Last April, I got to serve at the Confirmation mass for our 8th graders at the Cathedral. During the sacrament of Confirmation, I stood next to the archbishop while he led the rite. I had the very special and Covid-specific job of wiping the oil off his thumb between 8th graders.
That position gave me a really privileged view of each of these young people as they came forward to be anointed and blessed. Each one stepped forward, greeted the archbishop with their sponsor’s hand on their shoulder and told him what name they wished to be called—which saint the had selected for their patron. The archbishop called them by their new name, used the oil in the shape of a cross on their forehead, and said, “be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.”
There were a large number of “Sebastians” (he’s the patron saint of athletes). And several other repeated names. One Carlo Acutis, named for our new blessed who was a young Italian millennial. Samuel here chose Pius XII. A few picked a saint who was the opposite gender from themselves—a boy took Joan of Arc, for example.
I was deeply moved watching this parade of young people. It reminded me a bit of the song, “When the Saints go Marching In,” and also of the Litany of the Saints that we sing at ordinations. This was literally a litany of the saints, and a procession of future saints being called forward, blessed, and sent out. If you are adult, I invite you to picture your Confirmation and remember yourself in that space. If you are young, picture how your Confirmation will be.
The Apostles experienced a similar movement in today’s Gospel. Jesus summons them and sends them out 2 by 2 into the world. The word “apostle” literally means “a person who is sent.” In this case, by Jesus. They are kind of like the Blue Brothers here: “We’re on a mission from Gahd.”
We may think of the 12 Apostles as being a super-group of holy saints. It’s easy to forget who they weren’t. Jesus didn’t call people from the religious establishment: high priests, priests, and Levites (the equivalent of today’s bishops, priests and deacons). He called together a group of nobodies—fishermen, widows, tax collectors, prostitutes, and gang members. Just like we hear God choosing Amos, a lowly tree pruner, to be his spokesperson and prophet in the first reading.
The Apostles were probably just as surprised as we are. Probably just as surprised as our new graduates would be if they heard me call them, “a parade of saints” a few minutes ago. It’s easy for us Catholics to think of holiness and the hard work of Christianity as something for professionals—for clergy, for social workers, for teachers, for someone else. But that’s not who Jesus called and calls (or not only who he calls). It’s you. It’s your family. It’s also the person that drives you crazy.
Jesus calls and send us out into the world. He sends us with a terrifying lack of stuff. He tells his Apostles to go without the equivalent of keys, wallet, and cellphone. Can you imagine? As I contemplate taking my first family vacation next year with our four little children, I think that we’re going to need to get a trailer and a luggage rack for the top of the minivan. We nee lots of stuff for the six of us. I can’t imagine setting out with only a walking stick and sandals. The though of not having a diaper bag at least is terrifying.
The point of this limited amount of gear is so that we learn to trust in a person—Jesus Christ—not in anything we bring with us. Not in anything we have built, or earned, or even who are ourselves. Jesus tells us, “trust in me. I am enough for you.” And he entrusts us with the very work and power that we see him exercising in his ministry: preaching, exorcism, healing the sick. We continue that work with our prayer, sharing our faith, and doing the work of justice.
You know, it’s interesting to me what parts of Scripture we take literally and what we interpret to be figurative. Every Christian denomination is a little different in its stresses. Catholics, for example, take the parts dealing with the Eucharist—John 6, for example, where Jesus says we must eat his flesh and drink his blood—with utmost seriousness and literalism.
For several denominations,
today’s reading is taken with that level of literality. They believe every Christian is called and commanded
to go out into the world and evangelize, to spread the Good News of Jesus
Christ, His Cross, and his resurrection.
Remembering our Confirmation and how Christ sends us, too, maybe we also
should take these words a little more seriously and a little more
literally. Our mission, he tells us, is
to go make disciples of all nations.
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