June 15, 2008, 11th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Exodus 19:2-6 Romans 5:6-11 Matthew 9:36-10:8
To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]
First Reading from Exodus 19:2-6
In those days, the Israelites came to the desert of Sinai and pitched camp. While Israel was encamped here in front of the mountain, Moses went up the mountain to God. Then the Lord called to him and said, “Thus shall you say to the house of Jacob; tell the Israelites: You have seen for yourselves how I treated the Egyptians and how I bore you up on eagle wings and brought you here to myself. Therefore, if you hearken to my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my special possession, dearer to me than all other people, though all the earth is mine. You shall be to me a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.”
Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew 9:36-10:4
Glory to you, Lord.
When Jesus saw the crowds he was moved with compassion for them, for they were harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is, indeed, plentiful, but the reapers are few. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few. So pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out more workers to gather in his harvest.”
Then Jesus summoned His twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits to drive them out and to cure every disease and every illness. The names of the twelve apostles are these: first, Simon called Peter, and his brother Andrew; James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew, Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James, the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddeus; Simon from Cana, and Judas Iscariot who betrayed him.
The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Introduction
Sheep without a shepherd
Twice the New Testament speaks of the crowds as “sheep without a shepherd.” On one occasion a huge crowd thronged about Jesus. It was getting late, and everyone was hungry. Mark writes that Jesus was moved with compassion for the crowds who were “like sheep without a shepherd.” (Mk 6: 34) So Jesus, Good Shepherd, fed the hungry sheep by multiplying five loaves and two fish for them. (Mk 6:30-44)
Today’s gospel characterizes the crowds thronged around Jesus in the same way. “When Jesus saw the crowds, he was moved with compassion, for they were harassed and helpless, and they looked like sheep without a shepherd.” (Mt 9: 36) The Living Bible with its folksy translation reads, “The heart of Jesus felt pity for the crowds that came because their problems were so great, and they didn’t know what to do or where to go for help. They were like sheep without a shepherd.” So Jesus, Good Shepherd, appointed twelve apostles to shepherd them. (Mt 10:1-4)
Our crisis: no shepherds
With what compassion would Jesus look upon us Catholics today who are like sheep without shepherds, and whose parishes are without priests. Some of us remember the days when the church abounded with priestly vocations, and every sizeable parish had at least one or two assistant priests. Matters have dramatically changed since then. Parishes now find it necessary to unite into clusters. In Milwaukee, WI., the parishes of St. Rita, St. Hedwig and Holy Rosary had to unite and form a consortium called the Church of the Three Holy Women. And now some poor pastor, like a circuit judge of early frontier days, has to pony-back from one parish to another to celebrate Sunday Masses. The poor man is going to burn himself out before his time. We, the church, have a crisis on our hands, and no band-aid measure will solve it.
Yearly, I have had the luxury of escaping the rigors of a Wisconsin winter by going south. One year I celebrated an evening Ash Wednesday Mass in a little country parish deep in the heart of Texas. I was taking the place of the pastor. He was a sickly man who, I was told, actually said Sunday Mass sitting on a high chair in front of the altar. And here I, in my 79th year, was stepping in (or limping in) to help the poor man out! We, the church, have a crisis on our hands, and no band-aid measure will solve it.
The next winter before heading south again to Texas, I called the Vicar General of the Houston-Galveston Archdiocese to ask whether I could be of some assistance in a parish down there. I can still hear the surprise and delight in his voice. He exclaimed, “Oh, you’re an answer to our prayers! One of our priests has just now suddenly died and isn’t even buried yet. We do, indeed, need your help.” He was speaking about a beloved, relatively young pastor of a parish in a little blue-collar town near the Gulf of Mexico. Again, I was stepping in (or limping in) at a ripe old age of eighty to help a parish without a shepherd. We, the church, have a crisis on our hands, and no band-aid measure will solve it.
Fixing our crisis
Our priest-shortage crisis is almost forty years old. Crises should not be left to die of old age; they should be fixed. Importing an 80 year old priest is no way to fix such a systemic problem. It is neither innovative nor is it courageous. At best it is a band-aid. Importing priests from other countries (who do not speak English well and whose homilies the faithful cannot understand) again is no way to fix such a systemic problem. That, too, is neither innovative nor courageous. At best it is a fast-fix.
