Christmas: When God Became Vulnerable

(The following homily was originally preached for Christmas Mass 2013 at St. Joseph Parish, Somers Point, NJ, and then further developed for a presentation at Infant Jesus Parish, Woodbury Heights, NJ)

Can you think of some of the times in your life when you have been vulnerable?

When I googled the word vulnerable, like many young people probably still do, I found the following definition: susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm.

When are we most vulnerable?

Could it be times when we share an important secret with a friend and trust that he or she will not tell anyone else?  How about during the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation—in Confession—when we reveal our deepest, darkest sinfulness to a priest and we hope that we will never see him again and that he would never, ever break the seal of confession? Aren’t we emotionally vulnerable at times like these?

We might allow ourselves to be vulnerable, when we undergo some medical procedure and authorize a surgeon or physician to perform surgery or some medical procedure on us. I have been under anesthesia at least a half-dozen times in my life, and I was certainly quite vulnerable to whatever might happen to me while I was unconscious.

I’m pretty sure most of us have been up in a plane at least once. When we are up there twenty or thirty thousand feet above the ground, aren’t we just a bit vulnerable to so many things beyond our control: the expertise and physical well-being of the pilot, the maintenance and condition of the plane, unforeseen weather conditions, even random flying objects—like a flock of Canadian geese. Just ask retired US Airways Captain Chesley "Sulley" Sullenberger about that one!

I can remember quite some time ago, in my younger and stupider days, when I decided to take a sightseeing flight in a small four seat plane over the Grand Canyon. I got into the front of the plane next to the pilot. Behind us was a young couple on their honeymoon. The young pilot started giving me some emergency instructions concerning the operation and evacuation of the plane. He then looked up and smirked at me: “You’re the only co-pilot that I have!” Gulp! Is that not a good example of being vulnerable?

Aren’t a husband and a wife vulnerable to each other at so many different times and on various levels during their married lives? I suspect that this vulnerability is a large part of the pain of a divorce, at those times when it unfortunately occurs. 

Certainly, the most memorable experience of being vulnerable for me was when I recall almost drowning in the Atlantic Ocean, having been caught in a forceful rip-tide. I had never felt so vulnerable in all my life! In fact, I really thought that I was going to die, having been pulled under the ferocious waves multiple times.

Well, what happened at Christmas, with the Incarnation of Our Lord, was that God became vulnerable. We see Him as a helpless infant in a manger.  He couldn’t feed Himself, clean Himself, clothe Himself, or protect Himself, exactly like any newborn infant. He was completely vulnerable. There, when viewing Him in the manger, he doesn’t look like some powerful mythological god that is about to throw a lightning bolt at us if we get out of line. He doesn’t look like someone who might even call up legions of angels to protect Him or defend Him at His command. (See Jn. 18:36) In fact, He doesn’t look so tough at all there in those swaddling clothes.

Was his precious care given to an experienced mother or nanny? No, He was entrusted to “a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph.” (Lk. 1:27) Mary was, in all likelihood, still a teenager with no expertise in child-bearing—“How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” (Lk. 1:34)—or in child-rearing. Yet, God entrusted the care of His only Son to her.

And what about Joseph, her husband? God chose him to protect His only Son from the designs of the evil King Herod. Joseph had to transport both Mother and Child away from harm to a foreign land. Wasn’t the Child vulnerable to the evil plots of Herod as so many of the Holy Innocents were? Wasn’t He vulnerable to the unknown circumstances and conditions of a foreign land? Didn’t Joseph have to watch and protect Him, care for Him and support Him, as He was growing up, as any responsible father should do?

Yes, God became vulnerable when “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (Jn. 1: 14) God entrusted His only Son into our hands.  He permitted His Son to suffer and die.  He allowed Him to feel pain. He allowed Him to be rejected.  He allowed Him to die on a cross. He allowed Him to be vulnerable.

And so, when we think that we do God some type of favor by coming to worship Him whenever we feel like it, or we think that that God doesn’t really care about us, or that God doesn’t hear our prayers, or that God might not even really exist, take a moment and look at the vulnerable infant in the manger. See how God has completely and totally opened Himself up to us. A helpless, little baby is revealed to us, given to us.

