T
|
here are many ready answers to
the question What is the priesthood?
found in various catechisms as well as other standard Christian sources. But
when it is posed to someone in pursuit of this high calling, the inquiry
demands a response that is less a succinct formulation than it is relating
one’s own purpose or sense of vocation and showing forth just what he is about.
One cannot hazard a truthful answer without feeling the need to reflect
further, to test for accuracy and to be reaffirmed in his conviction. After
all, it is not a matter of standing outside looking in, but of faithfully “looking
to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith” (Heb 12:2).
Saint Paul says that “every high priest chosen from among men is appointed to act on behalf of men in relation to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins” (Heb 5:1). The priesthood is an election, a state of being especially chosen to bring man closer to God by offering gifts and sacrifices. Today, ‘gifts’ and ‘sacrifices’ carry meanings that would cloud rather than clear our view. A gift can refer to something given with an expectation of return, sometimes a means for obtaining favors, or even a euphemism for currency of illicit exchange. Sacrifice, on the other hand, is often associated with pain and destruction that conflict with pleasure and well-being. Thus, it is no surprise that our society is suspicious of gifts and averse to anything that looks like sacrifice. So why even bother to relate with God, let alone become a priest?
We are all too familiar with this disfigured face of the priesthood so that many run from the ‘hound of heaven’ as if God were out to get them. Yet, when he is nowhere in sight, everybody goes out in search of him. Our age is certainly characterized by an ambivalence towards God, in which people—present company included—long for him and run away from him at the same time. It is a queer sort of game we play. I know this from others’ experience as much as from my own. I have always been drawn to and even openly expressed my desire for the priesthood from a young age, but the nearer I drew, I saw wrought iron fences go up as if foreboding not any friendly visit but a robbery! For a while I kept barricading myself with so many plans and excuses, if only to elude capture.
Once, after hearing me go on and on about my (useless) anxieties, my spiritual director could only say, “You can trust God, Niko.” I did not get all fired up after that. In fact, I think it was also he who later compared me to the ground squishing even as the sower makes his round. Nonetheless, those words were for me like quiet rays of sunshine and gentle raindrops that made the soil fertile and ready for planting. Not long afterwards, I caught sight of an excerpt which turned out to be from the inaugural homily of Benedict XVI: “Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you everything.” So I am not going to be robbed of whatever little I have and then left for dead, I wondered with surprise.
For a long time, I had this oppressive fear that if I were to follow Christ and take up his cross (a condition he had clearly indicated), I would somehow be crushed under its weight. I now believe that it had partly stemmed from seeing too many a miserable priest masked with a grin, "all for the Kingdom," they say, that is, until they broke down one way or another. I simply wanted no part in that make-believe kind of life. “What pleasure is God supposed to take in destruction?” writes Joseph Ratzinger. “One answer is that the destruction always conceals within itself the act of acknowledging God’s sovereignty over all things. But can such a mechanical act really serve God’s glory? Obviously not.” Rather, “true ‘sacrifice’ is the civitas Dei, that is, love-transformed mankind, the divinization of creation and the surrender of all things to God: God all in all (cf. 1 Cor 15:28).”[1]
Priesthood is a service to the Church—Christ’s Mystical Body. The Holy Father has made this point clear: “Christian priesthood is not an end in itself. It was desired by Christ for the birth and life of the Church. Thus every priest can say to the faithful, paraphrasing St Augustine: Vobiscum christianus, pro vobis sacerdos. The glory and joy of the priesthood is to serve Christ and his Mystical Body.”[2] Christ raises up men who would become ‘eunuchs for the kingdom’ (cf. Mt 19:12), men who would give themselves totally as he did, so that others may have life. The priest is not alter Christus for nothing. He is the ‘sacrament’ of Christ, who came to serve and not to be served (cf. Mk 10:45), and to lay down his life for his friends—the greatest of all loving, Jesus says (cf. Jn 15:13). And the service of a priest has value because it is out of love for the Church, modeled on her Bridegroom, and apart from loving the Church, which is the people gathered by the love of God, the priesthood is haplessly mocked.
And just as the master summons his servant to a specific task, priestly service is not for whomever wants it but for whomever God wants it given. He alone chooses and he alone calls. Is he not the Lord of the harvest? The priesthood is not something anyone can get on demand, but a clarion call that a good servant heeds and a specific mandate that can stupefy the dumbest and the most learned alike: “Why?” or “Why me?” The choice, it is said, is not based on qualities, and certainly not because of our skillful calculation. Nor does it depend upon our holiness of life. A bishop emphatically said, not once but twice, “You will become a priest, not because you are holy, but only because God loves you.” This, of course, ought not to be misconstrued as a predilection centered on oneself; rather it is the love of God for his people—love that breaks out through the heart of his anointed for the life of the world.
Indeed, as John the Beloved famously writes in his gospel, “God so loved the world that he gave his only son… that they may have life” (Jn 3:16, 18). If, as priests, it is Jesus we follow, then priesthood is divine sonship at its core, so that we do not claim to be like those obscurely slaving away in some impersonal corporate giant but someone running a family business where relationships come first. A priest is a man of love and for love, because he is loved first and is, foremost, a son. It is his relationship with the Father that defines him and his work. He does not simply take on a job, but lives up to his birthright received through Christ. And like a goodly son, the priest is a brother to all. Thus, it can be said that the promises of obedience and celibacy, though seen as being unjust demands at times, are in reality privileges that put the priest in his rightful place, namely, that of a son to his father through obedience, and through celibate loving, that of a brother constantly available for the needs of God’s family.
