Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Today marks the final episode of “A Shepherd’s Voice.” I would like to thank all those who have joined with me each week for these discussions. 

I will be launching a new podcast series under the name, “The Watchman’s Lamp,” which will be available on the Pillars of Faith website at pillarsoffaith.net beginning August 15, 2025. 

Today, as we we close out “A Shepherd’s Voice,” I would like to speak to you about the following topic – “A Call to Holiness.” 

You know, you can’t fake the fragrance of sanctity. It comes only from the crushed grain, the poured-out oil, the hidden death of the self. Holiness is the scent of a soul that no longer says, “my will,” but only, “Thy will.” It’s not loud. It doesn’t market itself. But when it walks into a room, the demons tremble – and the angels draw near. It is the scent of sacrifice – the aroma of Christ who “loved us and hath delivered himself for us, an oblation and a sacrifice to God for an odor of sweetness” (Ephesians 5:2).

You know it when you encounter it. It’s the quiet presence of a grandmother who prays through the night for her wayward children. It’s the hidden life of a consecrated soul who has turned down every comfort to belong entirely to God. It’s the gentle man who forgives a grievous wound and says nothing of it – because he carries it to the altar.

The world doesn’t recognize this fragrance. It mocks it, because it smells like death – death to ego, death to pleasure, death to “my truth.” But in Heaven, this is the perfume of saints.

Consider one of them – Father Damien of Molokai. He was not famous. He was not polished. He was not safe. He was a simple Belgian priest who volunteered to serve the most abandoned souls – lepers banished to a remote island in Hawaii. No one else wanted to go so he went.

He touched their wounds. He built their homes. He heard their confessions. He buried their dead. And he stayed. Not as a visitor. But as a father, a brother, a shepherd. And in time, a fellow sufferer. For Father Damien eventually contracted the same disease. He could have left. He didn’t. He chose to die among them, with them, for them.

That is holiness. That is the fragrance that reaches the throne of God. And that same fragrance – of hidden sacrifice, of enduring love, of Christ crucified – must rise again in our time. 

No one bore that fragrance more perfectly than Our Lady. She is the purest flower of all creation – the rose without thorns, the lily among thorns. She said yes, and the Word became flesh. She suffered silently at Calvary. Her holiness changed history. 

The Church today does not need more strategies or slogans. She needs saints. Not saints of soft sentiment, but of burning love. Not saints who please the crowd, but who please Christ. Not saints who seek platforms, but who seek the Cross.

Holiness is not for the few. It’s the universal call. “For this is the will of God, your sanctification …” (I Thessalonians 4:3). And the fragrance of sanctity can only come from hearts set aflame with divine charity – and crushed like incense on the altar of God.

So, I ask you: what scent do our lives leave behind?

Do we smell like the world – perfumed in pride, self-promotion, and indulgence?

Or do we carry the odor of Christ crucified?

To be holy is not to shine, but to burn. And when a soul burns with love, it leaves behind the fragrance of Heaven.

I want you to carry away these words with you today: 

You were not made for mediocrity. You were not made to drift. You were made to be holy. And you are called – now, today – to leave behind the perfume of the world and take on the fragrance of Christ.

This is the hour for holy souls. And not someday. Not when the children are older or when the Church is stronger or when the noise dies down. Now.

The world will not get better by accident. The Church will not be purified by bureaucrats. And Christ will not reign in our hearts if we keep waiting to feel ready. Holiness does not wait. It burns.

Be saints. Not safe ones. Not soft ones. Real ones. Let your purity shame the darkness. Let your prayers build what the world is tearing down. Let your suffering – offered in love – rise like incense and heal the wounds of Christ’s Body.

Let the fragrance of holiness rise again in our homes, our parishes, our hearts. Let the shepherds be true, the faithful be steadfast, and the Church be radiant with the light of the Lamb.

Let me speak plainly –

Holiness is not a private virtue. It is a fire. It purifies the soul, yes – but it also purifies the Church. This is how God rebuilds. Not with noise, but with fidelity. Not with programs, but with purity. Not with strategies, but with saints.

The line has been bent. The foundation has been blurred. But holiness brings us back to the plumb line. 

The prophet Amos saw that line held in the hand of God. And it still stands. 

If the Church is to be renewed, it will not begin in Rome, or in synods, or press releases. It will begin in the cloister. In the confessional. In the silence of a heart that says, “Fiat.”

So let the renewal begin with you. Let your soul be the altar. Let your life be the fragrance. And let the Church find her footing again through the yes of the faithful. Holiness may not make headlines. But it remakes history. 

And if you wonder what it looks like – what holiness is in flesh and blood – 

Look to the soul who prays when no one sees.

Look to the father who leads his children to kneel before the Eucharist.

Look to the priest who preaches truth without apology, even when it costs him.

Look to the young woman who wears modesty like a crown in a world of exposure.

Look to the dying man who offers his pain with love for souls he’ll never meet.

We are living through a time of great shaking. The foundations have been tested. The faithful have been scattered. There is confusion in the sanctuary. There is silence where there should be prophecy. And many are asking, “What now?” The answer is not new. It has never changed. 

The Church will not be renewed by better structures or modern, innovative ideas. She will be renewed by holy men and women – burning with love, unshakable in truth, rooted in prayer, and hidden in Christ. That is where the battle will be won.

If you build your life on anything but the will of God, it will collapse. But if you anchor yourself in His truth – if you say yes to the call of sanctity – then you become unshakable. You become part of the remnant that God will use to restore His Church. 

And yes – He will restore her. He will purify the sanctuary. He will raise up faithful shepherds. He will scatter the hirelings, humble the proud, and exalt the little ones. And when the storm has passed, it will be the saints who remain – those who bore the fragrance of the holy, even when no one noticed.

Do not say you are too weak. Do not say you are too broken or too late. You were born for this time. You were placed in this hour not to spectate, but to fight – on your knees, in your home, in the silence.

And when the dust settles – when the false prophets are forgotten, when the corrupt are exposed, when the wolves are cast down – it will not be podcasts or platforms that remain. It will be the souls who lived hidden in the wounds of Christ.

Let that be you.

As I conclude “A Shepherd’s Voice,” thank you, dear friends, for listening, for praying, for staying. Thank you for loving the truth, even when it was hard to hear. Thank you for letting me walk with you, and for letting me be your shepherd in this small way. 

As you go forth today, let the fragrance of the holy fill your homes. Let it rise in your parishes. Let it seep into your conversations, your decisions, your hidden sacrifices. Let it rise from your wounds. Let it rise from your worship. Let it rise from your love for the Lamb of God. And let it reach Heaven. Because the Shepherd is not done calling. He is still walking among His sheep. And He will not rest until every one is gathered, healed, and made whole.

And now, I bless you:

Lord Jesus Christ, High Priest and Shepherd of Souls,

Set Your seal upon every heart that has heard these words.

Raise up saints for this hour – hidden, holy, and courageous.

And may the fragrance of their sacrifice fill the Church once again.

Immaculate Heart of Mary,

Crush the serpent.

Renew the Bride.

Lead us to the Heart of your Son.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Bishop Joseph E. Strickland

Bishop Emeritus