Life Without a ShepherdJuly 19, 2009, Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Jeremiah 23:1-6 Ephesians 2:13-18 Mark 6:30-34
To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]
First Reading from Jeremiah 23:1-6
Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture, says the LORD. Therefore, thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, against the shepherds who shepherd my people: You have scattered my sheep and driven them away. You have not cared for them, but I will take care to punish your evil deeds. I myself will gather the remnant of my flock from all the lands to which I have driven them and bring them back to their meadow; there they shall increase and multiply. I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble; and none shall be missing, says the LORD.
Behold, the days are coming, says the LORD, when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David; as king he shall reign and govern wisely, he shall do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah shall be saved, Israel shall dwell in security. This is the name they give him: "The LORD our justice."
Behold, the days are coming, says the LORD, when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David; as king he shall reign and govern wisely, he shall do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah shall be saved, Israel shall dwell in security. This is the name they give him: "The LORD our justice."
The word of the Lord
Thanks be to God
Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Mark 6:30-34
Glory to you, Lord.
The apostles now returned to Jesus from their tour and reported all they had done and told the people. Then Jesus suggested, ”Let’s get away from the crowds for a while and rest.” For people were coming and going in great numbers, and they hardly had any time to eat something. So they went off in a boat by themselves to a deserted place. But many saw them leaving and ran on ahead along the shore and met them as they landed. When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowds, his heart was moved with compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and He began to teach them many things.
The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
----------------
Introduction
Sheep without shepherds in Jesus’ day
Introduction
Sheep without shepherds in Jesus’ day
Twice, once in the gospel of Mark and once in the gospel of Matthew, the New Testament typifies the crowds as “sheep without a shepherd.” Mark’s gospel today relates that when Jesus and his disciples tried to go by boat to a secluded place, the crowds caught up to them. And when Jesus saw them waiting for Him, “He was filled with compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.” (Mk 6: 34)
Matthew’s gospel relates that Jesus visited towns and villages, preaching and healing people suffering from all kinds of maladies, and as He looked out upon the crowds, “His heart was filled with compassion, because they looked weary and helpless like sheep without a shepherd.” Then Jesus tells the disciples, “There’s a large harvest out there to be gathered in, but the workers are few. So beg the one in charge of the harvesting to recruit more workers to harvest his fields.” (Mt 9: 36-38)
Sheep without shepherds today
Some of us senior sheep remember the days when the church abounded with shepherds; every sizeable parish had a pastor with at least one or two assistant priests. That has changed dramatically in our lifetime. Because of the priest-shortage parishes have had to unite into clusters. In Milwaukee St. Rita, St. Hedwig and Holy Rosary had to unite and form a consortium with a strange name like “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 click off one Sunday Mass after another. 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 fix it. With what compassion would Jesus look upon us Catholics today who are like sheep without shepherds.
One winter I was helping out in a little country parish deep in the heart of Texas where I was escaping the blasts of a Wisconsin winter. I was taking the place of a sickly pastor who, I was told, actually said Sunday Mass sitting on a high chair in front of the altar. And here I, almost an octogenarian, was stepping in (or limping in) to help the poor man out! The next winter before heading south again, 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 and relatively young pastor of a parish in a little blue-collar town. Again, I, octogenarian, was limping in to help a flock of sheep without a shepherd. We, the church, have a crisis on our hands, and no band-aid measure will fix it. With what compassion would Jesus look upon us Catholics today who are like sheep without shepherds.
One winter I was helping out in a little country parish deep in the heart of Texas where I was escaping the blasts of a Wisconsin winter. I was taking the place of a sickly pastor who, I was told, actually said Sunday Mass sitting on a high chair in front of the altar. And here I, almost an octogenarian, was stepping in (or limping in) to help the poor man out! The next winter before heading south again, 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 and relatively young pastor of a parish in a little blue-collar town. Again, I, octogenarian, was limping in to help a flock of sheep without a shepherd. We, the church, have a crisis on our hands, and no band-aid measure will fix it. With what compassion would Jesus look upon us Catholics today who are like sheep without shepherds.
Fr. Hans Küng fixing our priest-shortage
Our priest-shortage crisis is a good forty-five years old. Crises should not be left to die of old age; they should be fixed. Importing an octogenarian is only a band-aid; it doesn’t fix the problem. Importing priests from other countries (whose homilies the faithful can’t understand because of their broken English, and whose cultures ring differently from ours) again is a band-aid; it doesn’t fix the problem.
Fr. Hans Küng, a Swiss German Catholic theologian, aims at something better than band-aids to fix our priest-shortage crisis. In his little volume, Why I Am Still a Christian, he writes, “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 shepherds 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.”
Fr. Hans Küng, a Swiss German Catholic theologian, aims at something better than band-aids to fix our priest-shortage crisis. In his little volume, Why I Am Still a Christian, he writes, “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 shepherds 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.”