Having come to the end of this reflection, which I think is still very premature, I believe that somehow the Spirit has supplied me with something to pray and think about in the next few days, which could be summed up in these three words: service, summons, and sonship. Pray that my understanding be deepened and that my faith, hope and love increase along the way.
Saint Paul says that “every high priest chosen from among men is appointed to act on behalf of men in relation to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins” (Heb 5:1). The priesthood is an election, a state of being especially chosen to bring man closer to God by offering gifts and sacrifices. Today, ‘gifts’ and ‘sacrifices’ carry meanings that would cloud rather than clear our view. A gift can refer to something given with an expectation of return, sometimes a means for obtaining favors, or even a euphemism for currency of illicit exchange. Sacrifice, on the other hand, is often associated with pain and destruction that conflict with pleasure and well-being. Thus, it is no surprise that our society is suspicious of gifts and averse to anything that looks like sacrifice. So why even bother to relate with God, let alone become a priest?
We are all too familiar with this disfigured face of the priesthood so that many run from the ‘hound of heaven’ as if God were out to get them. Yet, when he is nowhere in sight, everybody goes out in search of him. Our age is certainly characterized by an ambivalence towards God, in which people—present company included—long for him and run away from him at the same time. It is a queer sort of game we play. I know this from others’ experience as much as from my own. I have always been drawn to and even openly expressed my desire for the priesthood from a young age, but the nearer I drew, I saw wrought iron fences go up as if foreboding not any friendly visit but a robbery! For a while I kept barricading myself with so many plans and excuses, if only to elude capture.
Once, after hearing me go on and on about my (useless) anxieties, my spiritual director could only say, “You can trust God, Niko.” I did not get all fired up after that. In fact, I think it was also he who later compared me to the ground squishing even as the sower makes his round. Nonetheless, those words were for me like quiet rays of sunshine and gentle raindrops that made the soil fertile and ready for planting. Not long afterwards, I caught sight of an excerpt which turned out to be from the inaugural homily of Benedict XVI: “Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you everything.” So I am not going to be robbed of whatever little I have and then left for dead, I wondered with surprise.
For a long time, I had this oppressive fear that if I were to follow Christ and take up his cross (a condition he had clearly indicated), I would somehow be crushed under its weight. I now believe that it had partly stemmed from seeing too many a miserable priest masked with a grin, "all for the Kingdom," they say, that is, until they broke down one way or another. I simply wanted no part in that make-believe kind of life. “What pleasure is God supposed to take in destruction?” writes Joseph Ratzinger. “One answer is that the destruction always conceals within itself the act of acknowledging God’s sovereignty over all things. But can such a mechanical act really serve God’s glory? Obviously not.” Rather, “true ‘sacrifice’ is the civitas Dei, that is, love-transformed mankind, the divinization of creation and the surrender of all things to God: God all in all (cf. 1 Cor 15:28).”[1]
Priesthood is a service to the Church—Christ’s Mystical Body. The Holy Father has made this point clear: “Christian priesthood is not an end in itself. It was desired by Christ for the birth and life of the Church. Thus every priest can say to the faithful, paraphrasing St Augustine: Vobiscum christianus, pro vobis sacerdos. The glory and joy of the priesthood is to serve Christ and his Mystical Body.”[2] Christ raises up men who would become ‘eunuchs for the kingdom’ (cf. Mt 19:12), men who would give themselves totally as he did, so that others may have life. The priest is not alter Christus for nothing. He is the ‘sacrament’ of Christ, who came to serve and not to be served (cf. Mk 10:45), and to lay down his life for his friends—the greatest of all loving, Jesus says (cf. Jn 15:13). And the service of a priest has value because it is out of love for the Church, modeled on her Bridegroom, and apart from loving the Church, which is the people gathered by the love of God, the priesthood is haplessly mocked.
And just as the master summons his servant to a specific task, priestly service is not for whomever wants it but for whomever God wants it given. He alone chooses and he alone calls. Is he not the Lord of the harvest? The priesthood is not something anyone can get on demand, but a clarion call that a good servant heeds and a specific mandate that can stupefy the dumbest and the most learned alike: “Why?” or “Why me?” The choice, it is said, is not based on qualities, and certainly not because of our skillful calculation. Nor does it depend upon our holiness of life. A bishop emphatically said, not once but twice, “You will become a priest, not because you are holy, but only because God loves you.” This, of course, ought not to be misconstrued as a predilection centered on oneself; rather it is the love of God for his people—love that breaks out through the heart of his anointed for the life of the world.
Indeed, as John the Beloved famously writes in his gospel, “God so loved the world that he gave his only son… that they may have life” (Jn 3:16, 18). If, as priests, it is Jesus we follow, then priesthood is divine sonship at its core, so that we do not claim to be like those obscurely slaving away in some impersonal corporate giant but someone running a family business where relationships come first. A priest is a man of love and for love, because he is loved first and is, foremost, a son. It is his relationship with the Father that defines him and his work. He does not simply take on a job, but lives up to his birthright received through Christ. And like a goodly son, the priest is a brother to all. Thus, it can be said that the promises of obedience and celibacy, though seen as being unjust demands at times, are in reality privileges that put the priest in his rightful place, namely, that of a son to his father through obedience, and through celibate loving, that of a brother constantly available for the needs of God’s family.
Having come to the end of this reflection, which I think is still very premature, I believe that somehow the Spirit has supplied me with something to pray and think about in the next few days, which could be summed up in these three words: service, summons, and sonship. Pray that my understanding be deepened and that my faith, hope and love increase along the way.
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| With a brother seminarian from Romania |