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Exploring the word

29 Apr 2012 - Fourth Sunday of Easter; Good Shepherd Sunday, Cycle B

HOW OFTEN DO you pray for the president? It doesn’t matter if you didn’t vote for him—maybe you should pray harder for those you didn’t want to elect! Have you ever prayed for the leaders of Europe, or Russia, or China, or the Middle East? Would you lift up a prayer for a poor leader or one you deemed outright evil? Leadership might be one of the world’s most neglected vocations. There will always be folks who grab power, but leadership is something else again. When we look to the gospel for direction, we see that a leader must first of all be a servant. To serve at the top, one must be familiar with the bottom. To know how and where to lead, you have to know where your followers are to begin with and where they need to go. The church teaches something called the "common good.” If leaders want to serve their people best, they should determine what’s best for all, not only for the strongest, smartest, or loudest. “Survival of the fittest” is not a principle that serves the common good. “The last will be first” is more like it. This is why, on this World Day of Prayer for Vocations, we might consider the example of Saint Peter, the church’s rock. Even if Jesus hadn’t appointed him as head over all, perhaps he might have been voted in by popular acclaim. It’s hard not to like Peter: bold, passionate, articulate, impetuous. Above all, he’s very human. Peter makes sense to us. He also wakes up our inner hero and makes us aspire to be like him. Consider his speech today, delivered after a night spent in jail under custody of the religious authorities. These are the same authorities who mere weeks ago dragged Jesus before Pilate and demanded his crucifixion. Peter has every reason to be afraid. If ever there was a time to soft-pedal your dogma, this is it. But Peter’s learned some things from his time at the bottom—about the true cost of compromise and the grief of denying your friends and yourself. He’s not going to take the safe way out and refuse to acknowledge the one he denied before. So he declares that he comes in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, the crucified one, the Risen One, the stone rejected, the cornerstone, the name that saves. Clear enough? Such courage garners a collective gasp from the Sanhedrin. They instinctively know they can’t contain this determination. So they let their captives go. If we want to see this kind of courage in the world again, all we have to do is pray for it. Today’s a good day for that. Every day is. Related scripture links Jesus is the same: Heb. 13:8 Trusting in God: Ps. 32:10; 37:3; 40:4; 131:1-3; Prov. 3:5; 20:22; Isa. 26:4 The paradox of the Resurrection: 1 Cor. 15:42-44 The strength of the kingdom: 2 Cor. 10:3-5 In weakness, power reaches perfection: 2 Cor. 12:7b-10 Catechism links The good shepherd: CCC 551-553; 606; 609; 649; 753-754

Authors Alice Camille

leaders Leadership common good World Day of Prayer for Vocations

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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
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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Homilist’s overview of April

01 Apr 2018 - Solemnity of the Resurrection of the Lord (Easter Sunday), Cycle B

Easter season begins day one of this month, starting with an octave that ends coincidentally with the Easter of our Orthodox friends on Divine Mercy Sunday (8). Good Shepherd Sunday (22) is World Day of Prayer for Vocations. See www.worlddayofprayerforvocations.com for bulletin art, inserts, and ideas. Not to step on vocations, but the 22nd is also Earth Day, considered the largest secular observance in the world with more than a billion participants. Future church leaders will also be environmentalists, according to Laudato sí. This joyful season is normally an invitation for parish staffs to “chill” after a laborious Lent and Holy Week. Yet April, aka, Keep America Beautiful Month, is variously dedicated to gardens and animals. It boasts National Farm Animals Day (10), Pet Day (11), Love a Tree Day (16), Arbor Day (for actually planting trees) (27), and Water a Flower Day (for the faint of ambition) (30). Can’t we baptize all this fervor into a parish study of Laudato sí—a spectacularly readable document? Taxes are due this month (17). So are obligations to our community with World Health Day (7)—bringing annual focus on specific physical or mental health issues (see WHO website). We acknowledge Administrative Professionals (25) and Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work (26) to inspire and mentor them. At the top of May, we honor International Workers on the feast of Joseph the Worker (1). Harry Truman invited us to observe a National Day of Prayer (3). Cinco de Mayo (5) celebrates Mexican culture. Who says Easter season has to be sedate?

