A few years
ago, for my new year’s resolution, I attempted to learn how to play the violin.
I grew up playing a little bit of piano and trumpet and sang in the choir in
high school and in seminary; so, I was pretty familiar with reading music, and
figured, how hard could the violin really be? So, I got a hold of a violin, and
realized pretty quickly that if I was going to progress in this instrument, I
was going to need to take some lessons: I didn’t even know if I was holding the
thing correctly.
And I have to
admit, those first few violin lessons, were very humbling. I admitted to my
violin teacher that I was a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed: a grown adult, a
priest, several college degrees, and I could barely get through “Mary Had a
Little Lamb” without the violin sounding like I was torturing some poor animal.
After several
months there was some progression and I decided that I had fulfilled my new
year’s resolution. But, I really have to admit: those first few weeks, were
very humbling, and very uncomfortable. The violin didn’t care about my degrees,
about the time I spent visiting the sick, or teaching in the classroom. And to
sit with this professional violin player was kind of embarrassing. I felt like
a little child.
But, I’m so
glad I risked a little embarrassment, because now I can pick up the violin every
now and then—one of my favorite musical instruments—and enjoy playing it a bit.
You may have
had a similar experience: learning a new skill always involves that initial
moment when you feel a bit like a child. But that’s not a bad thing: children
are often much more courageous than adults. They don’t worry about what people
think of them, they just engage. They’ll try new things because they look fun. They
play without self-regard. They quickly make new friends—they are able to do
things that many adults would be humiliated over doing—but that’s the key to
their joy isn’t it…not fearing humiliation.
Would we
honor Saint Francis of Assisi, if he had allowed his fears of what others
thought of him to control his life? If he worried about being considered
“overly religious”? Or St. Paul, what if he had allowed his fear of leaving his
home country keep him from his missionary journeys. Or Saint Clare? What if she
let social pressures keep her from leaving behind her family wealth to pursue
radical holiness. So many of the great Saints risk humiliation, they risk
failure, they risk mockery, in order to pursue true greatness.
Many of our
young people do not consider entering the religious life or going to the
seminary because of social and even family pressure “What will they think of me
if I joined the monastery.” But, in the Christian life, each one of us
absolutely needs to ask ourselves: do I want to be great in the eyes of the
world, or in the eyes of God?
I pray that
fear—fear of being considered “overly religious”—is not keeping anyone here
from becoming more active in the life of holiness and the life of the parish.
The parish needs your creativity; the Church needs you to take risks for God.
When I first started considering my priestly vocation and I
visited the seminary for the first time as a freshman in college—what deeply
impressed me most of all—was that here were men my age—and I was just 18 years
old at the time—men my age willing to take a risk for God—not for themselves,
but for Christ and His Church. And these were talented, smart, athletic young
men who could go on to be very successful businessmen and find beautiful wives
and have happy families if they wanted. None of them HAD to go to seminary. But
I tell you, for myself, and for many of those men who are now priests, the risk
has paid off. Because it’s not really a risk when the one you are trusting is
God. God is the great “Guaranteer”. It’s guaranteed that what you give to God
will be blessed and multiplied. And I hope that you believe that. That you will
be blessed in this life and in the next, when you entrust your time, talent,
treasure, and life to God for the good of the mission of the Church.
Since 2003, in the United States, the last Sunday of October
has been designated Priesthood Sunday, an opportunity for us to pray for
vocations to the priesthood and to consider the role of the priesthood.
But, where do priestly vocations come from? From family
members pushing their sons to consider seminary? Maybe. Family support is
helpful. But I think on a deeper level vocations come from humble trust—trust, that
when we put God first, we are blessed. It comes from asking personally, “God how
are you calling me, personally to serve the mission of the Church” That’s what
needs to be cultivated in families. Openness to serving in whatever way God
calls you to.
That’s a major reason why I left my pastorate of St.
Ignatius of Antioch to come here. I was happy there. It was challenging, but I
like challenges: a country boy in the inner city surrounded by homelessness,
drug problems, crime, gang violence, prostitution, poverty. But when the Bishop
asked me to come here—and he did ask, he didn’t command—when he asked, I
believe God speaks through the bishop to his priests, to all of us. And amidst
the challenges of these last four months, I’ve had to call that to mind once or
twice—to recall that with the challenges of the two parishes—the needs of the
parishes in 2025, I have to trust God.
Where is God calling you to humbly trust Him—with your time,
energy, ability—in your prayer life, your civic life, your family life, your
leisure time, your involvement in the parish?
“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who
humbles himself will be exalted.” Don’t you want to be exalted by God? Then
follow where he calls. Humbly trust, that what you have to offer IS what the
Father desires to be entrusted back to Him.
May God bless our priests, on this priesthood Sunday. And
may he guide and strengthen all of us in His service, for the glory of God and
the salvation of souls.
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