Lead us . . . so that the humble flock may reach where the brave Shepherd has gone before.
That is from the Opening Prayer from this Sunday’s Mass. The Opening Prayer, heard right after the Gloria, is referred to in the Roman Missal, our official Mass book, as the Collect. The priest, acting in the person of Christ (the priest and no one else), extends his arms and collects all the prayers of the faithful, uniting them as one, as he, standing in for Christ, addresses His Father.
That bears repeating: The priest alone raises his arms. The Church has never instructed people in the pews to raise their arms like the priest. In fact, the Church has told people to stop doing it because it is liturgical abuse. It is found nowhere in the Roman Missal for people to raise their arms as the priest does at Mass.
Shepherds in Israel would come together in the evening and put their flocks in a community holding pen, the sheepfold, and take turns guarding the gate. In the morning, they would open the gate, and the sheep would listen for their own shepherd’s voice, recognize it, and follow him.
Why him and not any other shepherd? Sheep are not known for their intelligence, but they are smart enough to be wary of strangers. They trust their own shepherd. After all, he is the key to their survival. With his soothing voice, he calmly leads them to pastures and water, and he protects them from predators with his rod and staff. That is the beautiful Psalm 23, the psalm of the Good Shepherd.
One of the oldest paintings of Christ (if not the oldest) was found in the Roman catacombs, which were ancient, underground graveyards. In this painting, Christ was portrayed as the Good Shepherd, carrying an injured stray sheep on his shoulders. It’s a very pleasant and comforting image for Christians. We like to picture Christ gently sharing the Good Shepherd parable in a rolling green pasture, with the Sea of Galilee in the background, while His audience oohed and awed at the imagery.
But the reality of the situation was far from pleasant. The reality was ugly and dangerous. In last Sunday’s passage, Christ was not standing in a pasture, and His audience was not oohing and awing—His audience was the Pharisees, who wanted to kill Him. And Christ was not in a pasture; He was in Jerusalem for the Feast of Tabernacles, the harvest festival that took place in the fall.
During this face-off, there was no doubt a multitude of sheep in the temple area (as always) ready to be sacrificed. So, Christ used the shepherd analogy, claiming that He was the gate and all had to enter through Him. The Pharisees then were the thieves and robbers who climb over the wall to slaughter and destroy. They tried to destroy the Shepherd by stoning Him at the Feast of Tabernacles. But the Shepherd, who was also the Lamb of God, would offer Himself up the next spring at the feast of Passover, when He gave us the Holy Eucharist, the night before He died.
In Pope John Paul II’s last encyclical before he died, published in 2003, he took great pains to show that the Holy Mass is a sacrifice, and not a mere “fraternal banquet.” John Paul wrote the bond that gives unity to a priest’s life and work “flows mainly from the Eucharistic Sacrifice, which is the center and root of the whole priestly life.” Therefore, “the centrality of the Eucharist in the life and ministry of priests is the basis in the pastoral promotion of priestly vocations” (31).
That bears repeating: The Eucharist is the basis for priestly vocations. This Sunday, traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday, has also become known as a day of prayer for religious vocations due to the fact that vocations have been decimated in modern times. A huge reason for this is that the line has become blurred between the lay faithful and the priesthood, especially at Mass. This blurring has greatly harmed priestly identity, causing many priests to question their reason for being. One need only look to how unconsecrated hands now distribute Holy Communion. I believe this has damaged priestly identity and belief in the Eucharist.
What is a priest, anyway? A spiritual author wrote: “He is a consecrated man. A consecrated man is one who has given himself up and no longer claims ownership of himself: ‘I the Lord am holy, and have separated you from the peoples, that you should be mine’ (Lev. 20:26)” (Suarez).
Pope Pius XII put it this way:
He does not belong to himself, just as he does not belong to his family or friends or even to a particular country: universal charity must constantly surround him and emanate from him. His very thought, will, sentiments, are not his, but belong to Christ, his life.
Yet here we are today, praying for vocations due to a priest shortage. We have to do that because we have not fostered vocations, especially where we should have been doing so—at Holy Mass. To foster vocations, we need to suppress the fraternal banquet aspect of Mass and reinforce the sacrificial component. Why? Because young men want a mission. They don’t really care to be social workers or dinner hosts; they want to be men of sacrifice who lay down their lives for others. They want to be shepherds who protect their flocks here in this community, holding the pen of planet earth.
So, in the hushed and reverent silence at Holy Mass, listen for Christ’s voice, for your Good Shepherd is the key to your survival. He leads you to evergreen pastures and life-giving water. He protects you from predators with His rod and staff, which He joins together to make a cross. He then extends His arms on it and collects all your prayers and gives them to His Father.
This is the Holy Sacrifice of Mass. This is the true worship of God, where Christ sacrifices Himself so that the humble flock may reach where the brave Shepherd has gone before.
Photo by Shannon Douglas on Unsplash