(3/3) This is My Body: Pattern for the Mass, the Sacraments, and the Church

This is the third of three sermons I recently preached for the annual Forty Hours Devotion of Saint Nicholas Parish in Walnutport (Northampton County, Diocese of Allentown), edited for clarity. Below is a keepsake of the event that I hoped would help people get the gist of the talks as a whole.

The Lord Jesus offered Himself for the life of the world. He uttered the words, “This is My Body,” and made them the pattern for all offering-of-self. He said those words, of course, in the Upper Room on the night before His death. In a certain sense, Jesus also said those words upon the Cross: “This is My Body, which will be given up for you."

Humanly speaking, Jesus learned those words at home—and that pattern of action. He learned from His holy mother, who at the angel’s invitation presented herself body and soul to the Lord’s service. Her body provided His Body. Joseph, too, sacrificed his ambitions, his expectations and plans, to the life of his Son as it so strangely unfolded. Joseph gave himself up for Jesus—for his own salvation, for Mary's, and ours. Consider the reading from Ephesians: "He gave gifts to men." Hence the parents of God merit our ceaseless gratitude.

Fittingly, then, today we consider how the “Sacraments of Communion and Mission” or “Sacraments of Vocation” consecrate disciples in body and soul for the formidable task of building up Christ’s Mystical Body, the Church.

We are talking about the Sacraments of Matrimony and Holy Orders. In the previous sacraments we saw how God has conferred power by the Laying on of Hands. This physical gesture shows how divine grace comes to us “incarnationally,” that is, the spiritual being embodied in the material. God the Son not only became flesh, He became food for flesh, under the appearances of bread and wine. God chose to give us Himself through bread, wine, water, oil, words, gestures—and people.

Spouses effectively say unto one another, “This is my body, which will be given up for you.” They do this in the recitation of vows, in the sexual act, in the raising of a family as God provides, and in so many other daily works and sufferings. They do it when they lead with their weaknesses, sharing honestly with each other and helping each other to grow in holiness and virtue.

One of my favorite photographs from my ordination to priesthood 19 ½ years ago, before the age of selfies, would have been impossible to take myself anyhow: my classmate and I were lying prostrate on the floor of the Cathedral while everyone sang the Litany of the Saints. Then we stood up and Bishop Cullen laid his hands on our heads. The other bishop and priests gathered for the occasion did the same. That ancient practice once again conveyed divine purpose and power.

In the first moment, Fr. Garcia-Almodóvar and I effectively said to the Lord and to His Church, “This is my body, which will be given up for you.” In that ceremony, the laying-down of our bodies was somewhat romantic, but believe me, there have been a few moments since, where the romance wore off. Married couples, you may have similar experiences.

The romance gives way to the reality in the priest’s daily care and direction for the Church—as a whole, and according to that portion entrusted to him. Paying bills, binding wounds, changing lightbulbs, praying for those in your trust. Participants in Holy Orders and Marriage do many of the same things as they participate in the growth of holiness and virtue. They are complementary Sacraments that build up the Mystical Body of Christ, especially through the Word and Sacraments commonly available to all disciples. (And most Eastern Christian priests, Catholic and Orthodox, share in both Marriage and Holy Orders.)

[Editor's Note: I cannot recall how I ended the sermon. Guess you had to be there!]

Fruitfulness in Home and Church

We have mentioned before that this is the “Springtime of the Church,” what with First Holy Communions, Baptisms and Confirmations, and soon, Ordinations. Next week, Bishop Barres will ordain two men to the Diaconate: Brendon Laroche and Jared Zambelli. In June, he will ordain four men to the Priesthood: James Harper (from HGA), Daniel Kravatz, Kevin Lonergan, and Mark Searles. We pray that the Church will experience continued fruitfulness in every respect.

The theme of fruitfulness is apt for our reflection today (Sunday readings here). Americans are celebrating Mothers Day. Mothers cooperate most intimately in the generation and development of human beings. They are often the first to teach prayers, to drag children to Mass, and otherwise to give example of humanity and holiness. They can be a child’s most reliable seamstress, boo-boo kisser, and constructive critic. The image of a shepherd’s recognizable voice certainly applies to the Mom who calls for the kids to come in for dinner (or, perhaps, who texts them to come downstairs for it). Many a mother has wept for and pleaded with a child who has strayed from the faith or from the family. Mothers tend to want abundant life for their children, in imitation of the desire Jesus expressed for His brothers and sisters: “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” (Jn 10:10). Mothers (and fathers) understandably want their children to prosper in every imaginable way.

