Feast Day: July 7^th  

“Tekakwitha” means “she who bumps into things.” Sadly, this is not a fond and funny name our little mohawk girl got from her mom and dad during a clumsy toddlerhood. She only received that name at the age of four, her mom and dad and baby brother having all perished in an outbreak of smallpox. (Tekakwitha was left scarred and with injured vision, hence the bumping into things and the covering she would wear over her head for the rest of her life). 

When she was born, she was instead called Teiorakwate, meaning “Sunshine”. Her father, Kenneronkwa, was the chief of the Mohawk village and her mom, Kahenta, was not a Mohawk but an Algonquin, captured earlier in her own life, and then assimilated into the (diversifying, because of such captives) village of Ossernenon. Few in any of the Iriquois tribes (the Mohawk being one of them) had converted to Christianity. Consider that it was just a few decades before this that Isaac Jogues and John de Brebeuf and others were martyred while trying to bring the Gospel to this same people. But Kahenta had been baptized a Catholic and taught the faith by French missionaries who had come to her people at Trois-Riviéres. 

Little Teiorakwate was mesmerized by her mother’s prayers and stories about Jesus, and little Tekakwitha would often return to those memories, trying to pray on her own as she grew. But perhaps what she recalled more than anything was the transformation that Jesus had brought to the sufferings her mother endured, which He could also bring to hers. She was adopted by her aunt and uncle and moved a short distance away. They would only live there a few more years before the French invaded (competing with the Dutch for furs) and burned their new village. More sufferings. More loss. More relocations. 

Still, this brought the young woman “who bumps into things” to bump into Christ once again. She was captivated by the Jesuit missionaries who were now near at hand. They had learned her language, they spoke of Jesus with images and parables that fit her own culture, they told her how the practices of her own people could be dedicated to a God Who had dedicated Himself entirely for her, who was also disfigured, who lost everything as well. In 1669, when she was 13, the Mohican warriors launched their own attack against the French outpost of Caughnawaga. Tekakwitha and some of the other girls worked alongside of Fr. Jean Pierron to tend the wounded and bury the dead. 

Something during these years started germinating in Tekakwitha’s soul. Perhaps it was the staunch example of Fr. Pierron. Perhaps it was the (few) other Christians in the village. Keteri, named after St. Catherine of Sienna at her own baptism, would feel the same persecution that beforehand perhaps she was edified by. Perhaps it was the mysterious work of grace, for in any case, at the age of 17 she refused an arranged marriage to a young Mohawk man. It was at least unexpected if not unprecedented, but she spoke of being dedicated to Jesus, of He being her only husband. This, and the rest of her story, she told to a visiting priest who formally taught her the catechism before her entrance into the Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil of 1676, April 18^th. 

Shortly after embracing the faith, she moved a final time to a community of Christian Native Americans. She took on tremendous mortifications of cold, heat, and sleeping on thorns – traditional practices, now offered to Jesus – things at first questioned by the priests serving there. Fr. Cholonec was especially slow to applaud her sacrifices. The Devil can easily twist those practices that draw attention to ourselves. But Keteri’s response was unequivocal: “I will willingly abandon this miserable body to hunger and suffering, provided that my soul may have its ordinary nourishment.” Surely she had experienced much suffering in her body. Even more surely had she experienced the deepest and most lasting nourishment in Christ alone. 

At the age of 24 she died in the arms of her closest friend during Holy Week. Her final words: “Jesus, Mary, I love you.” And then Fr. Cholonec records something amazing: “This face, so marked and swarthy, suddenly changed about a quarter of an hour after her death, and became in a moment so beautiful and so white that I observed it immediately (for I was praying beside her) and cried out. . . . I admit openly that the first thought that came to me was that Catherine at that moment might have entered into heaven, reflecting in her chaste body a small ray of the glory of which her soul had taken possession.”

– Fr. Dominic recently participated in many of the different processions around our diocese connected with the National Eucharistic Procession. They were splendid, beautiful, packed, special … but the reality is that Our Lord is always present to us in every Tabernacle! How often do I look for my “ordinary nourishment” in bodily food, in comforts, in health. St. Keteri “Who bumps into things” shows us to instead risk everything on Jesus. 