World Day of Prayer for Vocations laudato si

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Exploring the word

25 Apr 2021 - Fourth Sunday of Easter; Good Shepherd Sunday, Cycle B

Years back I spoke to a youth group about the church. I offered them the opportunity to “vote” on the models of the church as described by Jesuit theologian Avery Dulles. I outlined each one and had the students consider the ideas privately before pledging their allegiances. The majority of the takers went for the Mystical Model, which is not unexpected. Young people are spiritually hungry, eager for God encounters, idealistic in their beliefs, and far purer in their hearts than those of us who’ve spent a few more decades on this planet. The next largest group adopted the Sacramental Model, because community and friendship are appealing at an age when friends frankly seem more important than family. The usual percentage of do-gooders latched onto the Servant Model, insisting that doing what Jesus did is more important than talking about it. Once more, it’s the idealism in teenagers that fires them up for service and compassion more so than jaded and cynical adults. A small but fierce trio of young men remained staunchly dedicated to the Institutional Model, insisting that rules are rules, and somebody needs to be in charge of the show. But not one of the 70 adolescents in the room was willing to commit to the Herald Model. “Doesn’t anyone think that church is ultimately about proclaiming the Good News of Jesus to the whole world?” I asked. A few of the Servant adherents stirred uneasily, but no one was willing to relinquish his or her current position in favor of becoming the messenger. World Day of Prayer for Vocations If there is a vocation crisis, perhaps this little exercise illustrates one source of the trouble. One can seek God, share community, serve others, and run the shop handily without a personal sense of mission. The call to proclamation, to bring the word of God to the people of God, is a highly specific and encompassing occupation. As every preacher knows, it’s not exactly something you can do as a hobby on the side. Proclamation is not merely an activity but also a lifestyle. You become the word you proclaim—or you become the worst form of hypocrite. The heralds of the church—priests, preachers, missionaries, catechists, religion teachers, sponsors, and reconcilers—have eaten the prophet’s scroll and tasted its sweetness. Many of them have stood with Jesus on the mountain and heard him say, “Go, and make disciples . . . .” And they take these words to heart. They have understood that God’s story and their own personal stories are one. They feel a burning commission to help others connect the dots between salvation history and salvation present, so that Easter morning may dawn again in a world tending toward death. If it came down to a matter of percentages, I suppose we would do well to have more people excited about personal communion with God, fellowship with others, and service toward the disadvantaged. But we do need a handful of people to turn on the lights and keep order, and a few heralds for every gathering of the faithful. When no one in the room wants to take responsibility to tell the story, however, we are in real trouble. The place for leadership Vocations have taken a hard hit in the present generation for another obvious reason, of course. Catholics have undergone a crisis of confidence in their leadership. “It is better to take refuge in the Lord,” the Psalmist assures us, “than to trust in people.” Even in princes, he adds. Granted, trusting in people, royal or otherwise, is a long-term losing proposition. As my high-school religion teacher used to lament, “We are human, therefore limited, therefore imperfect, therefore disappointing to ourselves and others.” High-profile people on the global scene are just as likely to disappoint us as the folks next door under these conditions, because they are no less human. Putting our ultimate hopes in mortality, ours or anyone’s, is just a disaster waiting to happen. So as the money tells us, “In God we trust.” Divinity does not disappoint because in God there are no limits or imperfections, no unexpected shortages, and no personal crises to navigate. As the Letter to the Hebrews puts it, “Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” Forever is a tremendous forecast from the perspective of our mortality. So why not trust in God and leave it at that? Precisely because we are mortals, that’s why. Even as we place our ultimate confidence in God, we look for human leaders to marshal the communal effort. These leaders do not merit our highest allegiances but they do require our cooperation and support. Whether they are civic, religious, or global leaders, they cannot lead unless the rest of us are prepared to follow. On this Sunday when we pray for vocations worldwide, we’re not asking for miracles, just capable leadership. Applying the word Good shepherds Jesus the shepherd is our model, the one who’s not for hire and can’t be bought. Yet we couldn’t put a price on what he offers, salvation at the cost of his own life. This rejected cornerstone is the keystone of the whole structure. He is the reason “we are all God’s children now,” as amazing a statement as that is. We don’t have to find shepherds to do what Jesus did—Jesus accomplishes all the saving we need. All we require are shepherds surrendered to Jesus himself, and to the task of bringing his gospel forward and outward to all the world. If we proclaim this gospel effectively, we won’t have any trouble raising the next crop of heralds. Related scripture links Jesus is the same: Heb. 13:8 Trusting in God: Ps. 32:10; 37:3; 40:4; 131:1-3; Prov. 3:5; 20:22; Isa. 26:4 Other shepherd images: Jer. 23:1-4; Mic. 5:3; Ezek. 34:11-24; Matt. 18:12-14; 25:31-46; Luke 15:1-7; 1 Pet. 5:1-4 Catechism links Good shepherd: CCC 551-553; 606; 609; 649; 753-754

