The name Michelangelo is familiar to us. We speak his name with reverence based on the outstanding art that he produced, art which portrays in graphic reality the realities of our Christian faith – the pieta, the white marble sculpture portraying the crucified Jesus in the arms of his mother Mary but also portraying the love and warmth felt by the two; the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling, filled with a myriad of biblical scenes among which we see the reality of the final judgement with heaven and hell as outcomes. His art presents not only the historical realities, but also the human reactions to those realities.

Towards the end of his life, in his 70s, he wrote to his nephew: “Many believe – and I believe – I have been designated by God for this work. In spite of my old age, I do not want to give it up; I work out of love of God in whom I put all my hope.” Michelangelo regarded his talent as an artist, exercised towards the Church and the community, as a vocation not merely a job or a commission.

Today’s three readings speak about people being called. In Isaiah, the servant is destined to lead the people back to God. Then, in his letter, Paul describes himself as the apostle, the one sent to the Church of Corinth. Finally, in the Gospel, we have that eerie John the Baptist saying about Jesus: “Look, here comes the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world,” words that we repeat before receiving Holy Communion. What do all three, the servant, Paul and Jesus, have in common? They are all called; they all have a mission to accomplish. We call this vocation.

All three had a mission, and all three brought something special to that mission. Consider Michelangelo. He was just a human being like the rest of us, admittedly a talented one, but a mere human, nonetheless. He understood that his role and contributions to life were God-inspired and God-sustained. If he was great, it was God’s greatness working through him. If he brought light to others, it was God’s light. He may not have used the word “mission,” but he certainly had one.

Look at ourselves. What about our talents, our abilities? What do we do with them? Like all the great saints, we, too, can use our gifts, talents, our intellects to reflect the beauty of God, to reflect the greatness of God. Or we can pretend and use that intellect and ability to promote ourselves. Of course, we should be proud of our talents; of course, we should work at improving them; of course, we should use them for our own and our family’s benefit. But do we always recognize the source? Do we understand how tremendously important our talent is and how much we could use that talent to spread God’s goodness to those around us? Our world be so much better if we used our God-given gifts for building up others rather than tearing them down.

Here’s another quote from Michelangelo: “The greatest danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short, but in setting our aim too low and achieving our mark.” When we look to Jesus, to Paul, to all the great saints, we will find people who always set the bar high. It is very easy to achieve goals in life when we set the bar low. Jesus set the bar very high for himself as well as for his followers. But the reward of eternal life is also very high.

Do you remember the TV show: “I Get That A Lot” where famous personalities try to pretend they are someone else and, when asked if they are so and so, respond: “I get that a lot.” Wouldn’t it be interesting if someone were to say to me or you: “Gee, you’re just like Jesus” or “you act a lot like Saint Paul” or “you’re smart like Thomas Aquinas” or strong like Saint Ignatius or humble like St. Theresa of Lisieux...and the list could go on.

We are called to greatness, to something more. We have the tools and resources. Let’s respond to that vocation to greatness and, above all, make sure that the only horn we toot is the one that will give honor, glory, and praise to our God.