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It all begins with a call

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Vocations THE NOTION OF “CALL” is not peripheral to scripture but fundamental to the Bible’s understanding of human existence before God. Who can forget in the opening chapters of Mark and Matthew’s gospels those encounters by the Sea of Galilee? Fishermen Simon and Andrew casting their nets in the sea; James, son of Zebedee, and John his brother, sitting in their boat mending their nets—they have no inkling of what is about to happen to them, something that will change their lives forever. Jesus, walking by the sea, calls to them, “Come, follow me and I will make you fish for people” (Mark 1:16-20). They drop their nets and leave their father and his workers behind in the boat where they’d been sitting. The Bible offers many other stories, like the story of Peter’s call renewed, which appears at the end of John’s gospel. It is perhaps the most exquisite story of all the New Testament. Deflated disciples fish listlessly. On the shore of the Sea of Galilee, a figure appears with a charcoal fire burning—it is someone unknown but hauntingly familiar. He issues directions on where to fish and the fishermen haul in an abundant catch, which prompts a heart-pounding recognition. Peter, knowing who awaits him, plunges into the sea and swims ashore. Sharing a breakfast of bread and fish by the sea, the strain of joy and shame is about to burst within Peter. And then comes the moment of reconciliation: “Simon Peter, do you love me more than these?” Peter undergoes the threefold question in order to heal the breach of his threefold betrayal. Then Jesus invites him, “Feed my lambs, feed my sheep.” Peter’s discipleship is restored; his call renewed. In these and many other biblical stories where Jesus calls disciples we find certain fundamental qualities: They make abundantly clear that the life of discipleship begins not with a choice but with a call. Jesus’ authority and his alone is the source of that call. It comes unexpectedly and without warning. Most of the stories also make clear that the call is first and foremost a call to follow after Jesus. The focal point is the person of Christ. The disciples follow after Jesus, surely not ahead of him and not even alongside him. Jesus is out in front of his community; the disciples follow behind, often in confusion and fear. But there is something more in the content of the call. Jesus says, “I will make you fish for people.” The disciples who are called to follow Jesus will be plunged into the work of transforming Israel, of renewing the covenant community, of establishing the kingdom, of healing and exorcism and teaching just as Jesus was. And their destiny would be to encounter the withering power of alienation and death in Jerusalem just as he would. Most of all, the stories make clear, the disciples’ lives would never be the same. They leave their boats and their families and new allegiances would be required. The notion of vocation in its most fundamental meaning is not defined by any specific role or function but is something far greater, something written on a vast canvas. It is pure gift, with God as its author and life as its subject. This call is not first and foremost to a particular role in life but more fundamentally is a call to seek the face of God, a call to holiness and the fullness of life itself. This is the endpoint of the biblical quest: to see the face of God and live. It is for this that we are called, all of us as part of the human family, and surely all of us as part of the church. The notion of vocation in its most fundamental meaning is not defined by any specific role or function but is something far greater, something written on a vast canvas. The biblical call stories remind us that responding to God’s vocation requires conversion and lifelong personal transformation. It is not by accident that the most pervasive biblical symbol for describing the life of faith is that of the journey. All of Israel’s history is cast as a long and often tortuous journey of faith: from the first stirrings of Abraham’s trek into the pastures of Canaan through the exodus from Egypt and the journey to the promised land and from the wrenching experience of exile to a muted and hope-filled return to the land of Judah. And so, too, is the life and mission of Jesus cast as a long journey, beginning in the bursting energy of his ministry in Galilee, and then the ominous and purposeful journey to Jerusalem where he would meet his destiny in death and resurrection. Response to God’s call is not an instantaneous or static reality but one that unfolds over time and one that must endure the rigors of the march to Jerusalem, a journey that often involves challenge, fatigue, and failure. Each one of us has received a call. Our biblical heritage gives us the means to understand that call and to respond in faith.

Authors Father Donald Senior C.P.

