I’m back!

Whether it will be like General MacArthur or a bad penny, the bishop has asked me to return to the Cathedral and follow Fr. Alford as the next rector of the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. 

I’m deeply honored.

Fr. Brian has done a fine job in his tenure and I hope I can continue in the goodness he and the Cathedral staff have maintained. I thank him for his excellent pastoral care as well as the fraternal charity he’s shown me over the years. We’ve known each other for almost twenty years, beginning in the Altiplano of Peru through the prairies of our diocese. He’s been a good friend, and his willingness to make my transition to the Cathedral as smooth as possible has been a godsend.

I say I’m back because, as some will recall, I was here from 2014-2016 as the parochial vicar. After ordination, the Cathedral was my first assignment under one of my people: Fr. Chris House. I have many wonderful memories from my first time here with him, Fr. Marty Smith, Deacon Larry, Bill Vogt, and all the rest. I know there are many more good memories to come with old friends and new. 

I thank the Bishop for his trust in me, the Cathedral staff for their generosity of spirit, and you, the parishioners and visitors of our mother church for your faith and support.

I’d also like to thank my former parishioners in Vandalia and Ramsey, and also my friends in New Berlin, Waverly, Franklin, and Alexander. 

In the Gospel of John, Chapter 17 verse 24, as Jesus finishes his Last Supper Discourse, He prays to His Father and says of his disciples (current and future), “Father, they are your gift to me. I wish that where I am they also may be with me.” 

Considering all the good souls I have met in all of my assignments, I know a little of the gift of which He speaks and how He feels. 

Please pray for me.

With gratitude and joy for the days ahead!

Fr. Seth

When I became a pastor for the first time in 2016, the thought of having to write a weekly bulletin article seemed a bit daunting.  How would I be able to write something new every week and not get bored of the process, or run out of things to say?  Thankfully, more than 500 bulletin articles later over these past ten years (six of which have been here at Cathedral), I have found the experience to be anything but daunting.  Rather, it has been an opportunity to speak to you, my parish family, about a variety of topics, sharing from my heart and mind to yours, hopefully helping you in feeling more loved by the Good Shepherd through my ministry as your shepherd.

In this final article, I take up the third recommendation of recent popes to embrace the future with hope.  Last year, as you may recall, I offered a full year’s worth of reflections on Pope Benedict’s encyclical on Christian hope, Spe salvi, to coincide with the Jubilee Year of Hope proclaimed by Pope Francis.  I can see the providence in the timing of this exercise, not just in my helping all of you to better understand this important virtue, but in letting it be more firmly rooted in my heart as well.  When I consider looking to the future through the lens of hope, those words of St. Paul in His letter to the Romans always help me to stay grounded in peace: “Hope does not disappoint.” (Rom 5:5)

As we have reflected in the past, the hope of which St. Paul writes is related ultimately to what awaits us in eternal life.  Whatever the journey in this life might present, good or bad, all can be borne when we fix our gaze on that final hope which we believe with firm faith will have no sadness or disappointment.  At the same time, I have been consoled with how these words connect with another line from this same letter from St. Paul, where he writes: “We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” (Rom 8:28) Though we may not always see it or understand it, whatever God is doing in our lives, and whatever He allows to happen in our lives, is working for our good.

The first time I was asked to move, I initially struggled.  I loved the parishes where I was serving, and I loved teaching in the Catholic high school each day.  People told me that it was going to be a “waste” for me to leave and to serve in a rather hidden role in my work with the bishop.  I was tempted to believe those things, but when I began that new assignment, I saw how the Lord was using those circumstances to make me a better priest, stretching me in ways that I would have not chosen, but in exactly the ways that I needed to be stretched, and I learned to find great joy and peace in where the Lord had placed me.  Every change since then has followed a similar pattern, but the same thing has happened every time – the Lord has used those changes for my good, and I believe ultimately for the good of those whom I had served, and to whom I was called to serve in the new assignment.  It is with that peace that I accept this next instance of God’s providence in my life, and it is my prayer for all of you to embrace the future of this parish, and your relationship with your new shepherd with that virtue of hope, trusting that we who love the Lord will not be disappointed.

