REFLECTION:



One of the first practices I put in place when I arrived at Sacred Heart Church and Maryknoll School was having our ushers take a count at every Mass. The goal was twofold. First, it allowed us to look honestly at Mass attendance over the course of a year, not for comparison or competition, but for pastoral awareness. Second, and more importantly, it helped us estimate the number of altar breads needed for each liturgy. The Church asks that the faithful receive hosts consecrated at that very Mass, with the Blessed Sacrament reserved in the tabernacle primarily for the sick and homebound.

Counting, then, is not automatically a problem. In fact, it can be an act of care and responsibility. The question is never whether we count, but why we count—and what we do with what we measure.

That question sits at the heart of today’s first reading from 2 Samuel. King David orders a census of the people, not out of pastoral concern, but out of a desire to measure his strength. He wants to know the size of his army, to quantify his security, to reassure himself that he is in control. What begins as a practical decision quietly becomes a spiritual misstep: David starts trusting numbers more than the God who had carried him this far.

This is where the reading becomes uncomfortable for anyone in leadership. Pastors, parents, and civic leaders all face the same temptation. We count attendance, achievements, votes, budgets, grades, and results. And while these numbers can be useful, they become dangerous when they replace trust, when they become the source of our confidence rather than a tool for service.

What makes David a true leader, however, is not that he avoids failure, but that he takes responsibility for it. When the consequences of his decision fall upon the people, David does not hide behind his position. He does not blame others. Instead, he stands before God and says, “I alone have sinned.” He even asks that the punishment fall on him rather than on those he leads. This is the heart of authentic leadership: owning decisions, protecting the vulnerable, and placing oneself between harm and the people entrusted to you.

And it is here that we see the mercy of God. The Lord halts the plague. Judgment does not have the final word—mercy does. God is not looking for leaders who are flawless, but for leaders who are honest, humble, and willing to return to trust.

For all of us who lead—in the Church, in our homes, in our communities—this reading invites a quiet examination. What are we counting right now? Are our measurements serving love and responsibility, or are they quietly feeding fear and control?

In the end, leadership is not about proving strength. It is about shepherding souls. And the greatest leaders are not those who rely most on what they can count, but those who trust most deeply in the God who has already counted each one of us as precious.