Who came to see Him in His vulnerability? “Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock.” (Lk. 2:8) Poor shepherds were able to view a helpless, vulnerable God in a manger—in an animal feeder—located in a stable (or cave) within the city called Bethlehem—the House of Bread. Later, “magi from the east” (Mt. 2:1) arrived “offering gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.” (Mt. 2: 11) Strange, isn’t it, how these foreign dignitaries seemed to see beyond the child’s vulnerability (myrrh--an embalming oil as a symbol for death) also to perceive both His royalty (gold) and His divinity (frankincense) through their gifts.  Through the magi, the entire world views a vulnerable God.

I think that Jesus continues His vulnerability with us even today by giving us Himself in the Holy Eucharist. How ordinary bread and wine can be transformed into His Body and Blood and then given to us to eat! “Take and eat; this is my Body” (Mt. 26:26) What do we do with this precious gift? Do we still somehow treat it like ordinary bread? Do we receive it worthily? Do we just go through the motions? Do we realize that Jesus is once again giving Himself to us, completely and totally? Isn’t He in some way mysteriously making Himself vulnerable to us again ? Will we or do we doubt, take for granted or even reject His unconditional love for us given in the Holy Eucharist?

Think of how vulnerable Jesus was in His public life, in His preaching and teaching, in His passion and death. He was accepted by some, rejected by others. Ultimately, he was brutally tortured and put to death on a cross because God allowed Himself to be vulnerable—to be rejected, to feel pain, to suffer. And His Mother Mary shared in this vulnerability with Him from the very beginning: “I am the handmaid of the Lord.   May it be done to me according to your word.” (Lk. 1: 38)

Remember what was said by Simeon at the presentation of Jesus in the Temple by Joseph and Mary:

Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (and you yourself a sword will pierce) so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”  (Lk. 2: 34-35)

She was so completely vulnerable, especially witnessing Her Son’s death at the foot of the cross.

Pope Francis in his homily at Christmas midnight Mass this year (2013) spoke the following words:

The shepherds were the first to see this “tent”, to receive the news of Jesus’ birth. They were the first because they were among the last, the outcast. And they were the first because they were awake, keeping watch in the night, guarding their flocks. The pilgrim is bound by duty to keep watch and the shepherds did just that. Together with them, let us pause before the Child, let us pause in silence. Together with them, let us thank the Lord for having given Jesus to us, and with them let us raise from the depths of our hearts the praises of his fidelity: We bless you, Lord God most high, who lowered yourself for our sake. You are immense, and you made yourself small; you are rich and you made yourself poor; you are all-powerful and you made yourself vulnerable. (emphasis added)

Don’t you just love it when the Pope agrees with you!

Merry Christmas!

Homily for the Silver Jubilee of Fr. Joseph T. Szolack

June 2, 2013

Infant Jesus Parish, Woodbury Heights, NJ

I thank Fr. Szolack for giving me this opportunity to preach at his Jubilee Mass.  I consider it an honor.  The verdict is still out, however, on what he will ultimately think of his choice of homilist by the time I reach my conclusion.

We go back quite a long way—to 1979 to be precise.  We met while attending college as students at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary.  Put together by some unforeseen Divine plan, we were two young men, among various others, who entered the seminary right out of high school.  It was something rare then; perhaps even more rare today.  We seemed to hear a similar “call” from God to be His priest.  He was a freshman, and I, a sophomore; 1^st and 2^nd college as it was referred to by those who attended Overbrook.  I was glad to have another seminarian from the Camden diocese studying at the same seminary as me, since so many of our men were being sent to another seminary at a different location for their formation.

While I only spent my college years there, I think Fr. Szolack really, really liked it at St. Charles.  Not only did he tirelessly devote hours upon hours of sleepless nights not studying there during his college years, but he remained there for four additional years of theological study and formation.  After ordination, he returned to the seminary initially for three years, then again, by the most mysterious Hand of God, as Dean of Men for the Theology Division for another six years.  Seventeen years in an institution—it explains an awful lot, doesn’t it?

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As we pray and offer this Mass during the Hour of Divine Mercy, I remember being on retreat several years ago at Trinity Retreat in Larchmont, NY.  The retreat master, Fr. Gene Fulton, told the priests a story of a newly ordained priest.  He was giving his first priestly blessing to the congregation after his ordination.  In the crowd was a rather famous Russian baroness, Catherine de Hueck Doherty, the foundress of Madonna House  (Combermere, Ontario) who is now being considered for sainthood.  After receiving the priest’s blessing, the baroness took the priest’s consecrated hands and began to kiss them.  The priest then pulled his hands back.  Looking directly him, she spoke something quite forcefully in her thick Russian accent to this newly ordained:  “It’s not for you!”  It’s not for you.

