Homily for May 2, 2004
Year C - Cycle II
4th Sunday of Easter
by Fr. John Carney
Topic:
The Life of a Priest
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Gospel Reading:
John 10:27-30
"Jesus said: 'My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father's hand. The Father and I are one.'"
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You can tell from this Gospel that this is Good Shepherd Sunday; from the Psalm response and from the readings as well. The Fourth Sunday of Easter every year is dedicated to Christ the Good Shepherd. Each year on this Sunday, the Holy Father asks that we pray for vocations. The word “shepherd” is translated as “pastor” in Spanish and in other Latin languages. Our Holy Father has asked today that we pray for vocations to the priesthood and to religious life. Religious life includes religious priests. I’m not a religious priest. There are two kinds of priests; secular, or diocesan, priests (that’s what I am); and religious priests, who belong to an order – Franciscans, Jesuits, etc. They take an additional vow, a vow of poverty. We take the vows of obedience and celibacy. They take poverty, chastity, and obedience. And the Jesuits take a fourth vow, of fidelity to the Pope, which is a little ironic if you know some Jesuits. By the way, when I leave on sabbatical, there will be a Jesuit author here, John Futrell, and I’ll give you more information about Father John at a later time. You will be well cared for in my absence.
So, I want to talk about vocations today. I want to talk specifically about diocesan, or secular, priesthood, because that’s the one I know something about. I’ve never done this before, but what I want to do is kind of tell you what I think, and feel. And tell you about the life of a priest as I see it, and as I live it. There are a lot of misconceptions, indeed some myths, about priesthood. When I was Vocations Director for the Archdiocese for about ten years, we would refuse two out of three applicants, perhaps even three out of four applicants. Some were refused for pretty obvious reasons, but others were pretty well qualified. We wouldn’t accept them because it was clear that they were under some delusions about what priesthood is and who priests are. And I can’t help but think there are many other young men who would be excellent priests who never even asked the question, because they, too, were under some illusions or misconceptions about who priests are and what priests do. What I’d like to do is “de-mythifize” (if that’s a word) some aspects of the priesthood.
The Archbishop oftentimes says, “John, I’ve never once regretted one day as a priest in my 37 years of priesthood.” I’m always amazed by that statement, because I can’t say that. And I always tell him, “Your Excellency, you have been given a very special grace indeed.” I guess married life is pretty perfect, and I’m sure you married folks have never regretted a day…. Let’s just leave that alone. I’m starting some fights here. On the way home, “Honey….” “Yes, dear.” “Did you ever…” “Oh, no!” My experience of life, though, is just not perfect. There are ups and downs. There are good days and bad days. The reality of life is the same for priests as it is for you.
Sometimes priesthood is a very difficult job. Well, it’s not a job – it’s a difficult life at times. Every priest would have his own take on that. I’m not here to commiserate or to complain. But I want to be honest with you. There are some things about being a priest that I find difficult. I was ordained thirteen years ago. A year after I was ordained, the scandal broke, and it hasn’t been a lot of fun. You love the Church – I do too. We love the Church. She is our mother. And you’ve been hurt by the scandals. And so have I. And early on, people would come to me – and I don’t mean victims, they’re a special case, and they deserve our absolute best care – just parishioners would come and they would kind of focus on me. “What are you doing about it?” “What’s this? What’s that?” And I would try to be apologetic and try to placate them. After about eight years of that, I changed. I would say, “What are you complaining about? How do you think I feel? I’m a priest! Look how I dress, everywhere I go. And I didn’t do any of that stuff.” A friend of mine, whose father is a retired New York City cop, told me how difficult it was for her dad in the ‘70’s. Do you remember Serpico? It was a movie. There was a commission in New York City that exposed an incredible degree of corruption among New York City police officers. It really was to the core of the NYPD. At the time there were about 35,000 police in New York. It was a big organization. And she said, “You know, my dad was a good cop. He would tell me oftentimes when I was a kid, ‘It’s hard to put on a uniform and go to work, because I get the looks. People would say, ‘I wonder if this guy’s a crook.’” And I said, “I know how your dad felt.” So, that’s not a lot of fun.
