“Called to Serve as an Unprofitable Servant”
Homily: Sunday, November 1, 2015
Cardinal Roger M.
Mahony
Archbishop Emeritus of
Los Angeles
Jesus said, “Who
among you would say to your servant who has just come in from plowing or
tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here immediately and take your place at
table’? Would he not rather
say to him, ‘Prepare something for me to eat. Put on your apron and wait on me while I eat
and drink. You may eat and drink when I
am finished’? Is he grateful to
that servant because he did what was commanded? So should it be with you. When you have done all you have been
commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were
obliged to do.’” [Luke
17:7—10]
The
Gospel which we just heard is one of my favorites primarily because it has
spoken to me so powerfully both as I approached official retirement, and after
retiring.
Picture
in your imagination this servant who has just come in after spending a long and
tiring day out in the hot sun tending the farm for his master. Just what was he doing? What we are all called to do as laborers in
the field: plowing the fields for a good
harvest, or tending the sheep and other animals. Both are also pastoral activities for us as
priests: plowing the fields, sowing the
seeds of faith, cultivating the small plants as they grow in the life of Jesus,
weeding the rows from sin and evil. A
marvelous description of what we are called to do in our daily ministry!
And
tending the flocks: leading the flock to
green pastures, finding springs for them to drink, watching over them so that
wild animals do not snatch them, looking out for injured or lame sheep, and
protecting them—even with our lives.
Now
picture the servant coming back to the main house dirty, tired, hot, and worn
out. He is ready for a good bath, a cool
drink, and a hot meal. He has deserved
it. But Jesus’ story tells us something
different. The servant’s day is not
done. True, his field work is done, but
he is called to shift from outside work to indoor work—preparing a meal and
drink for his master. “Put on your apron
and wait on me while I eat and drink.” This
is not some undue burden; rather, it’s expected of him. His life is one of service 24/7, as we would
say today.
And
only after those duties are completed, does he get to wind down: “You may eat and drink when I am
finished.” Jesus then adds quite
pointedly: “Is he grateful to that
servant because he did what was commanded?
So should it be with you. When
you have done all you have been commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants;
we have done what we were obliged to do.’”
That’s
how I long to be remembered— as an unprofitable servant. And it is in reality how I actually am
remembered by many—a grace for which I give thanks to God.
When
Archbishop José Gomez became our active Archbishop on March 1, 2011, I formally
completed my years of toil in the fields and with the flock, and I am accepting
God’s invitation to live out my remaining years as his unprofitable servant.
Our
American culture which focuses on “me” and “mine,” a debilitating narcissism
that constantly looks inward and not outwards towards others, would compel me
and others in priestly ministry to point with pride to our “legacies and our
accomplishments.” But we who are chosen
to be men and women in total and self-giving service to our people don’t “do
legacies.” I prefer the image of the
servant in the Gospel; I am finishing up one phase of God’s call in my life, and
moving on to the next. Not as a laureate,
but as a weak shepherd who happens to want to serve God’s mystery, knowing, as
one spiritual writer once put it: “We serve a mystery, and serve it poorly”.
The
true servant of Jesus flees from honors, from recognition, from the absurdity
of legacies. Our goal is to follow Jesus
who calls us in ways far different from the values of the world; in Jesus’
words: “Just so, the Son of Man did not
come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many”
[Matthew 20:28], and “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take
up his cross, and follow me” [Matthew 16:24].
We don’t find “legacies” in those challenging words or images of Jesus.
I
have often wondered what the servant thought about when it was finally time for
him to relax and to have his supper. I
suspect that being a committed servant, he mentally re-traced his day to see
which of his work activities were productive, and where he made mistakes—and
how to improve tomorrow.
As I
reflect back on my own years of ministry, those words of Jesus resonate so
deeply within me: “…say, ‘We are
unprofitable servants.’” My own
failures, sins, and mistakes loom high on the horizon over the span of years,
and I feel the helplessness of knowing I can’t turn back the clock and correct
them. While my failures and mistakes are
far too many to count, two dark and foreboding clouds hover in the skies above
me, and there is nothing I can do to dispel them; they will haunt me until the
end of my earthly journey.
The
first dark cloud was the difficult and impossible clash in the San Joaquin
Valley between the farmers and the farmworkers.
Back in the 1960s farmworkers began organizing themselves in order to
receive better wages, to improve their working conditions, and to negotiate for
benefits which so many other workers took for granted. All of my efforts to try to bring about
reconciliation among the parties brought little success. Those were frustrating and challenging years
for me as I watched my meager efforts dissolve month after month, year after
year.
It is hard for me to
re-visit that period of time from 1965 to 1980.
My soul keeps raising the “what if” questions: what if I had found better paths to bring
together growers and workers to recognize the rights of each other? What if I had been a stronger voice on behalf
of the farmworkers in order to help increase their salaries and benefits? What if I had dared taking more risks in
order to be a better instrument of God’s peace and justice?
Instead, I now look back on
those years, realizing that any progress was far outdistanced by the paltry
efforts which I brought to assist the thousands of poor farmworkers and their
families living such difficult and tragic lives.
The
second black and ominous cloud was the scourge of the clergy sexual misconduct
of minors. This dreadful experience
proved yet again the fact that I was and remain an unprofitable servant.
I don’t recall ever hearing
about any such clergy misconduct cases during my years in the Diocese of
Fresno, 1962 to 1980; in the Diocese of Stockton, I encountered three cases in
the year before being named to Los Angeles.
