This weekend's Mass video is now available.
This is Mission Cooperative Plan weekend. This year, we support the continuation of missions of the Disciples of Mary in the Philippines. Here are excerpts from a letter from Fr. Rocky Sibayan, a Filipino priest and Director of Youth Ministry for the Disciples of Mary in the Philippines:
- The Disciples of Mary began in 1976 and minister primarily to high school youth. They reach out to youth who deal with addiction, violence, and abuse.
- Presently they serve 57 schools.
- They have trained almost 300 student and teacher volunteers to help them reach almost 15,000 youth.
(Fr. Rocky himself was once a high school student who became a priest because of the mission's program.)
The Disciples of Mary also work for the Propagation of the Faith in some parishes.
- Priests are located in parishes on distant islands reached by a small wooden cargo boat. One island is a five-to-seven-hour boat ride through Pacific waves.
- The parish income does not suffice for the operational expenses of catechetical programs and other pastoral activities on outlying islands.
Please be as generous as possible to support the mission work of the Disciples of Mary. Contributions can be sent directly to St. Edward's (785 Newark-Granville Rd., Granville, OH 43023).
HOMILY FOR 7/18/2021: 16TH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME
MSGR. PAUL ENKE
Today's scripture is very timely considering that this past week saw the change of pastoral assignments for many priests of our diocese. The only change locally in our deanery is that a new pastor, five years ordained, will be going to Johnstown Ascension parish. His name is Fr. Stephen Smith. The former pastor there, Fr. Mark Ghiloni, is retiring, and he will live at Blessed Sacrament in Newark. And, surely, we do wish both priests well.
We pray that they and all the newly assigned will embody what our first reading spoke of when it said, "I myself will gather the remnant of my flock from all the lands to which I have driven them and bring them back to their meadow; there they shall increase and multiply. I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble; and none shall be missing, says the LORD."
Jeremiah lays out a lofty goal for those of us who would be pastors or, in English, shepherds. I have been entrusted with that role or office since 1980 now, at St. Mary's in Delaware, St. Brigid of Kildare in Dublin, Our Lady of Victory Marble Cliff, and--for these twenty-one years--have been here at St. Edward the Confessor. And it has always been my goal to be a good shepherd for the flock entrusted to me. Sometimes I've been successful, and other times, I have failed at that, for which I am truly sorry.
On Tuesday evening of this past week, as I turned out the lights in the living room, I had the occasion to spend a few minutes at a large oil painting given me by the staff of St. Brigid's parish and school on my departure after eleven years of pastoring there. The painting is by the well-known Columbus artist Michael McEwan, whom I taught in high school, and who was the painter of the images behind me over the altar.
It's a lovely pastoral scene--that painting--and looks down the pastures of County Mayo in Ireland and across the bay to the holy mountain of Croagh Patrick. In the forefront of that scene, a shepherd with his staff and trusty sheepdog walk along a small flock of sheep. It's painted in soft colors and is beautiful.
We pray that they and all the newly assigned will embody what our first reading spoke of when it said, "I myself will gather the remnant of my flock from all the lands to which I have driven them and bring them back to their meadow; there they shall increase and multiply. I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble; and none shall be missing, says the LORD."
Jeremiah lays out a lofty goal for those of us who would be pastors or, in English, shepherds. I have been entrusted with that role or office since 1980 now, at St. Mary's in Delaware, St. Brigid of Kildare in Dublin, Our Lady of Victory Marble Cliff, and--for these twenty-one years--have been here at St. Edward the Confessor. And it has always been my goal to be a good shepherd for the flock entrusted to me. Sometimes I've been successful, and other times, I have failed at that, for which I am truly sorry.
On Tuesday evening of this past week, as I turned out the lights in the living room, I had the occasion to spend a few minutes at a large oil painting given me by the staff of St. Brigid's parish and school on my departure after eleven years of pastoring there. The painting is by the well-known Columbus artist Michael McEwan, whom I taught in high school, and who was the painter of the images behind me over the altar.
It's a lovely pastoral scene--that painting--and looks down the pastures of County Mayo in Ireland and across the bay to the holy mountain of Croagh Patrick. In the forefront of that scene, a shepherd with his staff and trusty sheepdog walk along a small flock of sheep. It's painted in soft colors and is beautiful.
When I looked at it the other night, I considered my own office as a pastor here, and I hope that overall, I could place myself in that painting, that staff in hand, accompanied by my sheepdog, Paddy.
It brought to my mind this lovely reflection by Sister Miriam Pollard, who is a Carmelite sister, on the role of a shepherd, and this is what she wrote:
I am the shepherd of the sheep, says the Lord. I search. To search is who I am. I am the one who wanders, the great walking one, the one who sleeps in the cold and culls the burrs out of their wool. Yes, I know—they cannot be recommended for intelligence. This is a small brain we are talking about. But I am their shepherd.
They are the objects of my love.
I take them up in my arms, my tired arms, my bleeding arms. And they are more to me than rest and beauty and food and light—my own, my flock, my creation.
And I love them. I bring them into cool valleys where the trees drop fragrant shade, and the birds serenade them, and they can hear the streams falling quietly from the hills. Where they can drink. They shall eat and drink and never want. They shall romp in the green grass and race in the wildflowers.
My own flock, with deep brown eyes that speak to mine, and white wool that sparkles in the dusk.
I have made them and sought them and brought them home.
And now, may the good Lord help all the pastors of our diocese--including me--to be that kind of a shepherd.
I am the shepherd of the sheep, says the Lord. I search. To search is who I am. I am the one who wanders, the great walking one, the one who sleeps in the cold and culls the burrs out of their wool. Yes, I know—they cannot be recommended for intelligence. This is a small brain we are talking about. But I am their shepherd.
They are the objects of my love.
I take them up in my arms, my tired arms, my bleeding arms. And they are more to me than rest and beauty and food and light—my own, my flock, my creation.
And I love them. I bring them into cool valleys where the trees drop fragrant shade, and the birds serenade them, and they can hear the streams falling quietly from the hills. Where they can drink. They shall eat and drink and never want. They shall romp in the green grass and race in the wildflowers.
My own flock, with deep brown eyes that speak to mine, and white wool that sparkles in the dusk.
I have made them and sought them and brought them home.
And now, may the good Lord help all the pastors of our diocese--including me--to be that kind of a shepherd.
And by extension, may the same Lord assist all of you--those of you particularly who are parents--to be that sort of a shepherd for your children and your loved ones...because aren't we all shepherds in one way or another?