Fourth Sunday of Easter Reflection: The Good Shepherd and Our Call to Serve
May Schedule; Readings for Mass April 26, Fourth Sunday of Easter; Virtual Homily; An O'Dowd Tragedy
Readings for Mass this Sunday:
Acts 2:14, 36-41
Psalm 23:1-6
1 Peter 2:20-25
John 10:1-10
Dear and Friends and Family,
The Fourth Sunday of Easter has been officially designated by the Church as "World Day of Prayer for Vocations," which makes eminent sense given the "Good Shepherd" theme of today's readings. A brief overview of each of the readings follows, and then a more general reflection on this business of vocations to priesthood and religious life.
The reading from chapter two of Acts includes a recommendation from Peter in his speech to the crowd which had gathered that first Pentecost morning. This recommendation is that the crowd
"Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is made to you and to your children and to all those far off, whomever the Lord will call" (vss. 38-39).
Peter himself, of course, has only just received the gift of the Holy Spirit, or at any event, received the gift in power. The power of that gift -- evident in the preaching not just of Peter but of many of the disciples -- is underscored in the fact of three thousand converts made that day; the birth of the Church (vs. 41).
Psalm 23, of course, is considered THE psalm about the good shepherd. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," may be one of the most famous lines from all 150 psalms (vs. 1). The psalm, of course, goes on to detail the psalmist's abiding trust in the Lord, using pastoral imagery appropriate to the description of a shepherd (vss. 2-3). The psalm is often read (or sung) at funerals, for its assurances that with this shepherd, the soul is safe (vss. 3-4, in particular).
The passage from the First Letter of Peter also uses shepherd imagery, in describing Christ: "...you had gone astray like sheep, but you have now returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls" (vs. 25). Peter actually paraphrases Isaiah 53 in this passage -- "By his wounds you have been healed" (vs. 24) appears to be a direct and deliberate lift from that famous chapter in Isaiah. Chapter 53 describes the Passion of the Lord in striking detail.
Peter admonishes his readers to see in Christ's patient suffering our own model; assuring us that "if you are patient when you suffer for doing good, this is a grace before God" (vs. 20). The invitation is to follow the example of Christ and so win grace for the salvation of souls; the invitation is to use suffering for a meritorious purpose. This invitation gets at the business of redemptive suffering; too much to delve into in this homily, but Peter here reminds us that nothing need be wasted -- including our setbacks, hurts, disappointments, injuries, illnesses; anything we might suffer we can turn to a very lofty purpose. Jesus is our model.
The Gospel passage is the Good Shepherd discourse from John. Jesus calls himself the Good Shepherd here and distinguishes a good shepherd, a true shepherd, from a mere hired laborer. The sheep follow because they recognize the shepherd's voice; they trust the good, the true shepherd. The Good Shepherd seeks the safety and the salvation of the flock; he desires that the flock might "have life and have it more abundantly" (vs. 10). In verse eleven, just beyond today's passage, Jesus assures us that, "I am the good shepherd. A good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."
From which point it is a fairly straightforward segue to a consideration of vocations to priesthood and religious life; to the formation of shepherds for the flock in our day. It goes without saying that the Church in the West has seen a real drop in the number of vocations for over half a century; since shortly after the close of the Second Vatican Council. (It may be more accurate to say a drop of vocations in Europe and North America, since Latin America has not had the same experience.)
As someone who has worked with the young for over thirty years, and who has seen real possibilities for priestly or religious commitment, now and again, among the young people I have ministered to, I think I can identify at least a few of the reasons for this fall-off in vocations. The reasons I am thinking of are deeply rooted in contemporary Western culture; they are going to persist for some time to come. Despite these realities I honestly feel that the vocation shortage is temporary. Long-term, true, but temporary.
I think the pendulum can only swing so far in one direction before it begins to swing back in the other. I have said for years that I think God intends to raise up a great number of faithful Christians and even saints among the younger generation (I am now, actually, talking about two younger generations). And perhaps we are starting to see something of this in the recent news reports about a revival of religious interest (or maybe I should say, interest in religion; not just spirituality, but organized religion) among Millennials and Gen Z-ers.
And, of course, there is no shortage of vocations in the developing world. The former missionary territories are now sending priests and religious to Europe and especially to North America. There are cultural and other issues involved with this new reality, but on the whole I think we can trust the movement of the Spirit here -- the Church is universal. Differences in approach and practice should, in an ideal context, lead to a broadening of perspectives on both sides.