When it comes to spiritual, particularly vocational fruitfulness, I can’t help but wonder if, in many cases, parents don’t consider, much less endorse, the priesthood and consecrated life for their children—at least not for long, before other ideas smack it down. My guess is that the prospect of grandchildren has the most appeal, although some might prefer their kids to have a more lucrative career or something else. I’ll bet that some parents could have a deep-seated, fearful aversion to the idea that “one of my children should become a priest/nun.” The reasons for such an aversion are worth exploring, but that’s a post for another day.

I can speak only for myself and, I trust, for my family. My late father didn’t often share tender sentiments, but he was visibly proud of me and honored the path I took. Any legitimate, moral occupation that suited me was fine by him. My mother put all her eggs in one basket, and she couldn’t be happier; in any case, she would rather not get in God’s way when it came to my life. In a manner of speaking, she gets to have many grandchildren, and doesn’t have to change any of their diapers. With understandable bias, I consider my parents’ attitude toward my vocation as one that should be normative for parents, whatever vocation their children choose.

A good parent is a good shepherd who takes cues from Jesus and the Church—from the wisdom of His teachings, from the fidelity of her saints. Good parents strive to place their gifts and faults, their strengths and limitations, at the service of the Lord and their children. They are interested in what their children want and need: whatever pertains to their health, their safety, and their salvation. We pray that our children will stay close to their families and to the Church, to learn the Lord’s loving intentions for their lives, so that they may freely and joyfully cooperate in those intentions each day.

Reflections on Clerical Celibacy

Patient Reader:

Following is a reprint of an article of mine that was printed last month by the A.D. Times, the official newspaper of the Diocese of Allentown.

In early 2002 the clergy sexual abuse scandals first broke out in the Archdiocese of Boston, sending shockwaves through parishes and seminaries across the nation. The failures of some clergy revealed gaps in priestly formation, insufficient monitoring and support, and diseased attitudes about sexuality and power. Providentially, those failures also prompted a fresh discussion of the meaning and observance of celibate chastity.

The mainstream media usually remind us that celibacy is not an immutable dogma, but a retractable discipline (for future candidates, not for those already ordained). Invariably we hear, “It can change. Perhaps the next Pope…” and so forth. True, but not likely. Nor do I think making celibacy optional would result in a lasting increase in vocations, if the situation of our Eastern Catholic*, Orthodox, and Protestant brethren adds any insight.

People have considered facets of Catholicism to be perplexing, or downright objectionable, since the Church’s infancy: “Many of [Jesus’] disciples who were listening said, ‘This saying is hard; who can accept it?’” (John 6:60) They were referring, of course, to Jesus’ Self-designation as the “Bread of Life” and the accompanying condition, “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you” (John 6:53). It seems the prevailing human tendency is toward the exact opposites of childlike trust and honest inquiry!

Even though celibacy does not pertain to the essence of the priesthood, and vowed chastity is a voluntary counsel, their observance bears special significance and power for the Church, and is therefore worth the consideration of every Catholic.

A non-Catholic friend of mine apparently finds celibacy worth considering, too. He is happily married, but he respects the celibate life choice so much that he once suggested to one of our mutual friends, a priest: “You guys should talk to each other about celibacy more often.” How dare he recommend something to us? I’ll tell you how: he cares about us and about the people we serve. It’s one of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever heard!

We priests should talk about what it means to us, about how to live as faithful (i.e. not just “non-violating,” but “peaceful, engaging, and fruitful”) celibates, just as married individuals and couples should talk about marriage.

In the seminary I remember one priest warning us about the danger of a “comfortable bachelorhood,” devoid of marital and family responsibilities (embodied by the uxorial epithet “Ol’ Ball-and-Chain”). While every human being ought to have hobbies and diversions, it’s rather possible for priests to attend more to such things than to their parish or family, or to charitable pursuits. I’ve become more conscious of this since returning in earnest to running a few years ago, and I don’t claim to be perfectly balanced at any given moment!

The premise in bachelorhood is, “I am accountable to nobody for the expenditure of my resources.” Celibates can give the impression that we are “free,” and gladly so, when we are in fact called to a comparable or greater level of investment in our priestly people. To live this way can be a scandal to God’s flock—not nearly as perverse as sexual abuse, but no less diminishing of our people’s respect and trust.