Sometime ago US bishops met and voted to fix the wording of many of the prayers we have been using at Mass for more than thirty-five years. The Vatican, it was said, wanted those prayers brought into greater conformity with the original Latin! That would comfort only the Latin scholars among the faithful! For example, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you” in the prayer before Communion will now be fixed to say, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.” Another momentous fix is the familiar exchange of greetings between priest and congregation: “The Lord be with you. And also with you” will now be fixed to say, “The Lord be with you. And with your spirit.”
With much vitriol one commentator wrote, “Shame on you shepherds for expending so much time, energy and travel-expense on a meeting to “fix” something that is not broken, while a system of pastoral care providing shepherds for the sheep is allowed to fall into ruins. Shame on you shepherds for not mustering up enough courage to insist upon fixing what is really broken: your sheep are without shepherds, and your parishes are without priests. The only courage it takes to fix what is not broken is the courage to withstand the scorn or ridicule of people who will laugh at you!”
Fixing our crises
In his homily on the day of his inauguration Pope Benedict said, “My real program of governance is not to do my own will, not to pursue my own ideas, but to listen together with the whole Church.” Fr. Francis Gonsalves, a Jesuit in India, in an open letter to the new pope published in the NCR, rejoiced in his promise to listen to the church. Gonsalves exclaimed, “Bravo, Pope Benedict! Many Indians who religiously listen to God’s voice in nature and in other faiths and in their neighbors complain that the Roman Catholic Church only speaks but never listens.”
Richard Gailardetz, a husband, a father and a theology professor at the University of St. Thomas in Houston expressed similar hopes and aspirations for the new pope. He asked Benedict to invite the church to “a holy conversation” about all the great issues that quietly (or not so quietly) exercise the church -- issues like divorce, birth control, homosexuality, celibacy and the ordination of women. A holy conversation, he said, is one in which all are allowed to speak and be listened to. A holy conversation, he said, is one which “resists the temptation to control or direct the discussion toward predetermined conclusions.”
In the priest-shortage crisis, “a holy conversation” is abruptly ended (even before it gets started) by having recourse to some nebulous expression about “a long unbroken sacred tradition” of ordaining only celibates or only men. We remind ourselves that we have had “a long unbroken sacred tradition” of slavery in this country, and we are grateful that that has been broken. We remind ourselves also that we have had “a long unbroken sacred tradition” of men only in the US Congress, and we are grateful today that that, too, has been broken. And at this very moment when the nation prepares to elect a new president, we remind ourselves that we have had “a long unbroken tradition” of men only as president, and we are now grateful that that glass-ceiling has been recently shattered by sixteen million people who backed a female candidate’s bid for the White House, even though she did not succeed.
Jesus and our crisis
Alluding to our priest-shortage crisis and our band-aid methods of fixing it, Fr. Hans Küng, a Swiss German Catholic theologian, writes in his little volume, Why I Am Still a Christian, “I cannot believe that he who said, `I have compassion on the crowds [who were like sheep without a shepherd],’ would have increasingly deprived congregations of their pastors and allowed a system of pastoral care [which provided sufficient pastors for the faithful] built up over a period of a thousand years to collapse.“ In the same volume, Küng writes, “I cannot believe that he who was constantly accompanied by women (who provided for his keep), and whose apostles, except for Paul, were all married and remained so, would today have forbidden marriage to all ordained men, and ordination to all women.”
Presbyterians and our crisis
When Margaret Butter, a pioneer CEO, philanthropist and patron of the arts (especially of the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra) died, her daughter-in-law, the Rev. Sarah Sarchet Butter, (an ordained Presbyterian minister) and I officiated at Margaret’s funeral. It took place in a cemetery chapel. Rev. Sarah did the first reading from the Book of Proverbs, chapter 31, which sings the praises of a woman who is a good mother, wife, and manager of her household. Rev. Sarah read with great clarity and feeling. At the final commendation she invited the crowd in the cemetery to draw near to the casket kissed by a setting sun on a day filled with the fine feel of fall. She pulled everyone into a heartfelt final good-bye. As I observed her attentively (and as I observed everyone else observing her attentively), I found myself saying, “See how innovative and courageous these Presbyterians are! See how they have solved their problem of sheep without shepherds! See how they have resisted the temptation to have recourse to “a long unbroken tradition.”