I was stunned to learn that any priest could possibly harm children and
youth in this dreadful manner.
From
1986 on, however, this unthinkable evil would gradually begin to rise from the
murky darkness. And it would seem to
never end. My early efforts failed to
grasp the depth and extent of this sinfulness, and I searched in vain for
answers and how best to proceed. I did
not understand how deeply victims of sexual abuse were permanently afflicted;
that would only emerge in later years.
Almost daily I proved to be unequal to the task.
It
was not until the early 1990s that several things became clearer: anyone in ministry who had been credibly
found to abuse a minor could never return to ministry; victims needed urgent
and continuing pastoral care for years to come; all of our Church apostolates
needed to be fully vigilant against allowing anyone to be with children and
youth who could possibly be a danger to them.
But
it was those early years of the scandal which are the most haunting for me since
my response was not fully that of an apostle of Jesus Christ. How I wish I could return to those years with
today’s understandings and undo all of my mistakes and failures.
“We have done what we were obliged to
do.” Jesus’ words don’t mean that we
have done everything correctly, promptly, and with great wisdom. Rather, in my case I believe that I did my
best to carry out what I was truly obliged to do, and far too often came up
very short. That’s how it is with us
humans, fragile vessels of God’s grace.
But
living out my life as an unprofitable servant doesn’t mean there is no value to
be found there. Today’s reading from the
Letter to the Hebrews captures well the attitude which must be in all who are
disciples of Jesus: we continue forward
as disciples and as workers in the Lord’s fields “while keeping our eyes fixed
on Jesus.” Everyone is called to lift
their eyes from their many mistakes and errors, and keep their focus on the
face of Jesus.
While
I have suffered a great deal from my numerous mistakes and omissions, still I
don’t meet the high standard in Hebrews:
“In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of
shedding blood.” That’s true: my name and reputation have been under attack
over the years now—as befits a fallible minister of Christ’s grace—but so far,
I have been spared shedding my blood for Jesus.
I am
reminded that discipline is one tool which the Master uses to correct the
unprofitable servant; and discipline can lead to humility, a virtue which
becomes a strong anchor for servants who are yet called by Jesus to become his
friends. St. Ignatius of Loyola in his Spiritual Exercises discusses our call
to imitate the humility of Jesus who emptied himself of God’s glory and took up
our human nature. But Ignatius points
out that sometimes Jesus calls us to the deeper kind of humility—humiliation. It has become ever clearer in my own life
journey that public humiliation often becomes an essential aspect of living as
a follower of Jesus. This is the prayer
which Ignatius places on our reluctant lips:
“I desire and choose poverty with Christ poor, rather than
riches; insults with Christ loaded with them, rather than honors; I desire to
be accounted as worthless and a fool for Christ, rather than to be esteemed as
wise and prudent in this world. So
Christ was treated before me.” [No.
167]
Flawed
servants of Jesus are not pessimists nor fatalists. Rather, we must be people of the joy, hope,
and mercy of Jesus Christ as we live out our lives and our ministry. We keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, and our
hearts on the call of Isaiah in our first Scripture: “The Lord has sent me to bring good news to
the afflicted, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the
captives, release to the prisoners, … to comfort all who mourn;” [Isaiah 61:1-3]
And
we unprofitable servants of Jesus are in good company: moving among the sick, the abandoned, the
struggling, the outcasts, the undocumented, the abused, and the maligned. That’s where we belong.
Not
everyone is called to serve Jesus as an unprofitable servant. I feel blessed to be included in that group,
and each day in retirement I am finding new and ever more exciting ways to be
of service to the Lord staying on the periphery and in the shadows with those who
feel the weight and burdens of being on the margins—but also, with those most
loved by Jesus.
Today
we celebrate All Saints’ Day, a feast-day made more real for us with our
Cathedral’s 25 beautiful tapestries featuring 125 men and women who lived out
their discipleship with Jesus in heroic fashion. My personal patron saint, St. Joseph, is the
first one in this tapestry on this wall.
If there was ever a saint whose life was that of a humble servant, it
was Joseph. He lived out his life in
total obedience to God’s will. We see
him confront several difficult challenges in that life—taking in marriage an
unwed mother; fleeing into Egypt when his family is under a death sentence;
moving to a new town to start all over again.
No recorded words remain; no description of his years at Nazareth. No recounting of his death and burial. Joseph simply fades from the pages of
salvation history. Like a devoted servant.
As we
look about these tapestries, we can easily recall many more examples of men and
women whose lives and ministries were filled with mistakes, opposition,
ridicule, rejection, personal humiliation, suffering, torture, and death. A good number of them in their own day would
surely have considered themselves unprofitable servants.
Today
I am grateful to God for this special vocation, but I am also grateful to my
brother Bishops, priests, deacons, seminarians, and lay ministers and wonderful
people who have accepted me despite my failings, and who have sustained me
through their prayers and support along the journey towards the fullness of the
Kingdom of God.
I
earnestly request your continuing prayers for me and for all of those gathered
here this afternoon. Each one of you has
shared our faith journeys together especially in this portion of the Lord’s
Vineyard.
When
it’s your time to come in from the fields of active ministry, hopefully you,
too, will find the inner peace and joy I have experienced. Remember, the same Jesus who told us to say,
to proclaim, to shout: “We are
unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do,” also lovingly
says to us, as he did to his disciples, “ I no longer call you servants but my
friends and companions.”
