I’ll Be There For You
When actor Matthew Perry died last week from an apparent drowning at his Hollywood Hills home, the world gasped. Our "Friend," still so young, would no longer be with us.
We knew that behind the scenes of his successful '90's sitcom, he suffered for years from alcohol and drug addiction. He hid much of it quite well, minus some obvious onscreen weight loss. In recent years, in fact, he seemed to win that battle, and we cheered his victory.
Heroes that conquer the darkness aren't supposed to leave us so soon and so tragically, yet Perry did. And we are left now asking the question we always do: Why?
His life's journey came to mind and heart often these past days as I was praying with the Scriptures of this 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time. Each passage in its own unique way addresses the hunger we have for leaders to live up to their calling as fathers and shepherds.
How tragic it is when those who are supposed to love and protect us instead fail us. It is a wound that hurts like we imagine hell would feel.
As the prophet Malachi proclaims in our first reading: "You've turned aside from the way and have caused many to falter." He was of course talking about the priests of the Temple who were supposed to be shepherds, leading souls to righteousness.
Jesus, too, was addressing the leaders of his day when he called them out, reminding them that the people need spiritual guides more concerned with the transformation of the people's hearts over the many perks that often come with the role of being a Pharisee or scribe. They were chasing after the wrong things and putting themselves first over the ones for whom they should have been laying down their lives.
I can't help but think that herein lies the source of much of Matthew Perry's woundedness. Perhaps ours as well. We have been seeking leaders to show us sacrificial love, and we keep coming up empty.
I remember reading an article about Perry's relationship with his own father, a dad who left his son when Matthew was but an infant in order to chase his own dreams of Hollywood stardom. Young Matthew would hunger for a father, and would only find him on commercials and TV series when his mom would point him out.
"I went to Hollywood looking for my Dad," Perry said about his own eventual journey that led to "Friends" stardom. Everything seemed to come back to that moment: a hunger to be loved; a hunger for wholeness and completeness; a hunger for a protector.
And woe to the ones who fail to do so.
What Matthew longed for ... what so many of us long for ... are people in our lives who shepherd with a heart that leads and feeds us.
I think that's the real reason why the priest abuse scandals of the past fifty-plus years have angered us so. Yes, we grieve the innocence lost and mourn the countless souls who have walked away from the faith because of such betrayal. But maybe even more than that: we cry out as Malachi and Christ did: why were you not the fathers and teachers you were supposed to be for us?
We trusted you, and you let us down.
We needed you, and you walked away.
We were hungry for sacrificial love, and you only fed your own sinful and selfish appetites.
No wonder Jesus reminds us not to call anyone on earth our father or rabbi: that title is only bestowed upon the ones who live daily what is the source and summit of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass:
On the night of the Last Supper, Jesus took bread, broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, "Take this, all of you and eat of it, for this is my body, given up for you."
It's that last part that gets me every time. Jesus didn't just tell us that the bread was now His very Body; he told us -- it's given up for you.
A love that sacrifices for another. A love that says, "I do this for you." I love so humble that it feeds all those who are lost, hurting and seeking wholeness and healing.
What our Lord does for us in the Eucharist -- the Presence of His sacrificial love -- is not just everything our hearts long for, it's also the very guide and remedy for whom we ourselves are called to be.
Every time we gather around this sacred Table and celebrate the memorial of the Last Supper and the Paschal Mystery, we are called to be the very image of the Shepherd who feeds as he leads. As He has done, so must we.
And that hunger can only be filled in its completeness when we receive Eucharist in order to become Eucharistic for others. Our Lord and Savior gives of himself so that we will do the same for others. He sacrificed once for all so that we will lay down our lives, too -- for our spouse, our children, the person in the pew next to us, and even the stranger and neighbor we just can't seem to stomach. As He, so must we.
It is certainly a challenge; it will cost us much to die to self. But there is no other way. That is the way of Christ and Calvary. It is the way of every Christian.
And it should be the way of everyone called to shepherd and lead: from parent to priest, from teacher to coach -- blessed are they who love through the lens of those words of consecration: This is my body, given up for you.
May we never stop striving to live this in our own lives. May we hold accountable those who are to shepherd us in the ways of holiness and righteousness. As we begin Vocation Awareness Week, may we pray that more young men answer the call to be such Eucharistic shepherds of souls.
And in a special way today, may we pray that our special Friend Matthew Perry, who entertained us for years, may now have finally found the fullness for which his heart longed: the love of the Eternal Shepherd who heals all our wounds and feeds us with His Love.
That's why Eucharist – His very Body and Blood given for you and me -- matters so very much.