In order to be a better steward of God’s many gifts, I enlist a handful of priests and lay friends as friendly watchdogs. We priests ought to be vulnerable enough to amass such a cadre of honest folks, and to be numbered among others’ privy cabinets. Nobody can afford to live in an echo chamber that reflects nothing but the pleasant sounds we like to hear!

Then there are the misdeeds common to all daughters and sons of Adam, against the sixth and ninth commandments—violations more of chastity (sexual integrity) and continence (self-control) than of celibacy per se. They may be motivated more by weakness than malice, but they affect everyone from the parties directly involved to the entire Mystical Body of Christ. An unmarried person’s failures are serious enough; but those of a married, ordained, or vowed person are compounded by the solemn, public promises that they have made.

Without being an actual party to the conversation my priest friend had with our mutual friend, I surmise that the subject matter they had in mind was not the temptation to materialism inherent in “comfortable bachelorhood,” but rather the misdirection of sexual and romantic desires. The mutual friend knew well that one might consciously and freely forgo these human, God-given drives only for worthy motives and with gainful alternatives.

Recently I substituted for the 5^th grade teacher in our Public School Religious Education. I was speaking about the Eucharist as sacrifice, memorial, and banquet, and mentioned that the priest spoke the words of consecration personally, offering his life for the Church in union with the Lord Jesus. Out of nowhere (where the Holy Spirit always seems to operate), a child asked me, “Is it a sacrifice not to have a wife and children?”

Immediately I thought of a quote from the Swiss priest and theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar: “When God demands of us something difficult, we often seek to be aided in our compliance by motives that rob the action of its whole value. For instance, we try to convince ourselves that what is sacrificed—friends, a comfortable life, and so on—at bottom means little to us. What if God should give us only what no longer has any value for him?” (The Grain of Wheat: Aphorisms. Ignatius Press, 1995).

So yes, I answered, it is a real sacrifice not to have a wife and children. But I also said that I frequently consider how that sacrifice has resulted in my being right where I am today: at Holy Guardian Angels Parish, speaking with these children who call me “Father” because they have become my children. Now none of that small group of children came home with me after PREP was over, but perhaps they left appreciating how Father was there for them. What is just as important, Father himself knew that.

By our very existence in our parishes, communities, and families, chaste celibates affirm the primacy of the Kingdom of God and the baptized person’s calling to seek it “first” (Mt 6:33). That’s supposed to turn heads and raise eyebrows. But if people—especially celibates themselves—do not look through the elements being renounced in favor of the blessings being received, they will continue to consider celibacy inhuman and try to bypass it however possible.

Like anyone else in the world, celibates are occasionally going to feel lonely and incomplete. This is certainly to be expected, and not to be ignored or downplayed. Here as always, the question is, “What am I to do about it?” For God’s sake and for our own, celibates have to do something—especially in light of a celibate’s intention to point to the ultimate fulfillment of heaven.

But let’s be clear: at first the lonely celibate will probably set aside any otherworldly dimension of loneliness; to suggest otherwise is naïve. After all, loneliness is a human emotion crying out for redress—or rather a question seeking a response. Without enlisting a reliable network of monitoring and support (and, alas, sometimes even with it), there is no wonder how people resort to all manner of unhealthy diversions. Hence the interest of seminaries and other houses of formation to train fundamentally sound people in human and spiritual, intellectual and pastoral virtues. Imagine how potential spouses might fare with such attention to discipleship!

Most people reading this essay either have been married or are at least open to marriage. As an intentional celibate—and as a human being—I have profound respect for the marital vocation. One of the most effective ways I can show that respect is to live joyfully as a celibate. Thus I will also be an example of humanity and holiness.

To that end I need help from fellow celibates and married couples alike. That help takes the form of friendship, accountability, compassion, and encouragement; for my part I should be equally willing to extend the same to others. Then there are everyday things that I myself must do: pray, fast, give alms, and be vigilant. These spiritual disciplines are the heritage of every baptized Christian. Priests and religious were not intended to be exempt from them; in fact, our troubles arise from the exemptions we’ve made!

By the generous embrace of their joys and sacrifices, may celibates and married persons help each other to discover the value of their respective vocations in human society and God’s Kingdom.

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*After the initial publication of the article, I decided to include "Eastern Catholic" in this sentence upon further reflection and consultation with an Orthodox friend and deacon.

