By Msgr. John T. McCracken

	This is the fourth in a series of reflections written by priests in the Oakland Diocese as part of the observance of the Year for Priests, designated by Pope Benedict XVI.

The first time I consciously thought about the priesthood was one day when I was serving Mass. It was in a chapel and there were only the three of us — the priest, myself, and the good Lord. When the celebrant elevated the host after the consecration I remember awesomely saying to myself, “I’d like to do that.”

The next memory I have is playing with others in the Panhandle leading to Golden Gate Park and close by St. Agnes Church. One of the assistant pastors, Father John Curran, came along the path, saw me and called, “Johnny, come here.”

Msgr. John T. McCracken

I did and he told me, “I’m on my way to anoint a sick man over there in the Southern Pacific Hospital. Would you like to come with me?” I wasn’t sure about going into a hospital, but I was intrigued by his invitation and agreed to tag along.

At the patient’s room Father Curran told me to wait outside, but said I could look in and watch what he did. He had put on a gown and a face mask. He told me the man was tubercular and this was why all the hygiene. As I watched him bend over the man to talk to him and anoint him, I marveled that a priest would be so brave and do this to help a sick man. Again, the refrain: “I’d like to do that.”

Father Curran obviously felt I was a potential candidate for the seminary. I’m not sure about the pastor, the stern and reserved Father John A. Butler. When I asked his permission to apply to the seminary, he was not enthusiastic and insisted that I go to high school first.

I think he thought I couldn’t make it! And this after I was the only one who would serve his daily 6 a.m. Mass all summer! We argued about it, (I could be difficult in those days, too) and finally compromised. I agreed to go to Sacred Heart High for one year and then I could go into St. Joseph’s College Seminary.

I took an expression of disbelief from classmates as another sign of a vocation. Father Harry Leonard came to school one day to talk about vocations and as he finished he invited anyone interested to raise his hand. I raised mine and heard some of my cronies nearby mutter, “Not you!”

I’m not sure what was behind the remark, but I figured it meant I was one of the guys and not some “weirdo” because I wanted to be a priest. Let’s say it was a negative approval.

My mother voiced her approval in an unusual way. I was in the kitchen while she prepared dinner. Suddenly she said, “If you’re going to become a priest, someday you may be in a poor parish where you can’t afford a cook, so I’d better teach you how to cook.” And she did.

She knew whereof she spoke because after coming from Ireland she became a cook-housekeeper for Father Joseph Gleason of St. Thomas Aquinas Church in Palo Alto, later a Monsignor and pastor of St. Francis de Sales Church in Oakland.

Thereby also hangs a tale. One day when I was home from St. Joseph Seminary, my mother took me to meet Monsignor Gleason. Little did we know that years later as director of Catholic Charities I would be in residence at St. Francis de Sales. God’s sense of humor.

Another approval came in the seminary from my confessor, Sulpician Father Bart Reilly. One Saturday after confession I complained “No one around here has ever told me I have a vocation. How am I supposed to know?”

Father Bart just said quietly, “Calm down. We all think you have a vocation. Besides, you’ll probably be in Special Work.” Later I spent 25 years finding out what that meant.

The rest is history.

There was ordination for the Archdiocese of San Francisco on Sep. 23, 1944, four years at St. Augustine Church in Oakland, two years at Catholic University in Washington, D.C., 25 years in social work and as founding director of Catholic Charities of Oakland (the Eastbay), along with seven years teaching nurses medical ethics.

After Charities until retirement some five years ago, I served as pastor at St. Benedict’s in Oakland, Queen of All Saints and St. Mary’s in Concord, Santa Maria in Orinda, and the final 20 years at St. Anne’s in Walnut Creek.

To date it’s been a meandering journey these 66 years. It’s humbling yet awesome to be a pawn in the hands of our High Priest.

A vocation story? I think Theresa of Avila would see it as in her famous analogy of the hidden transformation of an inept silkworm into a white butterfly: “It is just the same here. The soul cannot think how it can have merited such a blessing . . . for it knows quite well that it has not merited it at all.”

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