The blessings of our crisis
These are good days for us. Our shortage of priests is a blessing. It challenges us, the priestly community, to ask a bare-boned and pared-down question which we otherwise would not ask. When we, the priestly community, go in search for a priestly head to lead and feed us, what, at the end of the day, should we be looking for? For an administrator to get things done? For a legalist to do things the right way? For a celibate to extol non-sex over sex? For a male to remind us that this is a man’s world?
None of the above! When we, the priestly community look for a priestly head, we should look for one who is good at Word and Sacrament. We should look for one who at the Liturgy of the Word will feed us hungry sheep with words filled with meaning for our meaningless lives. We should look for one who at the Liturgy of the Eucharist will lift the Bread on high to remind us that there is more to life than meets the eye. We should look for one who at the dismissal of Mass will have us exclaiming like Peter on Mt. Tabor, “Oh how good it is for us to be here! Let’s stay up here forever!” (Lk 9:33) That’s what we should look for, and for that we do not need a good administrator, legalist, celibate or male. For that we need a good human being! And of good human beings there is no shortage out there! Our shortage is man made!
Conclusion
Lord of the Harvest, inspire your church
Today’s gospel enjoins us “to pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out more workers to gather in his harvest.” In our crisis we always keep praying that the Lord of the harvest will inspire more young men. Perhaps in our crisis we should be praying also that the Lord of the harvest will inspire the church.
Oh Lord of the harvest, inspire your church to hear your voice in the present crisis. Oh Lord of the harvest, inspire your church with courage to do what she hears your voice is saying. Oh Lord of the harvest, console your church with the thought that if she listens to your voice in the present crisis and musters up the courage to do what she must do, everyone will win. Healthy young men, who want to minister but also want to marry, will win. Women, too, who can do just as good a job (and also just as bad a job) as men do, will also win. The people will win; they will get back their own churches and patron saints, and they will have pastors aplenty to shepherd them. And even eighty year old priests will win; they will be able to retire before they are ninety!
[1]] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!
[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24
Exodus 19:2-6 Romans 5:6-11 Matthew 9:36-10:8
To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]
First Reading from Exodus 19:2-6
In those days, the Israelites came to the desert of Sinai and pitched camp. While Israel was encamped here in front of the mountain, Moses went up the mountain to God. Then the Lord called to him and said, “Thus shall you say to the house of Jacob; tell the Israelites: You have seen for yourselves how I treated the Egyptians and how I bore you up on eagle wings and brought you here to myself. Therefore, if you hearken to my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my special possession, dearer to me than all other people, though all the earth is mine. You shall be to me a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.”
Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew 9:36-10:4
Glory to you, Lord.
When Jesus saw the crowds he was moved with compassion for them, for they were harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is, indeed, plentiful, but the reapers are few. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few. So pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out more workers to gather in his harvest.”
Then Jesus summoned His twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits to drive them out and to cure every disease and every illness. The names of the twelve apostles are these: first, Simon called Peter, and his brother Andrew; James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew, Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James, the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddeus; Simon from Cana, and Judas Iscariot who betrayed him.
The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Introduction
Sheep without a shepherd
Twice the New Testament speaks of the crowds as “sheep without a shepherd.” On one occasion a huge crowd thronged about Jesus. It was getting late, and everyone was hungry. Mark writes that Jesus was moved with compassion for the crowds who were “like sheep without a shepherd.” (Mk 6: 34) So Jesus, Good Shepherd, fed the hungry sheep by multiplying five loaves and two fish for them. (Mk 6:30-44)
Today’s gospel characterizes the crowds thronged around Jesus in the same way. “When Jesus saw the crowds, he was moved with compassion, for they were harassed and helpless, and they looked like sheep without a shepherd.” (Mt 9: 36) The Living Bible with its folksy translation reads, “The heart of Jesus felt pity for the crowds that came because their problems were so great, and they didn’t know what to do or where to go for help. They were like sheep without a shepherd.” So Jesus, Good Shepherd, appointed twelve apostles to shepherd them. (Mt 10:1-4)
Our crisis: no shepherds
With what compassion would Jesus look upon us Catholics today who are like sheep without shepherds, and whose parishes are without priests. Some of us remember the days when the church abounded with priestly vocations, and every sizeable parish had at least one or two assistant priests. Matters have dramatically changed since then. Parishes now find it necessary to unite into clusters. In Milwaukee, WI., the parishes of St. Rita, St. Hedwig and Holy Rosary had to unite and form a consortium called the Church of the Three Holy Women. And now some poor pastor, like a circuit judge of early frontier days, has to pony-back from one parish to another to celebrate Sunday Masses. The poor man is going to burn himself out before his time. We, the church, have a crisis on our hands, and no band-aid measure will solve it.
