordeal (for myriad reasons). Moreover, it was taking up a lot of time.

As my frustration grew, I prayed on it: “Dear Lord, please lead me to the right car (and good value) that will provide many years of reliable service (that “dad gene,” after all!), and to an honest dealer. Help me bring this quest to a successful resolution … soon. Amen.” (Or, variously, words to that effect.)

Now, before anyone scolds me with words along the lines of “God has more important things to worry about,” I contend that everything involving his children is important to God. So, I had no qualms whatsoever in seeking Divine guidance on this personal matter (concerning what would be the third biggest investment of my life, along with my house and prior new vehicle).

Plus, having known God’s providence, I trusted that although I wasn’t yet aware of how it ultimately would play out, I was certain he would guide me (because when one puts God at the center, he always does). Plus, like others, I’ve also learned from those moments when, regrettably, God wasn’t placed at the center of life’s circumstances.

Thus, I thought, the least I could do in gratitude was strive to be a better Catholic (often challenging even for the most devout among us). A small step could be going to Mass more frequently (beyond only on Sundays). After all, I’m now semi-retired (thus, time is slightly more flexible, if not plentiful — it’s true what they say about retirement: one finds oneself busier than ever). Besides, I’ll have a new car to get there!

Searching anew for a Jeep Wrangler, I “widened the net” and found a couple matching my needs at dealerships within around 75 miles. Then, lo and behold, on a weekday afternoon in September, I rode the hour to Hamburg, N.Y. (south of Buffalo), and bought a new 2-door Wrangler (with a “stick” and hardtop). That same week, I started attending weekday Mass on the days it’s celebrated at my church.

I’ve since discovered something interesting (if not surprising) about Mass (something many daily communicants likely already know): The more often you go, the more you want to go (funny how that happens, isn’t it?). Another factor: St. Mary’s (built: 1858), my home parish, is one of those classic (mid-19th century revival), traditionally beautiful Catholic churches — in the heart of the city — featuring stained-glass windows and domed apse that inspire worshipers’ upwards gazes … and desire to spend time there.

Having previously attended weekday Mass mainly only on Holy Days of Obligation, I discovered there’s no musician (organist or pianist) on these “ordinary” weekdays (for which the priest’s normal vestment color is green*). So, now I’m further inspired: I’d love to one day learn how to play the church’s pipe organ. (It’s only a “pipe dream,” at the moment; but if it ever happens, it might make for a potentially good future article; stay tuned.)

So, yes — a Jeep inspired me to greater holiness. Of course, it’s not really my Jeep’s doing. Rather, it’s merely the tool used, in this instance, for what’s actually the work of the Holy Spirit. It led me to attend Mass more often — and whatever might follow from it. My lesson and message, therefore, is: Whatever your need, involve God by placing him at the center and talking to him about it, in prayer. Because no matter how trivial you (or others) might think it is, you can be certain it matters to God.

(*By the way, Jeep’s official name for my Wrangler’s color — a bright, metallic green — is: “Mojito.” But I prefer to think of its emerald hue as: “Ordinary Time.”)