National Vocation Awareness Week

 Resumed Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  This week the Church in the United States focuses on vocations in National Vocation Awareness week.  We are invited by our bishops to focus our attention on vocations to the priesthood, diaconate, and consecrated life, and to pray for those considering it.
    Vocations to holy orders and consecrated life are such important parts of the Church’s life.  Through priests, we have access to the Eucharist and the Sacrament of Penance, by which our sins are forgiven.  Deacons assist with baptisms and funerals, as well as at Mass, and are of great service to the Church in many other ways.  Consecrated men and women remind us that this world is not all there is, and that we should always keep our minds and hearts on heaven, where all the People of God will be poor (relying on God for everything), chaste, and obedient.  A sign of a healthy parish is when men and women consider these forms of life.  We will be blessed in a little over a month to have one of the sons of St. Matthew parish, Deacon Jeff Raths, ordained to the priesthood for the Augustinians.  I know that we have other men who are considering a vocation to the priesthood, as well.  
    As with any vocation, a call to the priesthood, diaconate, or consecrated life is a call from God, a gift, which cannot be earned.  A vocation is a way to build up the Church and to serve the Church to assist in the spreading of the Gospel and the salvation of souls.  No one is worthy of the call, but Christ makes worthy those whom He calls.
 

Bishop Boyea anoints my hands in my ordination to the priesthood

   In my own life, my discernment was not some audible voice from the heavens, nor did I get struck by lightning.  It came through perseverance in prayer, openness to doing, first and foremost the will of God, and a dialogue with the Church to see if I would be a good priest. I didn’t hear an answer when I wanted (God was teaching me patience, I think).  But through daily prayer, going to Mass when I could (beyond Sundays and holydays), and even listening to others, I was able to discern that I had to apply to go to seminary.  And in seminary, by following the formation program, I was able to discern that I wanted to be a priest, and the Church decided that I would be a good priest.  That’s a super simplified version, but it’s the gist of what I went through.  There were no really big moments in my life that pushed me, but the daily openness to the will of God and trying to do His will as best as I knew it.
    The month of November is also dedicated to prayers for the dead.  The priest is the one who can help usher a soul to God at the end of life, and can help save souls.  The priest is invited in to the life of a parishioner at the last moments, and through the last sacraments of Penance, Anointing of the Sick, and Viaticum, as well as the plenary indulgence of the Apostolic Pardon, can change the trajectory of where a soul is headed.  Without priests, we are left to our own virtue, which is not always promising.  Without priests, I know families would be more distraught at the loss of a loved one.  And without priests (and deacons), there would be no one to commend the soul to God in a funeral.
    The priesthood requires a real man.  It is not for the faint of heart.  I certainly could not imagine doing anything else with my life, nor could imagine being truly happy in any other vocation.  But there are hard days (just like there are in marriage and family life), and like any vocation, it does require sacrifice.  But the sacrifices are worth it, and are easily borne because of love.  I would hope that any young man here would consider a vocation to the priesthood.  If it does work out, it is a great service to the Church.  Or, if God calls you to another form of life, discerning the priesthood is always beneficial to knowing what God wants you to do and having that certainty that you knew the vocation God was calling you to, rather than simply defaulting to marriage because it is most common.  
    So, too, consecrated life, which includes monks and nuns, brothers and sisters, and consecrated virgins, is a call that takes courage.  In a society that values money, sex, and one’s will over almost everything else, the call to be poor, chaste, and obedient is a kind of revolt against the fallen values of the secular world.  But, again, it is a special form of life to which Christ calls some, and any young man or woman should consider if God is calling you to it.  The religious men and women I know are some of the happiest people I know.  We have our sisters here, the Servants of God’s Love, and I know some of the Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist, as well as a few consecrated virgins.  They exude happiness; and not the passing happiness from having what one wants at the moment, but the longer-lasting happiness of doing the will of God and living that vocation with others.  In addition to the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience, the blessing (and challenge) of community life is one of the marks of so many consecrated men and women.  They know that they are not alone as they seek to imitate the poor, chaste, and obedient Christ.  I certainly also encourage young men and women of the parish to consider consecrated life.  We need that witness of those who live the heavenly life already here on earth.
    And in order to have good priests, deacons, and consecrated men and women, we need good and holy families that encourage discernment.  Vocations don’t fall out of heaven in a gift box; they are the fruit of a family seeking to do the will of God and developing good habits of discernment like daily prayer, devotion to the Eucharist, and frequent reception of the sacraments.  It also does take the encouragement (but not forcing the issue) of vocations in the family or among friends of parishioners.  Never be afraid to tell a young man or young woman that you think he or she would be a good priest, deacon, or consecrated man or woman.  You don’t have to tell them every time you see them, but mention it once in a while, as a way of letting them know that it’s a good thing to consider in life.
    This week the Church invites us to assist others in discerning a vocation.  May our lives and our witness help others to consider a life that puts service to the Church as a real possibility to be the man or woman that God is calling them to be.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

