Every year, on or around the Feast of All Saints, the seminary here in town has a celebration where our future priests dress as great saints from ages past. Because seminarians are nerds, it often leads to obscure and bizarre saints and costumes; some are just dumb, and others are quite memorable. I wasn’t there at the time, but the legend lives on of a Cincinnati priest (true story) who “dressed up” as St. Jerome by building a small cave in the corner of the bar, sitting inside it, and yelling insults at anyone who came too close to the cave and demanded that people bring him drinks. It’s the kind of gag that would make people hate you at most parties, and it  has won that priest my undying respect. Regardless, most people who don’t regularly read the Church Fathers wouldn’t know that St. Jerome maintained a biting and often cruel  correspondence with notable figures of his day.  In his commentary on the Gospel, when St. Peter proudly announces to the Lord that he has “left everything” to follow Jesus, St. Jerome opines that all he really left behind was a boat and a few nets. Everything he had, perhaps, but a small sum when lined up next to what he received in return.
 
I often think about that line when I think about the sacrifices that we are called to make as disciples of Christ. Is there anything we can offer, any token of our fidelity to the Lord, that really compares to what Jesus promises us in this life and the life to come? I have promised celibacy for the sake of the Kingdom, and people sometimes make harsh judgments about me because I wear a collar, but what is that really in the face of the pledge of eternal life we have received, or this beautiful vocation I wake up to every day?
 
In the same vein, the second week of Advent always highlights St. John the Baptist, the forerunner of Christ, the great prophet who bridges the gap between the Old and New Testaments. No matter how out of place you may feel in this world trying to talk about your faith in a culture that is deeply uncomfortable with faith and total commitment to Christ, you’re probably not wearing a loincloth, eating locusts, and crying out in the desert. If you are, you certainly aren’t reading this column, but I’d very much like to meet you and hang out, you weirdo.

Even though we don’t share in the exact manner of being a prophet that St. John the Baptist did, all of us, by virtue of our baptism, share in the prophetic office of Christ. So, as we approach the great solemnity of the birth of Our Lord, perhaps we can take part in some small share of John’s boldness. Proclaim the Gospel, make straight the path of the Lord into our lives and into the world. Even when it makes you seem like a weirdo. God sees it, and He will reward it.
 
Prayers always,
Fr. McC