My dear brothers and sisters, today I want to speak from the depth of my heart, and I pray it speaks to yours. The message is simple, but it is urgent. It is something the world has forgotten, something the Church is rediscovering in painful ways, and something every soul – young or old, wounded or strong – longs to hear. 

Today’s message is called “A Father’s Heart.” Because we live in a world that has forgotten what a father is, and we are part of a Church that desperately needs fathers who know the heart of Christ.  

If we look honestly at our society, we see a wound that is not political, not financial, not even primarily social. It is spiritual. It is the wound of fatherlessness, a wound that stretches from the home to the schoolyard, from the streets of our cities to the inner lives of our children.  

Today in the United States, nearly one in four children grows up without a father in the home. For African American children, that number is even higher. But these are not just statistics – these are souls. These are sons and daughters whose hearts were created to be fathered. 

And what happens to a society when fathers disappear? 

We know the facts: 

• Children without fathers are far more likely to suffer from anxiety and depression 

• More likely to struggle academically. 

• More likely to fall into substance abuse. 

• Boys without fathers are far more likely to end up in trouble with the law. 

• Girls without fathers are far more likely to enter unhealthy relationships, and to carry deep questions about their worth, their lovability, and their identity.  

A girl who grows up without a father very often grows into a woman who is unsure of her dignity. She may look strong on the outside, but inside there is a longing – a longing to be seen, protected, blessed, and cherished. When a father is absent, a daughter’s heart often becomes a battlefield of insecurity and fear. 

And my brothers and sisters, these are not small wounds. They echo for generations. They echo in marriages, in friendships, in the workplace, in the inner sanctuary of the soul. 

And we fool ourselves if we believe that what happens in the home does not find its way into the Church. The crisis of fatherhood in the world has laid the foundation for a crisis of fatherhood in the Church. And the crisis in the Church deepens the wounds of the world. 

Many of the faithful feel orphaned – spiritually fatherless – within the very Church Christ founded to be their home. A priest is not meant to be a mere functionary, a manager of programs, or an administrator of sacraments. A priest is meant to be a father – a spiritual father whose heart reflects the love of God.  

A bishop is meant to be a father among fathers: a protector, a guardian, a defender of truth, and a man who stands between the flock and the wolves. But today, far too often, the sheep look up and see shepherds who do not lead, or who lead with uncertainty. They see priests who speak like hired servants rather than fathers. They see bishops who avoid clarity in the name of harmony, even when souls are at stake.  

Christ did not speak this way. Christ did not teach this way. Christ did not protect His sheep this way. 

Our Lord said, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep” (John 10:11).  

A shepherd gives his life. He does not run. He does not remain silent. He does not allow the wolves to ravage hearts while he watches from a safe distance. And so many of the faithful today ask, “Where are the shepherds? Where are the fathers? Who will protect us from confusion, from error, from sin, from the destruction of the moral law?” 

We must be honest: the flock is scattered because many shepherds have abandoned their posts. Some through fear. Some through complacency. Some through worldliness. Some through an unwillingness to suffer for the truth. 

But the Church does not need administrators. The Church does not need managers. The Church needs fathers. 

From the very first pages of Scripture to the Gospel proclaimed by Our Lord, God has chosen to reveal Himself not as a distant force or an impersonal power, but as a Father – a Father who forms, who guides, who defends, who loves. 

“ … I will be a father to you, and you shall be my sons and daughters” (2 Corinthians 6:18). 

This is the very heart of God shared with His people. Throughout salvation history, God shows again and again what a father’s love looks like: 

• He gathers the lost. 

• He strengthens the weary. 

• He teaches His children to walk in righteousness. 

• He protects them from the enemy. 

• He binds up their wounds. 

• He restores their dignity. 

The Psalms say: “As a father hath compassion on his children, so hath the Lord compassion on them that fear him” (Psalm 102:13). 

God does not stand far off, watching humanity struggle. He bends toward us with a Father’s mercy, a Father’s strength. And the calling of every priest – and every bishop – is to reflect that heart. To reveal that compassion. To defend the flock with that courage. To stand firm with that love. 

When spiritual fatherhood grows dim, the image of God as Father grows dim in the hearts of the faithful. But when spiritual fatherhood burns bright, the world sees the Father’s love made visible. 