No mo' FOMO

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A little over a month ago, on one of the very few nice days that we had in May, I decided that I was out of shape (that reality had been true for some time), and I should do something to get in shape.  So I decided to do a 30-minute run around the exterior of the parking lot here at St. Pius X.  And then I decided to try to keep it up around every other day.  And then someone suggested that I run the CRIM, which I foolishly agreed to do.  So I’ve been running about every day or two, usually doing 5 miles, but once a week trying to get in a 7.5-mile run.

A few months ago, I would have told you that I would only run if I were being chased, or chasing after somebody.  And I can confirm that I never have a smile on my face while I run.  Yes, you do get the endorphins (the good feelings) after you’re done, but the fact that you get them after you’re done running should say something about running in general.  I can tell you that there have been no few amount of times where, during a run, I wonder what in the world I’m doing, and I just want to give up.  But I keep on pressing forward, at least until I attain my goal of running the CRIM.

Jesus in our Gospel tells us to keep going.  He tells us not to look back to what was before, but to continue following Him.  There will be all kinds of excuses about why we can’t follow Him, but He tells us to ignore those, and press on forward.

One of the plagues of today’s culture, especially among the youth, is FOMO–Fear Of Missing Out.  I can’t tell you the number of young adults that I have spoken with over my nine years as a priest who convey to me their fear about experiences that they really want to have, but which may pull them away from a current education, job, or even significant other.  There is a general lack of perseverance, of sticking with something for the long-haul, simply because it gets tough, or challenges appear.

Following Christ is not for sissies.  It gets tough, and there are many temptations to veer off course to something else, maybe not even something bad, that catches our eye.  As a priest, in my three parish assignments, there have been times–during my four years in East Lansing, during my two years in Adrian, and yes, even during my three years here–where I take my eye off Jesus ahead of me, and want to look back and wonder if I made the right decision.  At first, as I entered college seminary, I was more like Elisha, telling my mom and dad goodbye, and then just going for it.  But whenever a trial would present itself, and each parish has its own trials, there would be a little voice (like the one in cartoons that comes from a little red guy with horns, a tail, and a pitchfork) asking me to think about what life would have been like if I wouldn’t have  gone through the seminary and been ordained.  But the voice of the little angel on the shoulder with the halo and wings would respond with what Jesus said today: “‘No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.’”  And, by the grace of God, I have persevered and been filled with such joy by remaining faithful to how God has called me to be a saint.

But it’s not just for priests.  For married couples, too, there’s the temptation to cut bait and run.  To be clear, I’m not talking about physically or verbally abusive situations, where a person needs to leave the marriage for his or her own physical or mental health.  Marriage is tough; it takes perseverance.  For me as a priest, I had eight years for the seminary staff to prepare me to be a priest.  For married couples, it’s usually around 8 months, and it’s not daily preparations; it’s a day here, a weekend there, etc.  And yet it is no less demanding of a vocation, and the temptations to look back also present themselves.  But that’s why it’s so important, when discerning marriage while dating, to make sure that it’s a person with whom you feel God is calling you to spend the rest of your life.  

There will be challenges that married couples will need to face together.  Many of you here can speak to that better than I can.  Many of you here have celebrated 25, or 30, or 40 or even 50 years together as a married couple, and some of you are even working towards 55 or 60 years of marriage.  What I notice about successful marriages is that they both work at following Christ, and, more often than not, they don’t give in to that temptation to look behind them at what could have been.  That’s true if you marry when you’re 19 or 22 or 30, whether you have 3 children or 5 or 8.  Don’t look back at what could have been; face forward toward Christ and where He is calling you to be as a couple.

And for those not married or not considering a vocation to the priesthood, Jesus’ words are still applicable.  It is not helpful in our relationship with Christ to look back and think what could have been.  It’s not helpful to give in to FOMO, to the fear of missing out, and never make that commitment towards doing something great, no matter how hard it is.  That goes for the simple act of making it to Mass every Sunday and Holyday; that goes for choosing to avoid places where you know you’ll be tempted to wander away from God; that goes for choosing to serve others rather than serve yourself.  

