Diocese of
Camden
May 8, 2012
Bishop
Galante, Fellow Jubilarians and my Brother Priests,
Truth
be told, I started gathering the material for this homily about half a century
ago—or more accurately, God started writing this homily in
me that long ago. That’s because I/we
are all dealing with a “calling”—a mysterious, spiritual inner call from Jesus Christ through which He somehow touched all our lives and
invited us to be His disciples—some of us, His ordained priests.
The
call comes differently to all of us,
but I believe that it is there at the core of our being: Come, follow me. (cf. John 1:43)
My
calling started in my childhood days
when I somehow realized and felt the inexplicable presence of God in my
life. As a very young introspective boy—somewhere
around age 3 or 4—I vividly remember having a peculiar awareness and fear of death, crying myself to sleep at times,
and praying to God that I never die. I
remember celebrating private Mass in my bedroom around age 6 using corn flakes—the available material in my
family’s kitchen at the time—with a rosary hanging from my mirror. I knew even then that there was some definite
attraction to the priesthood. I would serve Mass as an altar boy from
around 3rd grade on, being in the presence of priests and close to
the Mass regularly.
Fast
forward with me to a time in my teenage years when I was standing timidly along
the cafeteria wall of Wildwood Catholic
High School at a dance—checking out the girls, wondering whom I could ask
to dance—when an annoying priest
comes up to me and asks “Have you ever thought about being a priest?” Go away. Not now. Bad
timing, Father. Sometime later I
returned to admit to him how God was indeed moving me, moving my heart, in that
very direction.
On
far too many occasions while following this call,
I was nervous and concerned as I would echo the words of St. Peter: Leave
me Lord, I am a sinful man. (Luke 5:8) I grew
up in the 60’s and 70’s amidst the drinking and drug culture and free-love
society present at the time. I helped my
parents operate a hotel and restaurant and later a motel while living at a seashore
resort—Wildwood. These surroundings were
only one of the many tests of this vocation, this calling from God. I realize over
and over again my own total unworthiness—as we all should—and pray that I
continue to seek conversion and holiness in my life. I have fallen to my knees time and again
seeking forgiveness and healing in the Sacrament
of Penance.
The
rest is history. Two seminaries and
eight years later, with an unexpected
and might I add unwanted pastoral year thrown in just for the fun
of it, I made it to the altar as a priest.
Could
you imagine what I thought when a diocesan official (to remain nameless) said
the following to me while I was on the way up the aisle at my ordination: “You can still get out of this right up to
the very last minute!” I suppose he was
just testing me. Obviously he had no clue of how loudly and
distinctly God had been calling me
for years. I realized in an indelible
way that even diocesan officials are far from infallible in their decisions and
actions.
My
brothers, be careful what you say and do.
You can hurt people, even scar people—the People of God—in the process.
Here
I am a priest of Jesus Christ 25 years later. My brothers, I hope that you can continue to say
with me: I love being a priest. I
am convinced that it is what God called me to be. Even in these days of scandal, confusion,
lack of moral integrity, and ongoing struggles in the Church, I am proud to be an
ordained Roman Catholic priest. I am proud to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. I
still hear His call.
It
hasn’t always been easy. The letter M in the name of one of my former
assignments wasn’t for the many ways they loved me. Yet, I still try to this day to love and pray
for all of my parishioners—former and current.
If
we get to the core of what ministerial priesthood is all about, we see that God
has given us the privilege of sharing what I refer to as a spiritual intimacy with
Him and with His people.
We
need to encounter God in prayer
continually. Whether in the presence of
the Blessed Sacrament, while reading and praying the Scriptures, while praying
the rosary or our Divine Office, while attempting centering prayer, meditation,
lectio divina, praying in tongues or
most importantly, praying the Mass,
we need to be in love with Jesus Christ. If the romance and intimacy has faded, it
needs to be rekindled. Nothing that we
do, nothing is more important than
this!
We
share God’s intimacy with His people in all
the sacraments, but especially and exclusively as a priest in the Holy Eucharist, in the confessional and when
anointing the sick.
