Pentecost: A Reflection On My Third Anniversary as a Priest

Three years ago, on this feast of Pentecost, I celebrated my very first Mass. It’s hard to believe how quickly time flies.

And while I’d love to reflect upon every lesson I’ve learned, I’d break my cardinal rule of preaching – no long homilies! So let me share what I can briefly through a story.

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A few years ago I was in the Holy Land for Christmas. I remember feeling overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells; that part of the world is a strange combination of ancient and modern forcibly weaved into one.

I remember, in particular, visiting the town of Bethlehem, where Jesus was born. As I wondered along, I reached the edge of town where I noticed a young boy shepherding his flock of sheep across a busy street.

Leading the charge were the young ones, moving so energetically it seemed they were dancing.

But in the very back was an old ewe with dusty brown fleece. She walked with a terrible limp, perhaps the result of arthritis or a broken leg. With every step, she jerked her neck back and forth, throwing her body forward.

She was visibly terrified of being left behind.

Sheep are not very smart animals, but they have a natural herding mentality. If one becomes separated from the flock, it literally stands in place and shakes in fear, waiting either for its shepherd …. or for death.

Sheep just cannot survive on their own.

Thankfully, that young boy noticed what was happening, so he moved to the back and gently helped that old ewe across the street. Routine, perhaps.

But if the young sheep in front weren’t paying attention to what was happening, then they would’ve become the ones who were lost.

The truth is a sheep’s strength lies not in its youth or in its energy, but in its proximity to the shepherd. He is their sole guide and source of strength. Without him, they can do nothing.

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I’ve found the same to be true for me as a priest, and as a disciple. My strength – and I dare say my “success” – lies not in my own natural talents or abilities, but in my proximity to Jesus, the shepherd. 

He is my guide and my strength. As it is written in the Psalms, “The LORD is my shepherd. There is nothing I shall want… To safe waters you lead me; you restore my strength. You guide me along the right path.” (Psalm 23)

Isn’t that’s true for all of us? When we we’re in need, when we face important decisions, when fear or temptations overwhelm us, we must turn to Jesus for help. He is our shepherd who guides us “along the right path.”

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But this is only one side of the coin. While we must be concerned with our own salvation – our own relationship with Jesus – we must also care about the salvation of others.

Remember the attentiveness of that young boy from Bethlehem. He knew his flock. He knew who was safe, and who needed his attention. He saw that struggling ewe and went straight to her aid.

In the same way, I’ve done my best to know your stories, to find those in need of a shepherd. I think in particular about those whom I’ve baptized, married, prayed for at Mass, visited at home, anointed, and buried.

I’ve done my best to lead each of you a little closer to Jesus.

But that is something we are all called to do. To love, to heal, to serve.

Think of our sick and homebound parishioners, those who are distant from the Church, those who are mourning, lost, or are simply in need of a listening ear or a friend. How do we come to their aid?

Often a simple phone call, a hand written letter or maybe some flowers, a personal visit, or a heartfelt prayer makes the difference.

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In the end, we’re like that herd of sheep crossing that busy street in Bethlehem. We’re one flock, joined together as one family of faith. Some of us may be young and energetic, while others may be struggling just to get by.

But we must struggle together.

This what makes us equals: our dependence upon Jesus, the shepherd. Without him we can do nothing. But with him we can do anything. To him be the glory now and forever. Amen.