It has been the ancient tradition of Orthodox Christianity, and it had been the custom of most Eastern Rites of the Catholic Church, to permit clergy to be married before being ordained to the diaconate, whether "permanent" or "transitional." Bishops, however, are chosen from the unmarried and monastic clergy.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Eastern Catholics in the diaspora, especially in the United States, experienced considerable ignorance and persecution, prompting the Vatican to mandate celibacy in territories to which Eastern Catholics had migrated. The Second Vatican Council later urged Catholics of the Eastern Rites to return to traditions such as the ordination of married clergy, but U.S. Eparchies have not implemented such reforms uniformly. (reference).

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A devoted reader also sent a link to the Chrism Mass homily of Archbishop Socrates B. Villegas of Lingayen-Dagupan (here is the Facebook link). The Archbishop's reflection is worth reading for his candid assessment of the pitfalls to which celibate priests are regularly exposed, as well as their remedies.

Appreciation is a Many-Splendored Thing

It didn't occur to me until the commentator announced it at my Saturday vigil Mass: this weekend was Priesthood Sunday! I spoke about Priest Appreciation Sunday last year in a theological exposition upon the threefold munera (gifts/offices) of Christ's Priesthood as the ordained and, indeed, all the baptized exemplify them.

Since my return to Facebook I have "liked" Fr. James Martin, S.J., who offers a different take on this celebration:

"As I see it, this means that priests can show their appreciation today! This priest appreciates all the hard-working, talented, and faithful men and women who keep our church alive!"

Well, if that isn't the mark of a good writer/speaker: to help people see things a different way! Yes, the official title is "Priesthood Sunday," which seems pointedly to direct  the recognition to the ordained; but then again, as I noted in the above post, all the baptized share in the priesthood. This day, then, recognizes all the baptized, from whom the Lord has chosen a relatively small number of men to be "poured out like a libation" (to quote today's second reading, 2 Tim 4:6-8, 16-18) as preachers of the Gospel, ministers of the Sacraments, and providers of Pastoral Care.

The Gospel reading (Lk 18:9-14) also pertains to the current topic, specifically as an admonition to clergy against hypocrisy, to which I think we are particularly prone.

The more I read these diatribes against the Pharisees, the more I must admit that I probably don't surpass many people in terms of prayer, fasting, or charity. People unwittingly remind me that I don't know much, and I know less and less as I get older. And I've barely cleared the age range of "young adults" to whom I'll be speaking tomorrow at "Theology On Tap"!

In bygone days many people placed priests on a pedestal, picking up restaurant checks and opening doors not considered for the laity. Some priests undoubtedly took advantage of that privilege, and some have abused their power for purposes of influence, property, or libido. If the Church is a Mother, are we "Momma's Boys"? Only if we aren't as grateful, considerate, and generous with our resources as our good people are! Only if we don't intend as often as possible to be a good example to everyone in our path! That's a choice that each priest must make, many times daily.

If you insist on showing appreciation to your priests on this or any other day, that is to say, if you want to "keep the Church alive," I simply ask that you strive to observe the precepts of the Church:

• Attend Mass on Sundays and other Holy Days of Obligation;
• Receive the Eucharist as often and as worthily as possible;
• Confess your sins (definitely the mortal, and why not? the venial) at least once a year, but more often if you want to become a clearer beacon of holiness and virtue;
• Observe the Church's penitential practices regarding abstinence from meat and fasting;
• Dedicate appropriate, even sacrificial, amounts of time, abilities, and finances to the spiritual and temporal services that your parish community provides.

Anything you do outside of striving to follow the Precepts is certainly appreciated; but nothing you do outside of striving to follow the precepts will excuse you from doing so. 

Be assured that I hold myself to the same standards as I'd hold you--and just as imperfectly--because I am one of you.

Family Matters, But So Do I

Yesterday--or perhaps it was two years ago--a rather devout parishioner told me that she has a few people in her family who are priests. I know that several of her relatives, also registered parishioners, do not attend Mass regularly. I do not know for certain the effect of this woman's example on the other family members; that may be something to find out in the next life. On another occasion a woman (also of the Christmas/Easter/family event variety) mentioned by name the priest to whom she is related. I also know a fellow who has told me a relative of his "goes to church enough for all of  [her children]."

I don't know if other priests encounter this sort of situation. I suspect they do.

Unfortunately one person's Mass attendance, standing in the Church, relation to a priest or consecrated religious, or whatever, can't "count for" another person's expected fidelity.

