I was tempted seriously to postpone the fulfilment of the promise I made last week i.e. that on the occasion of the anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood I would give my reflections on this most important dimension of my life. Many interested things happened during the week and I was of a mind to comment about. However, I finally decided that this week should be the week.
June 19, 1977. Ordination mass was at 8.00a.m. at St John’s Co-Cathedral. It was in one sense the climax of a long process. In another sense, it was the beginning of a different one.
The Power and the Glory
The best book I ever read about priests and the priesthood was not written by a theologian, or a bishop or a priest. It was a novel written by a layman. Graham Greene gave us the wonderful story of a priest caught in the Mexican persecution – The Power and the Glory. He was an alcoholic and even fathered a child; not much of a priest one would be tempted to say. However, while the “good” priests ran for their lives when the persecution began or took up the Government’s offer to marry, this “bad” priest stayed around trying to minister his flock as best as he could. He finally did get away to a safer state. Life was going to start anew. Then a renegade brought him a written message from an American criminal who was on the run. He had been wounded and wrote that he was dying and wanted to confess. The priest was almost certain that this was a trap. However, he left the safety of his haven to hear this person’s confession. It was a trap. He was arrested and, later, shot as a martyr.
Greene’s novel shows the priest in all his misery and in all his glory. We priests are fundamentally similar: the misery is ours; the glory is the Lord’s.
A priest is not like a doctor
Being a priest is different from being a doctor, or a lawyer or a carpenter. One holds a profession thanks to one’s talents and hard work. It is one’s merit to be a doctor or a carpenter or whatever. A priest is not a priest because of his merits or hard work. A priest is not a priest because of personal achievements. He is not a priest because he is the wisest, or the holiest in his community. On the contrary, we are priests in spite of many mistakes we do and sins we commit. Every day at the beginning of the mass we proclaim to the community that we sinned. The sins of some are more public than the sins of others. However, sinners we are, all of us.
One is a priest in spite of himself and not because of himself.
The priesthood is pure gift given primarily for the sake of the community and not for the sake of the recipient. Consequently, while one can boast of being a doctor or a carpenter one cannot boast because one is a priest. The sensation that a priest has is of a different kind; it is joy. As Ratzinger writes in one of his books, we are ministers of His joy. Sometimes we do not behave as ministers (i.e. servants). Sometimes we behave as it we are masters. Sometimes instead of being ministers of His joy we project ourselves as if we are ministers of His wrath.
Being a priest is much more than acting in a particular way. It is a way of being more than just a particular way of behaving. Quite naturally the “doing” part should follow the “being” part. This way the “being” can be expressed in so many different ways and manners. One is not only a priest when one celebrates mass – though that is a most powerful and defining moment – but one is also a priest of which are, prima facie, “secular” work e.g. teaching, research, media, etc. Quite naturally the translating of these “secular” activities into a priestly ministry bring with it particular challenges.
I am thankful
I have been a priest for 34 years. I am thankful that the Lord chose me to celebrate His joy by communicating it to others and by experiencing it myself. I know the joy of saying to others and listening myself to the words “your sins are forgiven.” I know the joy that comes from the discovery that God is madly in love with us. I am awed by the power of consecrating bread and wine to the Body and Blood of Christ and the joy of receiving them. I have seen the joy of God’s love radiating from people in pain, young innocent children, proud mothers and fathers, the fragile aged and so many others. These last 34 years I have been comforted by the love of a God who, because of me, became a fragile man not capable of carrying his own cross on his own. Such a weak and vulnerable God surely understands my weakness and vulnerability!
To-day I look back at all these years and thank the Lord for being so kind to me and the ecclesial community for accepting and loving me notwithstanding my limitations.