Deacon Dan Ritchie found similarities between being on the force and being an ordained minister
The B.C. Catholic
Deacon Dan Ritchie was devastated by a fellow officer's suicide 18 years ago, but it led him towards becoming a permanent deacon.
"I was thinking to myself afterwards, why didn't I know? Why didn't I see (the possibility)?"
Deacon Ritchie was ordained Dec. 8 as part of the first class of deacons ever ordained for the archdiocese. Formerly a deputy of the Canadian National Police, he is now an inspector.
After joining the force in 1976 at 21, Deacon Ritchie saw tours of action all over the country. "For a young man from east Vancouver to travel and do the things I've done, it's pretty cool," Deacon Ritchie admitted. "It's given me the confidence to deal with the things I have to deal with (as a deacon)."
Then the tragedy struck. "One of my fellow officers decided to take his own life," he said. "I lived nearby, so I got the call and witnessed the carnage left behind, and consoled his daughter who had found him."
"I wanted to make sure this didn't happen again," he said. He became a co-chairman of a peer critical-incident program to help mentally distressed individuals.
"My door is open for these people, and I speak to them, putting them on the right path. Many people come to me considering (suicide), but fortunately no one has." Deacon Ritchie called the incident "the embryonic stage of discerning the diaconate."
His CN police job required him to train as a drug-recognition expert. After completing the course, he was inspired to become an instructor.
"We would have to go to the very seedy end of town to find people under the influence to bring back to the office so the trainees could discern what drug they were under the influence of."
The homeless in the Downtown Eastside made Deacon Ritchie "notice the plight of people there, and when I got talking to them, they were very polite and honest."
After hosting a Christmas party at St. Joseph's Parish in Langley, he and his wife Joan realized there was just so much food leftover. "We decided to take it downtown and give it to some of the missions there, but they didn't want it!" he recounted, "so my wife and I made hundreds of sandwiches and started handing them out from the police van."
Locals were initially suspicious of the police vehicle, and asked if the sandwiches were "prison food" or if they were going to be arrested. "When we first started, no one wanted any (food), but now people start running over when they see us!"
Inspired by the success, his wife began cooking turkeys and hams and preparing sandwiches to hand out to the homeless on the streets of Vancouver and Surrey. "When you've got no food in your stomach, it's hard to think about where your life is" and prepare to change it, the deacon said.
One day Deacon Ritchie and his wife heard their pastor read a letter from Archbishop J. Michael Miller, CSB, about the role of deacons.
"The Holy Spirit entered my heart at that moment, and I knew what I wanted to do," he said. "I looked at my wife, and she looked at me, and I said, 'That is me, the Holy Spirit is calling me!"
"My husband has always had a propensity for service, so he found it a natural step to move toward discernment about the diaconate," Joan Ritchie said.
"I have found that when we each live out our baptismal promise to participate in Christ's ministry, we live as people of prayer, teaching, and service."
The four-year diaconate program was difficult, but highly rewarding. "Under the watchful eye of Msgr. Gregory Smith, our training was one of the most enlightening and spiritually satisfying courses of study that I have ever undertaken," Deacon Ritchie said.
Today he serves his own parish, St. Joseph's in Langley. "People are really kind and accepting of me. It's been phenomenal; Father Lawrence Donnelly and Father James (Kairu) have treated me so well. Father Lawrence has given me a new appreciation of liturgy and music because he does it so well."
"I've done 40 years of policing, and hopefully I'll do 40 more years of (being a deacon)," he laughed.