12th Sunday of Ordinary Time

I will never forget my first midterm exam in the seminary; the subject was moral theology. Despite the hours of study, my mind went blank. I froze. What in the world did I get myself into? I soon learned that was the first of many “trials” to come.

Like any seminarian, I had many bouts of fears and doubts, wrestling with the usual issues of celibacy, ministry, and prayer. Could I accept the notion of being single for the rest of my life? Could I bring myself to proclaim the gospel from the housetops? Or would I be intimidated by what others thought or by what I thought of myself? I was enthused about becoming a priest, yet I would not deny that fear was present in my journey toward ordination. Fear is definitely a part of our human experience.

In this gospel, Jesus advises us, “Fear no one.” He cautions his disciples to resist those anxieties that are caused not by an actual threat to their safety, but by a potential threat in the future; that nagging fear which can wipe out one’s peace of mind. As the first class of “seminarians,” the apostles undoubtedly wrestled with their share of fears. Considering how often fears grip our lives in areas ranging from finances to health to relationships, it is easy to see why psychologists call fear “our worst emotion.”

I don’t think my family would have blamed me one bit had I left the seminary at the end of my first year, but I knew that if God is aware of every hair on my head, then I had little reason to be afraid of what laid ahead. Yes, I still wrestled with certain issues, but I persevered and six years after that first midterm, Archbishop Hunthausen ordained me a priest. Like Jeremiah, I had no reason to fear, knowing that God was with me.

Looking back over the past 22 years, I know that my choice to become a priest made a difference in the lives of many people whom I have served. I have managed on several occasions to offer the insightful challenge that saved a marriage and a family. What I have said from the pulpit or in the classroom has enabled some people to deepen their relationship with Christ. I trusted that God would lead the way, enabling me to speak in the light that would make a difference in their lives.

I also know that I have made a difference in the lives of others in that something I said or did proved to be the “last straw” to break that person’s back, providing a reason or an excuse to abandon the Catholic faith or to no longer actively live the faith. As much as I regret any person’s absence, I was proclaiming that which my heart was telling me then was the right thing to say or do. Long ago, I learned that I could not begin to please everyone.

In either instance, I suspect those individuals learned that faith is not something static. Faith is bound to change. A deepening faith leads to a closer relationship with God and with others. Someone with a shallow faith when confronted is likely to change as well, either be moved to grow or be pushed away. Yes, there is a risk anytime I follow Jeremiah’s example and challenge the status quo. Speaking prophetically isn’t an easy thing to do. Whenever I challenge someone on a matter of faith and morals, my hope is that person’s faith will be deepened.

I will never forget an elderly man who considered himself to be a good Catholic yet he harbored a deep prejudice against a certain ethnic group. Getting him to see the flaw in his rationale of what a good Catholic is proved futile until one day, I refused him absolution and urged him to see that so long as he hated anyone, his relationship with God would remain shallow. Had I said nothing, might he have died with his prejudice still lingering in his heart? And if that hatred had still been there, might Jesus have denied him?

Whenever I meet an engaged couple that admits to living together, I am left with a choice. I could ignore the reality of their sinful choice and let them discover for themselves the harm they are doing to their relationship with each other and God, or I could confront the sin in their lives, knowing that they may not care to hear what I have to say. Some couples leave, choosing instead to get married outside of the Church. Had I said nothing on the matter, might they still be here? My hope whenever I do marriage prep is that they are drawn closer to God and each other because of what I said. That is also my hope anytime I challenge parishioners to examine the choices they make. Ben Franklin observed, “Sin is not hurtful because it is forbidden, but sin is forbidden because it is hurtful.” No wonder Jesus talks often about sin.

When faith is no longer a priority in our lives, how far behind is the likelihood that our relationship with Jesus will no longer be a priority? And when our relationship with Jesus no longer ranks as a priority in our lives, will we care about his gospel and blueprint for our salvation? Unless we care about the Gospel and its message, the strong temptation is to remain silent in a world that doesn’t really want to be confronted by what Jesus has to say. That was true then and it is just as true today.

Yet, we can ill afford to keep quiet. Our lives must reflect the faith and values we profess if we expect Jesus to acknowledge us before his heavenly Father. Fr. Anthony de Mello once said, “Good religion makes you fearless; bad religion makes you fearful.” From the very beginning, Jesus knew his followers would be challenged yet he also told them to have no fear in standing up for what they believe in for nothing could kill their spirit. “Let go of fear,” he tells us. How? “By learning to trust me,” he responds, and that is what I have been trying to do since I flunked that first midterm so long ago. Have you dared to do the same?