🎧 [Listen to Homily: Audio]
On this Holy Thursday morning, the Church gives us a moment to pause before we enter the Triduum and remember who we are as priests.
Today
is not only about what Christ did.
It
is about what He entrusted:
The
Eucharist.
The priesthood.
And the command to love as He has loved.
We
tend to measure important moments by how they begin.
A
wedding day.
A baptism.
A milestone birthday.
Ordination day.
We
remember the planning, the details, the celebration.
But
what really gives those moments meaning is not how they begin…
but what follows.
I
remember advice from a brother priest, Jim Moran, now gone home to God. And
today is a good day to remember and pray for the priests who formed us.
He
said:
“Don’t
worry too much about the details of your ordination or your first Mass. People
may enjoy all of that… but that’s not why they came.
They
came to see you. To see you as a priest.”
At
the time, I thought—surely they came because of their faith. And that’s true.
But
he was right.
They
came to see you.
Or
better— they came to see Christ in you.
That
is what Holy Thursday brings us back to.
Not
simply the memory of ordination…
but the reality of what we are still called to be.
Because
priesthood is not something we look back on.
It
is something we live.
At
the Last Supper, Jesus gives Himself:
“This
is my body, given for you.”
“This is my blood, poured out for you.”
“Do this in memory of me.”
That
moment did not end that night.
It
continues every time we stand at the altar.
So
today is not only about remembering that we were ordained.
It
is about asking:
Are
we still living what we were ordained for?
We
say, “This is my body, given for you.”
Are
our lives becoming that?
There
is a line from the Gospel that Bishop Barron once reflected on—he said it was
printed on a newly ordained priest’s ordination prayer card:
“The
Master has need of it.”
The
Lord chooses to rely on others.
He chooses to work through what is ordinary and limited.
The
Master has need of you, brothers.
I
was thinking recently about something that happened to me years before I
entered the seminary.
At
the time, it didn’t seem important.
I
was coming back from Washington, D.C., sitting on a plane, just living my life,
not seriously thinking about priesthood.
And
next to me was my hometown pastor, Monsignor Tom McDade.
We
started talking.
He
told me he had just accepted a new assignment in Washington, working for the
U.S. bishops—and that I was the first person he was telling.
He
spoke about the change, the uncertainty, the weight of leaving his parish.
And
I listened.
But
honestly, I didn’t really understand what he was going through. I didn’t
understand priestly life or “the diocese ”. If you ask Tom McDade himself, he
will probably tell you how clueless I was.
But
I was trying to listen….
Looking
back now, I see that moment differently.
What
felt like a coincidence…
was actually an invitation.
I
was being given a glimpse into the life of a priest.
I
was being drawn into sympathy with someone carrying a burden I didn’t yet
understand.
The
Letter to the Hebrews says:
“We
do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weakness…”
Before
we are priests who act,
we are men who are called to sympathize.
To
listen.
To stand with people.
To enter into their experience.
Even
when we don’t fully understand it.
That
moment on the plane was, in its own quiet way, an experience of mercy.
Christ
was already at work, forming something in me that I didn’t yet recognize.
And
that is often how He works.
Not
in dramatic ways,
but in small encounters that shape us over time.
The
people entrusted to us come in moments of joy—but more often in moments of
need.
They
come in confusion, in sin, in grief.
And
whether they can say it or not, they come for one reason:
They
need Christ.
And
somehow, in His mercy,
He has chosen to make Himself present through us.
Our
priesthood is not measured by visible success.
It
is measured by fidelity.
Fidelity
to the Eucharist.
Fidelity to our people.
Fidelity to Christ.
So
today, brothers, we look forward.
Not
back to ordination,
but toward the priest we are still being called to become.
Are
we still men of the Eucharist?
Men of prayer?
Available when the Master has need of us?
The
people do not need perfect priests.
They
need faithful ones.
Priests
who show up.
Who listen.
Who forgive.
Who offer the Sacrifice.
As
Deuteronomy reminds us:
The
Lord chose us not because of our strength,
but because He loves us—
and because He is faithful.
That
is our story.
So
as we enter these sacred days, let us renew our yes.
Not
a perfect yes.
But a faithful one.
Lord
Jesus Christ,
you have called us to share in your priesthood
and entrusted to us your people and your mercy.
Renew
in us the grace of our ordination.
Make us faithful stewards of your mysteries.
Teach us to be close to your people
and to share in their weakness.
And
remind us, when we forget:
that you still have need of us.
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