Some years ago, when I was working at the Archdiocesan offices, my priestly boss went to a pet store during his lunch hour, to purchase food for his fish. The young man who helped him stared at him for a while then asked: “Excuse me, sir, are you a priest?” “Yes, I am,” answered my boss. At that, the young man broke into a wide smile and exclaimed: “Cooool!  I‟ve never seen a priest before!” just as though he had seen a giraffe!

Growing up in Rome, it was unusual not to see priests.  In fact, just about every country in the world has a seminary in the Eternal City, so their future priests can attend one of the Church’s great universities. I remember riding the number 64 bus to school: as it approached the Gregorian University stop, the streets were thronged with what seemed to be hordes of seminarians who, cassocks streaming behind them, rushed to make class, providing the passengers with free entertainment. They were a moving, waving symphony in red, blue, white and black, with touches of green, yellow and white. That’s right. Each country had a different-colored cassock, almost like a uniform, to distinguish one group from the other. Red cassocks with blue sashes; black with green or yellow sashes; blue cassocks with white sashes, etc. in a harmonious blend of color. Everyone on the 64 Bus would smile and comment: “There go the late risers.” No, in those days, no one could say “I‟ve never seen a priest before!” And in Rome no one can say it still, although the bright seminarian cassocks (and the somber priestly ones) are a thing of the past.

Time passed, and I left Rome. After a few years, I began to realize that the only priests I saw were those that celebrated the Sunday Mass. Hmmm. What happened? Did they all disappear at once, leaving behind only a tithe?

Then I volunteered to act as an interpreter for the Italian contingent that came to Denver for World Youth Day: thousands of Italian kids and their priests. Many greeted me as I stood around, with my Interpreter T-shirt, asking me where I was born, what I was doing in the US etc. etc. One of them was a young man in jeans and T-shirt; He was from Florence, he said, and he was a priest. I looked at him and asked: “If you are a priest, what are you doing without your collar?” Almost indignant, he answered: “I wear regular clothes so that people are more comfortable around me, and don’t feel they have to watch what they say.” I replied: “But if people do not recognize you as a priest, where is your witness value? You gave your entire life to serve the Lord, and you are going around ‘incognito’. What‟s the point?” I don’t think I convinced him.

A few months later, during Sunday Mass here in Denver, the celebrant was talking about the Spiritual Works of Mercy, and in particular “Comfort the Sorrowful.” He said that recently he was on an airplane, and the young woman seated next to him looked very sad. He asked her if anything was wrong; she smiled and said “No, everything is fine.” Much to his surprise, not many minutes later she told the woman on the opposite side that her mother had just died, she was on her way to the funeral and then burst into tears. He looked bewildered as he asked us the question: “Why did she not confide in me?” I wanted to ask him “Were you wearing your priestly attire?”

Let’s face it, despite all the adverse publicity; the media hostility; and yes, those who have betrayed their vows, all that people ask is a chance to love their priests. Even those who are not Catholic.  Deep down, everyone admires a man who gives everything he has for love of God and the service of His flock. We realize that priests are human, like the rest of us, but we want them to be better than we are; to show us with their lives that it is possible to live an ideal. Many of us, when we see a priest, are reminded of the presence of Jesus Christ among us. How often have little kids exclaimed, as the priest walks down the aisle: “Mom, dad, there’s God!” No, of course the priest is not God, but he does bring God to us. And we need that:, it gives us hope. And that’s why we pray for vocations to the priesthood.

Back to priestly attire. Some years ago, back at the Archdiocese, I was cooking for a business dinner. The priest who organized it suddenly exclaimed: “I forgot I promised to buy the wine! I don’t want to go to the liquor store dressed like this!” But he went anyway, and came back in a tizzy. “I knew it! First, the customers in the parking lot pointed at me. Then the owner of the store laughed and told me: ‘you can’t come in here! You can’t buy spirits!’” I laughed and asked him: “So, what did you do?” He replied: “I told him: ‘Be careful! If you are not going to be nice, I‟ll turn all your wine into water!’” Now, there’s a priest who can think on his toes!

Kidding aside: during this Year of the Priest, our Holy Father is asking us to pray for vocations. We also need to pray that our priests will feel more comfortable wearing their priestly attire everywhere they go: maybe if more of them did it, it would not cause such a stir when they do wear it out in the streets. And maybe their witness will inspire others to follow them into the priesthood.