Special occasion vocations national vocation awareness week call World Day of Prayer for Vocations
It all begins with a call

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Vocations THE NOTION OF “CALL” is not peripheral to scripture but fundamental to the Bible’s understanding of human existence before God. Who can forget in the opening chapters of Mark and Matthew’s gospels those encounters by the Sea of Galilee? Fishermen Simon and Andrew casting their nets in the sea; James, son of Zebedee, and John his brother, sitting in their boat mending their nets—they have no inkling of what is about to happen to them, something that will change their lives forever. Jesus, walking by the sea, calls to them, “Come, follow me and I will make you fish for people” (Mark 1:16-20). They drop their nets and leave their father and his workers behind in the boat where they’d been sitting. The Bible offers many other stories, like the story of Peter’s call renewed, which appears at the end of John’s gospel. It is perhaps the most exquisite story of all the New Testament. Deflated disciples fish listlessly. On the shore of the Sea of Galilee, a figure appears with a charcoal fire burning—it is someone unknown but hauntingly familiar. He issues directions on where to fish and the fishermen haul in an abundant catch, which prompts a heart-pounding recognition. Peter, knowing who awaits him, plunges into the sea and swims ashore. Sharing a breakfast of bread and fish by the sea, the strain of joy and shame is about to burst within Peter. And then comes the moment of reconciliation: “Simon Peter, do you love me more than these?” Peter undergoes the threefold question in order to heal the breach of his threefold betrayal. Then Jesus invites him, “Feed my lambs, feed my sheep.” Peter’s discipleship is restored; his call renewed. In these and many other biblical stories where Jesus calls disciples we find certain fundamental qualities: They make abundantly clear that the life of discipleship begins not with a choice but with a call. Jesus’ authority and his alone is the source of that call. It comes unexpectedly and without warning. Most of the stories also make clear that the call is first and foremost a call to follow after Jesus. The focal point is the person of Christ. The disciples follow after Jesus, surely not ahead of him and not even alongside him. Jesus is out in front of his community; the disciples follow behind, often in confusion and fear. But there is something more in the content of the call. Jesus says, “I will make you fish for people.” The disciples who are called to follow Jesus will be plunged into the work of transforming Israel, of renewing the covenant community, of establishing the kingdom, of healing and exorcism and teaching just as Jesus was. And their destiny would be to encounter the withering power of alienation and death in Jerusalem just as he would. Most of all, the stories make clear, the disciples’ lives would never be the same. They leave their boats and their families and new allegiances would be required. The notion of vocation in its most fundamental meaning is not defined by any specific role or function but is something far greater, something written on a vast canvas. It is pure gift, with God as its author and life as its subject. This call is not first and foremost to a particular role in life but more fundamentally is a call to seek the face of God, a call to holiness and the fullness of life itself. This is the endpoint of the biblical quest: to see the face of God and live. It is for this that we are called, all of us as part of the human family, and surely all of us as part of the church. The notion of vocation in its most fundamental meaning is not defined by any specific role or function but is something far greater, something written on a vast canvas. The biblical call stories remind us that responding to God’s vocation requires conversion and lifelong personal transformation. It is not by accident that the most pervasive biblical symbol for describing the life of faith is that of the journey. All of Israel’s history is cast as a long and often tortuous journey of faith: from the first stirrings of Abraham’s trek into the pastures of Canaan through the exodus from Egypt and the journey to the promised land and from the wrenching experience of exile to a muted and hope-filled return to the land of Judah. And so, too, is the life and mission of Jesus cast as a long journey, beginning in the bursting energy of his ministry in Galilee, and then the ominous and purposeful journey to Jerusalem where he would meet his destiny in death and resurrection. Response to God’s call is not an instantaneous or static reality but one that unfolds over time and one that must endure the rigors of the march to Jerusalem, a journey that often involves challenge, fatigue, and failure. Each one of us has received a call. Our biblical heritage gives us the means to understand that call and to respond in faith.

Authors Father Donald Senior C.P.