Yearly, I have had the luxury of escaping the rigors of a Wisconsin winter by going south. One year I celebrated an evening Ash Wednesday Mass in a little country parish deep in the heart of Texas. I was taking the place of the pastor. He was a sickly man who, I was told, actually said Sunday Mass sitting on a high chair in front of the altar. And here I, in my 79th year, was stepping in (or limping in) to help the poor man out! We, the church, have a crisis on our hands, and no band-aid measure will solve it.
The next winter before heading south again to Texas, I called the Vicar General of the Houston-Galveston Archdiocese to ask whether I could be of some assistance in a parish down there. I can still hear the surprise and delight in his voice. He exclaimed, “Oh, you’re an answer to our prayers! One of our priests has just now suddenly died and isn’t even buried yet. We do, indeed, need your help.” He was speaking about a beloved, relatively young pastor of a parish in a little blue-collar town near the Gulf of Mexico. Again, I was stepping in (or limping in) at a ripe old age of eighty to help a parish without a shepherd. We, the church, have a crisis on our hands, and no band-aid measure will solve it.
Fixing our crisis
Our priest-shortage crisis is almost forty years old. Crises should not be left to die of old age; they should be fixed. Importing an 80 year old priest is no way to fix such a systemic problem. It is neither innovative nor is it courageous. At best it is a band-aid. Importing priests from other countries (who do not speak English well and whose homilies the faithful cannot understand) again is no way to fix such a systemic problem. That, too, is neither innovative nor courageous. At best it is a fast-fix.
Sometime ago US bishops met and voted to fix the wording of many of the prayers we have been using at Mass for more than thirty-five years. The Vatican, it was said, wanted those prayers brought into greater conformity with the original Latin! That would comfort only the Latin scholars among the faithful! For example, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you” in the prayer before Communion will now be fixed to say, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.” Another momentous fix is the familiar exchange of greetings between priest and congregation: “The Lord be with you. And also with you” will now be fixed to say, “The Lord be with you. And with your spirit.”
With much vitriol one commentator wrote, “Shame on you shepherds for expending so much time, energy and travel-expense on a meeting to “fix” something that is not broken, while a system of pastoral care providing shepherds for the sheep is allowed to fall into ruins. Shame on you shepherds for not mustering up enough courage to insist upon fixing what is really broken: your sheep are without shepherds, and your parishes are without priests. The only courage it takes to fix what is not broken is the courage to withstand the scorn or ridicule of people who will laugh at you!”
Fixing our crises
In his homily on the day of his inauguration Pope Benedict said, “My real program of governance is not to do my own will, not to pursue my own ideas, but to listen together with the whole Church.” Fr. Francis Gonsalves, a Jesuit in India, in an open letter to the new pope published in the NCR, rejoiced in his promise to listen to the church. Gonsalves exclaimed, “Bravo, Pope Benedict! Many Indians who religiously listen to God’s voice in nature and in other faiths and in their neighbors complain that the Roman Catholic Church only speaks but never listens.”
Richard Gailardetz, a husband, a father and a theology professor at the University of St. Thomas in Houston expressed similar hopes and aspirations for the new pope. He asked Benedict to invite the church to “a holy conversation” about all the great issues that quietly (or not so quietly) exercise the church -- issues like divorce, birth control, homosexuality, celibacy and the ordination of women. A holy conversation, he said, is one in which all are allowed to speak and be listened to. A holy conversation, he said, is one which “resists the temptation to control or direct the discussion toward predetermined conclusions.”
