Memorial of Saint Polycarp, Bishop and Martyr

Lectionary: 343 

"There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me. For whoever is not against us is for us.”

In his Little Office of the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, Saint Francis of Assisi intoned, "All you works of the Lord, Bless the Lord!" I read that phrase daily for a long time before it clicked with me. Francis was referring to the Mighty Works we hear of so often in the Bible. Initially the phrase refers to Exodus and the plagues of Egypt, the passage through the Red Sea, the destruction of the Egyptian army, God's providence and guidance of the Hebrews through the Sinai Peninsula, and finally their conquest of the Promised Land. Faithful Jews never forget that God did these Mighty Works to save them. No one else and no other god might have. 

There are other wonderful events recounted in the Old Testament but the New Testament authors substantially revived the expression when they spoke of Jesus's Death, Resurrection, and Pentecost. The Last Supper became the new paschal meal to celebrate these powerful deeds. The Mass means nothing without them; nor would they be remembered without the Mass. The Lord was referring to all the mighty deeds of the Old and New Testaments when he said, "Do this in memory of me." 

In today's gospel we hear of people doing mighty deeds in the name of Jesus, and his personal assurance to his disciples that -- whoever these strangers might be -- they cannot oppose him. I'm sure there are many interpretations but what strikes me is the assurance that when I administer the sacraments -- i.e., the mysteries of God -- the Lord is blessing those who receive the blessing despite my unworthiness.

In his Testament, Saint Francis addressed the perennial scandal of priests who live in a manner unworthy of their calling: 

After that the Lord gave me, and gives me, so much faith in priests who live according to the form of the holy Roman Church, on account of their order, that if they should persecute me, I would have recourse to them. And if I had as much wisdom as Solomon had, and if I should find poor priests of this world, I would not preach against their will in the parishes in which they live. And I desire to fear, love, and honor them and all others as my masters; and I do not wish to consider sin in them, for in them I see the Son of God and they are my masters. And I do this because in this world, I see nothing corporeally of the most high Son of God Himself except His most holy Body and Blood, which they receive and they alone administer to others. And I will that these most holy mysteries be honored and revered above all things and that they be placed in precious places. 

We need priests. While every adult Christian should trust their instincts in dealing with religious authorities, we have to respect ordained leaders if our mission as God's people is to succeed. Being Christian is not a quest to save oneself; nor are we a company of Lone Rangers on a mission to save the villagers. 

Our first responsibility is gather in prayer and praise God for God's goodness. For that we need leaders who not only call us together but remind us what we're about. Our Catholic faith tells us they're neither self-elected nor democratically chosen; they are called by the Lord, and ordained by the Church. And they remain always under the authority of the Church. 

When we bow our head at the end of Mass we acknowledge the authority of ordained ministers to teach, heal, reconcile, and govern us. We thank God for their authority for they are alter christi to us.