In the life of a disciple, there will always be moments where we wonder what life would have been like if we would have chosen B instead of A, gone left instead of right, given in to temptation rather than following Christ and His plan for our life.  Don’t look back; don’t second-guess yourself.  Keep your determination to follow Christ and you’ll find the joy that comes from persevering and finishing the race that God has set before you.

Unexpected Pastures

Fourth Sunday of Easter

This Sunday of Easter is called Good Shepherd Sunday, and it’s not hard to understand why: our Gospel today comes from the Gospel according to John where Jesus refers to Himself as the Good Shepherd.  I think that we all see the necessity of Jesus leading us, like a shepherd, and, in fact, probably the most popular Psalm in the Bible is Psalm 23, which usually is remembered for it’s first line, “The Lord is my shepherd.”  

A shepherd is someone who leads us, and sometimes we don’t want to be led.  Often we want to lead ourselves, to determine our own direction and our own destinies.  But we proclaim this weekend that God is the one who is supposed to lead us.  Without God we would be lost and in danger, like sheep without a shepherd.  There are many other hirelings who tell us that they will lead us to good places, but Jesus reminds us today that they run away when danger comes, and they often do not lead us where we truly want to go.

I know in my own life Jesus, the Good Shepherd, has led me places I never imagined I would go.  If I simply think about my assignments as a priest, when I was meeting with Bishop Boyea to be approved for ordination to be a priest, I was wondering where he would send me.  The parishes I thought would be open for a newly-ordained priest would be Queen of the Miraculous Medal in Jackson (where I had interned as a seminarian), St. Gerard in Lansing (where I had lived for a summer in college), St. Thomas Aquinas/St. John Church & Student Center in East Lansing (where I went to middle school and where I had spent a couple of summers in college), and St. John the Evangelist in Fenton, where I was then serving as a deacon.  In my heart, I wanted to stay at St. John the Evangelist in Fenton, as I had grown to love that community, and knew how things operated with Fr. Harvey.  But Jesus, the Good Shepherd, through Bishop Boyea, sent me to St. Thomas Aquinas in East Lansing.  Even though it wasn’t my first choice, I had a great four years in East Lansing, made some lifelong friends, and learned a lot about parish ministry.

Then, when my first four years were coming to a close, I thought I might become an administrator in a new parish.  There were a number of parishes that were open, but none of them really jumped out at me as a place for which I should apply.  Jesus, the Good Shepherd, through Bishop Boyea, sent me to St. Joseph in Adrian, on the outskirts of the Diocese of Lansing.  I had never even really visited Adrian before.  And yet, the people of St. Joseph became near and dear to my heart and it was a good, two-year assignment which helped me learn how to be a pastor.

In my second year in Adrian, Jesus, the Good Shepherd, through Bishop Boyea, again led me somewhere I never imagined to go: Flint.  I was very happy in Adrian, but Bishop Boyea said that, because of other moves, he needed me to go to St. Pius X.  I told him that if that’s where God wanted me, then that’s where I would go.  We have certainly had our struggles here at St. Pius X since I arrived, but I love it here, and I love you, my parish family.

In each of my moves, the Good Shepherd has taken me to pastures I never expected.  And in each move, I have found blessings more than I ever would have expected at places that maybe I thought I would do well.  And that extends even beyond my parish assignments: Jesus, the Good Shepherd, continues to guide my formation as a priest.  That is greatly impacted by Bishop Boyea, my immediate shepherd, who, I know, loves me (as he does all his priests), but also challenges me (as he does with all his priests) to grow.

The People of God, the laity, are also called to grow in ways, sometimes that they never expected, and Jesus, the Good Shepherd, exercises his role as Shepherd through His priests.  This is also World Day of Prayer for Vocations.  Each vocation is a gift from God, and whether a person receives the Sacrament of Matrimony, makes vows in consecrated life, or receives the Sacrament of Holy Order, each is called to build up the Church, along with those perhaps not in one of those vocations temporarily or permanently.  But priests in a special way help make the Church.  Without priests, we do not have the ordinary way that God forgives our sins in the Sacrament of Penance, and without priests, we are not strengthened to live our universal vocation to be saints through the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist.  

And yet, some parents, or other family members, discourage their sons, grandsons, nephews, etc., to answer God’s call to become a priest.  As far as I know, no son of St. Pius X has ever been ordained a priest, or has even entered the seminary.  That is a very sad statistic.  Priesthood is not always easy; it is a sacrifice; and it requires a real man to step up and give his life away for the good of the People of God.  But it is also rewarding beyond any measure that I ever expected.  And I cannot imagine my life doing anything else (yes, that even includes being a police officer).  

