A letter to future priests written in June of 2022, after my first year of priesthood
Dear future Rev. Father,
As I near the end of my first year of priesthood, I am reflecting on the many “firsts” that were/are part of this year of grace. There are some things I want you to know about, and yet, my writing this is just as much for me as it is for you.
First, I have never been more happy, sacrificial, tired, stretched, and fulfilled in my life. Second, I want to share with you in more detail what some of those “firsts” have been this year. Some are powerful moments of experiencing God’s providence, some are humbling moments of weakness and mistakes, some are graced moments of intimacy with the Lord in ministry…others are heart-wrenching events and encounters that will leave you with nowhere to go except to the Sorrowful and Sacred Heart of Jesus in your pain. These I want you to know about before being ordained. And don’t worry about not being prepared enough to face them. There are certain things that nothing can prepare you for, and that is okay. God’s grace has always come to provide for me in those moments when I needed it most as long as I was open to cooperating with and asking for his help.
Your ordination day will be one of the happiest days of your life. Celebrating Mass and hearing Confessions for the first time was so beautiful. As I prayed with the hundreds of people that came to receive my priestly blessing, there were times in which I literally felt power coming from my hands. That is because they have been anointed to be Jesus’ hands and not my own. The hands they kiss are His own.
You will preside at the marriages of young couples who are full of joy on their wedding day, and you will share in their joy with them. You will get to know young families who are truly life-giving to be around. You will encounter truly saintly souls in the confessional and in letter exchanges. You will be an instrument of mercy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. You will hear powerful confessions and will witness tears of repentance fall from the faces of the penitents.
You will listen to the pains and hurts of those who have experienced abuse or sexual violence or addiction in their lives. In my first month in the parish, I was publicly slandered in front of my parishioners by a man after Mass one day for challenging him (one on one) to take responsibility for his life instead of looking for a giveaway and playing the victim. I felt a mysterious joy to suffer for the sake of the Name. You will inevitably deal with individuals who are experiencing serious psychological issues or who are even suicidal. You will also deal with those who are afflicted by severe scrupulosity, and this will be challenging. You will be given chances to pray prayers of deliverance with people, to give them blessings, and to lead them in prayer to forgive others and renounce what is unholy. Sadly, you will also witness the activity of the Devil in people’s lives in some very clear and evil ways. This year, I’ve spoken with people near and far who are spiritually oppressed and attempted to talk or pray with them in that moment whether in person or over the phone.
It is likely that you will be called in to the hospital to administer emergency Baptism and Confirmation—especial to those infants in the new-natal critical care unit who are in danger of death. I’ve done this at least 3 times, and it is both difficult and grace filled. Some of the hardest days will involve the death of the young. You will be called to console those who have lost children—infants, teens, etc. I’ve been called in to bless the mortal remains of a 14-week-old as well as the body of a four-month-old who did not make it. Their parents were heartbroken, and your heart will break with them. The hardest day I’ve ever had at the hospital so far was being present with the family of a 9-day old as he passed away in the arms of his parents. I was physically exhausted by my emotional exhaustion that day. I needed to spend some extra time with Jesus to let him console me.
You will bless the bodies of those who have prayed for and undergone a “holy death” and are surrounded by their family. You will pray for Divine Mercy at the bedside of the dying. You will anoint—often! You will celebrate the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick frequently. Many, many times I’ve been to the ICU to anoint those whose health is failing. One difficult anointing was an individual who was the victim of a tragic car accident. I’ve been grateful to have had access in the hospital to anoint patients at least four or five times who have had COVID. As a priest, you will witness inexplicable recoveries of those who have been anointed. This has already happened at least 2 or 3 times this year so far. You will see God orchestrate things perfectly when he really wants something to happen—in or out of the hospital—and you will watch him answer prayers for the recovery of the sick when their growth in faith and deeper conversion is for his glory.
