I first felt called to be a priest when I was 15 years old. It was the midnight mass on Christmas Eve, and I was the crucifer. As the Gospel was chanted in the midst of the people, I remember feeling that I was about to faint – the heat, the incense, the crowd. But as soon as the procession to the sanctuary began, and I picked up the cross, I knew I would be a priest. It wasn’t an idea I had, it was something I knew in my bones. I spent a number of years after that moment trying to write another story with my life. But no matter where I moved or with whom I spent my time, I could not escape the knowledge of my vocation and the pull back to the Altar.
I’ve been thinking a lot about our shared vocations in the midst of the Roodmas Ember Days. Four times each year, the Church sets apart a Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday on which we are called to fast and pray for vocations in the Church. These days correspond to the changing of the seasons. As you might reasonably imagine, the Church is not clear on the origin of the days. They might find their roots in the ancient Jewish practice of quarterly fasting or they might be an evolution of pagan harvest festivals. Their name “Ember Days” probably evolves from the Latin name Quatuor Tempora, which means, “Four times.” As the years go by, Tempora becomes Ember in colloquial speech. Hence, Ember Days.
You do not need me to tell you that each of us is called by God. Vocations are not unique to clergy. God is always whispering to you, inviting you to work and walk with him into something new. But, when the voice of God is hard to hear, how do you discern what your vocation might be?
We often think of discernment as a fork in the road – yes or no, black or white, left or right. But discernment is about so much more than a simple decision. When you discern with God, you ask yourself, “How might I love God and his people well?” The love in which you will live is unique to your gifts and talents and experiences. It is a distinct expression of your particular identity in Christ. It cannot be replicated by another.
This fall in the Adult Forum, as you know, we will do some important discernment work together. As we prayerfully open the doors to the future of Good Shepherd, we will ask ourselves how God might use our unique gifts, talents, resources, experiences, history, and hope for the sake of the world. Because, of course, people have vocations, and parishes do too. This parish is called by God into a specific, bright, and beautiful future. It is up to us to step toward that future in faith and hope. We must never forget that vocations are invitations. They are not foisted upon us by God. They do not fall from heaven like mana. The call is ours to answer and to bring to life.
As we begin this work together on Sunday, I leave you with one more image from the season in which I discerned my priestly vocation. In those days, in my prayer and in my dreams, I often saw myself in a canoe on a stream flowing rapidly. I had no paddle or ore. To resist the rushing water, I held tightly to a branch on the shore. I was resisting with all my might. The possibility of letting go, and allowing the water to carry me forward, was terrifying. And, if I did, I knew that I would feel un-peaceful peace… the peace of God. It wouldn’t feel safe, but it would feel right.
The future into which we walk will not be paved by warm and fuzzy feelings, but by leaps of faith. When we take them, we will taste the very peace of God. As one of my favorite hymns says, “The peace of God it filled their hearts brimful and broke them too; yet let us pray for but one thing, the marvelous peace of God.”