The practice of a priest giving his Chrism-soaked manutergium to his mother, or the first-Confession stole to his father, is sweet and sentimental. As my class was approaching ordination, I knew of the former custom but not the latter. Now that my father is dead and buried, and I didn't happen to have a stole on me when my first penitent requested Confession (I wasn't in a confessional), that possibility is forever lost. But I did give Mom the manutergium (manus, hand + tergere, to wipe off). To be technical, my classmate and I used a purificatory (used to clean the chalice after reception of Holy Communion); an actual manutergium is long enough to bind the hands.

As the story goes, the mother of a priest is buried with the manutergium in her hands so that, when she meets her Maker, she can say to Him, "See, I have given You a priest." It's kinda like, "See, I have made [one] more!" (cf. Mt 25:20,22) She did have a lot to do with me--as a human being and as a priest.

The Proof is in the Putting

My mother worked for nearly 40 years as a Licensed Practical Nurse. Not long after my ordination she told me that some of her coworkers said that she should have no problem getting into heaven now that she has a son who is a priest. She quickly refuted that claim: "It doesn't work that way."

Didn't Jesus have something to say about this fantasy?

• "While [Jesus] was speaking, a woman from the crowd called out and said to him, 'Blessed is the womb that carried you and the breasts at which you nursed.' 'Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.'" (Lk 11:27-28) (One of my favorite Gospels du jour, because of the punch it packs)
• Oops--this was John the Baptist, but no matter: "And do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.' For I tell you, God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones." (Mt 3:9) (I admit that I have fantasized about using an extremely earthy variation of this line on those who would ride another's coattails to heaven--a line that I doubt nobody else would take credit for. If it ever seems opportune...no! I still can't use it!)

My ordination to the priesthood is a boon to Christ our Savior and Holy Mother Church, whom I am honored to serve. In a way it is also an honor to my family. For this reason I have preferred people to address me as "Father Zelonis." I have oft said that most of my family are surprised enough that a Zelonis should have become a priest. To my knowledge, neither side is banking their salvation on the fact that I am a priest. I can't even do that! 

Likewise, no believer can continue to live freely and consciously as he or she pleases and figure that Nana's or Uncle Henry's faith will take care of them. Now it may, as in the case of Saint Monica, be the necessary intercession that could move a child, grandchild, parent, niece or nephew to repentance and conversion; it could be the good example that always comes back to haunt or intrigue, or perchance inspire.

Reading "The Wreck," Stanzas 24-27

24             Away in the loveable west,	185
On a pastoral forehead of Wales,
I was under a roof here, I was at rest,
And they the prey of the gales;
She to the black-about air, to the breaker, the thickly
Falling flakes, to the throng that catches and quails	190
Was calling ‘O Christ, Christ, come quickly’:
The cross to her she calls Christ to her, christens her wild-worst Best.
25             The majesty! what did she mean?
Breathe, arch and original Breath.
Is it love in her of the being as her lover had been?	195
Breathe, body of lovely Death.
They were else-minded then, altogether, the men
Woke thee with a we are perishing in the weather of Gennesareth.
Or is it that she cried for the crown then,
The keener to come at the comfort for feeling the combating keen?	200
26             For how to the heart’s cheering
The down-dugged ground-hugged grey
Hovers off, the jay-blue heavens appearing
Of pied and peeled May!
Blue-beating and hoary-glow height; or night, still higher,	205
With belled fire and the moth-soft Milky Way,
What by your measure is the heaven of desire,
The treasure never eyesight got, nor was ever guessed what for the hearing?
27             No, but it was not these.
The jading and jar of the cart,	210
Time’s tasking, it is fathers that asking for ease
Of the sodden-with-its-sorrowing heart,
Not danger, electrical horror; then further it finds
The appealing of the Passion is tenderer in prayer apart:
Other, I gather, in measure her mind’s	215
Burden, in wind’s burly and beat of endragonèd seas.

I was at rest: The first half of stanza 24 comes to mind when I think of my brother priests (or their charges) who are serving in the military. While other noble souls are in the storm--whatever form the storm may take--I have nothing to complain about. Pope Francis called upon priests to acquire the scent of their flock by engaging deeply in their service. Smell like seminarians, high-school students, the elderly, prisoners, or anyone else--just be out there among them!  That's what Hopkins was doing in his particular setting, so I don't believe that Hopkins was considering his academic responsibilities as a sinecure.  It is neither proper nor helpful to compare one person's task to another's. If both do their best, working prayerfully, rigorously, and generously, God be praised!