I had a good prospect, I thought, for priesthood, and he said, “Well, I don’t want to join up.…” By the way, in Santa Fe, (now this is a good quote; quote me on this; I can’t back it up statistically, but I could if I put the time into it.) I think, statistically, on a per capita basis, we had more offenders, more wayward priests, than any diocese in the United States. We are worse than Boston, because we’re kind of small. It was difficult here. And the Bishops, the American Conference of Bishops, could have done a lot better. I mean, some priests have pulled their hair out – look what happened to Father Brown! Charlie would agree with me.
Also, about being a priest, being a pastor, you’re the boss. I don’t want to be the boss. My dream is another priest be assigned to this parish, who is senior to me. And he can be the boss. And I can be just a priest. Don’t misunderstand me. We have four active deacons and two retired deacons, and they and their wives do so much for this parish. We have the best deacons in the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, and you know that. That’s because they are married to six wonderful women and they have adult supervision. And we have a great staff. We have dedicated people on our staff. But still, the buck stops on my desk. Sometimes it’s just not a lot of fun. I don’t enjoy that.
Also, I don’t enjoy conflict – I don’t. It’s part of life, right? But I don’t like it. And I hope you don’t either. There aren’t many of us that like conflict. There’s a lot of that stuff. Sometimes conflicts over orthodoxy – what the Church teaches. When I was ordained, I took an oath to teach and preach what the Church teaches and preaches, and I can’t do anything but that, nor do I wish to. And sometimes people who disagree with Church teachings focus on me, and I say, “Look, I’m just the messenger. Don’t shoot me! Write the Pope!” And I support the Church. I love the Church. I believe She teaches the truth. So, some people make it a personal thing, and that’s difficult. And, you won’t believe this, but there are difficult and quarrelsome people. Yes! There are at least two in this town, who are! And whatever the issue du jour is, if you’re not totally with them, they drive you nuts. I don’t like that. You can’t please all of the people all of the time. And the ones you’re not pleasing will let you know about it.
And finally, we could use three full-time priests here. Fr. Kelly is doing a great job across the street. He has 250 families. We have 1,200 families, and we could use quite a few more priests. And I hope someday we will see that happen. I visited my old church in Crushing, New York. And you know, when you’re a kid, you have memories of things being big? It’s a little church! And the pastor is a guy named George. And I went up to him and I said, “Father George, can I concelebrate the Mass with you?” And he said, “Take the Mass! You do it!” Anyway, there may be 500 families in the church, and it was great to visit. But when I was a kid there, there were three full-time priests, and 20 full-time sisters assigned to that church. Now there’s Fr. George, grumpy, cranky Fr. George. But there’s a lot of work. Now, I’m not complaining. When I see a single mom of three, I hear a voice in my head that says, “Shut up, John. Quit complaining.” You have difficult parts of life, too, don’t you? And having a family and taking care of kids is a full-time job, and you do more work than I ever do.
Now, let me tell you the good stuff, because most of being a priest is just great. I love to do the Sacraments, and to preside at the Sacraments. I love to celebrate the Eucharist with you. Last week, we had 58 children receive their First Holy Communion. And to have a ringside seat for that is worth all the aggravation in the world. It was just great to see their faces. I love to celebrate Baptisms. And I always tell the parents, “I hope your child lives to be 100 and always knows God’s love.”
I love to celebrate the Sacrament of Confession. When people go into that confessional with 20 or 30 years of guilt and shame, and they come out free because they have heard the words of forgiveness from God issued through his unworthy priest, to be a part of that healing is a great blessing. I know I know what I’m doing when someone calls me to the hospital; when someone’s dying and the whole family is gathered there. They don’t want a doctor, they want a priest. And they take you in, “Here he is. Come in, Father.” You go into a room filled with fear, and anger, and you give the Sacrament of the Sick, and leave the room ten minutes later and they are at peace. That’s worth a lot of aggravation.