Sometimes you will be called into difficult situations or tragedies which will feel powerless over. Know that in those moments the power lies not in what you say or don’t say but in your presence as another Christ and in the consoling prayers of the Church. I was once called in this year to bless the body of a high school senior who died from a tragic car accident, and before I even set foot in the funeral home, I could hear the wailing of the family from within. You will console families in those moments, you will celebrate funeral Masses for their loved ones who have died. At times, you will accompany the families who have lost a loved one and in particular who are extremely difficult to work with in the way they are handling their grief, yet you will learn to be patient, tender, understanding, and realistically accommodating while trying to preserve your own sanity. On those days, taking a walk down to the school to join the kids for recess will give your mind some rest with play and refresh you to return to your ministry with childlike simplicity.
You will often be pushed to limits of what you can give. You will celebrate a weekend full of Masses, arrive back at the rectory, prepare a quick dinner, and then the phone will ring from the hospital right as you sit down to eat. And you will have a choice to die to self again to serve the needs of the sick and dying when an emergency calls for it. It has been taxing to go that extra mile when I’ve felt like I have nothing left to give, but I’ve never regretted going. Sometimes, those have been the most “anointed” anointings where God’s presence is very felt. You will have your boundaries challenged in ways that will stretch you and teach you your limits.
This year I’ve struggled often with balancing self-care, initial priestly zeal, and a giving in s spirit of joyful generosity. I’ve experienced moments of weakness, fatigue, and mental exhaustion. I’ve felt overwhelmed at times and exhausted by the seemingly infinite demands of ministry. You will feel like you can’t handle it all, and that’s okay. I’m learning that it’s not just “ok,” but it’s also true. Only Jesus can, and he will do what he can do through you. I’ve struggled during this first year of sometimes holding myself to too high of a standard. I’ve had my own insecurities surface and been humbled by my own spiritual poverty or poverty in love, my weakness, my limitations, and sometimes my sins. I need his mercy too, and I can’t forget that. It makes me so much more compassionate for those whose confessions I hear on a weekly basis. You will also learn to delegate and the ever present need to let go of control and abandon everything to God. I’ve made this prayer many a time: “Lord, give me the people I need to get what you want done.” He is also answered that prayer many a time. At times, I’ve struggled to maintain recollection with the multitude of things than can happen on a given day in the five minutes prior to Mass.
But you will also find rest with Jesus in refreshing solitude. There, you will bring the emotional pain that you have carried from encountering others’ sorrows, burdens, suffering, and awful situations and will have nowhere else to pour it out except to unite it to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. And this will draw union into a closer bond with Him. You will be keenly aware at times that the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass that you are offering is for the reparations of sins. You will find refreshment in the company of brother priests, and this will sustain you.
There are times, my brother, when you will feel the Holy Spirit speak directly through you to others in preaching, praying with others, consoling the suffering, and in the confessional. Once I was given a spontaneous word of knowledge that completely renewed a man’s motivation to continue with life and with treatments for his sickness. He walked his daughter down the aisle just months later whereas, he was on the point of despair and throwing in the towel in the hospital before our conversation and his being given the Sacraments to strengthen him.
Second to being a beloved son, you will be a father. People will call you “Father,” and this is one of the greatest joys of being a priest. You are a spiritual father. I’ve so naturally felt the supernatural grace of spiritual fatherhood during this first year as a priest. It’s a part of my very being. I’ve experienced the reality of my spiritual fatherhood especially as I hear the confessions of teens and young people who are struggling. I’ve felt it in my interactions with the students at the school and that mutual affection and joy to be in one another’s presence. I’ve felt it with the Hispanic community as they will look to you to be their father and bless them and their children with a good word and a prayer. I love being a priest! It is the treasure of my heart worth selling everything for that has come from the joy of discovering Jesus and his call for me to be his own priest. I hope that this letter both agitates the desires of your heart and awakens from you the yearning to respond to his call. I am praying for you, future Reverend Father, and future brother Priest.
Sincerely in Christ,
A first-year Priest