Fr. Schalk Speaks to Mundelein Students about Hope

It is a privilege to be here this afternoon, giving the homily on the occasion of the Mass of the newly ordained.

As we gather at this liturgy we honor a remarkable saint, St. Teresa of Jesus, a doctor of the Church and one of her greatest mystics. Teresa knew well what it meant to live as a branch grafted on the vine of our Savior, and her intimacy with the Lord is more than just admirable – it’s something for which we should strive. We are all mystics in the sense that we are all men and women who pray.

There is, or course, more to say about St. Theresa and our Gospel reading, but if you will indulge me, I’d like to focus the homily upon the first reading from St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans. There we find a particular quote regarding hope. St. Paul writes:

“In hope we were saved. But hope is not hope if its object is seen; how is it possible for one to hope for what he sees? And hoping for what we cannot see means awaiting it with patient endurance.”

We are saved in hope. And hope is often what saves a seminarian. It’s easy to get weighed down with the obligations and responsibilities, with the failures and setbacks that we experience here at Mundelein. If one is not careful, his ship can sink into the sea of despair and dejection. But hope buoys a man, lifts him up again. It is hope that keeps us from discouragement, sustains us in time of trail – hope focuses our attention, again and again, on the good that is to come.

If I am not mistaken, we are touching upon one of the reasons the newly ordained priests are invited back to the seminary. The idea is that current seminarians can gaze upon this more-or-less illustrious group of newly ordained priests and say to themselves, “If those guys can persevere through seminary formation, then I can persevere too.” Or some of you may be thinking: “If my bishop ordained that guy, I think I’ve got a chance.” It’s true, one of the reasons Fr. Lyle invites us back for this Mass of the newly ordained is to stir up hope in the hearts of devout seminarians who want to catch a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel.

But what exactly are you hoping for? What is the expectation that the Holy Spirit is planting in your hearts? I think back upon the hope that sustained me through the seminary: I was hoping to be a priest, even though I really did not, or could not, comprehend what that meant exactly. I was hoping to be a priest, even though the garment of the priesthood, as it looked on me, didn’t have a definitive shape in my mind.

Maybe that’s what St. Paul is talking about when he says, “But hope is not hope if its object is seen; how is it possible for one to hope for what he sees?” And it’s true, from where I was standing at 1000 East Maple Avenue, reflecting upon the notion of the priesthood, I really couldn’t see the whole of it. But I had this steady hope, this expectation, that keep me going, even when it was difficult.

“Even when it was difficult.” I echo St. Paul again: “And hoping for what we cannot see means awaiting it with patient endurance.” It takes patience to march under the banner of hope. It takes endurance to see a task through to the end. It takes suffering and sacrifice and self-denial – all things with which you are familiar as seminarians at this rigorous institution.

“In hope we were saved.” Hope: it keeps us on the path to ordination. You may ask me: “Father Schalk, now that you are ordained, has your hope been fulfilled? Have your expectations been satisfied?” I tell you truly, my hope has been fulfilled – ten times over. My expectations have been far exceeded. I find my share of challenges and difficulties. The cross never disappears from the picture. But there is profound satisfaction in taking Christ’s light into places where it had not previously shone.

Every day in Lauds I hear Zachariah speaking to me: “You my child shall be called the prophet of the Most High, to go before the Lord to prepare his way, to give his people knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins.” And this is, personally, the greatest aspect of the priesthood: to be a prophet of God’s forgiveness, to go before him as a messenger of his compassion. To open the gates of God’s mercy: this is foundational to what it means to be a priest.

And what makes all this so amazing is the fact that, the people of God receive hope when they receive God’s mercy. When their sins are forgiven in the sacrament of reconciliation, they realize that their failures and setbacks need not weigh them down. Their ship need not sink into the sea of despair or dejection. They receive fresh hope, a banner under which they can march anew toward their goal, their salvation. And though that goal may be unseen, the people of God are then able to persevere with patient endurance.

In his encyclical on hope, our Holy Father says that “God is the foundation of hope: not any god, the God who has a human face and who has loved us to the end, each one of us and humanity in its entirety.”

Jesus Christ, the source of mercy, the source of hope, has a human face, and as a priest that face is yours. I tell you, seminarians, you are preparing to be bearers of the sacred mysteries. You are studying to be channels of divine mercy. In a word, it is you to whom the people of God will turn when they need forgiveness, when they need their hope restored.

So in the meantime, allow hope to sustain you. And remember that the people of God need hope, they need salvation – they need you to persevere with patient endurance.