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Saturday was an incredibly joyful day here in the Archdiocese of Washington. Sixteen – sixteen! – men were ordained to the priesthood at the Basilica of the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. The beauty of the early summer day outside was matched only by the overflowing of graces inside the Basilica and the joy of all the family, friends, and faithful who gathered to witness the Sacrament of Holy Orders being conferred upon these men. I think it was a bonus that the day they became spiritual fathers fell on the weekend of Father’s Day.

Reflecting on this takes me back to 2018 when my wife and I traveled to Illinois to attend the priestly ordination of a friend. The church was far smaller than the Basilica and there was but one man to be ordained, but the joy and the graces were no less present.

That day six years ago made an impression on me as I came to an appreciation of the two aspects of fatherhood that were evident in that ordination Mass. Our friend’s parents were present and, as part of the rite, they came up together as his father carried to the bishop a chalice with water and wine and a paten with a host.

He passed them through the deacon to the bishop, who then handed them to our friend, saying “Accept from the holy people of God the gifts to be offered to him. Know what you are doing, and imitate the mystery you celebrate; model your life on the mystery of the Lord’s cross.”

In that moment, we saw the earthly fatherhood of a loving father, a dad who from the beginning of his son’s life had worked with his wife to provide their son with food, clothing and shelter, with an education and an upbringing in the faith.

In the rite of ordination, he brought the simple gifts of bread and wine to be offered to God, but in a way, he was also a man offering his son as a gift to Christ in His Church. As a proud dad myself, I can easily imagine the feeling he had in his heart.

In that same moment, we also saw the spiritual fatherhood of God at work through the bishop. The bishop had served as our friend’s advocate, counselor, guide, and mentor for almost ten years up to that point, so it’s no stretch to think that the heart of this spiritual father was no less full than that of his natural father as together they experienced the outpouring of grace that came with this young man being conformed to Christ the high priest through the sacrament of Holy Orders.

Both of these fathers, all fathers, indeed all caring parents, are like the man in today’s Gospel who scatters seed on the land, yet has no control over whether and how it would sprout and grow.

Like a farmer who cultivates and tends a field, we nurture and guide our children, but we can’t control who they become as they grow into adults any more than the farmer can stand over the seeds he just planted and will them grow in a particular way. It is imperative that we recognize this. Realizing our own human limitations, we need to do the best we can do, and trust that God will do the rest in His time, not ours.

And that’s really the point of Jesus’ parables today. With the first parable, he tells us that we have to do our part in scattering the seeds of faith and hope and good works, but that the outcome is ultimately in God’s hands. The good news is that God’s plan is for growth and an abundant harvest, so if we think we have to “do” something, that something is simply to trust in God and his plan.

In the second parable, Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of God doesn’t have to have to be inaugurated with grandeur. It rarely is. Rather, we start with a tiny, humble seed of faith in our hearts. We’re called to do our part in cooperating with its growth, but again, it is God’s providential love that will nurture it and bring it to the fullness that is his will for us. The growth will be gradual but unmistakable, and the peace and joy we get from that can serve to draw others closer to God through our witness. Through that witness, we can fulfill our baptismal calling to make more disciples for Christ.

The message of these parables is clear. Our relationship with God comes from God, not from ourselves. As St. John writes in his first letter, “In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins.” Just so, the power of growth in the seeds doesn’t come from the farmer, it comes from the Creator. As we pray in Psalm 127, “If the Lord does not build the house, in vain do its builders labor; if the Lord does not watch over the city, in vain does the watchman keep vigil.”

This is not a “Why bother, then?” recipe for inertia or resignation, though. God wants each of us to be the farmer, the builder, the watchman who he can work through. Just because we’re not in control of the outcome doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. In his Angelus reflection for this Sunday in 2018, Pope Francis offered that “The authenticity of the Church’s mission does not come through success nor through the gratification of the results, but by going forth with the courage of trust and the humility of abandonment to God.”

The parables also remind us that our growth in communion with God is a gradual process. This is such an important thing to keep in mind in our world today, a world that seems to insist upon, to rely upon, instant gratification. Want to watch a movie? Stream it right now. Hungry? A meal can be at your doorstep in 30 minutes. Want to make a purchase? It’ll be here tomorrow morning.

If we expect that sort of quick turnaround in developing a relationship with Jesus, we’re likely to be disappointed. We all know people who have drifted away from the faith because they felt somehow like their immediate needs weren’t being met. They look for other avenues to give them what they want, which is seldom what they actually need. I’ve had plenty of “Where are you in this, God?” moments myself, but I’ve tried to persevere in those moments through the grace of God.

I’ve seen successes in my day job by letting things play out – some things will naturally resolve themselves without me jumping in to “fix” them. If those earthly problems don’t need my intervention, how much more can that approach work in the spiritual life? I don’t have the solution, but God certainly does. Embracing that allows us to walk by faith and not by sight.

At the end of today’s Gospel, we hear that while the people understood His parables as best they could, Jesus “explained everything in private” to his disciples. Some might see this as Jesus imparting to them and only them some gnostic secret knowledge needed for salvation, but that’s not how Jesus operates, is it? The “as they were able to understand it” part is what’s important. That was and is given to everyone.

The advantage the disciples had was that they were close to Jesus and could reflect with him on his Word and his action in their lives. “To his own disciples he explained everything in private.” Is that not the definition of prayer? We, as his disciples today, have that same access to our Lord and the light and understanding that comes though conversing with him. He’s not far off in time or space. He is present in the here and now for each of us.

In a most profound way, he stays present, addressing us intimately and personally, in the scriptures we hear at Mass and in the Eucharist we receive. There we can always find exactly what our souls need.

On this day when we bring to mind fathers and fatherhood, our personal fathers and those men who have given their lives as priests to serve as our spiritual fathers, let us keep first and foremost in our minds our relationship with God the Father, from whom all those other relationships flow.


Image: “Priesthood Ordination 2019” (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) by Province of Saint Joseph


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Deacon Steve O’Neill was ordained for service to the Archdiocese of Washington in June 2013 and serves at St. Andrew Apostle in suburban Maryland.  After four years in the Marine Corps and three years at the University of Maryland (where met Traci, now his wife of 30+ years, and earned a degree in English), he has worked as an analyst with the Federal government.  Deacon Steve and Traci have two sons and two daughters and three grandchildren.

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