Last weekend, we bid a grateful, though sad, farewell to Father Paul Lesupati as he transitions to his new parish assignment in Quincy.  But our sorrow is replaced with the joy of being able to welcome not just one, but two new priests to our parish this weekend, Father Daniel McGrath, and Father Pius Nwiyi.

As with Father Paul, Father Daniel McGrath will be beginning his life as a priest here with us at the Cathedral as a newly ordained priest.  Although this is certainly not the first assignment for Father Pius, it is technically his first parish assignment in the United States (though he has been living in Chicago for the past few years).  So for both of them, being here will be a new beginning, and I am personally grateful for the opportunity that we all have to welcome them as they prepare to experience the various aspects of pastoral ministry that they will be invited into while here at the Cathedral.

When a priest comes to a parish, he has as lot to learn.  He has to learn the normal routine for celebrating the sacraments, where to find various things in the sacristy and throughout the Rectory, how to adjust to living in common with other priests, learning names of parishioners, and the list goes on.  A lot of that takes place behind the scenes, so the parishioners might only be exposed to a small amount of what this transition entails.  For many, they ask questions like – “How long does he preach?”, “Will he be loud enough for us to hear – will we be able to understand him?”, “Can we relate to him?”  Of course, we want our priests to be effective in their preaching, reverent as they celebrate Mass, compassionate in the confessional, joyful when greeting people after Mass.  But I invite all of us to realize that this transition does not always take place all at once, and to have patience, always giving them the benefit of the doubt, and most importantly, praying for them.  As parishioners, we can sometimes feel the burden of having to get to know another new priest, but with all due respect, your transition to welcoming a new priest is fairly minor in comparison to all that they are going through.  For many of us, we see the priests for an hour, maybe slightly more, each weekend, and we go back to our daily lives, often not thinking much about them or the parish.  For these new priests, this is their entire life, it is always on their minds, it is all encompassing.  Taking all of this on is a lot, so please be understanding of all they are going through, especially these first few months.

As the pastor to these new priests, I feel a great sense of responsibility to help them in this transition.  Sure, I want them to “do the work” or parish life, but they are not here just to work.  I want them to be holy, happy, healthy priests, and to the extent that they are just that, they will be all the more effective in serving the many needs of our parish.

With that in mind, I bring to your attention again the three Hail Mary’s that I have asked us to pray each day.  Recall that one of those three Hail Mary’s is for the clergy of the parish.  Perhaps over the next month or so, you could begin that Hail Mary by saying: “For the clergy of our parish, especially for Father Daniel McGrath and Father Pius Nwiyi, that they be holy, happy, and healthy priests…Hail Mary…”  The other clergy of the parish are happy to let the attention be given to our new priests, as we all know how you have and continue to pray for us each day.  For me personally, I have no doubt that I am holier, happier, and healthier as a priest than ever before, and I believe firmly that your prayers have helped with that significantly, and I know your prayers will likewise help our two new priests in growing in these ways as well.

Father Alford     

Feast Day: July 7^th 

People were used to Jesus working miracles. 

But it’s a bit of a bigger shock when your neighbor does one. But that is exactly what we see in the New Testament! Luke 9:49 tells us that John came running up to Jesus: “Master, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he does not follow with us.” Only a few verses later, he would be doing the same. Luke 10:17: “The seventy-two returned with joy, saying, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!”” That’s not a fluke or mistake! Jesus reaffirms that He intends His Church to do what He does: “Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you.” He only amplifies this with the promise of the Holy Spirit in John 14:12: “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.” 

But alongside of this, Our Lord also cautions us to not to grow attached to dramatic displays of power or forget that it is by His power that any miracles are accomplished. Luke 9:52 “Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” St. Paul would remind the Corinthians of this some years later when they also were in danger of growing vain, forgetting that it was from God’s abundance, and for God’s purposes, that they had received such astonishing gifts. 

“And God has appointed in the church first apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then miracles, then gifts of healing, helping, administrating, and various kinds of tongues. Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret? But earnestly desire the higher gifts. And I will show you a still more excellent way. If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.  And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.  If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

– 1 Cor 12:28-13:3

About three years ago, Pope Francis quoted this passage of St. Paul when establishing a new lay ministry of Catechist. Some are still called to be apostles, prophets, to work miracles and heal and speak in tongues (and all of these can be beautiful works of love) but some are also called to the humble work of teaching and catechizing, and this can also build of Christ’s body in love! Now, local Churches are still working on the process and steps that should be involved in forming someone as an official catechist – they are instituted for life after all! – but our Blessed that we celebrated this week shows us just how far even the simple love of teaching the faith may take us!

