First I’d like to invite all of you to my Silver Jubilee Mass on June 29 at 5:30pm at Star of the Sea here in San Francisco. God granted me the great privilege of being ordained in 1991 on the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, the same day Joseph Ratzinger was ordained in 1951 (see article here). Both of us, and all who were ordained on that day, exercise our share of Christ’s eternal priesthood in the bright shadow of the Church’s two foundational pillars, St. Peter and St. Paul. My Silver Jubilee Mass will be in the Extraordinary Form, with priest, deacon, and subdeacon clad in red vestments, for the blood of the martyrs. Twenty priests will ring the sanctuary in choro, our choir will provide chant and polyphony, and I hope you too can join us.
 
Over 25 years I’ve led perhaps 15 pilgrimages to Rome. Each time we visit the Eternal City it strikes me how we have arrived ad limina apostolorum, at the “shores of the Apostles.” And not only to the “shores” (because Rome is a Mediterranean port city) of the Apostles, but of the martyrs as well, for both Saints Peter and Paul died for Jesus. We go to Rome not only to pray at their tombs, but also to the “shores” of our own discipleship. As we kneel at those tombs, we wonder where our own witness to Jesus Christ will take us. These days, Rome is a large global city like any other; Christians are increasingly marginalized in Rome much as they are in London or New York. It probably won’t be long before Christians are persecuted in these cities as they are already persecuted in Islamabad and Pyongyang (it is estimated that the North Korean government has forced 50,000 Christians into concentration camps). Saudi Arabia and China are respected trading partners of the United States, but in both of these countries Christians who openly practice their faith are persecuted.
 
We will vest in red next Wednesday for the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul here in San Francisco. Over my first 25 years, my priestly work has been generally peaceful. Over the last five years, however, respect for Christ’s priests, and tolerance of Christians in general, has sharply declined. Who knows what the next 25 years will bring to all of us who profess that “to me, life is Christ.” The world can scarcely tolerate a person who lives for Jesus rather than for itself. We vest ourselves in red on June 29 not only in memory of Peter and Paul’s blood, shed 2000 years ago, but in preparation for the blood—perhaps our own—that will be shed in our own time. All glory and honor to Him, who first shed his blood for us, and who gives us the joy to witness to Him, even with our blood, should it please His Majesty. 

This homily was given at St. Joseph’s Parish, Modesto

The Drama: God fishes for men

There is great drama in today’s Gospel. It’s not the kind of drama played out at high school proms, where creatures seek each other out; it is the deeper drama of the Creator seeking his creature. In our race’s first drama, God sought Adam and Eve “in the cool time of day.” This traumatic drama was made whole when God proposed to the maiden Mary in Nazareth. In today’s Gospel, God fishes for men. Once inside his net of divine love, the men themselves become fishers of men.
 
The drama opens with great excitement at the lakeshore: “Great crowds were pressing in on Jesus to hear the Word”—how great a thirst people have, even in our day, for the Word of God. Peter and his fishing partners, however, were paying no attention. They were too busy with their business. The City of San Francisco, where I live, is exploding with big business. Great crowds pour in from all over the world to get coveted tech sector jobs. Our streets, office buildings, and restaurants surge with talented young adults. One columnist quipped that the city has become one big singles bar. Almost none of them go to Mass. It is not that they don’t like Jesus—they are simply too busy to think about him. There is so much to do in San Francisco right now.
 
The Barque of Peter

Back to the Lakeshore: Jesus asks Simon if he can get into his boat, and from that moment, his simple fishing boat becomes the “Barque of Peter,” now known as the Catholic Church. Jesus is still teaching from this simple boat, and the Church should never doubt who speaks, or who should be speaking, from her pulpits. It is Jesus through Peter who speaks, and we priests had better make sure we are not adulterating the Word with our own shoddy opinions. Jesus commands Simon: “put out into deep water and lower your nets….” Our Divine Lord commands this boat; Christ is the master of His Church. The Pope himself takes direction from Christ, and if not, his nets will remain empty. “Master,” Simon contends, “we have worked hard all night but have caught nothing…but at your command, I will lower the nets.” Peter is not the perfect Pope, but he gives Jesus something to work in his simple obedience.
 