Christ, come quickly: The recent story of the "Missouri Mystery Priest" (upon which I reflected here) tells of an alter Christus who responded to an emergency call with prayer, encouragement, and sacramental ministration. The teenage accident victim thought enough to call out for prayer at that crucial moment. The swift and cautious attention of emergency personnel is a very real kind of prayer, so if they didn't answer the young woman's request vocally, I'd understand. The second responder--the priest--surely made a vocal response!

I'd like to think that any of us priests would do that, but then I'd have to reflect on whether I'd do that!

As a newly-ordained priest I was driving back to the rectory from a visit home when I noticed police and emergency vehicles gathered at the side of a road. I stopped farther down the road and, oil stock in hand, marched over to the site. A car had lost control, broke through a guard rail, and fallen down the embankment. I hailed a responder, identified myself as a Catholic priest, and asked whether there was anything I could do. The gentleman declined, and, tail between my legs, I proceeded back to my car. On the way I muttered something to myself that revealed my ethnic and religious biases. "Catholics wouldn't have refused me." As usual, it's not about me!

Since that day I think I may have stopped once at an accident scene. Nowadays I offer a blessing and a prayer as I drive by, amid the occasional interior conviction of (1) being the priest or the Levite who passed by the beating victim, or (2) wanting to be the poster boy for the priesthood. When the opportunity presents itself again, I pray that I will respond as the Holy Spirit prompts.

But automobile accidents aren't the only kind of storm that calls for Christ to come quickly. It could be the ring of the doorbell, the tap on the shoulder, the "Father, do you have a minute for a quick Confession?", the page for me to answer the phone or hospital beeper, the e-mail, or whatever.

What did she mean? Hopkins asks the "arch and original Breath," the Holy Spirit, to help him to answer that question. Is the Spirit ("love in her") within the nun, "making intercession for the saints" (cf. Rom 8:27) through her plea? For the nun, death is "lovely." By her cry she is welcoming death and the Christ Who comes to people precisely through death. Another option Hopkins considers is the "crown" of martyrdom, the crown of life (cf. Rev 2:10). That, too, comes only through death; and usually an unpleasant one, for all its reward. The disciples gathered in the wind-tossed boat (Mt 8:23ff), flushed with fear, didn't seem to be thinking of a glorious witness for their Master; rather they were crying for divine rescue. On a purely human level, the terror of the moment suffices for anyone to wish it were all over.

The keener to come at the comfort for feeling the combatting keen: That's just a smartly alliterative way of saying, "The crown [of everlasting life] is a terrific reward for this mortifying wind."

"How do you spell relief?" In Stanza 26 Hopkins draws upon natural sources of cheer: the breaking of gloomy storm-clouds to reveal sunny or starlit skies. Then he polls the reader for his own "heaven of desire" that surpasses even the delight of the senses.

So, what did she mean anyhow? Hopkins returns to the earlier question to rule out the idea that the storm (in its myriad forms) drove her to petition for Christ's coming. "The jading and jar of the cart" (another Wreck favorite) refers to the physical, mental, and emotional erosion that often happens to laborers. The actual meteorological event is insufficient to render her virtuous or to conform her to the impassioned Christ. The mere experience of hardship doesn't of itself make a saint out of a sinner. Prayer and meditation--conscious and free alignment of the soul to God--contribute to that lifelong effort.

We imagine that this nun communicated fondly and often with her Master, so she must not have considered her present plight as an example of His absence--a gap that God might bridge, if He wanted to, by arriving, oils in hand, on the scene.

Ten Years of Priesthood: A Retrospective

On the seventh of June 2003, the Most Reverend Edward P. Cullen ordained me and Angel L. Garcia-Almodovar to the Priesthood. It has been my greatest joy and privilege to serve as a Catholic Priest in the Diocese of Allentown, and as God wills, I shall serve until I draw my latest breath.

Anniversaries are times to look back and to look forward, usually with gratitude for blessings received and blessings given. Although ten years isn't a very long time, it's the longest amount of time I've been a priest; and I am sadly aware that many of us don't make it to ten years without leaving, whether freely or under duress. One of my classmates has already died.  For these and other reasons I feel compelled to write.

I fondly recognize the many people who have supported me up to this day.  Foremost among them are my parents, Helenann (Welker) and (+) Joseph R. Zelonis. Mom has been a devout Catholic since her teenage years, when she first discovered the faith and dove headfirst into instructions to get sacramentally "caught up." Dad came to embrace the faith more fully through Mom's example and intercession. I also believe that my approaching ordination and his own failing health each played a part. Hey--God uses what He wills.