Peter To Rot [pronounced “Tow Rote”] was a fun loving boy, one of the first to grow up a Catholic, in his village in Papua New Guinea. His pastor asked if he might be called to be a priest, but in the end he got married to his beloved wife Paula, and soon became the father to three children (though one died as an infant), and after three years of studying, started work as a catechist in his village. And then 1942 came, and the Japanese invasion of their island. Bombs fell on their village, the first time many had seen an airplane, and their loving shepherd Fr. Laufer was carried off to a prison camp. He shook Peter’s hand as they took him away, “”I am leaving all my work here in your hands. Look after these people well. Help them, so that they don’t forget about God.”

And he did. He gathered them each day to pray and learn the faith together, encouraging his fellow villagers when they were forced to hide in caves, and praying with the sick and dying. Christianity was outlawed, men were told to take second wives, but Peter would not lead them astray nor fail to say that such was a sin, “The Japanese cannot stop us loving God and obeying his laws! We must be strong and we must refuse to give in to them.” He was arrested and maltreated. His Bible, catechism, song book, notebooks, and two crucifixes were confiscated. His wife and little children visited him in prison, and a few others too, during which he would say “If it is God’s will, I’ll be murdered for the faith. I am a child of the church and therefore for the church I will die.” 

And he did. A martyr for the importance of prayer, a martyr for the holiness of marriage. And he was just a catechist.

– Fr. Dominic was instituted as a lector, and acolyte, as preliminary steps towards priestly ordination. But the instituted ministry of catechist will not be something primarily given to men preparing for priesthood. How might our church, and our own lives, look different in a few decades if this is just the beginning of an outpouring of lay people called by God to consecrate themselves as catechists for the good of the Church and glory of God?!  

This weekend, we bid our farewell to Father Paul Lesupati, who has served here at the Cathedral as Parochial Vicar for the past two years.  We have been blessed with his ministry and we will most certainly miss him as he begins a new assignment at St. Peter Parish in Quincy, IL.

I will personally miss having Father Paul around the house as he has been an absolute delight with whom to share life and ministry.  Several years ago, when Father Jeff Grant, Pastor of Blessed Sacrament, contacted me about a prospect that he had met while on sabbatical in Kenya, I was a little skeptical.  Anytime you welcome somebody to the diocese who is not from the diocese, you wonder how well they will fit, if this will be a place where they can flourish, if they will be able to learn our culture in order to minister effectively or not.  When I finally met Father Paul for the first time in the airport, my concerns were set at ease, as I found in him a joyful and humble man truly open to following the Lord.  I had the privilege of serving as Father Paul’s Vocation Director for his four years of seminary formation, and when asked if I would welcome him as a Parochial Vicar, I did not hesitate to say yes.

Before meeting Father Paul, I knew absolutely no Swahili, a language common in East Africa.  I still only know just a few words and phrases, but one I know well is Baba Paroko, which is the Swahili term for Pastor, or father of the parish.  Father Paul uses this greeting almost every time he sees me, and I will certainly miss that.  I have also enjoyed his infectious smile and that joyful laugh that he lets our regularly.

I told Father Paul the other day that a priest’s first assignment will be one that he will never forget.  I still recall fondly my first assignment, and how I learned much of what I know about being a priest during those formative years.  And I have no doubt Father Paul will look back fondly on his time here.  I know for sure that he will look back with gratitude on you, the parishioners of the Cathedral, for being so welcoming to him, for loving him, and helping him to learn to be a priest, giving him valuable experience that will carry him to other places and to many more people.

In that regard, I express my gratitude to all of you for the role this parish has played, not just in helping Father Paul, but the many, many priests who have come through this parish, many of whom had their beginnings here.  They have all gone on to serve in various capacities, no doubt better off for the time they spent serving here.  As the mother church of the diocese, we have had the joy of helping so many “learn to walk” as priests, and equipping them for the good work they are doing in every corner of our diocese.  While it is sad for us to see these beloved priests go, we can be grateful that God has placed them among us, and that we have helped not just them, but the people they now serve, and will serve, in growing closer to Jesus, and being better prepared for that great reunion where we will all be together again in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Farewell, my dear friend, Father Paul!  May God bless you abundantly in your future ministry, and may you always know of our prayers for you, and we humbly ask your continued prayers for us!