But Jesus steps into Peter’s boat not principally to preach to the crowds or even to teach him how to fish. He steps into the boat to fish for Peter. First he has to win Peter’s soul, and only then will Peter learn how to fish himself. The men haul in such a great catch that both boats are in danger of sinking. Peter realizes that it is not his work, but God’s. He falls on his knees in the boat: “leave me Lord, for I am a sinful man.” The one thing necessary for a priest to catch souls is to know that he is a sinner, unworthy, incapable, and so begin the process of surrender to God’s will. Jesus reassures the fishermen: “don’t worry. From now on, you will be fishers of men.”
 
Leaving it behind to follow the Master

The four men leave everything to follow Jesus. Leaving the business and their families seemed like a lot, but it was their part to play in saving their own souls and the souls of the world. Four men are currently in the seminary from this parish (St. Joseph’s, Modesto). I can think of at least four other men who have been ordained from this parish in recent years. And why this parish? Because for twenty years St. Joseph’s parish has had a Eucharistic adoration chapel, and for twenty years she has promoted devotions to the Blessed Virgin Mary (as should any parish named for her spouse). Jesus and Mary: these two names draw a man or woman from the busyness of life to follow God.
 
Never lose these two guiding principles: Jesus and Mary. In my San Francisco parish, named for the Mother of God, we are developing perpetual prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. Already we have 36 hours of continuous adoration from Friday mornings to Saturday nights, and already we have a man in the seminary. We know more will follow, more will enter consecrated life, and more will enter faithful loving marriages, as long as we focus on Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament and his Holy Mother in the rosary. 

I’ve been markedly busier since Fr. Driscoll left the parish, and realize what a gift he was during the time he was able to be with us. Perhaps for this reason I can’t quite produce two blogs a week, for which some of you have been asking. When there were two priests at the parish, there were two blog posts, and now that there is only one priest—only one blog post. Those who want two blogs—pray for two priests!
 
During my morning prayer each day I am in the custom of reading a little something from Mother Teresa. In fact, I’ve been reading from the book Love, A Fruit Always in Season: Daily Mediations by Mother Teresa for about 20 years now. The book sits on my little table in the chapel, and after greeting Jesus in the tabernacle I turn to my dear friend and teacher from Calcutta. Every day she consoles me with true wisdom.
 
Sidebar: Have you ever noticed how wisdom brings joy, and that without true wisdom we cannot be truly joyful? Joy comes to us when we perceive and live the right order of the universe, while nothing depresses us so much as chaos. The traditional prayer to the Holy Spirit asks for wisdom that we may be consoled by joy: “Grant us by that same Spirit to be truly wise, and ever to rejoice in His consolation.” Like a good mother, Blessed Teresa of Calcutta trains my mind in wisdom to console my heart.
 
Here is today’s meditation from Mother Teresa: “Rejoice that you have nothing, are nothing, can do nothing. Give Jesus a big smile each time your nothingness frightens you. Cling to Our Lady, for she too, before she could become full of grace, full of Jesus, had to go through that darkness.” Nothingness is frightening! The older we get, the closer we approach the precipice of nothingness. We look back over our years on earth and ask if it meant anything at all. We look over human history and see it as a handful of dust. We look forward and see only darkness. It frightens us and tests our faith. Mother speaks from her own darkness, and points to the dark confusion of Our Lady, which prepared her to receive the fullness of grace at the Annunciation.
 
When darkness overcomes us, we simply fix our eyes on Christ. Either He is everything, or there is nothing. I’ll place my bets on Something rather than nothing. What a joy to know that I am nothing, but there is Something. Fall into that Something, that Someone, I become something and I become someone. I used to wear a T-Shirt with this joyful wisdom on the back: “Two things are true: 1) There is a God 2) you are not Him. What a two-fold relief!
 
So Blessed Teresa consoled me this morning with her motherly presence and wisdom. St. John Vianney used to read the Lives of the Saints every night before going to bed. He needed the consolation of their presence as he faced the dark, even the demonic, in his empty rectory. If you don’t read the Lives of the Saints, or the writings of the saints, now is a good time to start.