Mom and Dad gave me the freedom to learn my prayers, to read about the Faith, to interact with ordained and lay Catholic adults, and to consider the possibility that God could be calling their only son (together; my half-brother is a husband and father) to be forever unmarried and without issue. For reasons too numerous to consider here, many parents do not afford their children this freedom. I'm glad my parents did, and I know they have never regretted it.

My primary shepherds, along with Msgr. Treston, my first pastor and Bishop Cullen, my ordaining prelate

The Zelonis and Welker families are godly yet earthy people. They have accompanied me throughout life's joys and sorrows. They respect my vocation, yet are not at all afraid to keep me right-sized when necessary. I know I belong to my family, even as I belong to Mother Church.

I knew dozens of priests and seminarians over the years. They always had time for me. Priests nurtured my vocation with frequent conversations in the sacristy, on the rectory porch, local restaurants, the halls of high school, and elsewhere. I used to hang around the rectory and bug the secretaries. Once, to get me out of her hair, M. suggested I write local parishes to volunteer my services as an organist. At the age of twelve I was hired by a priest who, for the past 25 years, has been a loyal friend and mentor.

Music kept me close to the Church. As an organist I played for my own and several other area parishes, including the United Methodist congregation in town. The organ and trumpet served me well in the seminary, and I hope my offering served St. Charles well. In every assignment as a seminarian and priest I've gotten to play for Mass (not while celebrating, unless you count the Entrance and Recessional hymns at nursing home Masses). It's a real treat. I'm not quitting my day job, as they say, but the occasional homecoming to an organ bench keeps me as sane as possible.

St. Charles Borromeo Seminary prepared me as well as possible to serve as a priest. They did their best with what they were given. They helped me to learn about the truths of the Creed, the practice of the Sacred Liturgy, moral teaching on traditional and contemporary concerns, and the life of prayer. I had regular exposure to people in "field education" assignments in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia and the Diocese of Allentown--a special needs school, senior citizen daycare centers, a high school, a college campus ministry, and several parishes. It was a long nine years, but it was only the beginning of my formation. More had to be revealed: not simply in terms of meaty content, but also the briny broth of human relationships. I was rightly trained to be a theologian, but soon had to learn customer service.

My first assignment as a priest was to St. Ignatius of Loyola Parish in nearby Sinking Spring. Msgr. Treston was the pastor. He was very kind to me, and so were the people. They would often ask me to give a talk for their groups, to teach at the school, or simply to join them at social events. Every month I would offer Mass at the county prison, the county rest home, and/or the assisted living facility in our territory. Early on I came to enjoy visiting people in the hospital--a terrific moment for compassion and evangelization.

After only one year at St. Ignatius I was asked to be the Chaplain and to teach at Reading Central Catholic High School. I felt rather ill-prepared for the tasks of program/event coordination, classroom management, and intensive interaction with high schoolers. Nine years of seminary formation were, relatively speaking, a breeze for me. I enjoyed academic work, and did well in it. Being on the other side of the desk was another matter. Others have judged my time at Central more mercifully than I, but it was my own discomfort that prompted a return to parish ministry. Encounters with former students, fellow administrators/teachers, parents, and alumni are always joyful. I am grateful for their part in my learning experience at Central.

While teaching at Central I lived at St. Catharine of Siena Parish in the Mount Penn section of Reading. Msgr. Smith and the other priests helped me tremendously by their presence and encouragement. Even though my service to St. Catharine's was mostly limited to Sunday Mass, the people were always friendly. I continue to admire their devotion and service, especially when I "pinch-hit" for one of their priests for a weekday Mass. 

At my own request, the Diocese graciously granted me a mental-health leave. I took part in a program for priests about a half-hour outside of New York City. The staff helped me to regroup from the stresses of high school, and equipped me to face future challenges with greater confidence. I can understand if a priest might feel ashamed to ask for help; and if direction is offered, then it behooves us to follow it! Thank God and thank my trusted advisors that I don't have to face problems alone. A pro-active approach can spare individual priests, and the entire Church, untold hardship.

If I thought my first assignment was short, my next one at St. Joseph the Worker in Orefield (Lehigh County) was shorter--just about ten months! But Msgr. Wargo, fellow priests, and the people found a place for me in their well-oiled machine. As with St. Ignatius, I frequented the hospital and school, instructed converts and engaged couples, and observed the tireless efforts of numerous parish organizations.