Let my final words to you be from the very depths of my heart, having had the privilege of serving you these past six years:  I love you, and I am so thankful for the love you have given to me.  At the end of our journey when we are all gathered together in His Kingdom, we will be reunited once again in the love of God, rejoicing without ceasing as we enjoy the fulfillment of the hope we held throughout life, and which will be our peace together for eternity.

On June 22, 2026, just this past Monday, I finished a real project of a book: the classic The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Not that my judgment in this regard matters in the grand scheme of literary criticism, but I would rate it as an excellent book. The characters came to life, the philosophical questions and musings made me think, and I was drawn into the drama of the story. I might even say I was too much drawn in, based on how I felt when I finished the book.

As I finished that last page, I felt the emotion that I assume most people who read this book feel: Utter disappointment, as though something is unfinished. That might sound alarming or surprising, based on my “excellent” rating of this great work of literature. And truly, I am not disappointed in the book itself, I am disappointed in the fact that Dostoyevsky was not. actually. finished. with the story! He planned to write another, even better, book based on the future life of the main character, and all the indications of an imminent great adventure are present there at the end of the book.

Unfortunately, however, Dostoyevsky died very soon after finishing only the first installment, which we know as the great novel, The Brothers Karamazov. Now, I know death is never convenient, or timely, or in any way in accord with our hopeful expectations. A case such as this unfinished story only brings out the pain of death even more. Anyone could think of a future life for that main character, but no one can think of precisely the future life that Dostoyevsky would have written. No one has his mind, his experiences, his personality, his insight into the human condition!

I wonder if, more than anything, I and those other readers of this novel feel “robbed” – robbed by death. Maybe that’s a silly feeling, but I think it is the truth. 

And this experience, I believe, points to a reality that we hold dearly as Christians: we live for another world. Yes, we love this world and the gifts God has given us in it, but we hold it lightly. It is temporary, and we await a future life that is not temporary. Through hope, we hold tightly even now to a future life that will last for all eternity, in joy and peace and an utter lack of that disappointing feeling of robbery. Nothing will be robbed from us in that life; in fact, everything will be given and received in joy, with a sense of fullness that only grows and grows. 

I am still very grateful I read the book and peered into the mind of Fyodor Dostoyevsky for a time. If I still care by the time I reach my heavenly goal, I’ll ask him about that next novel!

With all this in mind, I have to also share that I’m signing off of writing bulletin articles for now. Fortunately, this is by my choice, not by death (God-willing!). Although I remain living at the Cathedral for the next two months, my assignment here is ending and I want to devote more of my time to studying Italian and finishing up other loose ends before I leave the country.  I hope you don’t feel “robbed” or disappointed that I am leaving my series unfinished. I assume even St. Francis would say, “Good, focus less on me, more on Jesus!” 🙂

Before I take off in September, I’ll write an actual “Goodbye” article here. 

I do still encourage you to read the Life of St. Francis by St. Bonaventure. It contains some wonderfully rich spiritual fruit, perfect for this year of St. Francis. And, if you happen to be disappointed, let this transition too be a reminder of the deep desire for Heaven that rests at the core of your heart. We await a future life where there will be no more death, decay, or disappointment. May we always seek to follow the will of the Father, to enter into his rest forever!

Having spent last Sunday’s bulletin on remembering the past with gratitude, I now take up the second recommendation from Pope St. John Paul II and Pope Francis to consider what it means to live the present with passion.

