Fr. Ed Herberger, SVD

Fr. Ed Herberger, SVD, was born in East Amherst, NY, a small town outside of Buffalo. He is the oldest of nine children. He attended a Catholic grade school and was an altar server. His involvement with the Church led to his initial desire to become a priest. He entered a Divine Word Missionary high school seminary in Girard, PA and later attended St. Mary’s Seminary in Techny, IL (Motherhouse for the Society of the Divine Word in the USA). He professed first vows as a Divine Word Missionary in 1952 and was ordained in 1960.

Called to be a Sprinkling Can

By Fr. Ed Herberger, SVD

Recently an elderly gentleman stood up at the end of Mass, and in a loud voice shouted: "Forty six years ago today.....a young man was ordained a priest. That young man was Father Ed." Once I caught my breath I commented that my life as a priest for 46 years has been amazing and full, so much so that I just do not understand why young men are not eager to become priests.

It would take a book to put flesh on that "amazing and full" life as a priest, but I don't intend to write a book either now or later. So here are just a few broad strokes of that picture.

After twenty-five years as a priest, I found myself through a rather circuitous route, assigned to the Caribbean, where I have had the privilege of spending 21 years with the people on the islands of Montserrat, Antigua, St. Kitts, again in Montserrat, Jamaica, and Anguilla.

If I ever did write the book that I'm not going to write, one chapter would be entitled: "People Who Knock on my Door.” Each one had their own story or need or gift or request or inquiry. Some took just a few minutes of time, others hours. Some were looking for an attentive ear, or for advice, or a prayer for guidance or healing. Some were hurting, while others were full of joy, others searching, or wanting their opinion to be heard. Some came asking to have their child baptized, or to register for marriage preparation sessions, or to sadly announce the death of a loved one and make arrangements for the funeral. When the "People Who Knock on my Door" have gone, they leave behind a gift. They left an imprint of their spirit on me. Even though at times they talked about some of the "garbage" in their life, there was always something beautiful within that I was allowed to see.

Another chapter in that book that I'm not going to write would be entitled: "Saints I Met Along the Way.” So many people have edified and inspired me. Most would be shocked to know someone thought of them as a Saint. People who are going through difficulties or hardships, yet remain faithful on their life's journey have over and over again been an inspiration for me. In my 21 years in the Caribbean, I admired those who whether convenient or inconvenient showed a spirit of willing and cheerful service. In three of the parishes I have been in, the members of the St. Vincent de Paul Society stand out as a real challenge to me with their spirit of being servants of those in need, whether the recipient is demanding or grateful, stubborn or compliant. These “Saints I Met Along the Way" have left a deep imprint on me.

If I ever did write that book that I'm not going to write, still another chapter would be entitled: "Where Do I Get These Homilies From?" Preparing the Sunday homily is generally a laborious struggle and a reward for me. Grappling with the Word of God for any given Sunday, challenges me in my personal life, and also challenges me in finding a way to express that message in a meaningful and inspirational way for community. The Scripture message is always clear, but sometimes my articulation of that message leaves much to be desired. There are times when I walk to the lectern and I know I don't have it together, but I end up being amazed at what I hear myself saying. When I begin my preparation and before preaching I ask God to go where I cannot go; I ask Him to touch people’s hearts. So when on different occasions someone says "Nice Sermon, Father" or "Your message today presented a real challenge for me, Thank you," I'm kind of embarrassed, because I know where it came from, but instead they thank me.

This leads me to an analogy of my calling as a Priest. After sunset I often water the flowers in the courtyard with a green plastic-leaky patched-up-sprinkling-can. One day I imagined the different flowers thanking the green plastic-leaky patched-up-sprinkling-can for nourishing them and satisfying their thirst. Then I told the plants that the sprinkling can is only an instrument, a container for carrying the water. It shouldn't thank the sprinkling can. The plants then asked me where the water came from, so they could thank the source of the water. In an answer I could only say, "Somewhere out there in the heavens." At that moment I saw my calling to have been and continue to be a green plastic-leaky-patched-up-sprinkling-can to bring "water" to "People Who Knocked on my Door" and to "Saints I Met Along the Way," as well as to find out "Where Do I Get These Homilies From." As a green plastic-leaky patched-up-sprinkling-can, I got to see God's garden in a way that most people never see it.

Called to be a Sprinkling Can is indeed a full and amazing life!