So what can we do?  If you have a son or multiple sons, encourage them to think and pray about becoming a priest.  Always include it as an option for a future.  The same goes for if you have grandsons or nephews.  If you don’t, or can’t think of anyone who would be a good priest, then pray for the Holy Spirit to call one of the sons of St. Pius X to consider this vocation, maybe even if it’s simply trying out the seminary.  And pray for that man to be open to the Holy Spirit’s voice.  Another great way to promote the priesthood is to live married life faithful to the call in Holy Matrimony: a life of prayer, sacrifice for the other, and holiness.  Good priests come from good families.  

Jesus is our Good Shepherd, who sends us places sometimes we never expect.  He also sends us shepherds who care for us and help us to follow Him.  Pray for more men to respond to the call of priesthood: to a life of sacrifice, yes,  but also a life of great joy spent in imitation of the Good Shepherd, who calls us all to be saints, and leads us to green pastures.

24

Mass of the Lord’s Supper

What would you do if you knew you had 24 hours to live?  What person or persons would you want to see?  Where would you want to go?  What unfinished tasks would you try to complete?  Most people never have that foreknowledge.  Even when a person is older, and knows that death is soon coming, we never quite know when.  But what if you did?  What if you knew, right now, that at this time tomorrow you’d no longer be a part of this world?

Jesus was in that very boat; He knew that less than 24 hours from that first Holy Thursday, He would be buried in the tomb.  St. John reminds us of this fact: “Before the feast of Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father.”  With whom does Jesus spend His time?  Where does He go?  Does He try to finish any incomplete tasks?

Jesus spends His time with His Apostles.  He celebrates His Last Supper with those whom He had chosen to govern His Church, and to act in His Name.  And He begins, as we heard in tonight’s Gospel, by washing their feet.  He teaches them that, though they are called to act with Jesus’ own power and authority, that power and authority is given to them to serve the entire Church.  Jesus washed the feet of all twelve of His apostles, even Judas.  In one of the last acts of His earthly ministry, Jesus serves the one who will, that same night, betray Him with a kiss.

After washing their feet, and after Judas leaves to set in motion his betray, Jesus begins to celebrate the Passover with His apostles.  But He changes it radically.  He says those words that had been passed down to St. Paul, which he, in turn, passed down to us: “‘This is my body that is for you.  Do this in remembrance of me.’”  And “‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood.  Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’”  Already startled by Jesus announcing the betrayal of Judas, who leaves shortly thereafter; and by Jesus announcing that Peter, the leader of this small band, would deny Jesus, their senses are heightened, and they realize Jesus is doing something new.  And in the act of breaking the bread and saying the new words of this new rite, and in the act of passing the chalice and saying the new words of this new rite, both the sacramental priesthood and the most holy Sacrament of the Eucharist are instituted.  

Then begins a long, beautiful, poetic prayer of Jesus to the Father, even as He also speaks to His apostles.  We call those words the Last Supper Discourse, and they are an expression of Jesus’ love for His Apostles, His first priests, but more importantly, Jesus’ love and unity with the Father, which will sustain Him even as it seems to escape Him in His Passion.  Nothing seems forced in these words; nothing rushed.  Jesus knows what He wants to say, and how He wants to say it.  At this point in the night, there is no anxiety, no troubled soul, but only the intimacy of a Master and His chosen friends who will continue His work in His Name.  

In His last 24 hours on earth, Jesus does what He did for all the hours of His earthly ministry: He gave Himself, according to the will of the Father, for His people.  While we know how much His human nature shuddered at the thought of the price He would have to pay to redeem His people from sin, He gave of Himself nevertheless.  

Psalm 116 tonight asks, “How shall I make a return to the Lord for all the good he has done for me?”  How can we repay God, who has given us everything that we need, and even more beyond that.  No matter what we give God it would never be enough to repay our debt.  But there is one acceptable gift that God desires: all of who we are.  We are invited to do the same thing Jesus did: to give of ourselves out of love of God and love of neighbor.  Jesus gave us His all.  Can we give Him ours?

Power and Responsibility

Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

           

On 28 August, I had the chance to attend Bishop Raica’s ordination as the fifth bishop of Gaylord.  It was a beautiful (and long) Mass with so many symbols of Christ’s abiding presence with us, especially in His Body and Blood, but also in the person of Bishop Raica, who now acts in the Person of Christ the High Priest and as a successor to the apostles with authority govern, sanctify, and teach. 

