Homily for 10 Feb 2019

10 Feb 2019

5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

They had just made the catch of a lifetime.  A boat overflowing with fish—so many fish their nets were tearing and their boats were about to flip over.  It was a fantastic thing!  And we’d expect Peter to say something like, “Thank you, Lord, thank you.”  But he didn’t.  Instead, he did just the opposite; he told Jesus to “Go away!  Get away from me!”

Peter was afraid; he was terrified—not only because he knew at that moment that God himself was standing in his boat, but because (being the good Jew that he was) he knew that God had a history of appearing that way to would-be prophets.  And Peter, perhaps, did not want to be a prophet.  He knew the prophets.  He knew about Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, Moses and Elijah.  And he knew they had a rough time being a prophet.  Even though being a fisherman was hard work, being a prophet was dangerous. 

And so, in fear Peter said to Jesus, “Go away!  Get away from me!”  To which Jesus responded with words of reassurance: “Be not afraid.  Be not afraid.”

I remember my own sense of being called to the priesthood.  As ordination time got closer, people would ask me, “Are you excited?”  And, I suppose, maybe a little I was—but mostly not.  When I thought about the priesthood, mostly what came to mind for me was the Cross.  And that wasn’t all that appealing. 

I’d worked in parishes before, and I knew how hard it could be—especially being a musician and a liturgist, where you can please some of the people some of the time, and that’s about it.  And priesthood wasn’t going to be any easier.  There were certainly times I’d wished I hadn’t let Jesus in my boat.  But, still, I figured, if God had given me the idea to even consider priesthood that he would provide whatever I needed.  And many times in seminary I had to reflect on what Jesus said: “Be not afraid.  Be not afraid.”  (And it's all good now.)

But that’s how it is sometimes when people are called by the Lord to do some task.  Moses tried to get out of it.  So did Isaiah.  Zechariah expressed disbelief; so did Mary to some degree.  God calls and people say, “Well....”  And that’s partly because of what they know lies ahead.  For the prophet what lies ahead is oftentimes confrontation, ridicule, even hatred and being made to be an outsider.  And that is not easy, especially for us human beings who are hardwired for love and peace, friendship and belonging. 

Maybe that’s why Peter said, “Lord, get away from me!”  Peter didn’t want to suffer.  And, really, we can all relate to that.  But, still, Peter went with Jesus because he trusted him; because he loved him.  Peter was willing to suffer for a good cause; for the cause of love and truth.  But that’s what prophets do.   

For instance, when you hear someone gossiping (or you know it’s going on), the prophet is someone who interjects Christ’s message into that situation.  A prophet names gossip for what it is.  And he or she does that not with judgment toward others, but with hope that those other people will stop gossiping—with the hope that charity will prevail.  Of course, the risk in doing that is that you’re just going to become the next target of gossip and ridicule.  But, such is the life of a prophet.  You risk suffering for the sake of the good and the true.  And, sometimes, you do suffer. 

Prophets speak the truth (as best they can) even when they know it’s not going to be received well.  We look at Isaiah, Amos and Jeremiah especially, and how they were sent by God to God’s people with the rather ominous message: “Repent or be destroyed.”  Not that God would destroy his people; rather, if the people didn’t change their ways, they would destroy themselves.  And (if you want to know the rest of the story) the people didn’t change and they were overrun.

When we think about the Church today (and, really, Christianity in general), it’s true that we’re in need of more priests.  But not simply priests to fill vacancies where we have them.  We need priests who are also prophets; priests who, even in spite of their fears, will speak the truth where and to whom it must be spoken.

A priest today cannot let his own fear get in the way of doing and saying what’s right and just.  For instance, I absolutely don’t like confrontation.  I’m a pretty peace-loving kind of person.  But sometimes I just have to “cleanse the temple,” so to speak.  I have to get out my “whip” and just tell it like it is.  And I don’t like doing that, but yet I cannot not do it...for the sake of goodness, rightness, and justice; for the sake of the well being of the Church. 

As Deacon Mike mentioned last weekend, prophecy doesn’t win you a whole lot of friends.  If anything, it puts you on the outside.  But that’s a risk you take in being a prophet.  Sometimes you suffer for love of Christ.

Perhaps the Vocations Office at the diocese wouldn’t like me to say that priesthood and suffering go together.  But they do.  Especially today, when our culture has become so secularized, so anti-Christian, when the Church itself has inflicted such devastation upon itself, suffering—prophetic suffering—and priesthood go hand in hand.  But...that’s how it’s always been.

In his letter today, Saint Paul was speaking prophetically to the Corinthians.  He was reminding them of some basic truths of the faith which they seemed to have forgotten—namely, the truth about the resurrection.  Even right there in biblical times, right at the start of the Church, prophets needed to keep the people of faith on track.  It’s always been that way—and it will always be that way (until Jesus comes again).

And so, as we pray for vocations to the priesthood, we should also pray for them to be strong prophets—priests who (even if they’re afraid) will still “kick us in the pants” when we need it; who will speak the truth to us when we don’t want to hear it; who will be patient and loving as they carry their own crosses for our sake.  And not only priests, but we should pray for strong prophets in general.  We should pray for more people who are willing to suffer in order to keep us on track—in our faith, in our lives.

We were all baptized as “priest, prophet, and king” in the image of Christ.  And we all have some prophetic role to play—maybe it’s by simply and quietly holding your ground like a tree trying to be ripped from its roots by the wind.  Or maybe it’s by speaking boldly where God’s message of faith, hope, and charity need to be spoken.  Or maybe it’s by being a leader of God’s people.  In whatever way that is, may God reassure us when we’re called to be a prophet.  And may our love for him keep us strong and true.