Whenever a major transition is about to take place, it can be tempting to take the foot of the proverbial gas pedal and coast to the conclusion of our current circumstances.  This happens in a variety of situations.  Take for example in school as seniors are getting close to the end of their high school or college career.  They get “infected” with senioritis, a condition in which they tend to take fewer difficult classes, not work so hard on assignments, etc.  In seminary formation, we would call this deaconitis, as it affected the transitional deacons who had been in seminary for so many years and the goal of ordination to the priesthood was so close, thus becoming their primary focus  with their seminary duties taking a less significant place.  To that temptation, I would encourage our men as their vocation director to remember the words of St. Paul to St. Timothy: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Tm 4:7) 

Wherever we find ourselves in our lives, it is there where the Lord is calling us to love Him and serve Him.  To the extent that we get stuck in the good or bad from the past, or daydream about what the future might be, we are depriving ourselves of the grace of living in the present moment.  It is in this present moment where we can offer the Lord the best of ourselves, our love for Him, and our service to His Church.  I tell the men in formation in their final months of formation that the people of God whom they will serve deserve their very best, and the best indicator of how well they will serve their future parishioners is by their commitment to serving faithfully and totally where they are right now.  I invite them to see it as a sign of their love for the Lord here and now, and their love for whatever and whoever He will have them serve in the future.

In these final weeks of my time here at Cathedral, I need to heed that very advice in how I approach these days.  On my holy card for my ordination to the priesthood, I used the following words from St. Paul: “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls.” (2 Cor 12:15) I pray that I have the grace to live that out faithfully, all as an expression of my love for you, and in preparation for the men I will serve in my new assignment at the seminary.

In the past two months, two individuals whom I know quite well have lost their parents very suddenly.  Those experiences have been a sobering reminder of what Jesus says in the Gospel regarding when He will return, which also applies to the uncertainty of when our earthly journey may end: “Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” (Mt 25:13) As Christians, we need to take these words seriously and not put off to later what needs to be done today.  It may be granting forgiveness to somebody or asking it of somebody – including the Lord in confession.  It might mean telling somebody you love them.  There are countless things that we tell ourselves we will get around to, but let us heed to invitation to live the present with passion and to do what we need to do here and now to love the Lord and our neighbor, spending ourselves so that when that final moment comes, we can say that we have given our all to Him.

At some funerals I have celebrated, I have been struck by the thought of how little I know about the person who I am praying for. I may know only what I was told by a family member. Even if I had met them, or were friends with them, or even knew them as a family member, I could still say, “I knew so little about him.” 

There is a significance to the fact that I and many others have thoughts like these most often around the time of someone’s death. I think this may be because during our lives, we give off the illusion of full self-revelation. People encounter us and think they know us or we think we know them just because we’ve shared a part of ourselves with them.

The amazing thing about a person, however, is just how deep he or she truly is. Human beings are like icebergs – there is far more under the surface than is apparent. No matter how deeply we come to know someone this side of eternity, we will still in so many ways be scratching the surface to a reality that is truly a mystery. There are depths we are unaware of. 

One of those beautifully hidden elements of a life is generally a person’s prayer life. Yes, we may be able to see a person daily go to Mass, pray the rosary, or do some devotions, but what is happening at the depths of the soul is hidden to us. What intimate conversations with God went on as he mowed the grass, as she walked through the grocery store, as he played with his kids, or as she drove the car, as he sat in adoration – these things we will never know.

But they are known to God.

So, at a funeral, I listen to the memories shared, and I wonder – I wonder with a sense of awe at the depth of relationality with God over the course of a life that we will never know. I find this reality incredibly humbling and incredibly hopeful. 

St. Francis was very much a man with such a hidden depth of soul. He was seen often by his brothers as someone wrapt up in prayer, even so deeply as to lose touch with his surroundings. He loved to experience the love of God through prayer, and would gratefully accept the consolations given him by God. 

St. Bonaventure shares, “[Francis] had learned in prayer that the presence of the Holy Spirit for which he longed was granted more intimately to those who invoke him, the more the Holy Spirit found them withdrawn from the noise of worldly affairs. Therefore seeking out lonely places, he used to go to deserted areas and abandoned churches to pray at night” (The Life of St. Francis, 10.3). These hidden experiences of the life of the saint are a rich source of meditation – as are the night vigils of our Lord in the Gospels. What went on in their hearts in their communication with the Holy Trinity?

