Matthew 9:36—10:8
One sympathizes with Jesus in our Gospel today, looking out upon the crowds of the world and seeing them troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd. All it takes is a glance at the morning or evening news to realize that our world still needs Christ and his appointed shepherds, perhaps now more than ever. And yet, like Christ’s, our gaze is also filled with hope. For instance, look at all the good that also happens in the world and the numbers of people sincerely hunting for the truth and life’s meaning in the digital age. The number of folks becoming Catholic in many places seem to be on the rise. The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few. But take heart: the harvest is abundant.
So, what are we to do?
We Christians have two jobs: Pray that the master send out laborers for the harvest and then shoulder the privilege and responsibility of being chosen as a laborer. We pray that folks hear the call, and then we accept the call ourselves.
Our fair diocese already does the first step relatively well: We pray for and encourage vocations to the priesthood and religious life and holy, happy, healthy marriages. Thus, we have a healthy roster of seminarians and a decent ordination class year after year, among other blessings.
However, there is always room for improvement and need to grow. Suppose God called one man in a hundred to be a priest. It’s very possible he does. Our diocese would then have around 2,500 priests and religious, given the average number of baptized Catholic males in our census. One priest in a thousand gets us around 250, closer to what we have currently. But then you figure: all this means that some men aren’t hearing the call somehow and missing out on the vocational blessing of a lifetime. The same goes for women religious.
Today’s Gospel is a clarion call to renew our zeal in praying for solid vocations. Are you willing to pray for them daily? Also, for those who have not yet discerned their vocation and are reading this: Why not you?
The second step is to accept the call ourselves. We are all priests by our baptism, and therefore we are all called to be laborers in the harvest. How will our neighbors and friends hear the good news if we are not willing to tell them? We must literally tell them, using explicit words and deeds. We are Christ’s hands and feet. Our faith truly is the good news for which people hunger. We have the cure for what ails the world. But do we believe that’s the case and are we willing to do something real about it?
At this point, doubts usually start to creep in. It can seem like we’re not worthy, or that it’s arrogant to claim that the Catholic Church really has something uniquely true to share, or that the world is so pagan we’ll never make a dent.
Addressing the first objection: none of us is worthy. Let’s get that out of the way. We are entirely dependent on God’s gifts and graces and call, just as the first apostles were. Thank God. That is also precisely the reason the church succeeds despite being constantly crucified in every age — God keeps us afloat and works through us.
But what about the charge of arrogance? Who are we Catholics to claim a monopoly on the truth? Here we can say something different. It’s not that we claimed the truth, but that the truth claimed us. We can do no more than recognize it and share it. Otherwise, we’d be liars. Our faith is hope because it’s not bragging. It’s just one beggar telling another where he found bread.
But the world seems against us. We’re surrounded by pagans and non-Christians. Good. One thinks of good old Chesty Puller, when told in the Korean War that he and his Marines were surrounded by the enemy: “Good. There’s no chance they can escape us now.” Our friends and neighbors aren’t Catholic … yet. And let’s not forget what G.K. Chesterton observed: when the world mopes that everyone has become pagan again, remember that the last thing the old pagans did was become Catholic.
I’ll close with this: some readers likely remember the famous comedy magic act “Penn and Teller.” Penn Jillette (the big guy) is an avowed atheist. He was once asked in an interview if he minded when people tried to tell him about Jesus. His answer floored the interviewer. He said: “I’ve always said that I don’t respect people who don’t proselytize … If you believe that there’s a heaven and a hell, and people could be going to hell or not getting eternal life … how much do you have to hate somebody to believe everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?”
He makes a good point. The harvest is abundant and the laborers are few. Now what are you and I going to do about it?
Fr. Miserendino is chaplain at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg.
Why not you?
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Matthew 9:36—10:8
One sympathizes with Jesus in our Gospel today, looking out upon the crowds of the world and seeing them troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd. All it takes is a glance at the morning or evening news to realize that our world still needs Christ and his appointed shepherds, perhaps now more than ever. And yet, like Christ’s, our gaze is also filled with hope. For instance, look at all the good that also happens in the world and the numbers of people sincerely hunting for the truth and life’s meaning in the digital age. The number of folks becoming Catholic in many places seem to be on the rise. The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few. But take heart: the harvest is abundant.
So, what are we to do?
We Christians have two jobs: Pray that the master send out laborers for the harvest and then shoulder the privilege and responsibility of being chosen as a laborer. We pray that folks hear the call, and then we accept the call ourselves.
Our fair diocese already does the first step relatively well: We pray for and encourage vocations to the priesthood and religious life and holy, happy, healthy marriages. Thus, we have a healthy roster of seminarians and a decent ordination class year after year, among other blessings.
However, there is always room for improvement and need to grow. Suppose God called one man in a hundred to be a priest. It’s very possible he does. Our diocese would then have around 2,500 priests and religious, given the average number of baptized Catholic males in our census. One priest in a thousand gets us around 250, closer to what we have currently. But then you figure: all this means that some men aren’t hearing the call somehow and missing out on the vocational blessing of a lifetime. The same goes for women religious.
Today’s Gospel is a clarion call to renew our zeal in praying for solid vocations. Are you willing to pray for them daily? Also, for those who have not yet discerned their vocation and are reading this: Why not you?
The second step is to accept the call ourselves. We are all priests by our baptism, and therefore we are all called to be laborers in the harvest. How will our neighbors and friends hear the good news if we are not willing to tell them? We must literally tell them, using explicit words and deeds. We are Christ’s hands and feet. Our faith truly is the good news for which people hunger. We have the cure for what ails the world. But do we believe that’s the case and are we willing to do something real about it?
At this point, doubts usually start to creep in. It can seem like we’re not worthy, or that it’s arrogant to claim that the Catholic Church really has something uniquely true to share, or that the world is so pagan we’ll never make a dent.
Addressing the first objection: none of us is worthy. Let’s get that out of the way. We are entirely dependent on God’s gifts and graces and call, just as the first apostles were. Thank God. That is also precisely the reason the church succeeds despite being constantly crucified in every age — God keeps us afloat and works through us.
But what about the charge of arrogance? Who are we Catholics to claim a monopoly on the truth? Here we can say something different. It’s not that we claimed the truth, but that the truth claimed us. We can do no more than recognize it and share it. Otherwise, we’d be liars. Our faith is hope because it’s not bragging. It’s just one beggar telling another where he found bread.
But the world seems against us. We’re surrounded by pagans and non-Christians. Good. One thinks of good old Chesty Puller, when told in the Korean War that he and his Marines were surrounded by the enemy: “Good. There’s no chance they can escape us now.” Our friends and neighbors aren’t Catholic … yet. And let’s not forget what G.K. Chesterton observed: when the world mopes that everyone has become pagan again, remember that the last thing the old pagans did was become Catholic.
I’ll close with this: some readers likely remember the famous comedy magic act “Penn and Teller.” Penn Jillette (the big guy) is an avowed atheist. He was once asked in an interview if he minded when people tried to tell him about Jesus. His answer floored the interviewer. He said: “I’ve always said that I don’t respect people who don’t proselytize … If you believe that there’s a heaven and a hell, and people could be going to hell or not getting eternal life … how much do you have to hate somebody to believe everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?”
He makes a good point. The harvest is abundant and the laborers are few. Now what are you and I going to do about it?
Fr. Miserendino is chaplain at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg.
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