Good morning, friends. As we continue our journey through the First Week of Lent, I find myself drawn to today's readings with fresh eyes, especially as someone who works closely with seminarians and priests in mission territories. Let me share what struck me this morning during my own prayer time.

Today's Scripture: A Call Beyond Boundaries

The readings for this Monday of the First Week of Lent couldn't be more relevant to the work we do through the Society of St. Peter the Apostle. We hear from Leviticus 19:1-2, 11-18, where God calls His people to holiness: "Be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy." But notice, this isn't a call to some abstract, individualistic piety. The very next verses get practical: don't steal, don't lie, don't defraud your neighbor, pay workers their wages on time, don't curse the deaf or put stumbling blocks before the blind.

Then we jump to Matthew 25:31-46, the judgment of the nations. You know this one, "I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me."

What Does This Have to Do With Forming Priests?

Everything, actually. Let me tell you why.

When we talk about supporting the formation of indigenous clergy in mission territories, we're not just talking about filling seminary buildings or ordaining more priests for the sake of numbers. We're talking about raising up shepherds who will feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, and care for the sick in their own communities, shepherds who understand both the spiritual and physical needs of their people because they are their people.

Last month, I was on a video call with a bishop in Madagascar. He told me about one of their seminarians, a young man who grew up in a village where clean water was scarce and healthcare practically nonexistent. This seminarian doesn't just study theology in abstract terms. When he reads today's Gospel about giving drink to the thirsty, he remembers his own mother walking three kilometers each day to fetch water. When he hears about visiting the sick, he remembers neighbors who died from preventable diseases because the nearest clinic was too far away.

That's the kind of priest the Church needs. That's the kind of priest these mission territories desperately need.

Holiness in the Dirt and Dust

Here's what I love about the Leviticus reading: it grounds holiness in everyday ethics. The ancient Israelites might have expected God's call to holiness to involve elaborate rituals or mystical experiences. Instead, God says: treat your workers fairly, don't gossip, don't hold grudges, love your neighbor as yourself.

This is the spirituality we try to instill in the seminarians we support through the Society of St. Peter the Apostle. Yes, we want them to be men of deep prayer. Yes, we want them to celebrate the sacraments worthily. But we also need them to be men who understand that holiness happens in the marketplace, in the family disputes they'll mediate, in the fair distribution of aid, in standing up for the widow and the orphan.

I think about the seminarians in rural India learning not just canon law but also agricultural techniques so they can better serve farming communities. Or the young men in parts of Africa studying community health alongside their theology courses because they know they'll be the only educated person for miles around when they return to their villages after ordination.

The Judgment Scene: Mission in Reverse

There's something revolutionary about Matthew 25 that we sometimes miss. In this final judgment scene, Jesus doesn't ask, "Did you have correct doctrine?" or "Did you attend all the right devotions?" He asks, "Did you feed me when I was hungry? Did you welcome me when I was a stranger?"

But here's the twist that relates directly to mission work: the righteous people are confused. They say, "Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison?" They didn't recognize Christ in the suffering person before them. They just saw someone in need and responded.

This is the beautiful paradox of authentic mission work. The best missionaries: and the best mission-territory priests: aren't those who see their work as a heroic act of charity, bringing God to the godless. They're the ones who recognize that Christ is already there in the faces of the poor, the marginalized, the forgotten. They're simply helping others see what they've discovered.

Why Local Clergy Matter

Let me get personal for a moment. I've been blessed to work with priests and seminarians from dozens of countries over my years of ministry. And I can tell you without hesitation: there is something irreplaceable about having local, indigenous clergy serving local communities.

A priest who speaks the language: not just the words, but the cultural language: can recognize Christ in his people in ways an outsider simply cannot. He knows the local customs around death and mourning. He understands the family dynamics. He knows which saints are already beloved in the culture and can build on that devotion. He knows the real temptations people face, the real struggles, the real questions.

When today's Gospel talks about visiting the imprisoned, a local priest knows whether those in his community's prison are political prisoners, victims of corrupt systems, or people who made desperate choices because of poverty. He can minister with that nuance. He can challenge and comfort in the right measure.

The Practical Challenge

Here's where the rubber meets the road, as they say. Supporting seminary formation in mission territories isn't glamorous work. It's not a quick fix. We're talking about six to eight years of formation per seminarian: years of tuition, room and board, books, transportation, medical care. Years of investment before that young man is ordained and can begin serving his people.

But think about what happens after ordination. That one priest might serve a parish: or several parishes: for thirty, forty, fifty years. He'll baptize children, prepare couples for marriage, anoint the sick, bury the dead. He'll be there through famines and floods, political upheavals and personal crises. He'll feed the hungry, literally and spiritually. He'll welcome strangers, care for the sick, bring Christ to the imprisoned.

One seminarian, properly formed and supported, becomes a wellspring of grace for an entire community for decades.

What Today's Readings Ask of Us

So what do these Lenten readings challenge us to do? I think they call us to expand our understanding of what it means to be holy and what it means to serve Christ in others.

For those of us who support mission work: whether through prayer, financial gifts, or direct service: these readings remind us that we're not just funding religious infrastructure. We're enabling the corporal and spiritual works of mercy in places where they're desperately needed.

For seminarians reading this, today's scriptures affirm your vocation. You're not called to a life of isolated piety. You're called to be holy in the midst of your people's everyday struggles: to be Christ's hands feeding the hungry, Christ's voice welcoming the stranger, Christ's presence with the sick and suffering.

For all of us, these readings invite us into the mystery that Christ continues to come to us in distressing disguises, as Blessed Teresa of Calcutta used to say. And sometimes that disguise is a mission territory crying out for shepherds, or a young man discerning a call to priesthood but lacking the resources to answer it.

As we continue through this Lenten season, maybe we can each ask ourselves: Where is Christ hungry in my world? Where is He a stranger? How am I called to respond?

The answer might surprise you. It might challenge you. But I promise you: it will lead you deeper into the heart of the Gospel and the authentic missionary spirit of the Church.

Let's pray for our seminarians today, especially those in mission territories. Let's pray for the bishops and formators who guide them. And let's pray for open hearts to recognize Christ wherever He appears: in the readings we hear, in the neighbor we meet, and in the missionary calling that echoes through the Church from age to age.

– Fr. Deji