I love being a priest

I love being a priest. I love following in the footsteps of others whom I consider great priests -- from the first priest, Jesus Christ, through the unending list of martyrs and saints, to priests like Jerry Rigenbach and Louie Newman on Long Island, who taught me the value of self and the need for God...priests like Paul Smith and my beloved Bill Ryan, who taught me that faith needs to manifest itself in advocacy and action for the poor...priests like Tom Hayes, who taught me that pastoring involves collaboration with and empowerment of God's people...priests like Rich Broderick, who taught me great respect for the gifts and talents of women in the Church...priests like Leo O'Brien, who taught me that priesthood is a vocation of joy and communion with God's people...priests like Leo Markert, who taught me about commitment to vocation as a priest...priests like Chris DeGiovine, who taught me about the universality of Church...priests like Bishop Howard Hubbard, who taught me about compassionate and insightful leadership by walking with God's people.

The list could go on and on about the priests who have helped me to grow in my love for and life as a priest. To all of them, I am deeply indebted. Each has been a blessing and a gift.

I love being a priest. While the life God has chosen me for may seem contrary to the way society thinks and acts, priesthood has been a source of incredible joy, challenge and growth. For me, priesthood is the ministry of many hats, for in any one given day I am teacher, coach, friend, brother, administrator, counselor, presider of prayer and worship, committee member, healer, reconciler, peacemaker, advocate, spiritual guide, consoler -- I think you get the picture.

But there are two principal ways in which I have been challenged to live out this gift: as father and as companion.

When I first started out, I used to think, "Why do they call me Father? What exactly does that mean?" I know some people really dislike that title, calling it archaic, anti-scriptural, or simply out-of-synch with an ecclesiology that, with good reason, deemphasizes a paternalistic approach to leadership. But my journey as a priest has revealed to me that this title is rich in meaning and is one of the most humbling titles I could have ever received:

* When I baptize a beautiful child, calling on the Spirit to fill this child with the grace and love of God, I feel the joy of a parent who after nine months of hopeful anticipation, has just given birth.

* When I share the Sacrament of Reconciliation with those who ache for a renewed spirit, I feel the joy of a parent whose child has come home after being lost.

* When I anoint the sick or the dying, I feel the concern and compassion of a parent caring for a child who cannot care for self any longer.

* When I witness the marriage of two young people, I feel the hope of a parent who wants the best for his children.

* When I preside at the Eucharist, I feel the pride of a parent at Thanksgiving or Christmas who has gathered children together to remember, to celebrate, to feast, to nurture.

* When a person comes to me broken-hearted, in despair, without hope, I feel the pain of a parent who must watch a child grow, make choices, stumble and fall.

* When I teach youth about the love of God and our response to this great love through our lives of love, peace and justice, I feel the responsibility of a parent to pass on the values of life.

Through many challenges, mistakes, as well as successes, just like anyone who has been given the gift of children, I have learned to be father to those God has entrusted to my care. And they have been such an incredible gift to me.

I love being a priest more than being father. I love being so privileged to be a companion on the journey with so many wonderfully loving, giving and talented people. I love the journey with them and especially the moments of discovery and growth we experience together.

I love it when the person in the pew comes up to me after a Mass when I preached on service to the poor and says, "Father, where do I begin?" I love it when the person comes up to me after I preached on the sanctity of human life and says, "Father, I want to open my home to unwed mothers," or, "Father, I'm pregnant and need help. I want to keep my baby."

I love it when I recommend the "bad boy" to represent our school on the Diocesan Youth Council against the better judgment of the faculty and administration, and he goes on to represent our Diocese in a dialogue with the bishops of the United States at the National Catholic Youth Conference in Kansas City -- and also asks me to be his mentor in his Confirmation preparation process.

I love it when I get a call from a college asking me for a recommendation for one of my ex-students who wants to volunteer in a home for persons with AIDS.

I love it when the woman who cuts my hair wants to get married in the Church, thinks she can't because her fiance was married, and ends up with the wedding she dreamed of and bringing herself and her husband back as active members of the Church, ministering to the poor by providing haircuts for families who can't afford them.

I love it when I bring students on communion calls and they ask: "Why did she cry when she received communion?" and I help the young person understand the far-reaching power of the Eucharist. Or when I bring them to a Native-American settlement or inner-city soup kitchen or a home for children with AIDS and other illnesses and they ask, "Why?"

I love it when I'm walking the streets of Saratoga in the summer and a lonely old woman comes up to me and tells me, "Father, I'm mentally ill...my whole family is mentally ill" and she talks to me for over an hour, desperate for nothing more than some time with another human being.

I even love it when after losing my voice after a serious illness and returning to preside at a liturgy, a woman comes up to me and says, "Father, I've been a Catholic for 72 years and have never missed Mass. But today was the first day I really understood what it was about because I had to really listen to try to understand you. It's really a beautiful thing, isn't it?"

I love it when a young man I knew as a freshman in college and who helped me on numerous retreats, calls me and says, "I want to be a priest," or when a young woman I taught calls and says, "Remember when you told me you thought I had a vocation? Maybe you were right."

I love it that all of this leads me to prayer; that all of this -- the day-to-day living of what we have received, what I call the rhythm of the Eucharist, the Body of Christ -- is the pulse and heartbeat of my life as a priest. It gives me life, empowering me to be life-giving presence, enabling me to lead others as companion to the heart of Christ where they will know and experience that they are a vital part of the rhythm of the Eucharist.

I could go on and on about how much I love this thing we call priesthood. Okay, some days, it's like getting underwear for Christmas; but 99 percent of the time, it's a gift that is beyond my wildest expectations. Every day is a new adventure; every day is a new opportunity to help make real this thing we call community of God; every day is an opportunity and privilege to see, experience and point to the presence of the God who loves us and calls us to lives of grace.

(Editor's note: Father Maione is campus minister at Saratoga Central Catholic High.)

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