Archbishop Rembert Weakland fixing our priest-shortage
Former Archbishop of Milwaukee, Rembert Weakland, OSB, (a figure of both infamous and beloved memory) also aims at something better than band-aids to fix our priest-shortage crisis. In his recently published book A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church, Weakland relates that he sent a pastoral letter to the people of his archdiocese, saying that, “If it became evident that no resident priest would be available for a parish, and that there was no prospect of getting one in the near future, I would be willing to help the community surface a qualified candidate for ordain priesthood – even if a married man - and without raising false expectations or unfounded hope for him or the community, present such a candidate to the Pastor [Shepherd]of the Universal Church [the Pope] for light and guidance.” (P. 340 in A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church) Weakland was heeding Jesus’ injunction to the disciples that when the sheep are without a shepherd they should “beg the lord of the harvest [the Pope]to recruit more workers to harvest his fields.” (Mt 9:38)
Rome’s response to Weakland was unambiguous. When the archbishop went to Rome in 1993 for his obligatory ad limina[3] visit to the Pope a letter was hand-delivered to him from Cardinal Bernadine Gantin, prefect of the Congregation for Bishops. The letter made it clear to Weakland that “Among the requirements of Catholic unity there is the need [for you Rembert Weakland] to accept the tradition of the Church. According to ecclesial practice, reinforced by a Synod of Bishops, it is not [italics our] possible to present married men for ordination to the priesthood.”
The letter also made it clear to Weakland that concerning, “The question of the ordination of women, your position is perceived to be in opposition to the teaching of the Church. Moreover, the charge of ‘intransigency’ – a word used by your Excellency – on the part of the Church in this matter, can seriously damage Church authority and Church government.” And so this “wayward son” from Milwaukee was dismissed with dispatch.
Rome’s response to Weakland was unambiguous. When the archbishop went to Rome in 1993 for his obligatory ad limina[3] visit to the Pope a letter was hand-delivered to him from Cardinal Bernadine Gantin, prefect of the Congregation for Bishops. The letter made it clear to Weakland that “Among the requirements of Catholic unity there is the need [for you Rembert Weakland] to accept the tradition of the Church. According to ecclesial practice, reinforced by a Synod of Bishops, it is not [italics our] possible to present married men for ordination to the priesthood.”
The letter also made it clear to Weakland that concerning, “The question of the ordination of women, your position is perceived to be in opposition to the teaching of the Church. Moreover, the charge of ‘intransigency’ – a word used by your Excellency – on the part of the Church in this matter, can seriously damage Church authority and Church government.” And so this “wayward son” from Milwaukee was dismissed with dispatch.
As a closing shot to the whole affair, the Archbishop writes,
When historians, decades from now, talk about the lack of vocations to the priesthood in the Catholic Church at the end of the twentieth and beginning of the twenty-first century, or when they try to analyze the reasons for the falling off of active church participation, I hope they do not forget to include as a contributing factor this silent group that left the Church – or at least stood by the sidelines – not because of the sexual abuse by 4 percent of its priests, but because of closing the discussion on the inclusion of women at all levels. From generation to generation, women have always been the most significant bearers of the Church’s life and tradition; to lose them was
tantamount to losing the future.
Presbyterians fixing their minister-shortage
Margaret Butter was a pioneer CEO, philanthropist and patron of the arts, especially of the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra. When she died, her daughter-in-law, the Rev. Sarah Sarchet Butter (an ordained Presbyterian minister) and I (a Catholic priest) 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 wonderful expression 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 and a very attentive crowd, I found myself quietly exclaiming, “See how innovative and courageous these Presbyterians are! See how they resist the temptation to have recourse to “a long unbroken tradition” of ordaining only men! See how they solve their crisis of sheep without shepherds!
A holy conversation about the priest shortage
Before Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger became Pope Benedict XVI, Richard Gailardetz, a husband, father and theology professor at the University of St. Thomas in Houston, expressed the hope that the new pope would invite the church to “a holy conversation” about all the great issues that exercise the church, like divorce and remarriage, birth control, homosexuality, clerical celibacy, the priest-shortage crisis and the ordination of women. A holy conversation, he said, is one in which all are allowed to speak and all are allowed to be heard. A holy conversation, he said, is one which “resists the temptation to control or direct the discussion toward predetermined conclusions.”
In the present priest-shortage crisis, a holy conversation is abruptly ended (even before it gets started) by having recourse to nebulous expressions like “the sacred tradition of the Church” or “the ecclesial practice reinforced by a Synod of Bishops” of ordaining only celibates or only men. We Americans remind ourselves that we had a long “sacred tradition” of slavery in this country, and we are now, indeed, grateful that we’ve broken it.
Conclusion
Everyone wins in a holy conversation
An injunction to the church to hold a holy conversation is an injunction to all of us. Husbands and wives, parents and children, brothers and sisters hold a holy conversation with each other. Allow each other to speak, and allow yourself to hear what the other is really saying. In a holy conversation everyone wins.
In a holy conversation about our priest-shortage crisis, healthy young men, who want to minister but who also want to marry, will win. Women, too, who can do just as good a job of ministering to God’s people as men can (and also just as bad a job) will also win. The faithful, too, will win; they will get back their own individual parishes with their own individual patron saints, and they all will have pastors aplenty to shepherd them. And even octogenarians will win; they’ll be able to retire to green pastures before they’re 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
[3] Limen is a Latin word meaning `threshold’ Every five years the bishops of the world must go to Rome, to the threshold of St. Peter’s, and have a conference with the pope.
In a holy conversation about our priest-shortage crisis, healthy young men, who want to minister but who also want to marry, will win. Women, too, who can do just as good a job of ministering to God’s people as men can (and also just as bad a job) will also win. The faithful, too, will win; they will get back their own individual parishes with their own individual patron saints, and they all will have pastors aplenty to shepherd them. And even octogenarians will win; they’ll be able to retire to green pastures before they’re 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
[3] Limen is a Latin word meaning `threshold’ Every five years the bishops of the world must go to Rome, to the threshold of St. Peter’s, and have a conference with the pope.