Having
just given our 1st Communicants Our Lord for the first time these
past two weeks in the parish reminded me of how we are privileged as priests to
feed the Lord’s little lambs as well as His big sheep each and every day of our
lives at Mass. We speak the words of Our
Lord: This is my Body, this is my Blood. And it happens! Christ becomes truly present! We proclaim and explain the Scriptures so
that Christ is alive and present in the Word as well! Even during those times when we may have to
pray the Mass alone, we are never really alone as we join with the angels
and saints in Heaven at the Eternal Banquet table praying for the People of God
on earth as well as the Holy Souls.
During
Advent and Lent I have the custom of asking people, after I hear their
confessions, to pray for people who are away
from the Church, away from the
sacraments or away from God. I ask that they pray for people to return to
the faith. Could you ever imagine how for years now I have never been
disappointed by the power of this intercessory prayer? This past Lent, among many, many others,
someone returned to the Sacrament of
Penance after being away for 40
years. As priests, we bring Christ’s
healing and forgiveness; we are instruments of His grace, to a world, to His
people who need the forgiveness that can be experienced uniquely in this
sacrament.
Visiting
a hospital, a nursing home or a home-bound person affords us another spiritually intimate moment when we
again can bring the presence of Christ to a hurting world. To an elderly person, a seriously ill person,
to someone alone or afraid we have the opportunity to be Christ’s presence, the
Divine Physician, the Wounded Healer, as we anoint. Sometimes the call leads us to assist someone on his or her journey back to
God. Always thank God for that privilege
and pray that a priest may be at your
side at the time of your death.
We
also experience Christ’s intimacy when we baptize a child or adult, when we
confirm at the Easter Vigil and other extraordinary times, when we witness a
marriage and, especially when we are called to renew the grace of our own
ordination as we see a deacon, priest or bishop ordained.
In conclusion, I read for you a few of the words by Blessed John Paul II to all priests on Holy Thursday, 1979:
. . . We must all be converted anew every day. We know that
this is a fundamental exigency of the Gospel, addressed to everyone (cf. Mt 4:17;
Mk 1: 15), and all the more do we have to consider it as addressed to us. If we have the duty of helping others to be
converted we have to do the same continuously in our own lives. Being converted means returning to the very
grace of our vocation; it means meditating upon the infinite goodness and love
of Christ, who has addressed each of us and, calling us by name, has said:
"Follow me". Being converted means continually "giving an
account" before the Lord of our hearts about our service, our zeal and our
fidelity, for we are "Christ's servants, stewards entrusted with the
mysteries of God" (1 Cor 4:1). Being
converted also means "giving an account" of our negligences and sins,
of our timidity, of our lack of faith and hope, of our thinking only "in a
human way" and not "in a divine way". Let us recall, in this regard, the warning
that Christ gave to Peter himself (cf. Mt 16:23). Being converted means, for
us, seeking again the pardon and strength of God in the sacrament of
Reconciliation, and thus always beginning anew, and every day progressing,
overcoming ourselves, making spiritual conquests, giving cheerfully, for
"God loves a cheerful giver" (2 Cor 9:7).
Being converted meant to pray continually and never lose heart" (Lk 18:1). In a certain way prayer is the
first and the last condition for conversion, spiritual progress and
holiness.
And
so I have preached my homily and you
have heard my particular story and
learned about my calling. You have had an opportunity to reflect with
me on the gift of the ministerial
priesthood. Hopefully you have seen
along the way the wonderful, mysterious way in which God works in my—in fact,
all of our lives.
I
am always in awe of how he has taken a shy, introverted boy from Wildwood—one
who at one time thought it would be no
problem being priest as long as he didn’t
have to speak in public—and given him the opportunity to address the
presbyterate of the Diocese of Camden for his Silver Jubilee. I hope and pray that you continue to
experience the love that Jesus Christ has for all of us, His priests, and for His
people.
My
brothers, go forth and continue to tell your own stories. Your people, God’s people, are anxiously
waiting to hear them.
May
Our Blessed Lady, Mother of the Great High Priest and Mother of all Priests, intercede for us. Amen.