Finally, I do not want to leave this set of considerations without observing that, necessity being the mother of invention, perhaps the current priest shortage in the West is connected to future developments in the way the Church ministers overall; developments including but not limited to a greater empowerment of the laity.
In any event, Jesus tells us that our "job," with regard to vocations, is to pray. "The harvest is great, the laborers few" (Matthew 9:37-38). Among other things, we need laborers in that part of the vineyard inhabited by youth. It is there that vocations are inspired.
On the subject of youthful inspiration and commitment, I've been reminded of just how radical, how life-transformative a dynamic this can be, the past few weeks, learning of the death -- in what I can only call heroic circumstances -- of one of my former students at O'Dowd.
The student's name is Joe Bank. Joe was a student I would call a favorite, except of course, that faculty are not supposed to have favorites. In any event, Joe himself several times assured me, and his dad reiterated it in the e-mail he sent, alerting me to Joe's death, that I was Joe's favorite teacher. Joe had a bright, at times mischievous, smile; sharp intelligence and a laser-like wit. But above all Joe had a generous and compassionate heart. He was loved by fellow students and faculty alike. Joe was a member of the Class of 2022, a class with which I had a particularly deep bond, because they were ripped away from me two thirds of the way through their sophomore year, owing to COVID. I did not see most of them again until the start of their senior year.
Joe was a senior in February, 2022, when Russia invaded Ukraine. His parents to this day cannot find adequate words to describe how the invasion affected Joe; it became his primary focus that spring. He found it impossible to ignore or even compartmentalize the evil of the invasion. He volunteered that spring for a non-profit that was helping Ukrainian refugees. Joe's family is not Ukrainian and until he went to work for the non-profit, Joe knew no one from the country.
The summer after his graduation, Joe went to work for an NGO -- in Kyiv. The NGO, again, was focused on assisting Ukrainian refugees. Joe did not speak Ukrainian at the start of his time in Kyiv. But he learned the language rapidly and well; he was more or less fluent by Christmas of that year. After a trip home at the holidays that year Joe enlisted in the Ukrainian military as a drone pilot. Fighting for Ukrainian freedom would be the sole focus and purpose of his life for the next three-plus years.
Joe came home once or twice a year. His folks tell me they often recommended that he get in touch with me, on his visits home, and I can only say that I wish he had. His dad speculated that Joe did not reach out to me because he was afraid I would not approve of his decision, given, after all, that the very nature of his position involved violence and death.
This past March 6, Joe and a member of his unit were near the front lines when a Russian drone struck their vehicle. They both survived the attack, almost unscathed. But when Joe went back to the burning vehicle to grab his weapon a second explosion demolished the vehicle, killing Joe instantly. He was a month short of his twenty-second birthday. His buddy got safely back behind Ukrainian lines.
Although I did a funeral on campus for an O'Dowd grad, in the winter of 2017, I had not known that student. He had been a junior when I arrived at the high school, and at the time I only taught sophomores. So I have experienced once before the death of a student who was at O'Dowd during my time here. But Joe is the first of the students I taught, the first of the students I knew, to die, and I am still in shock almost to the point of disbelief about it.
The celebration of life held in Oakland last Saturday was overflowing with mourners -- in his short life Joe touched a lot of hearts. His parents told me that his colleagues in Kyiv had also held a memorial service for him. It was also hugely attended and it was live-streamed, so that his family and friends in America could watch.
Death is not something that much crosses the territory when you work at a high school. It is widely, simply and understandably assumed by my colleagues and I that the teens we meet in the classroom, pass in the halls, joke and laugh with in the sunshine on the quad, have decades of life ahead; will be here engaged and challenged by their lives long after the middle of the century has passed. As I say, Joe's death has left me almost numb. It seems that it cannot be that he no longer walks, talks, fights, hopes, laughs, dreams, loves...among us.
His parents are Mike and Sara. Joe was their only child. If you think of it now and again, please say a prayer for them.
Take good care. God bless.
Love,
Fr. Brawn
May Schedule (All Masses English):
Saturday, May 2
5 PM
Sunday, May 3
8 AM, 630 PM
CATHOLIC COMMUNITY OF PLEASANTON
11 AM
Sunday, May 10
8 AM, 1115 AM
Saturday, May 16
5 PM
Sunday, May 17
630 PM
Sunday, May 24
8 AM, 1115 AM
Sunday, May 31
630 PM
Weekday Masses (All English, 8 AM)
Sat May 2
Mon May 4
Sat, May 9
Mon, May 11
Sat, May 16
Mon, May 18
Sat, May 23
Mon, May 25
Sat, May 30