Special occasion vocations national vocation awareness week call World Day of Prayer for Vocations
It all begins with a call

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Vocations THE NOTION OF “CALL” is not peripheral to scripture but fundamental to the Bible’s understanding of human existence before God. Who can forget in the opening chapters of Mark and Matthew’s gospels those encounters by the Sea of Galilee? Fishermen Simon and Andrew casting their nets in the sea; James, son of Zebedee, and John his brother, sitting in their boat mending their nets—they have no inkling of what is about to happen to them, something that will change their lives forever. Jesus, walking by the sea, calls to them, “Come, follow me and I will make you fish for people” (Mark 1:16-20). They drop their nets and leave their father and his workers behind in the boat where they’d been sitting. The Bible offers many other stories, like the story of Peter’s call renewed, which appears at the end of John’s gospel. It is perhaps the most exquisite story of all the New Testament. Deflated disciples fish listlessly. On the shore of the Sea of Galilee, a figure appears with a charcoal fire burning—it is someone unknown but hauntingly familiar. He issues directions on where to fish and the fishermen haul in an abundant catch, which prompts a heart-pounding recognition. Peter, knowing who awaits him, plunges into the sea and swims ashore. Sharing a breakfast of bread and fish by the sea, the strain of joy and shame is about to burst within Peter. And then comes the moment of reconciliation: “Simon Peter, do you love me more than these?” Peter undergoes the threefold question in order to heal the breach of his threefold betrayal. Then Jesus invites him, “Feed my lambs, feed my sheep.” Peter’s discipleship is restored; his call renewed. In these and many other biblical stories where Jesus calls disciples we find certain fundamental qualities: They make abundantly clear that the life of discipleship begins not with a choice but with a call. Jesus’ authority and his alone is the source of that call. It comes unexpectedly and without warning. Most of the stories also make clear that the call is first and foremost a call to follow after Jesus. The focal point is the person of Christ. The disciples follow after Jesus, surely not ahead of him and not even alongside him. Jesus is out in front of his community; the disciples follow behind, often in confusion and fear. But there is something more in the content of the call. Jesus says, “I will make you fish for people.” The disciples who are called to follow Jesus will be plunged into the work of transforming Israel, of renewing the covenant community, of establishing the kingdom, of healing and exorcism and teaching just as Jesus was. And their destiny would be to encounter the withering power of alienation and death in Jerusalem just as he would. Most of all, the stories make clear, the disciples’ lives would never be the same. They leave their boats and their families and new allegiances would be required. The notion of vocation in its most fundamental meaning is not defined by any specific role or function but is something far greater, something written on a vast canvas. It is pure gift, with God as its author and life as its subject. This call is not first and foremost to a particular role in life but more fundamentally is a call to seek the face of God, a call to holiness and the fullness of life itself. This is the endpoint of the biblical quest: to see the face of God and live. It is for this that we are called, all of us as part of the human family, and surely all of us as part of the church. The notion of vocation in its most fundamental meaning is not defined by any specific role or function but is something far greater, something written on a vast canvas. The biblical call stories remind us that responding to God’s vocation requires conversion and lifelong personal transformation. It is not by accident that the most pervasive biblical symbol for describing the life of faith is that of the journey. All of Israel’s history is cast as a long and often tortuous journey of faith: from the first stirrings of Abraham’s trek into the pastures of Canaan through the exodus from Egypt and the journey to the promised land and from the wrenching experience of exile to a muted and hope-filled return to the land of Judah. And so, too, is the life and mission of Jesus cast as a long journey, beginning in the bursting energy of his ministry in Galilee, and then the ominous and purposeful journey to Jerusalem where he would meet his destiny in death and resurrection. Response to God’s call is not an instantaneous or static reality but one that unfolds over time and one that must endure the rigors of the march to Jerusalem, a journey that often involves challenge, fatigue, and failure. Each one of us has received a call. Our biblical heritage gives us the means to understand that call and to respond in faith.

Authors Father Donald Senior C.P.

Special occasion vocations national vocation awareness week call World Day of Prayer for Vocations
Take a moment of silence