Each of us is called to a contemplative life. The degree of this call may not be to the same as that of a cloistered monk or nun, but it is a necessary part of our Christian life. We cannot content ourselves to simply rote prayers or to simply acts of charity. While both of those are good and necessary too, they will lose their fire and may be nearly lifeless unless they are grounded in a deep, intimate, personal prayer life. 

May St. Francis’ prayers help us to give time in our lives to silence, resting in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, and sharing our hearts deeply with God. These moments may be known by no one but God, and may never be shared at a funeral, but they will be some of the most important moments of our lives. 

Several years ago, I came across an address given by Pope Francis to the various religious communities throughout the world on the occasion of the Year of Consecrated Life.  In his letter, he invited these communities to do three things: to remember the past with gratitude, to live the present with passion, and to embrace the future with hope.  Unknown to me at the time was the fact that this same threefold invitation had been given more than a decade earlier by Pope St. John Paul II as he concluded the Great Jubilee Year of 2000, in which he wrote:

Duc in altum [cast out into the deep]! These words ring out for us today, and they invite us to remember the past with gratitude, to live the present with enthusiasm and to look forward to the future with confidence: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever” (Heb 13:8). (Novo Millennio Ineunte, 1)

I have found this to be a very helpful formula when facing moments of transition, such as the one that I am facing as I prepare to conclude my time as Rector of the Cathedral. I  have therefore decided that my final three articles will follow those three points.  Fittingly, I begin by remembering the past with gratitude.

The Cathedral will always hold a special place in my heart.  I still remember my very first visit here in 2005.  I came for a priesthood ordination for a man who had been connected to my home parish.  I was in awe at the beauty of the church, and even more so by the beauty of the liturgy.  Though I only recently returned to practicing my Catholic faith at the time, there was something that stirred in my heart as I saw those men be ordained.  I know now that that was the beginning of the Lord revealing to me His plan that led to my entering seminary.  I also remember the great pride as a seminarian coming to the Cathedral to serve at significant liturgical celebrations, not the least of which was the Dedication of the renovated church in 2009.  A few months later, on April 10, 2010, I was ordained a transitional deacon here in this church.  A year later, on May 28, 2011, I was ordained a priest.  Much to my surprise, I moved here in 2013 to live in residence as the bishop’s Priest Secretary and Master of Ceremonies.  Though not as heavily involved in the daily life of the parish, it was home, and I loved the opportunity to spend the early hours of the morning in prayer in this beautiful place.  In the Spring of 2020, I was slated to become Pastor at another parish, but the bishop surprised me when he called and asked If I would become Rector of the Cathedral insteads.  I immediately said ‘yes’, and for the past 6 years, I have served gratefully in this role.

There is not enough space to enumerate all of the things I am grateful for in serving as Rector, but a few come to mind.  First of all, I am so grateful for the gift of priestly fraternity that I have experienced here.  It has been an absolute privilege to live with the bishop, who has been a true father and friend to me, and with several other priests.  For most of those with whom I have served, I had the privilege of being their first pastor.  These men have become such amazing priests and I am filled with gratitude for the gift of serving them and witnessing their growth.  I am also incredibly grateful for the staff with whom I have served day in and day out.  They have been a real gift to me and taught me much about being a pastor, but also in being a spiritual father.  Finally, I am grateful for the people of the parish.  There have been so many lives and situations that I have been invited to be a part of.  Some of those have been the happiest moments, such as with weddings and baptisms.  But there have also been times when I have been able to accompany people in the saddest moments – times of suffering, tragedy, and loss.  And for everything else in between, I am so grateful for how the Lord has used me to be a part of your lives, and as I remember my time here at Cathedral, remembering your stories, your lives, your friendship, your love – I will be eternally grateful to God with a gratitude that will be a source of great peace for however much longer the Lord allows me to serve His Church.

