A Scriptural Reflection by Fr. Jim Sullivan on the Mass Readings for Sunday, August 30, the Twenty-Second Sunday of Ordinary Time
Readings for Mass:
Jeremiah 20:7-9
Psalm 63:2-6, 8-9
Romans 12:1-2
Matthew 16:21-27
This Sunday’s Gospel passage is the one where Jesus tells us that discipleship involves “losing” one’s life in this world. Not in the sense of martyrdom, but in the sense of letting go of our own plans and expectations in order to embrace God’s plans and expectations.
And before I go any further with this reflection, I want to point out that there are no doubt times in our lives when our plans and expectations, our hopes and ambitions, line up with God’s. Just because we DO want something does not mean that God does NOT want it for us. As St. Ignatius of Loyola argued, God leads by attraction. Our talents, interests and passions are God-given, and in general, they can be trusted to lead us. But there is also an overwhelming likelihood that, at points in our lives, we will be focused on one thing when God’s plan for us involves another thing. That set of circumstances is what today’s Gospel passage is addressing.
We get a deep look at just how difficult this dynamic can be in the first reading, where Jeremiah tells God that he wants to be through with being a prophet. All it brings him is “reproach and derision all day long” (vs. 8). Jeremiah goes on to relate that whenever he tries to walk away from his calling, whenever he tries to ditch, or “lose” the life God intends for him, the word of God “burns” in his very bones and he is forced to go about proclaiming it (vs. 9).
God’s will for Jeremiah was that he become one of the greatest of the prophets — it fell to Jeremiah to warn of the coming calamity of the Babylonian invasion and deportation, a prophetic mission for which he received scant gratitude from the Jewish leaders at the time. Though he more than once threatened to abandon his calling, in fact, of course, Jeremiah held true to it and ultimately was completely vindicated — the invasion happened, followed by the deportation. People woke up too late to the accuracy of Jeremiah’s warnings.
Jeremiah, fortunately, is an extreme case. Most of us, I think, find “losing” our own hopes and expectations in order to embrace those of God a bit less violent a business, than did Jeremiah. It is, all the same, a tricky and at times, a difficult business, discerning God’s will amid our own hopes and desires..
I have some deep personal experience with this dynamic and I want to report it here because it illustrates the upside, so to speak, of Jesus’ words. That is, my own experience speaks deeply to the fact that letting go of personal expectations in order to embrace those of God will, in the end, enlarge and enhance our experience of life itself. Rather than being thwarted, we will find ourselves exceptionally rewarded. This is so because in accomplishing God’s plan for us we activate our own deepest selves. Skills and capacities we might never have thought to put into play, skills and abilities which, in fact, we might never have guessed ourselves to possess, will be unveiled and brought forth, in “getting with God’s program” for our lives.
Though there have been at least four or five major points in my life which illustrate this dynamic, the most recent is my assignment to Bishop O’Dowd. Most of you, of course, know this story, but it so well illustrates the dynamic that I am briefly re-telling it here.
Back in the winter of 2014-15, immediately after the bishop pitched me on the high school chaplaincy and I began carefully, almost gingerly, to address it in conversation with close friends and advisors, everyone had the same response: Brilliant. Wonderful. A master-stroke on the bishop’s part. Everyone could see me as a smashing success as chaplain at Bishop O’Dowd.
Many of you know that that was not at all how I had received the news myself. For a variety of reasons the chaplaincy did NOT appeal to me, but perhaps foremost among them was the fact that MY plan for my diocesan career path –pastor of a parish — had become one I deeply cherished.
I had not wanted to be a pastor for a long time, and the reason was all the extra ministry I was doing, and had been doing, since my first months as a priest in Pleasanton. I was an in-demand speaker and retreat leader; I gave Lenten missions in parishes around the country; and of course, I was writing. Developing this set of ministries took time and strategy and I did not feel I would be anywhere near as free to pursue these ministries as a pastor, as I was as an associate. So for nine years I made clear to successive Vicars for Clergy (the priest at chancery responsible for placing us around the diocese) that I did not want to be a pastor.
After nine years as an associate, however, I felt that the writing/speaking ministries were so well developed that they would continue apace, even as I expanded my parish responsibilities to those of being a pastor. And as I came to look at what the position of pastor offered, and at how I might take advantage of a pastor’s powers to really build a flourishing parish community, I began to feel a real attraction to the position. I remembered how Father Dan Danielson had managed at Pleasanton (my first assignment), at how Dan had empowered his people and formed intentional and educated disciples through the parish’s many and diverse ministries and…I began to think how I might go about being a pastor in Dan’s simply amazing mold. I began to really like the idea of taking a parish.
Then came this curve ball from the bishop. The first thing I have to say about it is that as soon as I heard the words Bishop O’Dowd and teen ager, I knew it was a done deal. It was as if Cupid was hovering just above the bishop and had sent his arrow flying — my heart the target. There was NO WAY I was going to say no to a request from my bishop, that I go to the teens.