Authors Alice Camille

World Day of Prayer for Vocations proclamation heralds of the church

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Exploring the word

08 May 2022 - Fourth Sunday of Easter; Good Shepherd Sunday, Cycle C

Among the most exciting aspects of the Christian story is how failure always leads to the greatest success. The last shall be first, the meek inherit the Earth, the cross morphs into the empty tomb, and the rejection of the gospel by the synagogue opens the doors to the Gentile mission in Asia Minor. This lose-win situation is repeated so many times it could be a useful mantra for the Christian life. Or as Saint Paul phrased it, “When I am weak, then I am strong.” Most of us are pretty timid around the subject of failure. Maybe we fear the disappointment of parents or teachers who urged us so relentlessly to succeed. It could be peer pressure, keeping up with the Joneses, or the admiration in the eyes of our children that makes us determined to win, or at least to hide any and all losses along the way. But the truth is we do fail now and again. Marriages crumble despite good intentions. Well-meaning parents do wrong by their children regularly. People lose jobs, forfeit friendships, make bad financial decisions, or buy the wrong car. Some of us set out to move hearts with passionate homilies and end up boring the assembly silly. We don’t have to be afraid of failure. Christianity is our insurance policy against despair when it comes to human error. We believe in the God who brings new life to those who have died, who promises a new creation out of the rubble of the old one. So we screw up sometimes! And sometimes, indeed, our errors break many hearts besides our own. The grief and shame of these losses is real, but so is the promise that God does awfully good work with the broken pieces of human history. We may lose, but all is not lost. We hear his voice Today we celebrate Good Shepherd Sunday and also acknowledge the World Day of Prayer for Vocations. These two occasions fit together neatly: Shepherds lead, and among the vocations we pray for most fervently this day are for those who will lead us into the future as a church and as a global community. We pray for those who already exercise leadership, in spite of the times they will fail and have failed us—indeed, especially in the hour of their failures. We have seen what God can do with human losses, and so we must hold up the brokenness of our attempts to build a peaceful world, a just society, a holy church, and trust that God will consecrate our failures with divine wisdom. A community of hope will do this. A community surrendered to self-righteousness, cynicism, or despair will not. You and I might find it hard to discern a reason to hope, but we follow a Good Shepherd who has pledged not to let his sheep out of his hand. So long as we hear his voice, we cannot be lost, no matter how dark the moral jungle of our generation seems to be. Every week during the General Intercessions, I hear the folks of my community raise their voices in prayer for the world’s failures. First and foremost are the failures of the body that define our mortality: the cancers and heart attacks, the accidents and miscarriages, the addictions and depression. Next, people pray about the failure of relationships: the marriages that are in ruins, the children and grandchildren who seem lost to the church community and even to their own families. Prayers about the failures of government and the economy, social policy and worldly institutions come next. It might sound like a litany of despair to anyone who does not understand what prayer is, but in fact it is the ultimate act of faith and hope. Faithful people lift up this failed world in confidence that the Good Shepherd has each broken bit of human history in hand and is even now gathering up the fragments so that nothing may be wasted. Praying for vocations “The Father and I are one,” Jesus declares in John’s gospel. This fundamental unity is without flaw, and the nature of the bond between Jesus and his Father is the same indissoluble bond that Jesus shares with his church. When we pray for vocations, we aren’t simply praying for more priests and deacons, more sisters and brothers to fill gaps in church leadership. We are praying for an ever-greater awareness of this absolute bond between Jesus and us. We are not simply near Christ, we are in Christ. We are the Body of Christ, and there can be no distinction between the love of Christ and the love that you and I share with one another and the whole world. Vocation at its root meaning is about discerning our call. The Sunday assembly answers one call, to be Christ for others. And yes, we respond in many and varied ways, some of us to ordained and vowed service within the church, thanks be to God. And some to professional lay ministries within the parish community or within the wider net of Christian works of ministry: teaching and healing, comforting and caring for those in need, mentoring the young and remembering the forgotten. All the baptized answer the same call: to bring the presence of Christ into the world. When we pray for vocations, we are interceding for a greater perception of our own daily opportunities to be good shepherds right where we live and work. Applying the word The Lamb is at the center John’s great vision of the multitude too often gets sidetracked into meaningless discussions concerning the identity of those folks who “survived the time of great distress.” The number 144,000 appears twice in Revelation: once to describe the saved of Israel, and once to count the followers of the Lamb. “12x12x1000” could therefore be symbolic shorthand for “All Israel, all Gentiles, no kidding.” The number 144,000 implies the exact opposite of an exclusive elite. It holds the door open for everybody to join the multitude. The “great distress” is a good description of our time in this failed and broken world. And don’t those who unite themselves to the Body of Christ most perfectly overcome the struggles of this world so beautifully? Our common vocation is to join that multitude, by overcoming the distress of this world in every act of love, heart by heart and moment by moment. If we are good shepherds now, caring for those who hunger and thirst for nourishment, knowledge, healing, and justice, when we stand before God we will not see hunger or thirst again. Related scripture links Weakness is strength: 2 Cor. 12:1-10 Gathering up the fragments: John 6:12 The Father and I are one: John 18:21-23 144,000: Rev. 7:4-8; 14:1-5 Catechism links Vocation: CCC 1-3; 542-546; 825; 836; 1694-1696; 1699