In an offseason move (January), I went to Holy Guardian Angels in January 2008, where I have been serving until now. This is the first parish assignment where I've been the only Assistant Pastor, not the junior of two. In addition to other responsibilities mentioned above, I have become more closely involved with the Finance and general Parish Councils, RCIA, and CCD, ministry training and fundraising. I wouldn't give myself a stellar grade for my interaction with every parish activity, but I endeavor to be present to all of them while attending to my spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being.

Crowning Our Lady while a student prays for my safety

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Thousands of people over the years have formed me in various ways and contexts, and thousands more await. I pray that I will have been a blessing to all of them and countless others. By the daily offering of the Church's liturgical prayer and my personal prayer, the reconciliation of sinners, attention to the needy and to children, study and sharing of divine and human wisdom, and the witness of steadfast love amid celibate chastity, I am becoming a pleasing oblation to the Father in the image of the eternal High Priest.  I can boldly say, in union with Christ: This is my body, which is being given up for you.

It seems appropriate that my 10th anniversary falls on the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart, also the World Day of Prayer for the Sanctification of Priests and my favorite devotion. Once in Confession as a teenager, a priest bade me to pray to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, that He "take away my heart of stone and give me a heart of flesh" (cf. Ez 11:19). At the time I must have been dealing with one or more of the cardinal sin categories, as I still do; and that prayer still comes to mind for the sake of my priestly service. Of course, I want to avoid scandal; I don't want to dishearten any child of God. I cannot back down from the truth, but I want to help people to receive it as well as possible, and make any changes that the truth requires. If people walk away because the truth is too hard, I can't help that any more than Jesus could (cf. Jn 6:66); but God help me if my personality ever obscures the light and love of the Redeemer. Thank God for the many people who daily assist me to be of optimum service!

A devotional favorite of the upstate babas is still a favorite of mine. Enjoy it, patient reader, with my grateful prayers:

Reconciliation: The Church's Vital Sign

One thread that runs through today’s readings is vitality.  After His resurrection Jesus appears to the Church as one who, despite all appearances, has all power over sin, suffering, and death.  In Revelation, He claims to “hold the keys to death and the netherworld.”  That is authority!  While death seems all around us, and threatens to take us in time, Jesus has co-opted the end of earthly life into His victory.  Physical death thus becomes the gateway to everlasting life.  As a venerable Christmas hymn declares, “Now ye need not fear the grave: Jesus Christ is born to save!”

         

When Saint John first witnessed the Lord’s bold proclamation, he says that he “fell at his feet as though dead.”  Jesus stretches out His right hand and picks him up.  As material and spiritual beings, we hear today about other examples of how spiritual vitality is conveyed in ways accessible to the senses.  Jesus conveys the Holy Spirit of forgiveness and healing by breathing on the apostles as they gather in the upper room.  Later, the sick congregate around the apostles in the hopes that Peter would pass by them—that, maybe, just being in his presence would do something for them.  All of this supports the Church’s sacraments as tangible vehicles of the divine life, powered by His Word and operated by His ministers.

         

Today we advert to Reconciliation, to Sacramental Penance, as the ordinary means of forgiving serious sin and remitting its due punishment for the next world.  Jesus told the apostles, “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.”  He wouldn’t have said that unless He thereby invested the apostles with that sacred power.  To this day people approach the precious court of divine mercy in order to unburden themselves of whatever inhibits their growth in holiness, whatever cuts them off from God and others. 

As an authorized agent of the Holy Trinity, the priest forgives sins and liberates souls for sacrificial, Christian love.  He takes them, as it were, by the right—absolving— hand and raises them up.  By coming to meet the Lord with genuine contrition and deliberate intention, the forgiven penitent comes to share in the vitality of the Lord’s Resurrection in a way that transcends our frail and deceptive senses.  Like Saint John we can stand up and resolutely return to life with a new approach, although it requires our prayerful vigilance.

The abiding offer of divine mercy exhorts us to place our sins with humble confidence in the Lord’s open side, to let them there, and to life the new life of grace.  Don’t let any fears hold you back from a good Confession, whether weeks, months, or years have passed since the last one.  Second only to the offering of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, Reconciliation is the reason for my existence.  And that’s not just because I’m a priest.  Are you not all partakers in the priesthood by virtue of your Baptism?  Then you, too, live to offer yourselves to the Father in union with the Son; you, too, live to repent of your sins and to embark upon a daily voyage of prayer and sacrifice.  Through this belief, may you have life in His Name!