Why Be A Priest?

What made you become a priest?

That was the question a college student asked me the other day. I told him I was pulled toward the priesthood. I had little to do with the choice. Medicine was what I wanted to study. God pulled me gently in another wonderful path. I am glad I listened to God's yearnings.

I thought about being a priest often, however. Each day seemed so different for the priests I witnessed while at school or crossing other student on the intersections when I was a safety boy. Peer pressure prevented me from admitting to classmates the thought of study toward priesthood. In the late 60s, being a priest seemed something to shy away from, at least, publicly, and, avoiding announcing the idea to anyone.

Priests seemed creative and imaginative, however. I watched a boyhood pastor pray in the church yard. He was smiling and would wave to me.

Today, since I was ordained a priest in 1976 by the late John Cardinal Dearden, each day unfolds with adventure. After prayer and Mass, appointments with hurting people fill my day. On some days, a parishioner may need me in court for his or her drinking and driving intoxicated. The second Monday of each month Mass occupies time at the Macomb County Jail in Mt. Clemens, Michigan. Pulled in many directions since that original pull from God for this life's choice, the challenge of the priest rests in the variety of tasks that open each day. And, the interruptions are my ministry, even though they may be stressful at times.

The priest prays with the person who is concerned about her dying parent. He buries the dead. He visits the confined elderly person who seems to be losing hope in life. He's seen in hospitals or schools, or walking the streets knocking on doors as I did at Detroit's St. Christine Church while I was pastor there in Brightmoor, an economically-stressed area on the West Side.

Priests are prophets speaking up for peace and showing that violence and bigotry is not the way. He is a poet who is looked upon as a mystery who often lives alone as a diocesan priest (unlike religious order priests who live together),is celibate, and available beyond the call of duty. He is a bridge who calls people to give and forgive. Living in ambiguity is a norm, it seems. I know well that to love is to give at times I do not like, but must. And, will. Do daily. A boyhood pastor taught me that truth that steers me these days.

Being a priest and pastor is tough, especially when one stands on the truth of the Gospels and commandments of God. Priests are criticized for being naive and idealistic. He is exploited in his call to be part of a counter culture and never marry. For me, the life of the priest puts me on the cutting edge where life is really happening. For example, just the other day, I rode the bus on Jefferson as I chatted with people who engaged with me and my Roman collar. An elderly guy grew up on Detroit's east side not far from where my family of nine resided near the Detroit City Airport. A parent was riding the bus to work as she smiled often my way from her seat.

Pastors keep the heart of humanity sensitive to the sacredness of life from its start in the womb to its end. The frozen heart is what kills. Freshening my heart in prayer, at Mass, and in service keeps my fragile heart warm for all, especially the most vulnerable in society as our Catholic social teaching points out.

Priests dare to follow Jesus in a world that wonders why. It continues amid its own set of problems that any life will bring. God provides all these experiences with the People of God with the touch of tenderness and truth in the trek. That pulls me into the most surprising adventure of all six decades long of living in the Lord.

Most days I am enthusiastic about my life as a priest and my life's choice. Only God and math are perfect, people claim, after all.