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: World Day of Prayer for Vocations Readings: Readings for Fourth Sunday of Easter; Good Shepherd Sunday IT WAS JULY 1992, and I was on a three-week study tour-pilgrimage in the Holy Land. In the middle of a long hike on a scorching day, we came across two shepherds, smoking and chatting in a patch of shade. Their two flocks were all mixed together, hundreds of sheep, lazily rambling the hillsides. The two shepherds were happy to see us, and we began to visit. We asked, through our guide, how the sheep, all jumbled together, would know their rightful shepherd when the time came to move on. The two herdsmen chuckled and rose to take the dare: Each one went to an opposite side of the path, shouted out an indecipherable yell, and began to walk away. Immediately, the sheep ran behind their proper shepherd. And the few stragglers were spotted right away by their vigilant leader and summoned to follow. It was clear: The sheep knew their shepherd; the shepherd knew his sheep. Ah, but the show was not over. Charged up by the attention of their audience, the shepherds said, "Watch this." They then exchanged their outer apparel. Once again, they each went to opposite sides of the path, gave their familiar call, and began to walk away. Without a pause, the sheep followed their proper shepherd, even though he had completely changed his outward appearance! The sheep knew their shepherd so well-his voice, his command, his walk—that they could not be deceived by a disguise. Jesus said: ". . . The sheep hear his voice, as the shepherd calls his own sheep by name and leads them out . . . . he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice." Jesus, the Good Shepherd, gives us the most effective strategy in promoting vocations: We must come to know our shepherd so intimately, his voice so unmistakably, that we sense his call in our gut and follow him. We gather for the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass on this Fourth Sunday of Easter, "Good Shepherd Sunday," designated as well "World Day of Prayer for Vocations." We recognize that Jesus, the Good Shepherd, continues to tend to his flock in a variety of very effective and tender ways. For us as Catholics, we also acknowledge that a unique way he shepherds his people is through his priests. In fact, we call our parish priests pastors, which is simply the Latin word for "shepherd." For the past 30 years we have been praying ceaselessly for "an increase in vocations to the priesthood." Yet, at times it seems the Lord is ignoring our plea, as the data would indicate far too few are responding. The problem, of course, is hardly that Jesus is not calling; the problem is that we have wax in our ears. The problem is that we are not listening to his voice! Jesus, the Good Shepherd, like those I met on the hillside of Galilee, gives us the most effective strategy in promoting vocations: We must come to know our shepherd so intimately, his voice so unmistakably, that we sense his call in our gut and follow him. And I would propose that we best hear the voice of the Good Shepherd in silence. The Bible tells us that the language God prefers is silence, and the atmosphere God best works in is silence. "Be still and know that I am God," God whispers. "In quiet and confidence shall be thy strength," God encourages Isaiah. Each of the seven years I was rector of the North American College in Rome, I had the pleasure of reading 50 or so autobiographies of the men entering. I soon discovered a common thread: Almost all of the men discerned the call to the priesthood in silence. It was often during quiet prayer before the Eucharist; sometimes during a retreat or another period of stillness; maybe during a time of quiet reflection after a pivotal experience or encounter. For some of them, it came in silence on a life-changing episode such as a pilgrimage, service project, or World Youth Day. Never did it come as a shout, as a yell, in a panic, or in a crowd. No, it came gently, softly, quietly, the voice of the Shepherd only to be discerned in silence. And it came from a person to a person. These young candidates knew their shepherd so well they recognized his soft voice. They had come to know him through wonderful parents and families, vibrant parishes and communities, careful catechesis and uplifting liturgy, service to his neglected, and immersion in his Word, the support of friends and the joy of fellowship, and his Real Presence in the Eucharist and merciful forgiveness in penance. They had come to know this shepherd so well that when, in silence, he whispered, "Come, follow me as a priest," they recognized him and heard him. Does it seem too simple? To promote vocations we best promote silence. To hear his voice we must be quiet. To let him talk, we stop talking. Our first vocation, then, is not to priesthood, marriage, religious life, lay ecclesial ministry, deaconate, the single state. No. Our primary vocation is to know Jesus, the Good Shepherd, so well, that when he whispers to us in silence, we will hear his voice and follow his call. Then, we'll have all the vocations we need.