            I think we can get caught up with power and authority.  We want power, and we want it badly.  We want to control our own lives, our own destinies, and we want to be able to not have others exact that power over us.  No matter whether you have very little power or a lot, I think we all want to have more and more power.  When we look at the issue of power and authority in the Church, the scene is often expressed as a battlefield with the priests and the bishops on one side, and the laity on the other, trying to fight for control of power in the Church.  So often, when the question of why the Church cannot ordain women comes up, the argument quickly turns to power: power to teach the faith (as if we just make it up as we go along); power to decide where the money goes; power to administer the sacraments.  The question, not just from women, is often, “Why should an old man (though Bishops Boyea and Raica I’m sure would not think of themselves as old) be able to tell me how to live my life?”

            But our first reading reminds us that being named a watchman or shepherd is not about getting a cushy job.  True, there are fewer earthly concerns that I have to worry about: I have a house provided for me, a food allowance, and a certain job security.  But, Ezekiel tells us in the first reading that the shepherds that God has appointed have to worry about the lives of the sheep.  I may not have to worry about a roof over my head, but I have to worry about whether or not I am sufficiently helping people to grow in a relationship with God and to choose good and avoid evil.  St. Joseph is a relatively small parish in the Diocese of Lansing (673 parishioners or so on the books), but that’s a lot of people to care for!!  Ezekiel, prophesying in the Name of God, reminds the shepherds of Israel, the religious leaders, that if they do not warn the people to follow God, to choose good and avoid evil, then they, too, will perish for the sins the people commit, against which they were not warned.  The same holds true for me: if I do not, by my life and preaching, help you to grow closer to God, to choose good and avoid evil, then I will suffer punishment, too. 

            Bishop Raica, on his ordination card, quoted St. Augustine, who took up a similar theme.  And while St. Augustine was talking about being a bishop, the same could be said for a parish priest:

From the moment this burden, about which such a difficult account has to be rendered, was placed on my shoulders, anxiety about the honor shown to me has always haunted me. What is to be dreaded about the office I hold, if not that I may take more pleasure (which is so dangerous) in the honor shown to me than in what bears fruit in your salvation? Whenever I am terrified by what I am for you, I am given comfort by what I am with you. For you I am a bishop, but with you I am, after all, a Christian. The former signifies an office undertaken, the latter, grace; the former is a name for danger, the latter a name for salvation.



Being a priest is not about having a job with honors placed upon it; it is about helping you to gain salvation.  And for those who are only concerned about honor, a terrifying judgment awaits!

            But, Jesus reminds us in the Gospel that it is not only priests who have responsibility for each other.  All of us are called to help each other on the pilgrimage to heaven.  No longer are we to say, with Cain, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”  When someone sins against us, we are encouraged to deal with the issue ourselves, not as if we are judge and jury, but so that we might be able to bring reconciliation to the relationship.  We start just between the involved parties, then bring in witnesses if there is still no healing, and then, and only then, bring in the Church, to apply the wisdom of the entire Mystical Body of Christ so that reconciliation can be obtained.  I’m not in this alone.  Yes, I have certain responsibility as a priest to help guide you in living a Christ-centered life, but we all have a responsibility to help each other live that same Christ-centered life.  If it’s just me, I know I will fail.  But if we work together to encourage one another, and even to hold each other accountable, then the Kingdom of God can be proclaimed more effectively and with vigor in the great unity of our one faith, and the diversity of the People of God.

            I love being a priest!  I love being able to serve you, and hopefully drawing you closer to God.  Are there great responsibilities?  Yes.  To paraphrase Jesus, to whom much has been given, much will be expected.  But I wouldn’t trade it for the whole world!!  Do I love being a priest because of the power and authority?  No.  I love it because it is the way God has called me to serve Him, and, in serving Him, to serve you.  For you I am a priest.  With you I am a Christian.

"Poder es servir, porque Dios es Amor"

Mass of the Lord’s Supper

“Poder es servir, porque Dios es amor.”  “Power is serving, because God is love.”  These are the words of the hymn, “Pan de Vida,” a hymn that many of us have likely sung at some point in our lives because of its popularity.  Power is serving, because God is love.

Often times we have a backwards view of power.  We consider power to be the ability to rule over others, to make others do things, to make changes.  But this is not the reality of power.  Like so many things in our lives, Jesus reminds us that the reality is backwards from the way we see it.  It is the poor in spirit who are blessed, the meek who inherit the earth, the pure of heart who see God, the peacemakers who are the children of God.  The last is the first.  The Master is the Servant.  This is not just another view from a wise sage.  It is the way the world really works.  Granted, on this side of eternity it doesn’t seem to go that way.  The blessed ones seem to be the rich, the greedy inherit the earth, those who have darkness and filth in their hearts seem to have “divine” moments of ecstasy, the warmongers who are favored.  The last is the loser.  The Master rules.  But what is more real?  Heaven, which is eternal, or earth, which even now is passing away?  Who is more real?  The Creator, who brought all things into existence out of nothing, or the creature, who without the Creator doesn’t even exist?