I’d like to remind all of us that while we are celebrating and honoring Fr. Szolack for his 25 years of priestly service, all of what he has done and, with God’s grace, will continue to do as a priest is truly about Jesus Christ.  Fr. Szolack is a priest of Jesus Christ.  The priest is an alter Christus—another Christ.

Pope Benedict XVI tells us the following in a general audience in St. Peter’s Square:

As an alter Christus, the priest is profoundly united to the Word of the Father who, in becoming incarnate took the form of a servant, he became a servant (Phil 2: 5-11). The priest is a servant of Christ, in the sense that his existence, configured to Christ ontologically, acquires an essentially relational character: he is in Christ, for Christ and with Christ, at the service of humankind. Because he belongs to Christ, the priest is radically at the service of all people: he is the minister of their salvation, their happiness and their authentic liberation, developing, in this gradual assumption of Christ's will, in prayer, in "being heart to heart" with him. Therefore this is the indispensable condition for every proclamation, which entails participation in the sacramental offering of the Eucharist and docile obedience to the Church. (June 24, 2009)

Additionally, the Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that a priest acts in persona Christi (capitis) when administering the sacraments.  Jesus continues His saving work among His people, among His Church, through the working of His priests.  When the priest baptizes, it is Jesus who baptizes.  When the priest anoints, it is Jesus who anoints.  When the priest forgives sin, it is Jesus who forgives sin.  When the priest says “This is my Body,” it is Jesus who once again gives Himself to us in the Holy Eucharist.  And Fr. Szolack, in fact every validly ordained priest, embodies Christ to the world.

Do we deserve this great honor, this most sacred privilege?  Certainly not.  We are sinful, frail human beings “called” nevertheless by God to do the most spiritual, indeed supernatural actions.  Pray for your priests.  Pray for Fr. Szolack.  Without your prayers and the Grace of God, I don’t know how any of us could stand at the altar each day.

While we are aware that this day honors Fr. Szolack and his 25 years as a priest, let us not forget the solemnity that we celebrate—Corpus Christi (The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ).  The mysterious high priest and king, Melchizedek, in our first reading and psalm offered gifts of bread and wine in thanksgiving.  This foreshadowed and anticipated the sacrifice of Christ at the Last Supper.  Jesus feeds the five thousand with five loaves and two fish in the Gospel.  Again we see an anticipation of and a prefiguring of the Holy Eucharist in Christ’s action.  St. Paul echoes the words of Christ in his first letter to the Corinthians:  “This is my body that is for you. . . this cup is the new covenant in my blood.”  We hear the words that the priest continues to speak at each Mass.

The priest is so completely tied into the offering of the sacrifice, to the Mass itself.  Pope John Paul II reminds us:

The Second Vatican Council recalled: "Priests act especially in the person of Christ as ministers of holy things, especially in the Sacrifice of the Mass" (PO 13) and that without a priest there can be no Eucharistic sacrifice. However, it emphasized that those who celebrate this sacrifice must fulfill their role in intimate spiritual union with Christ, with great humility, as his ministers in the service of the community . . . In offering the Eucharistic sacrifice, presbyters must offer themselves personally with Christ, accepting all the renunciation and sacrifice required by their priestly life--again and always, with Christ and like Christ, sacerdos et hostia (priest and victim). (June 9, 1993)

Fr. Szolack has faithfully offered Mass essentially every day during the duration of his priesthood.  Whether with his parish congregation, privately, on vacation, on a cruise ship, in a hotel room, on an island, or in a private home, he has prayed and offered the sacrifice of Jesus for the People of God.  Together with his Divine Office (Breviary or Liturgy of the Hours) he has been faithful in praying for himself and for those whom he is called to serve.

         

I don’t know exactly who is aware of it but one of the things that Fr. Szolack did after he became pastor was to establish a small chapel in the rectory so that he could reserve the Blessed Sacrament there for prayer.  I guess that he was in tune with something else Pope John Paul II reminded priests:

To priests the Council also recommends, in addition to the daily celebration of the Mass, personal devotion to the Holy Eucharist, and especially that "daily colloquy with Christ, a visit to and veneration of the Most Holy Eucharist" (PO 18). Faith in and love for the Eucharist cannot allow Christ's presence in the tabernacle to remain alone (cf. CCC 1418). Already in the Old Testament we read that God dwelt in a "tent" (or "tabernacle"), which was called the "meeting tent" (Ex 33:7). The meeting was desired by God. It can be said that in the tabernacle of the Eucharist too Christ is present in view of a dialogue with his new people and with individual believers. The presbyter is the first one called to enter this meeting tent, to visit Christ in the tabernacle for a "daily talk." (June 9, 1993)