Authors Cardinal Timothy Dolan

Special occasion vocations World Day of Prayer for Vocatίons good shepherd sunday
Just ask: Ways to nurture vocations

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: World Day of Prayer for Vocations Readings: Acts of the Apostles 4:8-12; 1 John 3:1-2; John 10:11-18 SEVERAL YEARS AGO I read an article in a Catholic newspaper in which the author told a story about a college student whom he felt might have a vocation to the priesthood. He talked to the young man and asked whether he had ever considered becoming a priest. When the young man said no, the author asked why. The young man's simple reply: "Nobody ever asked me." After that, the young man began to explore the idea and later entered a community of religious men. This story underscores the importance of inviting young people to consider a vocation beyond our baptismal call to follow the Good Shepherd and proclaim his gospel. It is up to all of us to nurture vocations by encouraging young people to consider ordained ministry and consecrated life, such as life as a religious brother or sister. Giving a young person this kind of prompting and feedback will help them see themselves in a different light. Too often a person feels he or she is not worthy or good enough to become a priest, sister, or brother. Somehow they think a person has to be perfect or that only holy people— certainly not they—are called to religious life. It is not a matter of worthiness or unworthiness. It is a matter of God’s will is for them. All of us can and should pray for vocations, but that is not enough. Vocations must be explained and promoted. Two significant places where this happens are the family and the parish. Every Catholic shares the responsibility to encourage young men and women to at least think about the possibility that God might be calling some of them to give their lives to Christ and to the building of the kingdom of God in this way. The Letter of John tells us that the reason the world does not know us Christians is because they do not know Christ. Each Christian must proclaim Christ, but God chooses some men and women to work “full time” to make him known. Some of these chosen ones might be right here in our parish. Maybe they have not yet discovered their call. The Letter of John tells us that the reason the world does not know us Christians is because they do not know Christ. Each Christian must proclaim Christ, but God chooses some men and women to work “full time” to make him known. Some of these chosen ones might be right here in our parish. Maybe they have not yet discovered their call. In the past many children had religious brothers and sisters as teachers in parochial schools or in their religious education classes and were somewhat familiar with their lifestyle. They also knew the parish priests better. Many parishes had more than one priest who shared pastoral duties and had more time to talk with parishioners. These priests and religious sisters and brothers provided role models. Today, on the contrary, many of our young people have little or no idea about the life and ministry of members of religious communities. Education about religious life is necessary because many young people’s only knowledge of this life is the sometimes poor characterization, especially of sisters, on television or in the movies. One thing each of us in the parish might do is to be aware of the potential vocations among our young people. If we encounter young women or men who participate in the Mass regularly, are service-oriented, strongly involved in parish life, and have the qualities of a sister or a priest, mentioning your observations can make a big difference. It is likely that they have thought about a possible vocation and your comments might inspire them and help them in their discernment. In his message for the 49th World Day of Prayer for Vocations, Pope Benedict says, “It is my hope that the local churches will become places where vocations are carefully discerned and their authenticity tested, places where young men and women are offered wise and strong spiritual direction.” Today, especially, on World Day of Prayer for Vocations, also known as Good Shepherd Sunday, let us pray to our Good Shepherd, who laid down his life for us, to inspire young people to follow the call of service in the church. Reprinted with permission from VISION VocationNetwork.org

Authors Sister Margie Lavonis C.S.C.

Special occasion vocations World Day of Prayer for Vocatίons Acts of the Apostles 4:8-12 1 John 3:1-2 John 10:11-18
Beholden to no one but God