Power is serving, because God is love.  One of the major events that we celebrate tonight is the institution of the priesthood.  Jesus, unfettered by social construct (as we see so many times in the Gospels), utterly free in the choices He made, chose twelve uneducated men to follow Him more closely than all others, even than His Immaculate Mother.  He chose one of them, Peter, to lead the others, to speak for the others.  Jesus gave to Peter, and then, after His resurrection, to the others, power to bind things on earth that would be bound in heaven, and to loose things on earth that would be loosed in heaven.  Jesus gave them the authority to teach in His Name, such that, as Jesus said, “He who hears you, hears me.”  Jesus gave them power.  But this power was not to rule over, but to serve under.

At the heart of priestly service is the ministry of the Sacraments, especially another Sacrament that was instituted tonight, the Sacrament of Sacraments, the Eucharist.  At the heart of the power that priests receive is the ability to act in Jesus’ Name and to feed His sheep with the “bread from heaven, having all sweetness within it.”  Along with the other Sacraments, priests are to convey God’s grace, His presence, His love, to the People that God has made His own by the new and eternal covenant, the shedding of the blood of the truly unblemished Lamb. 

Jesus also gave His apostles, his first priests, the power to continue His teaching.  This, too, is a power which is serving, as Jesus knew that questions would remain about what Jesus would actually do and say given new circumstances and situations.  Did Jesus really mean “eat my flesh and drink my blood” literally?  Was Jesus serious when he said that sins don’t begin with our actions, but with the desires of our hearts?  Jesus knew that people would struggle with this, and would even disagree, and that there would need to be a way of sorting out the true from the false, the divine wisdom from the wisdom of the world, and so He gave His apostles authority to teach authoritatively, from the Author, what He Himself would teach.

Jesus called his apostles, his first priests, to wash each other’s feet, to serve them, by communicating God’s grace, God’s word, and God’s love.  But there has been, throughout the millennia, a confusion about the power.  Some have neglected the words of the Letter to the Hebrews which says that no one takes the honor of the priesthood upon himself, and have instead demanded that, as a matter of equality, they be given the right to be priests so that they can have more power.  But the Church does not have that power, but can only do what Jesus did.  Some priests have forgotten throughout the history of the Church that the power of the priesthood is not a power to rule over and control, but a power to serve.

In my own priesthood, I have tried to use the power the Christ has entrusted to me to serve you by being available to celebrate the Sacraments, especially the Eucharist and Reconciliation, as well as by preaching the truth.  But I also admit that there have been times when I have fallen into the view of power which simply seeks to rule, and when I have not been truly a servant to you because my own sinfulness has gotten in the way.  For these times when I forgot that “power is serving because God is love,” I sincerely apologize and ask your forgiveness. 

Tonight, as we walk to St. Thomas in Eucharistic procession, we will be a powerful group.  Our numbers will not be simply a band of twelve moving to the Garden of Gethsemane, but will be much larger, moving with our Lord to the Garden of Adoration.  May our procession witness to the power of Christ over our own lives, and provide the power of service to others to know the God who is Love, and draw them in to a deeper relationship with Him.  “Power is serving because God is love.”

"Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?"

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            In my work in our parish school, and on the monthly occasions when I teach theology at Lansing Catholic high school, I have found that generally students fall into one of two categories when you ask them a question.  The first type of student is the “pick me, pick me!” students who can barely control themselves because they know the answer and they want to prove it.  The other type of student is the “Dear God, do not let Fr. Anthony call on me!” students who try to avoid eye contact and would rather do just about anything than be forced to answer a question, whether they know the right answer or not.

            We appear to have both types of people in our first reading and our Gospel today.  Isaiah is like the first type of student.  As Isaiah is caught up in ecstasy, seeing a vision of God on the throne with the Seraphim and the heavenly hosts, with incense rising, he is at first made aware of his sinfulness, but then, having been cleansed, he is all-too-ready to respond when the Lord asks, “‘Whom shall I send?  Who will go for us?’” 

            In our Gospel, we see the second type of student in the person of St. Peter.  He is reluctant, doesn’t think he can succeed (both at fishing and at being a disciple), is all too aware of his sinfulness, and does not want to be called on.  But the Lord still chooses him, and, as we know the rest of the story, Jesus chooses Him to lead His Church as the first pope.

