Laborers for the Harvest

I am a product of Catholic schools. The only time in my life that I did not spend in Catholic school was three weeks in the spring of 1986, my senior year in college. I was a student teacher at Wallkill Valley Regional High School in Hamburg NJ under the direction of the math department head, Mr. Wachter, teaching two Algebra I classes, one Geometry, one AP Calculus. The student teaching experience was to run 9 weeks; I lasted just 3. Needless to say, I did not qualify for a New Jersey teacher’s certificate, and I came away convinced I would never make it in the world as a public school teacher.

But it was in Catholic school that I first heard of missionary work in the church. I was familiar with stories of women and men who heard and answered God’s invitation to proclaim the Gospel in a foreign land, and leaving behind family and fortune, chose to live among these people to serve those in great need. The idea of missionary work appealed to many of my friends at school, some even expressing a longing to one day become missionaries and live and work among people of a different culture, feeding the hungry, binding their wounds, teaching their children, proclaiming the gospel, and carrying the cross of poverty alongside them in some under-developed country across a vast expanse of desert or ocean. I have to admit it was not an idea I entertained. For starters, I never considered myself missionary material. Plus, I wasn’t thrilled about leaving home and family. It has since occurred me that many of the missionaries I met growing up in the Philippines were foreign-born, European or American mostly (and they looked just like many of you), and the poor they served in some under-developed country mostly looked just like me. It’s ironic that one day I would become a priest, that I would leave behind family and fortune, travel across a great ocean to serve a people and proclaim the gospel in a strange land called America. I still don’t consider myself a missionary, but I can detect a smirk on God’s face.

Jesus Christ is the kind of missionary we must all strive to imitate. He left behind the glory and grandeur of heaven. The eternal Son of God wore an image like our own, sinful, broken, selfish, human. He lived and worked among people much like ourselves, experienced their daily hardships, shouldered their daily burdens. He did not aspire for honor or recognition. He never put himself above those he came to serve. But his deep concern for our welfare and his dedication to the Father’s will was total and unselfish. It is Jesus we look to for inspiration. And we, the baptized, are sent in turn to participate in Jesus’ great missionary endeavor which he has since entrusted to the church.

But to limit the scope of the church’s missionary work to proclaiming theology to uneducated, uncivilized, and unbelieving savages is to ignore a great missionary opportunity within reach. We already live in a strange land, among a strange people. To our own families, schools, places of work, our own neighborhoods and communities, even our own country, we are bearers of the gospel message. We are sent to announce Jesus Christ right here, right now, and we don’t even need a passport.

Take for starters the existing bond between teenagers and their parents, between students and their teachers, between workers and their employers, between citizens and their leaders, between parishioners and their pastors. People on one side might think it a great challenge to reach out to those on the other side. Each side is often convinced the other speaks a strange language and live on a strange planet. The gap between them is palpable. It is the missionary’s primary task to bridge that gap, by reaching across the divide and walking with the other on their journey, sharing their burdens and their aspirations, their failures and their successes. The message of the gospel will only be heard when that gap is bridged, establishing a deep and genuine connection.

Do we make a sincere effort to understand where people on the other side are coming from, what inspires them, what deflates them? Do we attempt to listen to their ideas, to speak their language and see the world from their perspective, if only to acknowledge their unique reality and guide our outreach? Do we sow the seed of God’s saving Word with conviction and enthusiasm, but without first cultivating the hearts of those who will hear that Word? Do we reject patient dialogue and careful planning, thinking it a waste of time and energy? “The harvest is abundant but laborers are few,” Jesus tells us. “Ask the master of the harvest to send out more laborers.” But lest we forget, we have already been sent to bring in the harvest. We are not spectators in God’s plan of salvation, we are partners. So it is always useful to know just what we are harvesting, and the weather conditions we are up against. It helps to know our own physical strength, our mental readiness, our motives. It helps to map out a detailed strategy, and focus on a successful outcome.

Quite often, we do not think twice about giving up on the stubborn and the closed-minded. The gospel speaks with a sense of urgency. The 72 disciples are instructed, “If they do not receive you, shake their dust off your feet.” It seems they had little time to waste. They were, after all, sent ahead to the people Jesus had every intention of visiting. The major difference is that we are not only bearers of God’s message. We are also our very selves bearers of God to those to whom we are sent. They have no one else to look for. We are, as I heard someone say, the only Bible some of them will ever read. Our sense of urgency comes from Jesus’ directive, “The harvest is abundant but laborers are few.” We cannot allow the harvest to wither away or rot.

Incidentally on a few occasions this past year, we have heard from fellow parishioners about some aspect of our life at St. Therese, sharing with us their ministry, their joy, their deep convictions and satisfaction in the work of service and outreach. We have heard about those they serve and how their work continues to transform lives. We often hear of the great generosity of our parish, and that people are always willing to meet their neighbor’s need. But one really big challenge at St. Therese is finding leaders in ministry after the heart of Jesus the servant. We can’t all be leaders. And it always helps that someone in the lead is passionate, knowledgeable, experienced, convincing.

Each of us is sent to bring in a portion of the harvest in whatever capacity we are given to affect another’s life for the better, as a student, a teacher, a teenager, a parent, a citizen, an elected leader, a parishioner, a pastor. So what are we waiting for? We are all missionaries. Each of us, by virtue of our baptism, is sent to do great things right where we already are. So with our words and our lives, may we go forth from this place, and proclaim the good news!