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: National Vocation Awareness Week; Year of Consecrated Life Last year, a Catholic journalist had an assignment to interview religious sisters about their work. As she made call after call, a theme emerged: The sisters saw the journalist, and publicity in general, as a nuisance to endure or, if possible, to avoid. “I just don’t want to be part of your story,” said one. Another sister, doing heroic ministry among Mexican immigrants working in the strawberry fields of California, told the journalist about learning she’d been nominated for an award from a Catholic organization. “I sat down and cried,” she said. And not for joy. The journalist interviewed Sister Rosemary Nyirumbe from Uganda during one of her periodic visits to the United States. Sister Rosemary runs a school for Ugandan girls who were abducted and forced to become child soldiers. She told the journalist that when some of her wealthy American supporters suggested making a movie about her work, she refused--for one whole year. Only when persuaded that it would help fund her important work with the girls did she reluctantly agree. The movie, Sewing Hope, tells the story of Sister Rosemary’s bravery and persistence in working with these girls, who have been abused and then cast out by everyone. Perhaps these sisters, and other men and women in consecrated life, need a crash course in how to grab their 15 minutes of fame. I bet we can dream up a long list of celebrities who could tutor them. James and John, the impetuous brothers whom Jesus nicknamed the “Sons of Thunder,” blunder into their own publicity-grabbing moment in Mark’s gospel. As they journey with Jesus toward Jerusalem, where the Passion awaits him, they are tone-deaf enough to ask Jesus for privileged seats at his right and left hand once he comes into his glory. The rest of the disciples promptly get teed off that they hadn’t asked Jesus the same question. With great patience, Jesus tells all of them that true greatness comes not from power, prestige, and lording it over others, but from giving away one’s life. “Whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant,” he says. With great patience, Jesus tells all of them that true greatness comes not from power, prestige, and lording it over others, but from giving away one’s life. Men and women in consecrated life know that once you’ve given away your life, you are free. And that freedom allows you to follow the Spirit wherever it might lead. In his letter for the Year of Consecrated Life, Pope Francis asked religious to “wake up the world” by living up to their call to be prophets—people who know how to read the signs of the times and denounce injustice. He pointed to their freedom: “Because [prophets] are free,” the pope said, “they are beholden to no one but God. ... Prophets tend to be on the side of the poor and the powerless, for they know that God himself is on their side.” Pope Francis was right. In the bleakest corners of our country and our world, you are almost certain to find a sister, a brother, or a priest working among the poorest of the poor, giving their life away. Men and women in consecrated life work with the rural poor, with farmworkers, immigrants, the illiterate, refugees, the sick, those in prison, and with young people trying to escape violence in the toughest neighborhoods of our cities. Women religious have been singled out by the United Nations as one of the most vital groups in the fight against human trafficking. Men and women religious also advocate for legal remedies that would make ours a more just society in areas of health care, immigration, and growing economic inequality. Because they are usually too busy to tell their own stories, they mostly do all of this with no fanfare. We can also look with gratitude on the sisters, brothers, and priests who taught us in school, who took us on retreats and service trips, who cared for us in hospitals, who challenged us as young adults in college, and who continue to serve in our parishes, as well as those in monasteries who pray for the world every single day. The late film critic Roger Ebert wrote with great fondness of how the Dominican sisters at his grade school in Urbana, Illinois taught him his core moral principles, such as empathy and economic fairness. The sisters, he said, guided him to support “the rightness of labor unions, fair taxation, prudence in warfare, kindness in peacetime, help for the hungry and homeless, and equal opportunity for the races and genders.” As Ebert realized, those in consecrated life remind us of what we all believe deep down: that life isn’t about money, sex, power, prestige, fame. That it’s all about love and service, and what we give away. Reprinted with permission from VISION VocationNetwork.org

Authors Catherine O’Connell-Cahill

Special occasion vocations national vocation awareness week Year of Consecrated Life
Beholden to no one but God