Despite this immediate obedience (let’s just call it that) I felt steep resistance to the assignment. I felt it. I did not act on it. I felt resistance. I expressed some of my concerns to the bishop simply because I wanted him clear on where I was, on how I was feeling, going into it. I recommended we give the high school a three-year trial run (the typical timeline for an associate in a parish). The bishop looked a bit disappointed (chaplaincies normally run five or six years, like the appointment to pastor). But he said, “Jim, I am just really grateful to you for being willing to give the high school a shot.”
There WAS a real death to self involved. I had loved, revered, exulted in parish ministry for nine years. Here I was finally ready to take over in a parish and I found myself redirected to the high school. I can remember leaving St. Clement some mornings, my first months at the high school, with tears in my eyes, so much did I miss the simple, the deep, the good responsibilities of parish life; the basic parish routine. In the parish, a priest need only get out of bed in the morning and he is doing God’s will. His “work” is whatever comes at him and all of it is engaging, all of it is something which helps others, all of it is clearly connected to the building up of the Kingdom. Except for my writing, nothing in my life had given me so deep a satisfaction as had parish ministry.
But from day one at the high school — I mean the day in February, 2015 that I first visited the high school, having accepted the position for the following academic year — I could sense, I could glimpse the possibility of something not just new and different, but something potentially very great, being laid before me. I sensed as well that after all, it would not be so hard or so complex — really, all I needed to do was step into the chaplaincy and let it develop in and through me.
I’d told the bishop I would give it three years and see where we were in 2018. This fall semester, of course, marks the start of my twelfth year at Bishop O’Dowd. And anyone who reads the personal parts of these e-mailed homilies must sense my joyful gratitude at having been cast among a sea of teens at the very moment when my plans were to take up the reins in a parish.
Here’s the real point: God’s plans for us exceed anything we could imagine for ourselves. They may well take us for a time beyond our comfort zone; they are likely to stretch and deepen us; they are likely to call forth new talents, skills and understandings. In all of that, God’s plans for us develop the disciple in us in ways which, left to our own devices, would not have happened. It can take trust; it can take a deep breath and a sort of “All right, Lord, I’m in your hands with this” sort of attitude. But in the end, God’s plans for us fulfill us in ways we would never have thought to consider. I cannot say when I will leave the high school, but I can say that when I do, I know I will look back on the assignment with the deepest gratitude to Bishop Barber, for having accurately discerned God’s plan for my life, and for having gently encouraged me to trust that plan. It has taken my priesthood in a direction I never imagined, and for which I cannot give the Spirit thanks enough.
Love and God bless,
Fr. Jim










The following is adapted from the best-selling book, 
Visionaries of Our Lady of Zaro
On June 24, 1981, the eve of the Feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, two young girls were walking a small hamlet in Bosnia-Herzegovina, when a woman holding an infant appeared high on a hill among the boulders and brambles of Mount Podbrdo. Instinctively, they knew it was the Virgin Mary, but they did not approach her. They and four other children felt called to return the next day, and Our Blessed Mother drew them to her, effortlessly transporting them up the mountain, over boulders and thorny bushes. The Blessed Mother introduced herself as the Queen of Peace. They fell to their knees and began to pray. She prayed with them and promised to return the next day. Our Lady has regularly appeared in Medjugorje ever since, as have countless stories of conversion and miracles, making the apparitions of Our Lady in Medjugorje one of the longest and most fascinating in modern church history.
Those who have not yet heard a proper introduction to the revelations on the “Gift of Living in the Divine Will,” which Jesus entrusted to Luisa are sometimes perplexed by the zeal harbored by those who have had this introduction: “Why so much emphasis on the message of this lowly lay woman from Italy who died over 70 years ago?”
(1913-1985) Wife, Mother, Mystic, and Founder of The Flame of Love Movement
For many years to follow, Elizabeth struggled to care for herself and her family. In 1948, the Communist Nationalization of Hungary was a harsh master, and she was fired from her first job for having a statue of the Blessed Mother in her home. Always a diligent worker, Elizabeth never had good fortune in her long string of short-lived jobs, as she struggled to feed her family. Eventually, all of her children married, and in time, moved back in with her, bringing their children with them.
Italy (1930-2011) Priest, Mystic, and Founder of The Marian Movement of Priests
A North-American man, who wishes to remain anonymous, and whom we will call Walter, was obnoxiously loud, braggadocious, and who mocked the Catholic faith, even to the point of ripping his mother’s rosary beads out of her praying hands and scattering them across the floor, went through a profound conversion.
Born in 1972 in Itajai in the state of Santa Catarina in Brazil, Eduardo Ferreira found an image of Our Lady of Aparecida in the courtyard of the family house on January 6, 1983. On October 12, 1987, four days after his First Communion, Eduardo and his sister Eliete were praying in front of this image when Eduardo saw a blue light emerging from it and illuminating the room. On February 12, 1988, he had his first vision of the Virgin Mary in grotto alongside 54 roses. Before the Virgin’s feet, there was a small stream where a snake appeared and wanted to jump in the water, so Our Lady trampled it with her foot. The snake writhed all over, trying to escape. In this vision that lasted about five minutes, the Virgin Mary introduced herself as the Lady of the Rosary.