On Friday, Fr. Szolack called me and asked me to wear the vestment that I currently am wearing.  He informed me that he had been given a similar one by his mother.  The vestment is in honor of Our Lady of Czestochowa, reflecting our common Polish heritage.  We had visited the shrine in Poland together where the sacred icon is revered by multitudes.  I know that he and I have entrusted, consecrated our priesthood to the care of Our Lady.  She who is the Mother of the Great High Priest, Jesus Christ, continues to intercede for us, to watch over us and to lead us to Jesus, her Divine Son.  Fr. Szolack and I have a tremendous love for Our Lady, her rosary, her scapular as did the Pope that we both greatly admire, John Paul II.

With a new Holy Father Pope Francis now leading us, I conclude with a few of his words in reference to Mary, Our Mother:

Jesus from the Cross says to Mary, indicating John: “Woman, behold your son!” and to John: “Here is your mother!” (cf. Jn. 19:26-27). In that disciple, we are all represented: the Lord entrusts us to the loving and tender hands of the Mother, that we might feel her support in facing and overcoming the difficulties of our human and Christian journey; to never be afraid of the struggle, to face it with the help of the mother. . . The mother teaches us how to be fruitful, to be open to life and to always bear good fruit, joyful fruit, hopeful fruit, and never to lose hope, to give life to others, physical and spiritual life. (May 4, 2013)

May Our Lady, Our Mother, continue to assist you and all of us priests in our ministry.  May she be revered as a loving Mother for all the faithful.  May she lead us all to Jesus Christ, the Great High Priest.

I mentioned earlier that priesthood itself is essentially not about you, Fr. Szolack.  However, I think that I speak for all here and for all the people who have seen you trying to live out your priestly vocation by saying “thank you” for responding to the call of Jesus and becoming His priest.  Thank you for your many years of dedicated service to the People of God.  May God give you the health and the strength to serve many, many more years as His priest at His sacred altar.

Ad multos annos.

Opinion: A Belief or Judgment that Rests on Grounds Insufficient to Produce Complete Certainty

After reaching my 50^th birthday a few years ago, I dare say I am (reasonably? considerably? certainly? undoubtedly?) past my mid-life point.  If I unknowingly had a mid-life crisis, I guess it was somehow sandwiched in between busyness and turmoil.  I have been around the block a few times and not because of a desire to exercise.  I’ve found, along life's bumpy path, I’m becoming much more opinionated.  Is this a good thing or a bad thing?  I really don’t know.  But I’ve decided to express my opinion on a few issues which are not officially Church teaching or dogmas—just a matter of personal taste.  (Please excuse me if I ramble a bit.  Most people who express opinions tend to do this and I am simply following suit.)

• Beware the Ides of March . . . and the Elections of November

I am sick of politics (and of many high-profile politicians).  Who lies?  Who tells the truth?  Who really represents and tries to assist the average person and who is self-serving?  So often it gets to be a case of choosing the lesser of two evils (can I morally do this?) because I don’t really like any candidate in far too many elections.  I feel sorry for the honest person who enters politics with a noble intention and who is determined to change the system because he or she will probably be surrounded by a cesspool of corruption.  It’s hard to stay untainted when you are immersed in so much garbage and waste.  I have said many times before and I continue to pray that I will never sell my soul to any political party.  (My soul belongs completely to Jesus, thank you very much.)  I usually vote for the person—as opposed to any party—with whom I may agree because of the positions for which he or she officially stands.  And making that decision for a particular candidate isn’t easy.  I compare it to the choice between hanging and the guillotine.  Either one brings various unpleasantries with the same end result.  Gulp!

• The “Boob-Tube” Lives

Most television is a waste of time and energy.  How can we have so many channels and still conclude that “there’s nothing to watch?”  Reality TV is far from my real life.  Talk shows are frequently shared ignorance sessions.  The News is mostly bad, depressing and frequently slanted depending on the network.  Premium cable TV has too much perversion.  Far too many shows push a particular political or social agenda, whatever may be in vogue.  Philadelphia sports teams usually stink.  I’d rather watch that test-pattern from the days when the stations would go off the air in the middle of the night.  At least then they gave us a break and not an infomercial.

