A Scriptural Reflection by Fr. Jim Sullivan on the Mass Readings for Sunday, August 9, the Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time
Readings for Mass:
1 Kings 19:9, 11-13
Psalm 85:9-14
Romans 9:1-5
Matthew 14:22-33
This week’s Gospel passage is Peter walking on the water. There is a take-away from this passage that is so often referenced by preachers that I almost feel redundant here, mentioning it, but as it is the central take-away from this passage, I better mention it. As long as Peter is focused on Jesus, he is able to do the impossible. He is able to walk on water. As soon as Peter takes his eyes off Jesus and focuses instead on the storm, he starts to sink.
The clear parallel for our lives as disciples is to not let the storm distract us. Stay focused on the Lord. In him, with him and through him, we can do the impossible. This storm — whatever it may be — has no power over the Lord, and none over our response to him, to his invitation to get out of the boat and — walk on water.
Having done my due diligence with regard to the main teaching point of the passage, I want to take a little time here to probe the business of why the Lord allows storms at all. When we are in the midst of one, it can be hard, simply to keep rowing the boat, let alone get out of it and start doing the impossible.
Yet it is precisely because of the storms of life that our capacity to do, if not the impossible, then at least greater things than we might otherwise have thought ourselves capable of, is brought forward. Forced forward, we might sometimes feel. I have a lot of experience with this. Just one example, one you are largely familiar with, from my own discipleship walk.
As I started my studies for priesthood, spring semester of 1995, at the Dominican School at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, I was working at the Career Planning and Placement Center on campus, living with my sister, bro-in-law and nieces in Oakland, writing on the weekends at my parents’ house in Marysville, working with my agent in Manhattan, and coordinating the Confirmation program in the Marysville parish. It was a full-plate life, and I was fully engaged by it.
The decision to start classes at the GTU meant cutting back my hours at Cal. I went to class during the work day, walking from the office on campus to my classes up on “holy hill” as we called the GTU. This reduced my work schedule by eight to ten hours per week. I needed to make those hours up; I was in debt and could not get to the seminary until I had my debts paid. I needed a ten-hour-a-week job, evenings and weekends, and $400 a month.
I was so determined to pursue priesthood that I would have been glad to have done telephone sales or pizza delivery…instead of which, in August of that year, Fr. Leon, the new pastor in Marysville, on the recommendation of the outgoing youth minister in the parish, and, apparently, on the urging of the teens themselves, who had had me as their Confirmation teacher, asked me if I would consider taking over the youth ministry.
“It’s very flexible, Jim,” Fr. Leon assured me. “Ten hours a week, evenings and weekends — you can set up your schedule anyway you like. I cannot pay you much, but I can offer four hundred a month.”
Talk about getting out of the boat. Talk about leaving your comfort zone. Youth ministry was, for me, for the entire first year that I was doing it, somewhat akin to walking on water. I was doing something I had no experience with, no preparation for (other than having taught many of the teens in the Confirmation program). I had no trouble staying focused on Jesus, those initial months. I didn’t dare look anywhere else. I knew I would sink. I remember going before the Tabernacle at St. Joseph’s in Marysville, numerous times that autumn, that winter, that spring, those first six or eight months that I was doing something I would never in one million years have thought of as something I could do. I was an artist. A writer. A thinker. And yes, in the Confirmation program, I had become a teacher — a teacher of teens.
But youth ministry? Never. In. One. Million. Years.
Fast forward twenty years to the bishop’s Christmas party here in Oakland, 2014. To the invitation to walk even further out on the water, further out over deeper water, as chaplain at Bishop O’Dowd High School. It was getting out of the boat in the fall of 1995 in Marysville that had put me out there amid the teen winds and waves to begin with. I’d stayed out there, all the two intervening decades; as youth minister/youth priest in parish after parish. I’d gotten good at youth ministry, and I knew it.
But…teaching at a high school? Look. My dad was a high school teacher. There are reasons I had not become one.
Knowing this request had come straight from the Spirit, of course I said yes to it. But it was a qualified yes — “Let’s give it three years,” I said to Bishop Barber, when in January of 2015 we sat down and really talked about it. “Let’s think of this as the assignment of an associate priest to a parish — which is typically three years. And…let’s see where we are, the third year.”
This will be my twelfth year at the high school.
I wondered, back in the mid-nineties, trying to find a way to move ahead with my hopes and plans for priestly studies, why God couldn’t just speed the whole business up, by letting my hard-working agent sell a couple of my novels. The “storm” of my indebtedness and my inability to get to seminary until my debts were paid was a mystery to me. My novels were good. My agent was successful — with other writers. Why couldn’t she be successful, now, with me?
God had another plan for settling my debts. The youth ministry position in Marysville was fifty-plus hours a week and full-time pay, before I left it. It became a major factor in my eventually getting my debts paid, and moving on to the seminary. It was that, and it was so much more than that. It was the opening out of an entire ministry path, for me, a vocation within the vocation, a call within the call.
In the interest of brevity I have not elaborated on the anxiety, the frustration I felt, with my difficult circumstances, in the mid-nineties. The “storm” of my debts, preventing me from moving forward on my studies, at the time made absolutely no sense to me. “Can’t we just sell a novel, Lord?” That, it seemed to me, was the clear and obvious path forward. And it would have been a development entirely within my comfort zone; no need to get out of the boat. More than thirty years of work with teenagers since, of course, I have a different perspective.
Take good care and God bless.
Love,
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.