The experiences of Manuela Strack (born in 1967) in Sievernich, Germany (25 km from Cologne in the diocese of Aachen) can be divided into two phases. Manuela, whose alleged mystical experiences began in childhood and intensified from 1996 onwards, first claimed to have received a large number of messages from Our Lady, Jesus, and the saints between 2000 and 2005, including locutions of a surprising theological and poetic density which she attributed to St. Teresa of Avila. Twenty-five “public” Marian apparitions took place between 2000 and 2002: in the first of these, the Mother of God asked Manuela, “Will you become a living Rosary for me? I am Mary, the Immaculate.” She also revealed to her that apparitions had already occurred in Sievernich during the Second World War but were hidden by the Nazis (the parish priest, Fr. Alexander Heinrich Alef, was an opponent of Hitler and died in a concentration camp).
In 1996, an anonymous woman in Rome, referred to as “Little Mary” (Piccola Maria) began receiving the locutions known as “Drops of Light” (Gocce di Luce), of which the well-known Italian publishers Edizioni Segno issued 10 volumes in book form, the latest dating from 2017, although the messages are ongoing. The only information given about the recipient is that she is a simple housewife and mother who lives in poverty and hiddenness. The locutions, attributed to Jesus, are predominantly catecheses on the Mass readings for the day, but sometimes touch on external events. For those familiar with Catholic mystical literature of the modern era, the tone and highly-structural, Scripturally dense content resemble the lengthy pedagogical discourses of the Lord found in the writings of Luisa Piccarreta or Don Ottavio Michelini.
Born in El Salvador in 1954 but living in Quebec, Canada, Sulema Gomez has been receiving messages for many years, which she attributes to Jesus and the Virgin Mary. These came to wider attention with the publication of three volumes of locutions received between 2010 and 2013, entitled I Have Come to Prepare You for This Event: the Illumination of Conscience. The title is a reference to the coming “mini-judgment,” also known as The Warning, prophesied by a considerable number of mystics over several decades, foretelling a unique occurrence in the history of humanity when all people on earth (with the exception of small children) will see their spiritual state as God sees it.
Fr. Dolindo Ruotolo (“Don” Dolindo in Italian) lived from 1882 to 1970. He was ordained to the priesthood on June 24, 1905 at the young age of 23 and dedicated his long life to prayer, penance, and the service of thousands of faithful who turned to him for guidance. Fr. Dolindo authored a monumental 33-volume commentary on every book of the Bible, called Sacred Scripture: Psychology, Commentary, Meditation, an unabridged autobiography, and left behind an extraordinary number of theological, ascetical and mystical writings, including penned answers to thousands of letters. Most of Fr. Dolindo’s writings have not yet been translated into English, but the work is underway. St. Padre Pio, a contemporary and friend, once said of his inspired writings, “Not a word that came from the pen of Don Dolindo should ever be lost.”
Content: The following is taken from the book, 
My name is Vickie Leigh S. Smith, M.Ed. I am a wife and mother of four, serving as an inspirational Catholic speaker and teacher in the ministry of healing and deliverance. My life is anchored in God’s Providence, which led me onto a path of profound transformation. Initially, I was trained and employed as a behaviorist, but before I could help others move from fear-based living to freedom, I discovered that I first needed healing myself—healing from past traumas, spiritual bondage, and a broken language of living as a victim. Through the sovereign power of Jesus, I experienced firsthand what it means to contend for healing, conversion, and deliverance. The Holy Spirit became my guide, the Blessed Virgin my intercessor, and the Holy Name of Jesus my stronghold. It was through this divine choreography that the Lord positioned me to integrate my education as a behaviorist with my life experience. My journey of transformation would impact the mission to which He was calling me. Little did I know, I would one day be helping others heal, as well.
Born in 1961, I grew up in a devout Catholic family where love for the Blessed Virgin Mary was at the heart of daily life. My relationship with Our Lady began early—deepening, especially after my First Holy Communion, when I felt her maternal battles with anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. From my youth, and through the love and peace the Blessed Mother imparted to me, I sensed a call to the priesthood.
I was born in 1963 and raised in a Catholic family that attended Church every Sunday and every Holy day of obligation.
I was raised in a family that decided God did not exist, or if He did, one could not prove it, so why waste one’s time wondering about such an esoteric and irrelevant concept? As I child, I often pondered what life meant and was overcome with a sick, foreboding when thoughts of death entered my mind.

My name is Amanda Dcosta, but most people around me call me Mandy. Hearing “AMANDA!” used to give me the fleeting impression I was in trouble—reminiscent of childhood mischief or grades being handed out in school—a feeling that amusingly lingered even into young adulthood. Don’t get me wrong, I embrace both names. Amanda means “beloved,” and I’ve always felt deeply loved by my family, by friends, and most of all, by God. Even during moments of doubt, I hold fast to the truth that I am loved. Knowing that God loves me gives me joy, the kind of joy that is my strength, the kind that is a gift and a choice, even in the absence of happiness.
I was born in Marysville, in the Sacramento Valley, to a large and faith-filled Catholic family. I was named for my priest uncle, and as a little boy wanted to be a priest. I outgrew that ambition and by the time I was headed for my freshman year at the University of California at Berkeley was planning on a career in law.