A couple of weeks ago, a small but surprising story came out of the Vatican. The process of being declared a Saint for a priest by the name of Fr. Walter Ciszek was officially closed. No big scandal or dramatic reveal. Just a quiet decision – the evidence wasn’t enough to move forward. For people who know his story, that raised a real question: if not him – then who?
Thank you for taking the time to read this homily for FOURTH SUNDAY OF EASTER – APRIL 26, 2026 – Your support means a great deal to me, and I’m deeply grateful for the many who share these messages with their friends, families and social media followers. If you’ve found meaning in these words, I’d be grateful if you’d share them with others who might benefit.
And for those who prefer listening, you can find the audio version on SoundCloud HERE or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes HERE. Your comments, messages, and the way you’ve embraced these homilies continue to inspire me. Sincerely in Christ -Father Jim
Here was a guy born in Shenandoah, Pennsylvania in 1904 from a tough background. He ran with a gang, got into fights, lived life with a certain edge. Not exactly the kind of kid you’d point to and say “future Saint.” But then something happened. A real conversion hit him and he found a deep desire to give his life to God. He entered the seminary, and became a priest. When the Pope put out a call for volunteers willing to sneak into Soviet Russia at a time when the Church was being brutally persecuted, to bring the Sacraments to people trapped behind the Iron Curtain, Walter Ciszek raised his hand. The adventure, the danger, the chance to be a man on a mission in the darkest place on earth – spoke to the same fire that had once made him a street-tough kid. There’s something bold, adventurous and heroic about it. He got in to Russia – but not long after arriving, he’s arrested. And what follows is not heroic in the ways most people imagine.
For a full year the Soviets tortured him, broke him, and finally got him to sign a false confession that he was a Vatican spy. He later said that was the worst torture of all – not the physical pain, but the spiritual agony. Believing he hadn’t just broken under pressure but that he had betrayed God. Betrayed the Church. Betrayed his vocation as a priest. He spent years in the gulag, in Siberian labor camps, in isolation.
And then something shifted. In the middle of this nightmare of failure that was tormenting him, he surrendered completely. He stopped trying to force God’s plan. And in that moment, he finally said, “Whatever you want, Lord -I’m yours…” That moment of trust became the heart of his two spiritual writings, With God in Russia and one of the most widely read works of the last century – He Leadeth Me. The title which comes from the 23rd Psalm which we sang today.
If you read his writings you realize as low as Walter Ciszek felt at that moment, that’s not where his story ends. Over time from prison camps to labor camps, to seeming utter obscurity – he came to a deeper realization: God had not abandoned him. That his vocation wasn’t destroyed by weakness. That even in failure, maybe especially in that failure God was still at work.
When people heard that his cause for canonization wasn’t moving forward, some naturally asked “Why? What was wrong? What disqualified him?” And the answer they got was… to be honest not much of an answer. No big explanation or definitive statement. Which frustrated some people. Because that’s how we tend to think and expect things to run: Guilty or innocent; success or failure; Saint or sinner… But the truth is the Church doesn’t work that way
And more importantly – God doesn’t work that way.
The Vatican’s decision doesn’t diminish any of his story. It doesn’t say Fr. Ciszek wasn’t courageous, wasn’t holy, wasn’t used by God in extraordinary ways. It reminds us that Church is careful. We don’t canonize everyone. And that’s actually good news. Because it means God isn’t waiting for perfect people before He calls them. He calls real ones. Flawed ones. Men who have known failure, pride, weakness. God does not wait for perfect people before He calls them. He calls real ones. People with courage and fear… faith and real moments of failure. And somehow – through all of that – God still calls, He still works. He still leads.
That’s exactly why the Gospel today matters. Because Jesus doesn’t describe a system… He describes a relationship. Jesus says “The sheep hear His voice… He calls them by name. Called by name… Not as a group. Not as a category Not as “the perfect ones” or “the holy ones” or “the ones who have it all together.” Called by name.
Which means the people He calls are not flawless. They’re people like Fr. Ciszek. They’re people like St. Peter in the first reading – one who denied knowing Jesus Christ and now courageously and effectively preaching. They’re people like you… and me.
And this is where we have to talk honestly about something. When it comes to priesthood, there have been two extremes that have shaped how people see it. There was a time when priests were almost put on a pedestal – treated like they were somehow above everyone else. Like they had it all together. Like they didn’t struggle. And then, especially in recent decades, because of very real sins and horrific scandals, the pendulum swung hard in the opposite direction. And now for some the image of priesthood is reduced to the worst possible stereotype. When the reality is that neither of those things are true. A priest is not someone who has ita ll together. A priest is someone who has been called by name by Christ… and is still being worked on. Still growing. Still struggling. Still learning – learning how to listen more carefully to the voice of the Good Shepherd.