In the priest-shortage crisis, “a holy conversation” is abruptly ended (even before it gets started) by having recourse to some nebulous expression about “a long unbroken sacred tradition” of ordaining only celibates or only men. We remind ourselves that we have had “a long unbroken sacred tradition” of slavery in this country, and we are grateful that that has been broken. We remind ourselves also that we have had “a long unbroken sacred tradition” of men only in the US Congress, and we are grateful today that that, too, has been broken. And at this very moment when the nation prepares to elect a new president, we remind ourselves that we have had “a long unbroken tradition” of men only as president, and we are now grateful that that glass-ceiling has been recently shattered by sixteen million people who backed a female candidate’s bid for the White House, even though she did not succeed.
Jesus and our crisis
Alluding to our priest-shortage crisis and our band-aid methods of fixing it, Fr. Hans Küng, a Swiss German Catholic theologian, writes in his little volume, Why I Am Still a Christian, “I cannot believe that he who said, `I have compassion on the crowds [who were like sheep without a shepherd],’ would have increasingly deprived congregations of their pastors and allowed a system of pastoral care [which provided sufficient pastors for the faithful] built up over a period of a thousand years to collapse.“ In the same volume, Küng writes, “I cannot believe that he who was constantly accompanied by women (who provided for his keep), and whose apostles, except for Paul, were all married and remained so, would today have forbidden marriage to all ordained men, and ordination to all women.”
Presbyterians and our crisis
When Margaret Butter, a pioneer CEO, philanthropist and patron of the arts (especially of the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra) died, her daughter-in-law, the Rev. Sarah Sarchet Butter, (an ordained Presbyterian minister) and I officiated at Margaret’s funeral. It took place in a cemetery chapel. Rev. Sarah did the first reading from the Book of Proverbs, chapter 31, which sings the praises of a woman who is a good mother, wife, and manager of her household. Rev. Sarah read with great clarity and feeling. At the final commendation she invited the crowd in the cemetery to draw near to the casket kissed by a setting sun on a day filled with the fine feel of fall. She pulled everyone into a heartfelt final good-bye. As I observed her attentively (and as I observed everyone else observing her attentively), I found myself saying, “See how innovative and courageous these Presbyterians are! See how they have solved their problem of sheep without shepherds! See how they have resisted the temptation to have recourse to “a long unbroken tradition.”
The blessings of our crisis
These are good days for us. Our shortage of priests is a blessing. It challenges us, the priestly community, to ask a bare-boned and pared-down question which we otherwise would not ask. When we, the priestly community, go in search for a priestly head to lead and feed us, what, at the end of the day, should we be looking for? For an administrator to get things done? For a legalist to do things the right way? For a celibate to extol non-sex over sex? For a male to remind us that this is a man’s world?
None of the above! When we, the priestly community look for a priestly head, we should look for one who is good at Word and Sacrament. We should look for one who at the Liturgy of the Word will feed us hungry sheep with words filled with meaning for our meaningless lives. We should look for one who at the Liturgy of the Eucharist will lift the Bread on high to remind us that there is more to life than meets the eye. We should look for one who at the dismissal of Mass will have us exclaiming like Peter on Mt. Tabor, “Oh how good it is for us to be here! Let’s stay up here forever!” (Lk 9:33) That’s what we should look for, and for that we do not need a good administrator, legalist, celibate or male. For that we need a good human being! And of good human beings there is no shortage out there! Our shortage is man made!
Conclusion
Lord of the Harvest, inspire your church
Today’s gospel enjoins us “to pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out more workers to gather in his harvest.” In our crisis we always keep praying that the Lord of the harvest will inspire more young men. Perhaps in our crisis we should be praying also that the Lord of the harvest will inspire the church.
Oh Lord of the harvest, inspire your church to hear your voice in the present crisis. Oh Lord of the harvest, inspire your church with courage to do what she hears your voice is saying. Oh Lord of the harvest, console your church with the thought that if she listens to your voice in the present crisis and musters up the courage to do what she must do, everyone will win. Healthy young men, who want to minister but also want to marry, will win. Women, too, who can do just as good a job (and also just as bad a job) as men do, will also win. The people will win; they will get back their own churches and patron saints, and they will have pastors aplenty to shepherd them. And even eighty year old priests will win; they will be able to retire before they are ninety!
[1]] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!
[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24