• The Hills are Alive with the Sound of ?*!#@

Much of the music today has no enduring quality.  Let me first establish the fact that I really love music.  I’ve listened to it continuously since I was a small child.  I have a rather eclectic taste—from classical to pop. I have dabbled at playing the piano and have even attempted to write some songs as well as liturgical hymns.  Unfortunately, I find that so much of today’s music borders on vulgar (Warning:  explicit contents) or is just really poor quality.  Yes, there are a few very talented people and some good material being written.  I gravitate to that.  But, I think, most of what I hear in contemporary music would unfortunately surround me in Hell for all eternity in unending cacophonous torture (a la Manuel Noriega), if I don’t make it to those Pearly Gates.  The fires of Gehenna pale in comparison!

As a side note, save me from “church music” that is still stuck in the Kumbaya days, sounds like a love song or pop tune, or is something that is more suited for the Broadway stage.  Church music should raise our minds and hearts to God and should be unique (unlike other secular music) for the purpose of Divine worship.  Shouldn’t we give God something that is our ultimate—our very best?  If I can imagine the hymn being “performed” by Patti LuPone from the balcony of the Casa Rosada, if it sounds like I’m ready to propose to someone with ring in hand, or if it’s something longing to come out of the mouths of the boys of One Direction, then maybe it’s not suitable to raise my mind and heart to God.  While I’m at it, if it feels like I am waiting for a Bob Dylan wannabe to lead us in song or for “That ‘70s Show” to appear miraculously on a flat screen TV in front of the altar, please keep it out of the church!  Bring on the Gregorian Chant!  I think that they may have been on to something back then, in my humble opinion.

• The Too-Smart-for-Its-Own-Good Phone

How did we ever exist without a mobile phone?  When I was young, text referred to a book and a tweet came from a bird’s mouth.  There was no such thing as driving while on the mobile phone (we drove on the highway) or while texting.  Phones didn’t go off regularly in churches and other formerly sacrosanct localities.  The fact is we are addicted to our phones and we use them constantly, for everything.  Person to person communication now involves a mobile device which has an app capable of bringing all things to all people.  Just think of it, and there’s probably an app to do it!  Thinking?  Yes, there’s an app for that!

• Bringing It In for a Landing 

I have too many additional concerns and unanswered questions plaguing me right now.  Let me try to make a quick summary of the varied trepidations in my brain, rather than formulate an opinion about each of them.  I've babbled enough already.

I pray that we be delivered from the apathy, indifference, negativism, relativism, secularism, selfishness, rationalizing, perversion, etc., etc., currently permeating much of society.  At the same time, I ask for wisdom and understanding concerning a few troublesome matters in today’s world:  Why is life so cheap that we dispose of it so easily?  How long can we exist as a society with the traditional family unit disintegrating so quickly that it’s becoming unrecognizable?  Why do we infrequently talk to God (pray and worship) and then blame Him for everything disastrous that comes down the pike?  Why do we disregard moral teachings founded on solid biblical principles—principles that have guided peoples for centuries—and make them appear so irrelevant for our “enlightened” society?  How long will God be patient with us as we seem to close our eyes and ears, hearts and minds to Him?

As I said in the beginning, these are some of my opinions (and the various thoughts and worries that accompany them).  I don’t claim to be a sage or scholar.  I am simply reflecting on what I see, continually seeking the Truth and, perhaps, rambling a bit.  Feels a bit therapeutic.

    

I humbly defer, however, to the Almighty for the final say in all matters.

(Rev.) Edward Namiotka

“Oh, You’re Going to Keep It!?”

My sister and her two sons

When I was sixteen years old my mother and father announced to my three brothers and me that we were going to have an addition to our family.  My mom was now pregnant at 43 years old.  My parents hadn’t had any additional children for about a decade.  Everyone was truly surprised—really a bit stunned—by this latest news!

My mother went to an ob-gyn for an initial visit.  When she returned I could see that she was visibly shaken.  My mother and father were debating whether or not they should continue using the doctor that she had just seen.  My mom’s former doctor—the one who had delivered some of my siblings—had retired some years ago and she had to choose someone else for the care and delivery of her next baby.

I later learned the reason for their immediate concern.  It was the doctor’s troubling statement during my mom’s office visit:  “Oh, you’re going to keep it!?”  I guess that he thought that she had come to him to abort the child.  This was the furthest thing from my parents’ intentions—no matter how old my mother was.

This “it”, my sister Cathy—the only sister that I have—now has two children of her own.  She and my mom are extremely close.  The two little grandchildren, the youngest of the ten, are just so adorable (objectively speaking, of course!) and truly keep my mom going day after day.