I even like to do marriages. Most priests, rabbis and ministers don’t because of the bride’s mother. But I get along well. I meet with the bride’s mother early on and say, “Look, we’re going to do it your way, or you’re going to drive me crazy, too!” That’s the trick. Whatever she wants, she gets, almost. But to see two people stand here and be unified, to make promises of eternal fidelity, and to be a part of that, is really sacred. To celebrate anniversaries - 60 years. 50 years. To be a part of that family, to be loved, is great. To work with children and to see the hope of tomorrow. And I’ll tell you something, and this is the truth. People love priests. You love your priests. Even non‑Catholics trust priests, even after all that has gone on. I can’t tell you how many times I have been talking to somebody and they’ll say, “What do you do?” I say, “I’m a Priest.” They say, “A Catholic Priest?” And I say, “Yeah, I’m a Catholic Priest.” And they go, “Really? Well, I’m not a Catholic, but listen, I’ve got a question for you.” And they tell you the most intimate details of their lives. Trust, you know? It’s sacred. And of course, it’s not this guy at all. It’s the Christ in me, unworthy as I am. They see through that unworthiness and they embrace their Savior. To be part of that….
I work in the Kitchen of Grace. God’s a sloppy chef, and grace is his ingredient. And it gets all over everyone if you hang around. One of the great things about being a priest is hanging around holy people. What is there, 500 people here? I’m not in the top 50 percentile of holiness. I don’t think so. To be around holy people….especially older people who have suffered so much; some have lost their spouse, sometimes lost children. They have great faith. I remember one lady in Chilili, Mrs. Gutierrez. I’ll never forget all the people in Chilili, because they’re all named Gutierrez. I realized that right away, and they thought I was the smartest priest in the world. “You know, that new priest knows everybody’s name!” But I called Mrs. Gutierrez “Little villita,” little old lady. “You know, you have such wonderful faith! Even though you didn’t have a priest here until twenty-five years ago.” “Oh,” she said, “Father, before the priest came we had better faith!” I didn’t know what that meant.
People love you. On 9/11/01, I was in Connecticut, on that tragic day. And of course, I couldn’t fly back on time. So I rented a car and I drove to St. Louis, and on Saturday, the flights resumed. So I took a flight home and I got back to the church about an hour before the Saturday vigil Mass. There was this little old lady in church. Her name is Pilgrim, and she has bright orange hair (or at least she used to). She is a poet and an artist. And she saw me and started to cry. And I said, “What’s the matter, Pilgrim?” She said, “Thank God you’re home!” I said, “Well, I was safe. I was 90 miles away. I wasn’t in any danger.” She said, “Oh, I know that. But you’re our Father, and a lot of fathers never made it home last week.” And I was speechless. She only can say that because she’s a poet. You know, poets can say stuff the rest of us are unable to. That’s being loved. And priests are loved.
It’s a good life. It’s a free life. Anyone here see 16 major league baseball games last year? You get no temporal worries. I don’t have a family to care for. And you know how much of your energy is consumed in worrying. And there are no temporal worries. We’re adequately compensated. Priests are notorious liars about their salaries. We make about $35,000 a year. There are a lot of people that are raising 6 children on $35,000 a year. So that’s enough money. And you provide us, and certainly in this parish, a very nice home. As a matter of fact, the rectory is open today until 2pm. And I encourage you, especially if you have kids, go over and walk through the rectory. Nose around. We’re just like you. A little messier than you, maybe, but we’re just like you.
So, that’s what I wanted to say. It’s a good life, to be a priest. It’s a meaningful life. It’s a life filled with rewards. Yes, and it’s a life filled with some difficult times, too. Just like your life. I am convinced that if people could understand that, maybe more would be attracted to service of God’s people as a priest.
I want to ask you today, on this day of prayer for vocations, to do three things. First, please pray every day for vocations for priests, brothers, and sisters. The Church needs more full-time ordained and vowed workers. And secondly, pray for me. I pray for you three times a day, according to my promise of the Liturgy of the Hours. And I do that. So, please pray for me. And thirdly, if you know someone you think would be a good priest, or brother, or sister, encourage that person. Ask them if they’ve thought about it. Tell them you think they would be a good priest, or brother or sister. Pray for them. And nag them. You may plant a seed that will later be harvested in a rich and productive vocation.
Finally, I want to read a beautiful poem, written by a French Dominican, Fr. Dominique La Corday. It’s called Thou Art a Priest Forever.
To live in the midst of the world, without wishing its pleasures
To be a member of each family, yet belonging to none
To share all sufferings, to penetrate all secrets, to heal all wounds
To go from men to God and offer God their prayers,
and to return from God to bring pardon and hope
To have a heart of fire for charity, and a heart of bronze for chastity
To teach and to pardon, console and bless always
What a glorious life, and it is yours, oh priest of Jesus Christ.