We again are celebrating several priest jubilarians this year — three of whom are marking 60 years of priesthood, three with 50 year anniversaries, three who are at 25 years and six who are at 10 years.

 

Probably all of us at some point realize that guys who are called to the priesthood are not perfect. Instead of grumbling about this or that imperfection in a priest, perhaps instead we can marvel at how wonderful it is that God calls regular guys to become His priests — and those regular guys rise to the occasion, leave other lifestyle options behind, and make the not-small committment to work day after day after day for the Kingdom.

 

At the priests’ jubilee Mass this week, Bishop David Malloy highlighted the qualities of St. Joseph that ring true for the vocation of the priesthood in a special way: a constant faithfulness, for example, as well as a life of prayer and availability, and, he said, “all of those other elements that make one the truly loyal and faithful servant, but not the most heralded.”

 

Joseph, of course, is a perfect saint for the dads of the world to emulate, as well as for these Fathers in the Church. Both vocations require sacrifices. 

 

While we are fairly familiar with the types of sacrifices that family fathers make for their spouses and children, most of us can only speculate about the challenges that priests must face as they go along as public figures for Christ among sometimes crabby and hyper-critical parishioners and our all-too-secular society.

 

Many of those difficulties do not come from their own human failings. I recall one good priest who was spat on by a stranger in a public place during the early years of the sexual abuse scandal, and I heard of similar things happening to priests around the country. I’ve known other priests who went from feeling successful and happy at one parish only to discover strong prejudices against priests among the parishioners at their next assignment.

 

Like all of us, priests will have natural talents and natural glitches. We lay men and women can aim our lives toward our strengths to some extent, and we have some freedom to quit jobs that go bad in hopes of friendlier skies elsewhere. But priests are assigned where they are needed and find themselves learning the often-painful lessons that come with relying on God to help them deal with any uncomfortable fit.

 

Some of the life lessons we as laity face are not applicable to priests ­— but they, like us, are vulnerable to all the same physical illnesses and accidents, the same or similar heartaches with families and friends, the same potential for awkwardness and shyness and weariness and discouragement. And did I mention the same lack of energy?

 

Priests get old, just like we do. Their cars break down like ours do. They have fewer options than most of us when it comes to where they live or with whom. Some have horror stories of rectories they inherit with a new assignment.

 

Hopefully, our priests realize that they provide such valuable service to us — most especially the sacraments, but also words of encouragement and a comforting presence. Their prayers for us count for a lot, and their example of service, including when they can provide it only after taking a really deep breath, can inspire us to shake off our doldrums.

 

Hooray for our priests! Let’s be sure to pray for them, and thank God for them!