Authors Alice Camille

World Day of Prayer for Vocations failures faith and hope

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Exploring the word

30 Apr 2023 - Fourth Sunday of Easter; Good Shepherd Sunday, Cycle A

In a free society, people will always complain about their leadership. Whether we’re talking about the president of the United States or the person in charge of the preschool program, the person in command is automatically a target for disapproval and disappointment. It’s not a bad thing to hold our leaders accountable, as far as that goes. The real scandal is never who did what in the White House or the diocese. Rather, it’s that rarely do those in seats of authority embrace full responsibility for “what they have done and failed to do.” Criticizing the leadership is our right, of course. But our responsibility is also to nurture, discern, and install good leaders—a task fewer of us seem as anxious to embrace. In the corridors of power, decisions are made that affect the future for all of us. Our government, our church, and our commercial enterprises must be guided by wise men and women invested in upholding the common good, not simply the status quo or the bottom line. Enter Good Shepherd Sunday and the World Day of Prayer for Vocations. This is our annual opportunity to reflect on the role leaders play in our global and local communities. It’s also a time to consider how each of us is obliged to contribute our own leadership to the pool of authority and not just to bellyache about the folks in charge. People make mistakes Leaders are people, not gods. Yet when the church appoints them or we elect them, we expect these anointed ones to perform beyond human limitations and imperfections. We anticipate their arrival into public service to be free from temptation and beyond mortal weakness. If they can’t read the future, they better do a pretty good imitation of it for our benefit. Leaders are supposed to be better than we are in character, wisdom, and foresight. And it’s no mistake to expect a lot from leaders. After all, what does it mean to lead if not in ways of character, wisdom, and foresight? But when our leaders fail us, as they often do, we drag them from the pedestal of the superhuman and condemn them to the dungeon of the subhuman. In both instances, we fail those called to lead us. We do not give them the support and cooperation they need as mortals, nor do we offer them the compassion they deserve as sinners. Recall the Pentecost street scene from Acts. Peter and the Eleven remind the Jerusalem crowds of how privileged a people they are, the nation that serves as a light to all nations. Yet they failed miserably in their calling when they put to death their own Messiah. What nation can be a light when it fails to illuminate its own darkness? As the story goes, 3,000 people within the sound of Peter’s voice were cut to the heart by his words. “What are we to do, my brothers?” they pleaded. “Turn,” he advised. “Turn around.” Peter knew well of what he spoke, having so recently repented his own ignorance in relationship to his Lord. If leaders and those led could embrace the mutual call to repentance and renewal, instead of the usual rounds of recrimination and protestation of innocence, perhaps we could move forward into the future more purposefully. There is no better leader than one who knows he/she is also a sinner. Where do we find good leaders? When people hassle our local pastor about the church hierarchy’s many failings in recent years, he always