When remembering the early saints of the Church, we extoll most greatly the men and women, young and old alike, who gave their lives for their belief in Christ. They were more willing to shed their blood in the course of horrifying tortures and executions than to renounce their Christianity. Over the course of time, these great witnesses of the Christian faith came to be known as “martyrs,” after the prophecy and command of Jesus, “You will be my witnesses … to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). The word, “witness,” is simply an English translation of the Greek word Martyrion – martyr. A martyr, therefore, is one who gives a witness of their faith, and the supreme witness of Christian faith comes in a willingness to die for belief in Christ. These martyrs held fast to their faith: their belief that Jesus was the Lord of life and death, that he had conquered death, and that in Him, they too would rise from the dead.

The ninth chapter of St. Bonaventure’s Life of St. Francis is titled: “On the Fervor of His Charity and His Desire for Martyrdom.” With the previous intensity of the life of St. Francis, maybe this title doesn’t sound too terribly odd. And, in fact, many saints in the history of the Church desired martyrdom. Still, I think if we ponder that desire for a moment, we will realize just how far it is, generally speaking, from the desires of our own hearts.

When we think of what we want our faith to give us, we rarely think of sufferings. We want joy, peace, happiness, and tranquility. We sadly so often think that experiences of suffering – spiritual and physical – point to a distance between us and God. Saints like St. Francis and the many martyrs in the history of the Church teach us that the reality is very much the opposite. In suffering we draw close to Christ crucified. A certain level of happiness can certainly be a sign of the presence of God, but it is not the only one. 

I think of a quote also of St. Rose of Lima: “Our Lord and Savior lifted up his voice and said with incomparable majesty: “Let all men know that grace comes after tribulation. Let them know that without the burden of afflictions it is impossible to reach the height of grace. Let them know that the gifts of grace increase as the struggles increase. Let men take care not to stray and be deceived. This is the only true stairway to paradise, and without the cross they can find no road to climb to heaven.” (Office of Readings)

She expresses well the reality that St. Francis knew also. In this chapter, St. Bonaventure records the journey St. Francis took to visit the Sultan King of Egypt. St. Francis knew that the King in Egypt had essentially made it a capital crime deserving of death to be a Christian in his kingdom. St. Francis, in his desire both to be a martyr and to spread the faith, journeyed precisely there to Egypt to shed his blood in witness to Christ. 

He was brought before the King and proclaimed Jesus to him. St. Francis proposed a test of fire to prove the reality and existence of the Christian God. He was so willing to die in service to God that he impressed the King. No one took him up on the fire contest, and the King was so impressed with St. Francis’ zeal and poverty that he allowed him to go free. He did not kill St. Francis for being Christian. While this saddened and perhaps humiliated St. Francis a bit, he was not perturbed, and returned to Italy to continue living his religious life (Life of St. Francis, 9).

In order to remain free from sin in this life, we will suffer many trials of faith. May St. Francis’ prayers give us strength to persevere to the end!

Shortly after I began this series of bulletin articles on the Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a parishioner asked if I was going to be moving in July since I was only planning for the series to run through June.  At the time, I knew full well that I was indeed going to be moving, but I was not free to share that information at that point.  To be clear, my upcoming move only slightly factored into my decision to do this series.  My greater reason, as I mentioned at the beginning of the series, has been to offer some reflections on the Sacred Heart of Jesus as the bishops of our country prepare to consecrate our county to the Sacred Heart of Jesus next week on the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart.

In my first article, I mentioned that my favorite part of the Litany was the final invocation, which is slightly different from the others, but offers a fitting summary of the prayer:  Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make our hearts like unto Thine!  But when it comes to the standard thirty-three invocations of the Litany, the one I like the best is the following:

