Answering the Call

[Homily for the 26th Sunday for Ordinary Time C]

On a day like today twelve years ago, I drove home from college with one single purpose in my mind: to tell my family I was considering the priesthood.  The night before I had talked to my sister on the phone and she was going home for the weekend too.  The timing was right.  I told my sister I had something to tell everyone.

I arrived home and my parents had some friends over for dinner.  The friends left late.  Suddenly everyone was going to bed, “I guess I won’t tell them today,” I thought.  As I was going into my bedroom my sister said, “wasn’t there something you were going to tell us?”

“Oh yeah” I said.  I called everyone back to the living room, everyone sat down and I told them.  It was the last thing they expected to hear.  There was utter silence followed by a burst of joy.

Just a few days ago I read a list of things us priests could do to promote vocations.  One was to tell our story.  I started thinking about my story and about the upcoming “anniversary” of the day my life changed directions.  Then I saw the readings this weekend express the undertones of my vocation story.

Everything was perfect in my life.  Using the language of the first reading from Amos, I was lying on a bed of ivory, stretched comfortably on my couch eating lambs taken from the flock.  I was drinking wine from bowls and anointing myself with the best oils.

I had almost a full ride at Furman University, one of the top liberal arts schools in the country.  Furman had been my top (really my only) choice for college.  The campus is beautiful, the academics challenging, the professors caring and the student body first class.

I was class president both freshman and sophomore years.  I was involved in everything humanly possible at that school; I had many friends, it seemed everyone knew me and I knew everyone.  I taught English at a local literacy agency, I sang in Furman Singers, I even got to volunteer with the secret service when President Bush came into town.  Possibilities seemed endless.  Everything was attainable and at my fingertips.

I knew in the depths of my heart that I should be happy, grateful for all that I had and had achieved.  Yet, deep within my heart the question was: Is this it?  Is this all there is to life?

There was an emptiness.  A hollowness I did not know how to fill.

I did an internship at the Augusta Museum of History for the summer thinking I wanted to be a museum curator, the person who takes care of the collections.  At the end of the summer I asked myself, “Did you enjoy this?”  Yes I did.  “Do you want to do this for the rest of your life?”  Oh no.

I wanted to do something with my life.  Perhaps with a selfish, yet very optimistic streak, I wanted to make a difference in people’s lives.  I wanted to make a difference in the world, but felt limited.  I was sad, I was frustrated.

Then things began to change.  Out of nowhere, the idea of the priesthood began to come into my mind.  It would not go away.  I would think about it when I woke up, I would think about it during the day, I would think about it when I went to Mass on Sunday.  I ignored it.

Since it refused to leave and I always liked being true to myself, I decided to look into it.  I didn’t know any priests personally; I only occasionally went to the Catholic group at Furman.  I first contacted the Jesuit province of New Orleans, the priest there sent me several books which I devoured.  I then contacted a priest I had met four years prior my sophomore year at Aquinas.  Things changed even more.

I walked away from Furman not knowing what I was doing, but knowing that I had found the precious jewel in the middle of the field.  All I knew was that I had clearly heard God’s voice and I chose to answer.

I recall one night the vice president of Furman asking me at a dinner what my plans were for junior year since he had noticed I wasn’t running for class office.  I told him I was leaving Furman.  At first he thought I was joking, then he got upset.

I realized that true joy and fulfillment were found in God; that only God could fill the God-shaped hollowness of my heart.  Why chase after fleeting success and trophies that could never satisfy the desires of my heart?
The rich man of the Gospel chased after purple garments, fine linen, and fine food.  These things ultimately let him down.

Poor Lazarus lived without any earthly delights, but persevered in loving God: he was greatly rewarded.
God calls many to the priesthood, but it all hinges on one thing, the answer of the called which is either “yes” or “no.”

May the Lord help each of us compete well for the faith as Saint Paul says, fulfilling our calling so we can, like Lazarus, lay hold of eternal life.