Homily for 12 May 2019

12 May 2019

4^th Sunday of Easter, Year C

World Day of Prayer for Vocations

They all died.  Six were crucified.  Four were stabbed with swords, or arrows, or a spear.  One was stoned to death.  One was beheaded.  Another killed himself.  And the last one died naturally of old age.  They were the Apostles (and in case you were counting, that was fourteen, not twelve.  The two “extras” were Matthias, who replaced Judas, and Paul).  And I don’t imagine that any of them knew how their life would turn out when they heard Jesus say, “Come, follow me.”

We hear about Paul and Barnabas today, preaching to the Gentiles, while at the same time, rebuking the Jewish leaders and elders.  Being the good Jew that he was, Paul had no inkling that at some point in his life he would speaking against his own people.  And yet, there he was, preaching the gospel of Jesus—even if it meant alienation from his fellow Jews.

But consider Peter and Andrew, James and John, too.  They had all been fishermen.  They never would’ve thought that they’d be preaching and healing, being social reformers, being leaders of a new religious group.  But that’s where Jesus led them when he invited them to “come, follow me.”

Today, around the world, the Church focuses on vocations; in particular, priestly vocations.  The Fourth Sunday of Easter is traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday.  And so we focus on, we pray for, and we encourage the vocation, the inner calling, to be a “Shepherd” in Christ’s Church.

And we need to pray for such vocations.  Not only because we have a real shortage of ordained priests in our part of the world, but because the vocation itself demands much.  Given our culture today, given the destroyed credibility of the Church, given the variety of expectations that are laid on priests, it truly is a wonder that we still have men who are willing to listen to Jesus and “come, follow me.”

Prayers are very much needed for vocations to the priesthood: prayers for strength, for a spirit of sacrifice; prayers for humility and patience, and prayers, especially, that those who fall in love with God remain enchanted by God, above all else.  After almost 2,000 years of spreading the gospel, the situation hasn’t changed that much from what Paul and Barnabas experienced.  The gospel of Jesus—the love of Jesus—is still a hard sell, even today.  And prayers for divine assistance are especially needed.

At this time of the year (even on this very weekend), in seminaries throughout the country, groups of seminarians prepare themselves to be ordained to the priesthood in the coming months.  It’s a time of newness, of anticipation and excitement; a time of planning, making sure the new priest has all the right things, all the right liturgical books, all the garments and vestments he needs for Mass; making sure he’s got vessel for holy oil for when he anoints the sick and the dying, and so on, and so on.  Even if there’s nervousness, there’s still a sense of promise and a deep joy in placing yourself at the service of God.

But in the midst of all that, there’s still the unknown.  It’s like Jesus says to Peter: “Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go” [John 21:18].  In other words, to really respond to the vocation of “servant of God” and “servant of his people,” one has to accept the unknown.

And so, as new priests are ordained, they’re almost like those sheep we hear about in Scripture.  Dressed in their white robes, they’re off to be...sacrificed, but...they don’t fully understand it.  But it’s like that with many vocations.

When a bride and a groom stand here at the altar, all dressed to the nines with their bridal party, do they fully comprehend what they’re getting into?  Probably not.  When a child is about to be baptized, and the parents and godparents stand at the altar and promise to raise the child in the practice of the faith, do they fully comprehend what they’re getting into?  Possibly not.  Or when we each fulfill our own vocations to be in union with union with God, and so we come to the altar and receive Communion, do we always fully grasp what that Communion demands of us—in our relationship with God, with our friends and enemies, and with ourselves?  Possibly not.

To step into any role that Christ calls us into means to step into the unknown.  But we do it anyway because of the promises we’re given by God.  We do it because we trust God.  We do it because we’re of one heart and mind with God.

It’s as we heard last weekend: Communion makes the Church.  Our personal communion with God is what makes the Church go.  And that personal communion is where vocations come from.  God may invite us into the unknown, but we don’t go into alone.  We enter that vocation with God at our side, and with the support of countless others who love us.

But, as I mentioned earlier, vocations to the priesthood don’t always have that support—for a variety of reasons.  And so, we pray for inner strength for priests and those who are considering priesthood.  We pray that their personal communion with God will not grow weak.  And we pray for men (of any age) who are considering priesthood, that they step out in faith and trust that the Lord has an important work for them to accomplish.

Now, the Church and the Catholic Faith have had its ups and downs throughout history.  That’s just the way any form of life seems to go.  But here at the start of the 21^st Century, the faith seems to be in a particularly deep fog.  And one reason why—among several—is perhaps because the faith isn’t challenging enough.  Now, it is certainly challenging.  But, perhaps it isn’t presented that way as much as it should be.

For the past fifty to sixty years, we’ve heard a lot about the love of God.  And it’s a message that needed to be heard, for sure.  Too many people had become fearful of God, rather than trustful of his tender care.  And so, the message of God’s love and intimacy was very much needed.  But, in the wake of that good message, have we also forgotten the expectations God has of us?  Has God become so much the Good Friend, that we’ve forgotten that he’s also our Lord, Shepherd, and Savior?  And that to preach and to live the gospel of God’s love requires a certain amount of commitment and sacrifice?  Has the Catholic faith become too...ordinary?  Has it ceased to be a Light that challenges, or a Word that pokes at our conscience, or a Way of life characterized by sacrificial love?

Perhaps the “important work” I just mentioned is the task of reinvigorating the faith with such basic mindsets as: devotion to God, letting God be the captain of my ship, treating the Creed as a “national anthem” of sorts, being slow to judge and quick to forgive, and so on.  Those are all radical, radical mindsets that our faith demands of us.  And who’s going to take up the charge that Jesus gave to Peter when he said, “Feed my lambs, shepherd my sheep, feed my sheep” [John 21:15c,16c,17c]?

Who’s going to take up that very important work of God?  Who’s going to preach the unpopular message?  Who’s going to call others on the carpet for poor behavior toward others?  Who’s going to let themselves be tied up and taken into places and situations they’d rather not go, but who go anyway out of devotion to God?  Who’s going to feed the sheep and tend the lambs; who’s going to love them...not as a sheep, but as a shepherd?

On this World Day of Prayer for Vocations, these are all questions we take to heart—especially if we’ve heard the Lord calling.  May the Lord hear our prayers, and may we consider his hopes and desires...for us.