We are approaching the seventh anniversary of the Archdiocesan Catholic Center’s move to the Dayton’s Bluff neighborhood of St. Paul. Nonetheless, East Siders will often still ask me how I like having our “new offices” on their side of town. There are lots of points in its favor (the best pupusas in the Twin Cities and proximity to the shops at the Hmong Village), but it is the rich history of the neighborhood that makes me most grateful to be here.
In particular, the three churches in the immediate vicinity of our office, each historic and beautiful in their own way, remind me that we are a Church in transition. While it might mean going a few blocks out of my way, I always try to pass either Sacred Heart, St. Casimir or St. John on my way into the office. They remind me that evangelization and welcome have to be at the very core of who we are as an archdiocese.
I’ve never been inside St. John, a parish church that closed in 2013. I know, however, that the parish had a glorious history and that there is still sadness among many that what had once been a vibrant Catholic parish is no longer being used for Christian worship.
Lest the former St. John get us too discouraged, there’s Sacred Heart just a few blocks away. As I monitor the construction of Sacred Heart’s new parish center, I find my heart filled with hope. I know that the handsome new facility will get good use; I was at the parish last year for the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe and still recall vividly the vibrancy of the Latino community that packed the pews and that has found a welcoming home at Sacred Heart. I share their gratitude for their stunning church, the legacy of the German immigrants who built and sustained Sacred Heart for decades.
Finally, there’s St. Casimir. Today, and throughout our “leafless” months, I can see the towers of St. Casimir as I sit at my computer. Knowing that the parish has served the Polish community on the East Side for more than 100 years, those towers all too often prompt me to daydream about my younger days in Pittsburgh. While the need for ministry in the language of my grandparents has all but disappeared, the parish has warmly welcomed the Karen community. The Mass celebrated in the Karen language is now the largest Mass at the parish.
All three of those churches remind me that we must be Christ-centered, faithful, creative, service-oriented and community-building people to fulfill our mission. They serve as wonderful refreshers of what we learned at the listening sessions that led up to our Archdiocesan Synod.
As I passed St. Casimir earlier today, the marquee read: “God’s way is the Highway!” That’s a powerful Advent message. As we’re reminded by Isaiah 40, we all need to heed the voice in the wilderness’s call to “prepare the way of the Lord” and “make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God.”
There’s something so inspiring when we encounter individuals who have done just that, who have devoted their lives to making straight a highway for our God, facilitating our encounter with the God of love. We’ve recently lost a few giants in our community who had given their lives to the work of laying that highway in this local Church, each in his or her own way.
I felt blessed to preside at the funerals of Father Steve O’Gara and Father Jeff Huard. On both occasions, I heard so many beautiful stories about how both priests had brought God into the lives of those in need of God’s love and mercy. Throughout their priesthood, they had administered the sacraments and shared God’s word in ways that indeed made straight “a highway for our God.”
That work is by no means restricted to our priests and religious. Ask those who were touched by the all-too-short life of Jen Messing, a “daughter” of this local Church who was nationally known for her “Into the Deep” retreats and who had a unique gift for teaching people of all ages about God’s incredible plan for life, often in the setting of the great outdoors. She literally went out into the wilderness to make straight the highway that would connect us with the love of our Creator.
I think as well of Charlie Dahl, a gentle soul who also recently went home to God. A layman of incredible compassion, charity and joy, he loved this local Church and her priests, religious and bishops, and never missed an opportunity for witnessing to me about the importance of opening our hearts and homes to those in need.
While we traditionally think of John the Baptist as being the voice in the desert, that voice is being amplified for me this year by Fathers O’Gara and Huard, and by Jen and Charlie. May the Lord whom they served so generously bless them and us this Advent.