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: National Vocation Awareness Week; Year of Consecrated Life Last year, a Catholic journalist had an assignment to interview religious sisters about their work. As she made call after call, a theme emerged: The sisters saw the journalist, and publicity in general, as a nuisance to endure or, if possible, to avoid. “I just don’t want to be part of your story,” said one. Another sister, doing heroic ministry among Mexican immigrants working in the strawberry fields of California, told the journalist about learning she’d been nominated for an award from a Catholic organization. “I sat down and cried,” she said. And not for joy. The journalist interviewed Sister Rosemary Nyirumbe from Uganda during one of her periodic visits to the United States. Sister Rosemary runs a school for Ugandan girls who were abducted and forced to become child soldiers. She told the journalist that when some of her wealthy American supporters suggested making a movie about her work, she refused--for one whole year. Only when persuaded that it would help fund her important work with the girls did she reluctantly agree. The movie, Sewing Hope, tells the story of Sister Rosemary’s bravery and persistence in working with these girls, who have been abused and then cast out by everyone. Perhaps these sisters, and other men and women in consecrated life, need a crash course in how to grab their 15 minutes of fame. I bet we can dream up a long list of celebrities who could tutor them. James and John, the impetuous brothers whom Jesus nicknamed the “Sons of Thunder,” blunder into their own publicity-grabbing moment in Mark’s gospel. As they journey with Jesus toward Jerusalem, where the Passion awaits him, they are tone-deaf enough to ask Jesus for privileged seats at his right and left hand once he comes into his glory. The rest of the disciples promptly get teed off that they hadn’t asked Jesus the same question. With great patience, Jesus tells all of them that true greatness comes not from power, prestige, and lording it over others, but from giving away one’s life. “Whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant,” he says. With great patience, Jesus tells all of them that true greatness comes not from power, prestige, and lording it over others, but from giving away one’s life. Men and women in consecrated life know that once you’ve given away your life, you are free. And that freedom allows you to follow the Spirit wherever it might lead. In his letter for the Year of Consecrated Life, Pope Francis asked religious to “wake up the world” by living up to their call to be prophets—people who know how to read the signs of the times and denounce injustice. He pointed to their freedom: “Because [prophets] are free,” the pope said, “they are beholden to no one but God. ... Prophets tend to be on the side of the poor and the powerless, for they know that God himself is on their side.” Pope Francis was right. In the bleakest corners of our country and our world, you are almost certain to find a sister, a brother, or a priest working among the poorest of the poor, giving their life away. Men and women in consecrated life work with the rural poor, with farmworkers, immigrants, the illiterate, refugees, the sick, those in prison, and with young people trying to escape violence in the toughest neighborhoods of our cities. Women religious have been singled out by the United Nations as one of the most vital groups in the fight against human trafficking. Men and women religious also advocate for legal remedies that would make ours a more just society in areas of health care, immigration, and growing economic inequality. Because they are usually too busy to tell their own stories, they mostly do all of this with no fanfare. We can also look with gratitude on the sisters, brothers, and priests who taught us in school, who took us on retreats and service trips, who cared for us in hospitals, who challenged us as young adults in college, and who continue to serve in our parishes, as well as those in monasteries who pray for the world every single day. The late film critic Roger Ebert wrote with great fondness of how the Dominican sisters at his grade school in Urbana, Illinois taught him his core moral principles, such as empathy and economic fairness. The sisters, he said, guided him to support “the rightness of labor unions, fair taxation, prudence in warfare, kindness in peacetime, help for the hungry and homeless, and equal opportunity for the races and genders.” As Ebert realized, those in consecrated life remind us of what we all believe deep down: that life isn’t about money, sex, power, prestige, fame. That it’s all about love and service, and what we give away. Reprinted with permission from VISION VocationNetwork.org

Authors Catherine O’Connell-Cahill

Special occasion vocations national vocation awareness week Year of Consecrated Life
Homily story of the week

07 Feb 2016 - Preaching the News for Sunday

There are times we complain that cell phones are controlling our lives and how we would just like to get rid of them. Yet if they control us, it’s because we let them. We decide who we are going to call. And we can turn them off if we desire to do so. On the positive side, they keep parents connected with children, make us feel a little safer driving through the snow at night, let us check on a shut-in, and so much more that we now take for granted. In today’s gospel, Peter is busy doing his fisherman’s work. Jesus calls him, totally unexpectedly, by hopping on his boat. Peter does what Jesus asks, only to be asked to do more, to lower his nets for a catch. Jesus is telling Peter how to do his job. Lots of fish were caught. Peter is confused by it all. He didn’t search Jesus out. Jesus found him. Peter can’t ignore the call or put Jesus on hold. He’s hooked. In the midst of the confusion in life that surrounds us and the noise that envelopes us we need to listen. Jesus is calling us. And it brings us, like Peter, to follow him. Exploring the Word for Sunday, February 7, 2016