Father Alford     

Feast Day: June 30^th 

Some saints live simple lives growing in prayer or charity; some head off on extraordinary adventures or endure unthinkable challenges to remain faithful to Christ, and some of them simply boggle our minds. Introducing Ramon, or Raymond, Llull.

We start in Mallorca, a little Island then part of the Kingdom of Catalon, sort of halfway between Barcelona, Spain and Algiers, Algeria (actually, that’s not a bad cultural description as well: the island was a crazy mix of Christian and Muslim culture and population). Our man Ramon is  married, with two kids, but is living the life of a troubadour and aspiring poet, singing ballads about love and chivalry instead of living those virtues by being faithful and helpful to his wife. You get the picture: crazy outfits, fancy banquets, wild imagination, tremendous intelligence, flighty, goofy, carefree, empty… 

And then one evening before going to bed while crafting another piece of love poetry, he was carried into a vision of Christ crucified. He saw the suffering, the love, the blood, the gift that Christ gave us all on that afternoon outside of Jerusalem. And then he saw the vision again, and again, and again, and again. Five times he found himself at Golgotha, each time absorbing more deeply than he ever had before, the reality of the crucifixion and the realness of Christ. And as he returned to the waning sunshine and poetic musings of Mallorca, he knew his life could not continue down that same road.

He was 31 years old in the Year of Our Lord 1263 when he committed his life entirely to bringing others to Christ. He sold his possessions, went on the Camino de Santiago, and then began a decade long effort to learn Arabic, and all that he could of the philosophy and tenants of Islam. His goal was to bring them to the Catholic faith, and his prodigious mind was not content with the usual logical arguments or typical appeals to scripture or spirituality. He wanted a system that brought all those things together – poetry, mysticism, philosophy, common sense, saints and stories and symbols – something accessible to sovereign or simpleton. 

Once more it was a divine inspiration that changed everything. He was, as typical of those years, living a hermitical life up on Piug de Randa and had a second vision. All those years of study, all those different languages, all his time in meditation were somehow synthesized and he came away not just with clarity for the continued mission of his life but also a glimpse of the glorious truth of God and how that is available to every single human mind. 

I will start with the missionary efforts because they’re far easier to describe: He began traveling to European Universities and meeting with Popes and Kings to try and establish language schools that would equip missionaries to head into Muslim lands carrying the Gospel. He went himself to Tunis, preached to the Saracens, got himself captured and imprisoned and sent back, only to do so again and again. He wrote books to educate children, and novels to depict the Christian life in story, and mystical works describing the life of prayer and how prayer could win far more souls than any amount of military might. 

But in his mind all these things were threads of a bigger, more glorious, God-grounded tapestry. Again and again over those same years he tried to put into writing the “art”, as he called it that connected all his efforts, but really all truth itself together … and like every other mystic, he struggled to put it into words. He would start with attributes everyone can agree are supreme – goodness, eternity, wisdom, etc. – and would drill into these characteristics, showing that each branched in three directions, or dimensions. The Trinity, the Christian understanding of God, was discoverable in every most fundamental idea!  He would lecture so excitedly on this point: you could begin talking with someone at any of these various points that the human mind naturally approaches, and the truth itself would beautifully grow towards the Triune God. He constructed mechanisms that you could turn to any conceptual starting point and which would link truth to truth to truth pointing the way to God.

He may have been martyred on one of his expeditions to the Muslim world. At the very least, he would be beatified for his conversion and holiness and zeal, not for his philosophical and evangelical creativity. 

BUT, here’s the twist. Llull’s system of summarizing concepts with symbols and then allowing logical and mathematical tools to link and manipulate them is the precursor to how computers communicate and process information today. AND, his concept that all the different realms of human knowledge are interconnected, consistent, and accessible – that all truth is related, and you can approach it from any branch of the whole tree – is the underlying principal behind all those LLM (“Large Language Model”) AI systems making waves these days. 

The difference: his thinking was always directed at discovering God. 

– Fr. Dominic