I often think of what life would be like without my sister and, consequently, without her two children.  What if another tragic decision had been made so that “it” would be all that she was known as, or referred to, by those trying to deny that she ever existed in the first place?

I once wrote a poem trying to express my feelings over this loss of potential—a human life, a human person never given the opportunity to live.  I have thought about “it” over and over again since the horrific trial of Dr. Kermit Gosnell hit the Philadelphia news.

I have already put this poem to a basic tune and hope to have it as a completed song someday.

I Cried

I cried—no one heard me

Yet I cried—

For I was inside

Of my mother’s womb.

I longed to be held in her arms,

To be fondled and caressed,

To take milk from my mother’s breast

And to laugh.

Such beauty and warmth of life

I could enjoy,

Play with my first toy

And begin to love.

I could leave my print on the world:

Wisdom to span the ages,

As the knowledge of sages

Of years past.

Still, more than this all, I long for life

--That gift God-given—

And the chance to live in

His created world.

I cried—and no one heard me

For I was inside of my mother’s womb.

Little did I know it would be my tomb.

I cried.

© 1982 Edward F. Namiotka

Homily for the 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time

(Cycle C - Is. 6: 1-2a, 3-8; 1 Cor. 15: 1-11; Lk. 5: 1-11)

I am a sinner.

I don’t always do what I am supposed to do.

I don’t always have the patience with people that I should have.

I sometimes make people angry—or at least annoy them.

I have not always cooperated with God’s grace to the extent that I should have.

I am not perfect—far from it!  I am not the Messiah.  I am not God.

I am a sinner.

As a matter of fact, when we begin Mass and recite the Confiteor as part of the Penitential Rite, we all acknowledge our sinfulness:  “I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned . . . .”

If we look at today’s readings we can see that we are certainly in good company.

Isaiah in today’s 1^st reading has a vision of God.  He realizes his unworthiness and states that “I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips.” (Is. 6:5).  An angel takes an ember and touches Isaiah’s mouth with it and his sins are purged.  Isaiah then responds with enthusiasm to what happened to him:  “Here I am, send me!” (Is. 6:8)

In the 2^nd reading St. Paul (Saul) writes to the people of Corinth: “I am the least of the apostles, not fit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God.” (1 Cor. 15: 9)  We know from the Acts of the Apostles that Saul, as a zealous Pharisee, was responsible for having Christians arrested (Acts 8:3) and even was present at the death of St. Stephen when he was stoned to death. (Acts 7:58)

In today’s Gospel from St. Luke, St. Peter (Simon Peter) tells the Lord, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” (Lk. 5:8) after the amazing catch of fish that was made.

Jesus doesn’t choose the best, the brightest, the holiest, the perfect, the sinless, to be his followers.  He chooses us with our flaws and imperfections.  He chooses sinners and invites us to become saints.

Realize that Jesus chose his 12 Apostles personally.  Jesus was God.  He could see into the human heart.  He knew what he was getting.  And yet he chose Judas who betrayed Him and Peter who denied Him three times when the going got tough.  Did Jesus make mistakes in His actions and choices?

I think, perhaps, this was meant to teach us a lesson about our free will and about our cooperating with God’s Grace, and should help us to realize that from the very early days of the Church there were scandals that the early Christians had to face.  The Gospels did not white-wash or cover-up the betrayal of Judas or the denial of Peter.  We read about this clearly in the Gospels.

As priests we occasionally hear the horror stories about people who stopped coming to Church because of something that Father said to them in the past, or the way that Sister treated them when they were in Catholic school.  People can hold on to things for a long time.  I am sorry that it has to be this way.  All I can do now is say: I am truly sorry for what happened.  Please realize that we are, unfortunately, imperfect sinners in need of the mercy and forgiveness of God.  We make mistakes.  We sin.

Please don’t take it out, however, on Jesus who suffered and died for us all.  He is sinless.  He is God.  He is the Messiah.

Please don’t blame the entire Catholic Church for the actions of one—or a few.  Sinners and saints have coexisted in the Church from its beginning days.

And realize that in our unworthiness, Jesus still calls us to be His followers, His disciples.  God calls us and chooses us to continue His mission in this day and age, in this time and place.  None of us are worthy.  It didn’t stop Isaiah, St. Paul or St. Peter even after they acknowledged their personal sinfulness.

God’s love, mercy and forgiveness are amazing.

Jesus' call to discipleship continues.

As Jesus told Peter, “Do not be afraid” to answer that call.