June 10, 2009
Matthew 10:7-16
Tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. And on the eve of this fifth anniversary, I am going to confess something to you that I have not heard many priests confess at five years: I love being a priest. I LOVE being a priest! I really do.
Five years is a strange time in the life of a priest. At five years, one has, more or less, figured one’s self out professionally. One knows what direction God is sending one at five years. And, at five years, one finds one’s self going through a kind of mid-life crises.
By five years, one knows if one is producing fruit or if one is sowing seeds in dead and dusty soil.
The other day I was talking to Dean Steve Sellers at the Cathedral. He was telling me that five years in the priesthood can be a dangerous time. It is the equivalent of the seven year itch in a marriage. At five years, the honeymoon is over. (Let me tell you, it was long over for me—in fact, I don’t remember much of a honeymoon).
Most of us go into ministry thinking of all that we will accomplish. We think everyone we will bring to God, of everyone we will “save.” Which reminds me of my favorite Beatles song. No, It’s not “Love me do” or “She Loves You” or “Yellow Submarine.” It’s “Eleanor Rigby.” I think one of most plaintive lines form that song about lonely people and their lonely existence is that wonderful line:
“Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name.
Nobody came.
Father Mackenzie, wiping the first from his hands as he walks from the grave;
no one was saved.”
At five years, one often feels like Father Mackenzie. One often feels as though one is walking away from Mass, or a funeral or a wedding or, God help us, a baptism, feeling as though “no one was saved.”
But in those moments—and all of who minister in any way has them—we find ourselves clinging to the Gospel reading we have for today. In it, we find that Jesus, at no point, promises us a rose garden. Certainly no one promised me any such thing when I was ordained. Doing ministry does not mean that we are going to wake up every morning feeling as though sunlight is falling in dappled rays upon us.
Rather Jesus tells us in our Gospel reading for this feast of St. Barnabas, one of his more bluntly statements: “If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town.”
Even more bluntly Jesus says, “See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”
No rose gardens here. It’s just the facts of ministry. We are often going to feel like sheep in the midst of goats. And our only defense is going to be being as wise as serpents and innocent as doves.
Having said all of that, I can say that, yes, five years is definitely one of those watermarks in one’s priestly career. But on this anniversary, I will repeat what I said at first: I love being a priest. I really love being a priest. Even on those terrible, awful days when everything seems to be unraveling or on those days when I come home after a full day or work so tired I can’t even see clearly, I am able to feel in my heart and soul that I love being what I am—a priest.
On this, my fifth anniversary, I pray for God’s blessings not only on me but on all of us who are ministering. I pray for God’s blessing on the ministry we are doing together here at St. Stephen’s and in this Diocese.
I am going to close with one of my favorite prayers. This was written by one of my personal spiritual heroes, Thomas Merton, who himself realized fairly early on in his ordained ministry that the priesthood wasn’t all sunshine and roses. This is a prayer I think all of can appreciate as we seek to do God’s will in our lives:
Let us pray.
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.I do not see the road ahead of me.I cannot know for certain where it will end.Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean I am actually doing so.But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it.Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
Matthew 10:7-16
Tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. And on the eve of this fifth anniversary, I am going to confess something to you that I have not heard many priests confess at five years: I love being a priest. I LOVE being a priest! I really do.
Five years is a strange time in the life of a priest. At five years, one has, more or less, figured one’s self out professionally. One knows what direction God is sending one at five years. And, at five years, one finds one’s self going through a kind of mid-life crises.
By five years, one knows if one is producing fruit or if one is sowing seeds in dead and dusty soil.
The other day I was talking to Dean Steve Sellers at the Cathedral. He was telling me that five years in the priesthood can be a dangerous time. It is the equivalent of the seven year itch in a marriage. At five years, the honeymoon is over. (Let me tell you, it was long over for me—in fact, I don’t remember much of a honeymoon).
Most of us go into ministry thinking of all that we will accomplish. We think everyone we will bring to God, of everyone we will “save.” Which reminds me of my favorite Beatles song. No, It’s not “Love me do” or “She Loves You” or “Yellow Submarine.” It’s “Eleanor Rigby.” I think one of most plaintive lines form that song about lonely people and their lonely existence is that wonderful line:
“Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name.
Nobody came.
Father Mackenzie, wiping the first from his hands as he walks from the grave;
no one was saved.”
At five years, one often feels like Father Mackenzie. One often feels as though one is walking away from Mass, or a funeral or a wedding or, God help us, a baptism, feeling as though “no one was saved.”
But in those moments—and all of who minister in any way has them—we find ourselves clinging to the Gospel reading we have for today. In it, we find that Jesus, at no point, promises us a rose garden. Certainly no one promised me any such thing when I was ordained. Doing ministry does not mean that we are going to wake up every morning feeling as though sunlight is falling in dappled rays upon us.
Rather Jesus tells us in our Gospel reading for this feast of St. Barnabas, one of his more bluntly statements: “If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town.”
Even more bluntly Jesus says, “See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”
No rose gardens here. It’s just the facts of ministry. We are often going to feel like sheep in the midst of goats. And our only defense is going to be being as wise as serpents and innocent as doves.
Having said all of that, I can say that, yes, five years is definitely one of those watermarks in one’s priestly career. But on this anniversary, I will repeat what I said at first: I love being a priest. I really love being a priest. Even on those terrible, awful days when everything seems to be unraveling or on those days when I come home after a full day or work so tired I can’t even see clearly, I am able to feel in my heart and soul that I love being what I am—a priest.
On this, my fifth anniversary, I pray for God’s blessings not only on me but on all of us who are ministering. I pray for God’s blessing on the ministry we are doing together here at St. Stephen’s and in this Diocese.
I am going to close with one of my favorite prayers. This was written by one of my personal spiritual heroes, Thomas Merton, who himself realized fairly early on in his ordained ministry that the priesthood wasn’t all sunshine and roses. This is a prayer I think all of can appreciate as we seek to do God’s will in our lives:
Let us pray.
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.I do not see the road ahead of me.I cannot know for certain where it will end.Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean I am actually doing so.But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it.Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
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