says, “So how many children did your mom send to the priesthood?” His point is direct but clear. Many Catholics, quite content to carp on the church’s disappointment du jour, have never given equal time to contemplating their own call to leadership within the community of faith. And often the same people would actively discourage their children from exploring a religious vocation and, presumably, improving on the leadership pool for the future. Many years ago, my parents refused to entertain the idea of me entering a religious order even though they pride themselves on their Catholic identity. My father actually called such a way of life a “waste.” Many parents I talk to think nothing of actively prepping their children for med school, the law, or business. But they blush at the idea of inviting their children to think of a vocation to the church as if it’s unfair to “pressure” them in these matters. The likely truth here is that all of us have learned to define success in worldly terms. A life of service is indeed a waste if the mortal goal is to make as much money as possible. If we want good leadership in the church, we have to pray for it, yes. And we also have to challenge ourselves to be such leaders and to groom such leaders in our midst fearlessly. In the same way, if we want just government, character-building educators, ethically minded business leaders, we have to take our leadership into dialogue with city hall, the public schools, and the marketplace. Do we inadvertently talk in opposition to such groups in our assembly, in careless dismissals of the “rich and powerful,” as if such folk are intrinsic enemies to the gospel? Or do we run faith-sharing groups, days of recollection, and other faith formation opportunities geared precisely for the special needs of such leaders? Some of these folks are Catholic and are already sitting in our pews. Others aren’t but might be looking for a community to support their values and partner with them in the ongoing process of moral discernment. Applying the word I am the gate for the sheep The preacher often serves as the gatekeeper of the assembly. This is the voice they hear beckoning them with words of life. The prophetic challenge, the call to moral living, words of encouragement and consolation all come to the faithful on Sunday morning. If anyone is charged with the responsibility to raise up leaders in every aspect of our society, it’s the one who issues the proclamation of the gospel every week. Parents have to do their part. So do teachers and mentors and employers and politicians. But who has the distinct advantage of having all of these people together in one room each week? Not to mention a microphone in hand? Jesus gets to be the gate; we just have to make sure the gate is opened and the invitation is issued. Let’s invite everyone not simply to dissect our leadership but to divert some of this energy into providing the leadership we’d like to see. Behind every genuine leader is the next generation of leadership, watching and learning and imitating. Related scripture links Advice for leaders: Matt. 9:35-38; 10:5-15, 24-31; 20:20-28; 23:1-12; 1 Tim. 3:1-13; 4:6-16; Titus 1:5-9; James 4:6-10; 5:16 Shepherd image: Jer. 23:1-4; Ezek. 34:1-31; Mic. 5:3; Matt. 18:12-14; 25:31-46; Luke 15:1-7; 1 Pet. 5:1-4 Catechism links Shepherd: CCC 754; 764; 2158 Repentance in Acts: CCC 363; 1226; 1287; 1427-1429; 1433

Authors Alice Camille

Leadership World Day of Prayer for Vocations

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