November 6, 2023
Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily for the 31st Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A) on November 5, 2023 at The Paulist Center in Boston, MA. The homily is based on the day’s readings: Malachi 1:14b – 2:2b, 8-10; Psalm 131; 1 Thessalonians 2:7b-9, 13; and Matthew 23:1-12.
Our first reading and our gospel passage today condemn those who seek leadership roles in order to empower themselves. Malachi and Jesus condemn those in authority who are not humble, authentic servant-leaders.
Our reactions to these readings will probably come in three movements:
- In the first movement, we’ll probably think about all the Catholic priests we know — including me — and how they fail to meet Jesus’ and Malachi’s standards. After all, both passages specifically condemn religious leaders!
- In the second movement, we’ll think about many other public leaders who have demonstrated pride, duplicity, and hubris. I won’t mention anyone by name, but you may think of elected representatives in foreign countries and at home, and a variety of prominent CEOs.
- In the third movement, we’ll start to realize that Jesus’ and Malachi’s accusations also land on ourselves. Every one of us is a leader in one way or another. Every one of us is sometimes inauthentic, hypocritical, or selfish. What wisdom can we find in these readings?
In humility, let us ask God to shower us again with mercy.
During my first 10 years of priesthood, I hardly ever referred to myself as “Father.” If I needed to use a title, I preferred the formal title of “Reverend.” On the rare occasions when I sign something as “Father,” I must practice writing the cursive capital “F” on scrap paper.
When I first set up my voicemail greeting here, I identified myself as “Rich Andre, Director of the Paulist Center.” I immediately received a message saying, “I guess I have the wrong number; I was looking for a priest.” So now I use the title “Father” on my voicemail.
Where does a Catholic priest’s authority come from? Hopefully, it’s a call received from God. But as we know, the Church restricts the call to celibate men who pass through a vetting process and go through a lot of specialized training.
But in my personal experience, it seems that most of my authority comes from a white piece of plastic 6 inches long and 1-3/8 inches wide. When I first wore this 18 years ago as a brand-new novice, I was surprised how the people in my neighborhood became noticeably friendlier to me, even though 85% of them belonged to Baptist, Pentecostal, or Holiness traditions.
Believe it or not, the story of this piece of plastic started about 200 years ago as a sign of humility, when most wealthy men were expected to wear white linen shirts every day. To save money — and to make a counter-cultural statement — clerics began wearing shirts of cheaper material, easier to maintain, attaching only a collar made of white fabric. This white piece of plastic takes that history to a ridiculous end point… but paradoxically, my poorly-tailored clergy shirts are quite expensive.
I view my priesthood not so much as a higher calling, but as a specialty within the priesthood of all baptized people. I am not holier than the rest of the baptized, although my job gives me more time and expectation to work at it. I am not smarter than the rest of the baptized, and although I have certain training, there are other people in this community who have a similar education.
I display this piece of plastic less than almost all other priests in the United States. In fact, I defied the orders of a bishop in another diocese that required priests to wear the collar on all public occasions. Yet I’m told by members of the Paulist Center Community that I wear this piece of plastic more prominently, and with a contrasting black shirt more frequently, than any other priest who has served here in the last 50 years. Believe me, it’s not for me: as the first Generation X priest to serve at the Paulist Center, I have even less personal use for signs of external authority than Baby Boomers. But now more than ever in the past 50 years, a big part of my job is outreach to those who are not weekly members of this community.
When a visitor to church has questions, often the only person they can visually identify as a leader is the one wearing the collar or the vestments. And for Millennials and Gen-Zers especially, they expect priests to be wearing Roman collars. And because this building does not look like a church from the outside, much less a Catholic church, and because the Beacon Hill Historical Commission puts severe restrictions on our signage, my Roman collar and these vestments are the best billboard we have. Almost every weekend, at least one passer-by comes to Mass because they see Rick or me standing on the sidewalk in this outfit.
God knows that the Church is in terrible shape because priests and bishops abused their authority. My motivations will always be questioned, and it can seem self-serving to explain to you why I do what I do, as I have done for the last 5 minutes. I take consolation in the fact that the atheist Christopher Hitchens called Mother Teresa of Kolkata “a fanatic, a fundamentalist, and a fraud.” I’m confused that people prefer the homilies in which I share my personal story.
So let’s get to the larger point of these readings. From an early age, we are all asked to be leaders in small ways, and then in bigger ways. We might start as older siblings at age 2 or 3, as line leaders in kindergarten, then as team players or volunteers by the age of 10. Before long, we’re holding down jobs. Then we’re supervisors, specialists, and/or parents. Those who don’t have a servant’s heart should not be leaders. And what we consider to be an act of service may be interpreted by others as an act of pride. For example, were you consoled or insulted that the psalm and the second reading today compared God’s authority and Paul’s authority to that of a nursing mother?
Leadership style is on a spectrum. We can be so authoritative that we become dictators who oppress those under our care, but we can also be so accommodating that we fail to provide sufficient leadership. Part of the trick is to think about this balance enough to genuinely care for people under our supervision, but not so much that we continually second-guess ourselves.
Even the life of Jesus is both inspiring and confusing. We are told that he taught “as one with authority,” yet his leadership led to a humiliating death. And through that humility, he demonstrated that he was God.
As we discern how we are to be leaders in our everyday lives, may we continually rely on the counsel of the Holy Spirit.