Homily for silver jubilee of religious profession (1 Samuel 3:1-10; Psalm 16:1-2, 5, 7-8, 11; Romans 12:1-2; John 15:9-17)

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today we gather in joyful celebration of 25 years of religious profession—a silver jubilee that marks a quarter-century of "yes" to God's call. The readings we have heard today speak profoundly to this occasion, illuminating the journey of vocation, listening, and love that defines religious life.

In our first reading, we encounter the young Samuel, asleep in the temple near the ark of God. "The lamp of God had not yet gone out," the Scripture tells us, suggesting both literal twilight and a time of spiritual dimness in Israel. The high priest Eli's eyesight had grown dim—not just physically, but symbolically, representing Israel's faded spiritual vision.

Into this twilight comes God's voice, calling: "Samuel, Samuel." The boy, unfamiliar with God's voice, runs to Eli. After the third time, Eli realizes what is happening and instructs Samuel in one of the most important lessons of spiritual life: how to listen for God's voice.

"Go, lie down," Eli tells him, "and if he calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.'" This simple instruction—to lie down, to be still, to listen, and to respond with openness—forms the foundation of all vocational journeys.

Religious life begins with this same posture of listening. Twenty-five years ago, like Samuel, you heard a call. Perhaps at first, you ran in other directions, seeking human guidance. But eventually, with the help of spiritual mentors, you learned to say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." And in that sacred space of listening, you found your vocation.

The Psalmist echoes this theme of attentive trust: "Keep me safe, O God; in you I take refuge." Religious profession is fundamentally an act of taking refuge in God, of finding one's security not in worldly accomplishments but in divine providence. "O LORD, my allotted portion and my cup, you it is who hold fast my lot." What beautiful words to describe religious consecration—God becomes your "allotted portion," your inheritance, your everything.

This jubilee celebrates 25 years of living this psalm—25 years of blessing the Lord who counsels, of setting the Lord always before you, of finding joy in God's presence and delight at God's right hand.

Saint Paul, in our second reading, shows us the practical implications of this consecrated listening. "I urge you," he writes, "to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship." Religious profession is precisely this—offering one's entire being as worship. It is not merely a job or a role but a complete self-giving.

Paul continues with words that capture the essence of religious formation: "Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind." For 25 years, you have been engaged in this counter-cultural journey, resisting the patterns of worldly thinking and embracing the mind of Christ. This ongoing transformation allows you to "discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect."

In our Gospel, Jesus reveals the deepest meaning of religious consecration: it is a covenant of love. "As the Father loves me, so I also love you. Remain in my love." Religious life is not primarily about what you do but about who you are—a person who abides in Christ's love.

Jesus makes clear that this abiding happens through obedience: "If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love." The vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience are not restrictions but pathways to freedom—they are the ways you have chosen to remain in Christ's love.

And why does Jesus invite us to this loving obedience? "So that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete." The paradox of religious life is that through surrender comes fullness of joy. Through giving everything, one receives everything.

Jesus then elevates this relationship: "I no longer call you slaves... I have called you friends." After 25 years of religious profession, this friendship with Christ has deepened. It is no longer just about service but about intimate knowledge: "I have told you everything I have heard from my Father."

And from this friendship flows mission: "It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain." Religious life is fruitful—not always in ways the world recognizes, but in lasting spiritual fruit that endures to eternal life.

As we celebrate this silver jubilee, we recognize that these 25 years have been about learning, like Samuel, to listen to God's voice. They have been about finding, like the Psalmist, your portion and cup in the Lord. They have been about offering, like Paul urges, your body as a living sacrifice. And they have been about remaining, as Jesus invites, in his love as his friend.

Saint Teresa of Avila, who knew well the joys and challenges of religious life, once wrote: "Christ has no body now but yours, no hands, no feet on earth but yours." For 25 years, you have lent your body, your hands, your feet to Christ. You have made his love visible in our world through your consecration.

Every jubilee in Scripture was a time of restoration and release—debts were forgiven, land returned, slaves set free. This silver jubilee is similarly an opportunity for renewal. It invites you to return to that first love, to hear again the voice that called "Samuel, Samuel" in the night, to recommit yourself to remaining in Christ's love.

And for all of us witnessing this celebration, these readings call us to examine our own listening. Do we, like Samuel, create space to hear God's voice? Do we, like the Psalmist, find our security in God alone? Are we, like Paul urges, offering our bodies as living sacrifices? Are we, as Jesus invites, remaining in his love?

The silver that marks this jubilee reminds us of Psalm 12, which speaks of "the words of the LORD" as "silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times." Through 25 years of joys and sorrows, successes and failures, your "yes" has been refined like silver in the furnace of daily fidelity.

As we move from this Liturgy of the Word to the Liturgy of the Eucharist, we remember that all religious consecration finds its source and summit in Christ's own self-giving. The One who calls is the One who feeds. The One who invites to friendship is the One who becomes bread for the journey.

May this Eucharist strengthen you for the continuing journey. May the next 25 years be filled with even deeper listening, more complete self-offering, and more perfect abiding in Christ's love.

Amen.