            God still calls.  Jesus still calls.  The Lord still asks, “Whom shall I send?  Who will go for us?”  Jesus still asks us to be His disciples and put out into the deep waters.  Are we the type of person who says with Isaiah, “‘Here I am…send me!’”, or are we the type of person who says with St. Peter, “‘Depart from me, Lord, for I am…sinful’”?  In both cases, God is calling us.

            Some of you single men out there in the pews God is calling to be a priest.  I am sure of it!  God is calling you to abandon the safety and security of doing what only you think is best, and to follow Jesus in a new way, to conform your life to His, to be conformed through the Sacrament of Holy Order to Jesus the Priest so that His people can continue to be fed and nourished by the grace of the sacraments, especially the Sacraments of Reconciliation and the Eucharist.  Without priests, the People of God will not have their sins forgiven, nor will they be able to be so closely united to Jesus through Holy Communion. 

            Some of you single men or single women out there in the pews God is calling to be a consecrated brother or sister, or consecrated virgin.  Some of you God is calling to leave everything behind and to live out by the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience in a religious community the life of Jesus who was poor, chaste, and obedient to the Father’s will.  Some of you women who have preserved as a treasured gift your virginity are called to consecrate your virginity to God, to hand it over to Him and to be espoused to Jesus Christ, the Divine Bridegroom for all eternity, even as you live in the world.

            Many of you men and women out there in the pews God is calling or has called to be married and be parents.  Others of you are single.  God is no less calling you to be holy.  In fact, God is calling you in a special way to sanctify the world by your presence, in ways that priests, religious, and consecrated virgins are not called.  God needs you to fill society with the leaven of the Gospel: your homes, your workplace, your rest, your vacation, politics, so that the City of Man looks more and more like the City of God.  God calls you to offer every part of your life to Him as an acceptable sacrifice, as Lumen gentium from the Second Vatican Council reminds us: “For all [the laity’s] works, prayers and apostolic endeavors, their ordinary married and family life, their daily occupations, their physical and mental relaxation, if carried out in the Spirit, and even the hardships of life, if patiently borne—all these become ‘spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.’”  Without you, providing an example of holiness of life and fidelity to the teachings of God through His Church, the faith is not passed on, and people do not treasure the pearl of great price that a relationship with God is.

            Maybe we’re afraid that we’re too sinful.  So was Isaiah, so was St. Peter.  Maybe we don’t think we have what it takes.  If Isaiah or St. Peter knew everything that was ahead of them, they may have turned back.  But day-by-day they were strengthened by God to preach the Gospel, so others could believe.  This Wednesday we begin Lent.  Use this holy time to draw closer to the Lord, to learn more about Him, to get to know Him so that you are comfortable saying “yes” to Him.  All of the things we do—the fasting, the abstaining from meat, the giving up of certain good things, the extra acts of penance—all of these are meant to open us up so that it is easier for us to say “yes” to God.  It is all too easy to just do the “Lent thing” again.  Don’t waste your precious time just floating by.  Put out into deep waters!  Is it scary?  In some ways, yes!  It calls for radical trust in God to actually live according to the Gospel.  But Jesus won’t let you sink amid the waves of sea.  He will help you to make a great catch; He will help you to spread His Word that brings people happiness, and saves them from eternal death.  In the Holy Name of God I ask: Whom shall we send?  Who will go for us?  What is your answer?

This Shocking Story

Holy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper

            One of the things I find very difficult to do is to read a book more than once.  Especially if it’s a fictional book like the Grisham novel I’m in now, it’s hard for me to go over the same story a second or third time because, after I have read the book, I know where it’s going.  I know what the rising action will be, I know what the climax of the story will be, and I know how it ends.

            The difficulty with Holy Week, in particular our celebration with the Triduum, is that we hear the same readings each year.  I’m not suggesting we change that practice, because these readings are so powerful and so fitting, that we need to hear them each year.  But I think that each of us is faced with the temptation of becoming emotionally and/or spiritually numb to what is happening in these days, because, for most of us, from our earliest memories, we have heard these same readings.  Using tonight’s readings as examples, we are used to hearing about the institution of the Passover in Exodus, the institution of the Eucharist in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, and Christ’s humble service of His apostles in the Gospel according to St. John.

            Allow me to try and shake you from this numbness, and allow the blood to start flowing again, giving us that tingling sensation as we regain our emotional and spiritual feelings.

