Certainly it means I preach the Gospel, I look at the administration of the parish, I try to get people back to Church, I try to get to know you and help to draw you closer to Christ. It means I am called to get you to heaven, by way of the Mass, Confessions and all the sacraments celebrated with our hearts, souls and whole beings.
But that’s all but an outgrowth of who the pastor is supposed to be: a reflection of the Good Shepherd; the Lord, who in that iconic image (reflected in today’s Gospel) cradles a lost lamb on his shoulders, so that, in the words Jeremiah uses this morning, “they need no longer fear and tremble.”
Sheep tremble a lot, I am told. In fact, when they are lost and really scared they become petrified: their joints literally lock and they cannot move a muscle. Which is why the Good Shepherd has to gently pick them up and carry them back on his shoulders.
I’ve always loved the way the prophet Isaiah described the Good Shepherd: “He shall feed his flock…he shall gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently leading those that are with young.”
Thus does Saint Paul instruct the young Timothy how to shepherd souls: “And the servant of the Lord must not strive; but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient” (2 Timothy 2:24)
That’s all because Jesus tells us that the ultimate job description of the Shepherd is to “lay down his life for his sheep,.” (John 10:11). My responsibility to you is, quite to literally, to be willing to lay down my life for you in the same way that the Lord laid down his life on the wood of the Cross for us.
The Rite of Ordination reminds us that “with the charity of a father and brother, [the priest must] love all whom God places in [his] care, [especially] the poor and the weak, [and the stranger].”
This is what Pope Saint John Paul II was talking about when he insisted that “the priest ... must exercise towards the men and women to whom he is sent a ministry of authentic spiritual fatherhood, which gains him "sons" and "daughters" in the Lord.”
In another Holy Thursday letter, the Holy Father continued: “The Priest, by renouncing this fatherhood proper to married men, seeks another fatherhood...recalling the words of the Apostle about the children whom he begets in suffering.”
Such love, such charity to all whom God sends to the priest, breathes life into that which is dead, sheds light into the corners which have grown dark and defrosts with its warmth all that has grown frigid and cold.
The story is told of a meetings of two of the founders of Communio e Liberazione, who approaching death, were reflecting on what characterized the ministry of a good pastor.
“The essential thing…for “a pastor…is charity. Charity is what is fruitful, what changes and converts people...Charity is what regenerates love. The world does not forgive. Charity always begins loving again...There’s no greater miracle than discovering in yourself charity, a love that wasn’t there before.”
"What does love look like?” Saint Augustine once asked. “It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like."
Perhaps the Saintly Mother Teresa of Calcutta said it best: "We can cure physical diseases with medicine but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more who are dying for a little love. Let us not be satisfied with just giving money. Money is not enough, money can be got, but they need your hearts to love them. So spread love everywhere you go."
So the pastor’s job description is really simple: to love you as the good shepherd loves his sheep cradling them in his arms and carrying them home, laying down my life, that you might live and love in peace and joy.
Saint Cecilia. Pray for us!