This is why the crisis of fatherhood today strikes so deeply. It is not merely a sociological problem. It is a spiritual crisis – because when earthly fathers fail, the image of the Heavenly Father becomes clouded, and the soul suffers in its understanding of love, protection, identity, and truth. 

The world needs fathers. The Church needs fathers. And above all, the Church must reveal the Father who has loved us from all eternity. 

If we want to understand what a father’s heart looks like in the priesthood, we must listen to the men and the popes who understood this vocation best – the saints who lived it, and the popes who taught it with clarity.  

St. John Vianney, the Cure of Ars, said: “If we really understood the priest on earth, we would die; not of fear, but of love.”  

He also said, with beautiful simplicity, “The priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus. When you see a priest, think of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 

This is fatherhood – not authority for its own sake, not power for its own sake, but a living sign of Christ among His people. 

Pope Pius XII said that the “priest is a minister of God and the father of souls.” 

Not a bureaucrat. Not an event planner. A father of souls. 

And when a priest forgets he is a father, he forgets the very center of his identity. When a bishop forgets he is a father, the whole Church feels it. The faithful feel it in their confusion. The young feel it in their loneliness. Families feel it in their struggle. Parishes feel it in their division. The world feels it in its darkness.  

This is why the Church cannot afford shepherds who behave like administrators, or pastors who behave like employees. The Church needs fathers – men who reveal the heart of God. 

In our own time, God has given us a vivid example of what a father’s heart looks like when it is tested by fire. Blessed Stanley Rother, a farm boy from Okarche, Oklahoma, became a missionary priest in Guatemala. He was not eloquent. He was not powerful. He was not famous. But he had a father’s heart – strong, steady, faithful.  

When violence surged in the region, when catechists were kidnapped, when friends disappeared, when his own name appeared on a death list, many urged him to come home. It was reasonable advice. It was sensible. It was safe. But fatherhood is not built on safety. 

Blessed Stanley Rother said: “The shepherd cannot run at the first sign of danger.” 

Those words were not dramatic. They were not rhetorical. They were the quiet conviction of a father who loved his children. He stayed. He stayed because he knew fathers do not abandon their families. He stayed because he knew that his people needed a shepherd more than he needed a long life. He stayed because fatherhood is measured not in comfort but in sacrifice. 

And on July 28, 1981, he was murdered in his rectory for refusing to leave the flock entrusted to him. He is called “the shepherd who didn’t run.” 

And my dear brothers and sisters, this is not only a story from Guatemala. It is a mirror held up to every priest and every bishop today. Will we run? Or will we stay? Will we protect the flock, even when it costs us? Will we speak the truth, even when the world hates it? Will we love with a father’s heart, even when that love means dying?  

Blessed Stanley Rother shows us that fatherhood is not sentiment. It is sacrifice. It is steadfastness. It is fidelity unto death. This is the kind of shepherd the Church needs now.  

My dear brothers and sisters, every age of the Church faces its own trials, but every age also receives its own grace. The grace of our time is this: God is calling His shepherds back to the heart of a father. 

Not a distant father, not a polite father, not a ceremonial father, but a father who carries his children, a father who sheds tears over his flock, a father who stands between his people and the darkness. 

And in this moment, as we confront confusion, division, and a profound crisis of shepherding within the Church, I believe with all my heart that the Lord is asking something deeper of His priests and His bishops. He is inviting us to reclaim who we are. To reclaim the fatherhood that was placed upon our souls the day we were ordained. 

This is part of why we have launched the Pillars of Faith Priestly Fraternity – a brotherhood of Catholic priests, deacons, and seminarians who desire to live the priesthood with fidelity, courage, clarity, and love. The Priestly Fraternity exists to help sustain clergy in a time of trial, to give them a place of strength, a place of brotherhood, a place of prayer, and a place of renewal. 

It is meant to be a home – a spiritual home – for those shepherds who long to be fathers again. Priests needs fathers too. Deacons need fathers. Seminarians need fathers. And in this fraternity, by God’s grace, I hope to walk with them as a spiritual father – to strengthen them, to encourage them, and to show them what it means to love the Church with a father’s heart. If I can help a priest rediscover his fatherhood, then every soul he shepherds will feel the blessing of that grace. 

In this fraternity, we are calling clergy back to prayer. Back to the sacraments. Back to courage. Back to the altar where a priest learns to give his life. Back to the heart of Christ where fatherhood begins.  