            Tonight we celebrate a three-fold humiliation of Jesus that should shock us to our core.  Jesus, the Divine, the Omnipotent, the Omniscient, the Son of God, the one worthy of all worship and adoration, the Master, becomes a slave as He washes the feet of His apostles.  Now for most of us, our feet aren’t that bad.  Sure, they may smell a bit, but they’re generally clean because we are a society that bathes our feet regularly, that has solid coverings for our feet twice over, if you include socks and shoes.  But the apostles did not bathe as regularly as we do, and many of them probably only had sandals covering the bottom of their feet.  Even so, the dust, the mud, the bacteria, the infections from open blisters surely would have been the covering for their feet.  And Jesus, the Lord of all creation, takes off his outer garments, took a towel, and began to wash the apostles’ feet.  This was the work of a slave, not a Master; the work of a servant, not a Lord.  And so Jesus says, “‘What I am doing you do not understand now, but you will understand later.’”  Peter has the guts to speak up and say how disgusted He is that Jesus would debase Himself to do this kind of menial service.  If Jesus was really God, as the apostles were coming to learn, and as Jesus had claimed throughout His entire public ministry, then this was not the God the Jews were used to worshipping.  How could God who was usually accompanied by trumpet blasts, thunder and lightning; whom Ezekiel and Isaiah depicted as a king on a throne with angels ministering to Him constantly in a jeweled paradise quietly wash the feet of His chosen band of men? 

            And it is even more shocking that, rather than just wash our feet, Jesus wants to come down to the messiest parts of our souls and cleanse them in His blood.  He wants to bend down as we recline like honored guests and wash from our souls the dust of all the venial sins we have committed and will commit.  He wants to wash off the caked-mud of any of the grave sins we have committed and may commit.  He wants to cleanse the putrid, puss-filled wounds of those sins that have been festering on our hearts and souls for many months, or even many years.  And we, like Peter, tell Jesus, “Don’t go there!  Don’t do that!  That part of my life is not worthy of you.  It’s not right for you, my Lord, to lower yourself and see.  ‘You will never wash my feet.’”  But Jesus assures us, “‘Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me.’”

            Secondly, Jesus humbles Himself by instituting the ministerial priesthood that will act in His name, starting with those Apostles.  He chooses, freely and without any force or pressure, to so identify with the men who will be called from his disciples that they are able to act in His name and in His Person.  These are not always stellar men.  They have argued with each other since they were gathered together about who was the greatest.  They come from sinful backgrounds, one of them even being a tax collector, a Roman collaborator.  One of His first priests, in fact, the priest who will act as His Vicar, the first Pope, will first deny that he even knows Jesus. 

            And the shock continues through the centuries and even today as Jesus so debases Himself that he continues to act in a special way through the priests and bishops, allowing them to use His words to change bread and wine into His Body and Blood.  Allowing men who have sinned, sometimes grievously, to forgive sins in His name: men who sometimes fight amongst themselves; some who still jostle for power and prestige; some who even deny or betray Him even to this day.  Jesus humbles Himself by allowing men who are sinners to be ordained, and entrusting His power to them, drawing them closer to Himself and drawing them to the holiness that is required to execute such a pure office.

The Upper Room where Jesus washed the feet of His Apostles,
and Instituted the Sacraments of the Eucharist
and Holy Orders

            Thirdly, Jesus humbles Himself by allowing bread and wine to become His Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity.  He becomes defenseless once more in the hands of humanity, not able to defend Himself, not opening His mouth, like an unblemished lamb led to the slaughter.  He allows the appearances of bread and wine to house His very substance, so that when we hold what looks like bread and drink what tastes like wine, we are holding and drinking none other than the Lord of Life, the Creator of all things, the true Passover Lamb.  He makes Himself so vulnerable, that, if someone wanted, they could do horrible, sacrilegious things to His Body and Blood, and He remains defenseless, protected only by our reverence and respect for Jesus in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.  And still we break our 1-hour before Communion Eucharistic fasts with gum, coffee, or even regular food and drink; still we receive Jesus in a state of grave sin, knowing that we should first be cleansed by God’s loving forgiveness if we are conscious a grave sin which greatly ruptures our relationship with God; still we consider the great gift that it is to be able to receive the Eucharist as boring and commonplace, rather than the great joy it truly is to be made one with our Lord as He enters into our very body.

            Why?  Why would Jesus humble Himself in these extreme ways?  Why would He allow Himself to do such menial work; to allow chosen men, still in need of redemption themselves, to act in His person; to allow Himself to become defenseless in our hands and our mouths?  Because, “He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end.”  Even though we know the ending of this true story, let us be shocked this evening, this beginning of the Sacred Triduum, that God would lower Himself so much, because He loves us; because He wants us that much; because “he loved [us] to the end.”