When people ask me to share my vocation story, it’s a bit of a struggle because it can be pretty long- and honestly somewhat seemingly small and not interesting. I remember being in Kindergarten so 5 years old – and my childhood pastor had left a note at our house one Sunday afternoon as he had been out making visits to families. Just a simple message to my parents “Make sure little Jimmie makes it to Mass on Sundays.” And for whatever reason… that stuck with me. Something clicked and I understood that Jesus mattered. That He loved me. That He wanted me to love Him. That was it. Simple. But very real. And it never left. So after First Communion, I was the only one of my three brothers who wanted to be an altar server. I kept showing up at my parish of St. Agnes in Clark. Kept feeling drawn deeper.
So when I eventually summoned the courage to talk about the possible idea of being called to the priesthood, it wasn’t shocking to anyone. But here’s the part I don’t always say out loud: It terrified me. I was teenager. I didn’t want to be the guy who stood out for the wrong reasons. And the world back then wasn’t much different from today. Those extreme stereotypes, assumptions about priesthood – made it feel impossible to be a normal guy who simply loved Jesus and wanted to follow Him wherever He led – whether it was to priesthood or somewhere else.
That tension of these two things on the one hand, that quiet sense that maybe, just maybe God was calling me. And the other – all the fear – all the hesitation, all the ‘what will people think?’
I’m so thankful that the Good Shepherd kept calling. And eternally and ever more grateful that I listened. I love being a priest. I don’t like everything I have to do every moment (anymore than parents and spouses do) but I love it. Because its not for superheroes. It’s not for marble statues. It’s for real men. Men who are willing to let Christ lead them into places where people are suffering, where the Church is needed most, where the light of Christ has been diminished or hearts have grown cold and indifferent. And the adventure is risky and dangerous because it requires you trying to be like Christ day after day, committing and failing and trying again and again to lay down your own life for Him and His sheep. It costs everything… but when Jesus promises life to its full, He isn’t exaggerating nor meeting those expectations in any way I could have imagined… but far surpassing them.
Fr. Ciszek thought the adventure was sneaking into Russia. The real adventure turned out to be total surrender to Christ in a Soviet prison cell. The Good Shepherd had other plans. He still does.
That’s why this weekend, we’re being invited to participate in a special initiative throughout the Archdiocese of Newark- “Called by Name.”
Not to pressure anyone or to force anyone into anything. But to acknowledge something we don’t always make space for: God is still calling. He’s still calling people to give their lives in a radical way to married life, to religious life… He’s still calling in the quiet, personal and often uncomfortable way that He always has. He’s still calling young men to serve Him in the priesthood.
So to our young men – if something stirs when you hear the Shepherd’s voice, a tug toward prayer, toward service, toward laying down your life for others… don’t dismiss it. Don’t explain it away. Don’t assume i’st random or that it came from nowhere – because that question, most times doesn’t come from nowhere. Don’t let the fear of “not fitting in” silence or dampen you. The world needs men who are strong enough to be humble; brave enough to be lef. Come talk to me or any of the priests in your life. Come let the Church help you discern.
To everyone else, part of hearing the voice of the Good Shepherd is recognizing it in someone else. Look around. Think about other young men that you know – who love God, who love their neighbor, who show leadership and sincere faith. Your invited to submit their names at https://newarkpriest.com/calledbyname/. Your note might be the note on the doorstep that changes everything – like Fr. Whelan’s was for me over 45 years ago. Those names that are submitted, again are not going to be hounded or spammed relentlessly. They will simply be invited by the Archbishop to explore whether the Shepherd is calling their name. It’s that simple – and its that important. And in addition, commit to pray for Vocations to the priesthood. That more young men will hear this call and have the support and strength they need to respond to it. As Pope Saint John Paul II once said “There can be no Eucharist without the priesthood, just as there can be no priesthood without the Eucharist.”
Priesthood is just one of the ways God calls His people. Some are called to religious life, some to marriage, some to quiet witness in the world. Wherever you are, listen for the Shepherd’s voice—He calls each of us by name.
Fr. Walter Ciszek once thought his vocation would be about doing something heroic for God. Something bold. Something dramatic. And in a way it was… but not in the way he expected. Because it wasn’t in his strength that he discovered God most deeply. It was in his weakness. In his failure. In his surrender. That’s where he finally learned to trust – not in himself but in the voice of the Shepherd. A voice that didn’t abanon him. A voice that didn’t define him by his worst moment. A voice that kept calling… even there.
And that same voice is still calling
Not just in an extraordinary place.
Not just to extraordinary people. But here. Now. Personally. By name.