Authors Father Dominic Grassi

Vocation call following jesus

Restricted
Exploring the word

17 Apr 2016 - Fourth Sunday of Easter; Good Shepherd Sunday, Cycle C

At the anniversary of a priest’s ordination, the homilist said something surprising: “The mystery of the Christian priesthood is this: A priest is a fallible, ordinary man. A man of dust who remembers he will return to dust, even though he presently wears a chasuble.” On this Good Shepherd Sunday, as we observe the World Day of Prayer for Vocations, it’s appropriate to consider the nature of authentic vocation. We hear that we’re all called by God—all of us, not just priests and religious. But what does it mean to be called? How should we listen for it, and what are we to do about it? Jesus says his sheep recognize his voice, and because they do, they follow where he leads. Evidently “call” involves more than a word spoken or message received. It also implies a word heeded. The way we respond is not merely to hear the call but to reply with our behavior. We follow. This response requires our consent. Consent isn’t an item we can hand off once and be done with it. It’s never so easy, even when it comes to perpetual vows like marriage or ordination, or the incarnate pledge of a parent to a child. Consent involves the little-by-little, day-by-day acquiescence of the will to a particular purpose. Consent means “to feel with.” And feelings can change, especially if we allow the incidentals of life to distract us from our purpose. If we intend to “feel with” our primary allegiances, then we have to stay close to them, attend to them daily, heed the voice of those whose claim on us is already established. We do this mindful that we are—as the homilist at the anniversary celebration noted—fallible and ordinary. We’re dust, no matter what noble garments we may wear on the outside. We may be priest, sister, brother, wife, husband, father, mother. Our commitments may not be recognized by any formal sacrament but still very real: like the artist pledged to create, the scientist to explore, the nurse to heal, the business owner to treat employees and customers justly. We give consent to our vocation not just once, in the hour the sacrament is conferred or our profession engaged, but in every fresh transaction, at every bedside we tend, with every brush stroke, in every human encounter. When we link our destiny to Jesus—and Baptism so links us all—we’re also linked to his Father, since as Jesus says, “The Father and I are one.” Jesus gives total and profound consent to his Father, and we dare to surrender our consent to Jesus—fallible and ordinary as we are, dust though we may be. Vocation is the door; our consent is the key. Related scripture links The Father and I are one: John 18:21-23 Gathering up the fragments: John 6:12 144,000: Rev. 7:4-8; 14:1-5 Weakness is strength: 2 Cor. 12:1-10

Authors Alice Camille

good shepherd sunday World Day of Prayer for Vocations sheep consent vocations

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Exploring the word

17 Apr 2016 - Fourth Sunday of Easter; Good Shepherd Sunday, Cycle C

At the anniversary of a priest’s ordination, the homilist said something surprising: “The mystery of the Christian priesthood is this: A priest is a fallible, ordinary man. A man of dust who remembers he will return to dust, even though he presently wears a chasuble.” On this Good Shepherd Sunday, as we observe the World Day of Prayer for Vocations, it’s appropriate to consider the nature of authentic vocation. We hear that we’re all called by God—all of us, not just priests and religious. But what does it mean to be called? How should we listen for it, and what are we to do about it? Jesus says his sheep recognize his voice, and because they do, they follow where he leads. Evidently “call” involves more than a word spoken or message received. It also implies a word heeded. The way we respond is not merely to hear the call but to reply with our behavior. We follow. This response requires our consent. Consent isn’t an item we can hand off once and be done with it. It’s never so easy, even when it comes to perpetual vows like marriage or ordination, or the incarnate pledge of a parent to a child. Consent involves the little-by-little, day-by-day acquiescence of the will to a particular purpose. Consent means “to feel with.” And feelings can change, especially if we allow the incidentals of life to distract us from our purpose. If we intend to “feel with” our primary allegiances, then we have to stay close to them, attend to them daily, heed the voice of those whose claim on us is already established. We do this mindful that we are—as the homilist at the anniversary celebration noted—fallible and ordinary. We’re dust, no matter what noble garments we may wear on the outside. We may be priest, sister, brother, wife, husband, father, mother. Our commitments may not be recognized by any formal sacrament but still very real: like the artist pledged to create, the scientist to explore, the nurse to heal, the business owner to treat employees and customers justly. We give consent to our vocation not just once, in the hour the sacrament is conferred or our profession engaged, but in every fresh transaction, at every bedside we tend, with every brush stroke, in every human encounter. When we link our destiny to Jesus—and Baptism so links us all—we’re also linked to his Father, since as Jesus says, “The Father and I are one.” Jesus gives total and profound consent to his Father, and we dare to surrender our consent to Jesus—fallible and ordinary as we are, dust though we may be. Vocation is the door; our consent is the key. Related scripture links The Father and I are one: John 18:21-23 Gathering up the fragments: John 6:12 144,000: Rev. 7:4-8; 14:1-5 Weakness is strength: 2 Cor. 12:1-10

Authors Alice Camille

good shepherd sunday World Day of Prayer for Vocations sheep consent vocations

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