This is not the era for timid priests. This is not the era for cautious bishops. This is not the era for shepherds who adjust their message to fit the times.  

This is the era for fathers. Fathers who will speak even when it is costly. Fathers who will teach even when it is unpopular. Fathers who will defend even when it is dangerous. Fathers who will stay when the wolves come. 

And this is the challenge Christ gives to every priest and bishop today, including those of us entrusted with forming this fraternity. 

My dear brothers and sisters, after speaking to the shepherds, I want to speak now to the flock – especially to those among you who have felt abandoned, overlooked, or uncared for. Because the truth is, the wound of fatherlessness affects not only the home, and not only the priesthood, but countless souls sitting quietly in the pews every Sunday. 

“Who is the father of orphans, and the judge of widows? God in His holy place” (Psalm 67:6). 

And then, speaking of His tenderness, the prophet Isaiah gives us these beautiful words: “The bruised reed he shall not break, and smoking flax he shall not quench …” (Isaiah 42:3). 

This is who He is – not simply what He does. He bends toward the wounded. He defends the little ones. He carries those who cannot carry themselves. He restores what is broken, and He never despises the soul that is bruised or trembling. 

If you have been hurt by earthly fathers, or if you have been disappointed by spiritual fathers, I want you to know that God does not abandon His children. And He has not abandoned you. Sometimes the deepest wounds become the places where God pours His greatest healing. Sometimes the emptiness left by a missing father becomes the very space where the Heavenly Father makes His love unmistakable.  

Take courage, dear brothers and sisters. Take hope. The Father sees you. The Father knows you. The Father loves you. And He is near – nearer than you have ever imagined. 

And I want you to know something else, something very important for this moment in the Church. Many of you tell me that you feel alone in your walk with Christ – alone in your parish, alone in your family, alone in your suffering. You long for brothers and sisters who will walk with you, pray with you, and lift you up. 

This is part of why the Pillars of Faith Fraternity has been formed – not only for priests, deacons, and seminarians, but also for the Lay Associates who wish to journey together in faith. If you are longing for companionship on the narrow road, if you are seeking a community that will help you stay strong, pray deeply, and remain faithful, you are not meant to walk alone. 

As Lay Associates, you can share in the same spirit of fidelity and reparation. You can be united in prayer, strengthened in fellowship, and anchored to the mission of the Church in these challenging times. And I will gladly be a spiritual father to you as well – guiding you, praying for you, and walking with you as we seek holiness together. 

So do not be afraid to draw close. Do not be afraid to join hearts with others who desire the same truth and the same hope. This fraternity is here for you – a place where you are seen, loved, and supported in Christ. 

And I promise you this: As long as the Lord gives me breath, I will strive to be a father to you – one who speaks truthfully, one who walks faithfully, one who does not run, one who stands with you in the light and in the shadows. 

My dear friends, as we come to the end of this reflection, I want to return to the simple truth that has been woven through every word today: the Church needs a Father’s Heart again. 

A father’s heart does not abandon. A father’s heart does not compromise the truth. A father’s heart does not hide when danger approaches. A father’s heart does not silence the Gospel. A father’s heart lays down his life for love. 

This is the heart Christ wants to restore in His priests. This is the heart He desires in every bishop. This is the heart He invites every Lay Associate, every mother, every father, every believer to reflect in their own call to holiness. 

A father’s heart still beats in the Church. It beats wherever truth is spoken with tenderness. It beats wherever souls are defended with courage. It beats wherever a priest gives his life quietly, day by day, for the flock God has entrusted to him. It beats wherever a bishop stands firm when he is told to bend, faithful when pressured to yield, courageous when urged to remain silent. 

Most of all, it beats in the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ – wounded, pierced, poured out, and victorious. From His Heart flows the love of the Eternal Father, the love that heals every wound, strengthens every vocation, lifts every weary soul, and restores the dignity of every child of God. 

My dear brothers and sisters, may we all – priests, deacons, seminarians, religious, lay associates, and faithful alike – rediscover the beauty and strength of that love. May we walk under the protection of the Father who never leaves His children. May we look to the example of Blessed Stanley Rother, the shepherd who didn’t run, and learn to stand firm in our own time of trial. And may the Heavenly Father, in His infinite mercy, raise up shepherds with courageous, tender, faithful hearts – a Father’s Heart for a wounded Church. 

And may Almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen. 

Bishop Joseph E. Strickland 

Bishop Emeritus