Heart of Jesus, King and Center of all hearts, have mercy on us

Part of the impetus for the bishop’s deciding to consecrate our country to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is due to this year being our country’s 250^th anniversary of independence.  Prior to that time, we were under the rule of the King of England.  In the Declaration of Independence, there were several complaints enumerated against the King with the conclusion that such a leader was “unfit to be the ruler of a free people.” Thus it was declared that we were absolved of our connections with the British Crown and therefore free to govern ourselves.  As a result of our negative experience with the King of England, any mention of being ruled by any king has sounded somewhat offensive to our ears.  But the kingship which Jesus desires to exercise over us is different altogether.  In the prayers from the Solemnity of Christ the King, we hear that His kingship is one of “truth and life, holiness and grace, justice, love and peace.” (Preface) With those qualities, how can we not desire Him to be the King of our lives?  And yet, there is still hesitancy in our hearts to let Him be King, even if His reign promises these desirable attributes.  To let Christ reign requires surrender on our part, and that is never easy.  When we surrender to His reign, to His will, to His plan for our future, uncertain as it may seem, we are opening the door to a peace that the world cannot give, a peace which we cannot guarantee for ourselves if we take full control of our lives.  Only in our surrender to Him can we find peace.  Only in our surrender to Him can we truly find hope, the type of hope which “does not disappoint.” (Rom 5:5)

Although I am writing this article just before I head on retreat, I know that I will be spending a lot of time this week inviting Jesus to reign more fully in my heart as King, and in doing so, to let His will, His plan, His love be more firmly fixed at the center of my heart.  For my 15 years as a priest, I have tried to keep Him always at the center, and that has given me freedom to let Him use me as He has seen fit in a variety of ways, and in all of them, He has shown me the goodness of His love for me in blessing me with graces that have sustained me while also being of benefit to the Church.  By continuing to let Him reign fully at the center of my heart, I have no doubt that He will continue to bless me abundantly in whatever lies ahead, and I have that same confidence for all of us as we continue our loving, trusting surrender to His reign as King and center of our hearts.

St. Bonaventure begins chapter nine of the Life of St. Francis in the usual way, with a long poetic series of verses outlining the theme he will cover during the chapter. A set of lines from this introductory poem of chapter nine sticks out to me:

St. Bonaventure writes, “In beautiful things / he saw Beauty itself / and through his vestiges imprinted on creation / he followed his Beloved everywhere, / making from all things a ladder / by which he could climb up / and embrace him who is utterly desirable. / With a feeling of unprecedented devotion / he savored / in each and every creature – / as in so many rivulets – / that Goodness / which is their fountain source” (Life of St. Francis, 9.1).

Before even going into the theme of this chapter, which I plan to do next week, I have to comment on these lines – they are absolutely incredible! 

Central to these two poetic sentences is the idea that we can come to a knowledge of God and have an experience of God in and through the things he has created. This language is very dear to the heart of St. Bonaventure, who writes in depth on this theme in his most famous text, “The Soul’s Journey into God.” We can see God in his creatures insofar as he dwells there and he is in them, and we can see God through them as through a window or mirror. Clearly, the concept so central to St. Bonaventure’s work came right out of the lived sainthood of his great model St. Francis, who learned it from Christ himself. 

The word, “vestiges,” used above signifies God’s “footprints.” The imprints that God has made in creation are seen clearly as created things reflect qualities of God himself. For example, there is a beauty in the sunset – I see God in and through the sunset’s beauty; there is beauty in another human being – I see God in and through that person’s beauty (and this goes for both physical beauty and beauty of soul); there is goodness in a person’s kind action – I see God in and through that action; There is truth in a word or in someone’s speech – I see God in and through that speech.

Was St. Francis captivated by the beautiful things of this world? He was allured by them? Well… sort of, yes. He was captivated and allured by these things – but not by the things themselves. No, he was captivated by the beauty which was the source of their beauty. He was captivated by them because they revealed God to him. He was allured by them because in them he found a “ladder” to the source of all beauty. 

And this image St. Bonaventure uses – incredible! A “fountain” and its “rivulets.” To carry on this image, we can say, in a word, that God “flows” himself into his creatures. This is not to say that we are God in a pantheistic sense, but that he is flowing in and through us by forming in us his attributes – virtues, goodness, beauty, truth, charity, simplicity, piety, etc. And this “flow” can be understood by those who pay attention.

St. Francis paid attention.

And “he savored in each and every creature… that Goodness which is their fountain source.”

So, stop and smell the roses. Slow down. Slow. down. Slow … down… and don’t just smell them! Savor in them the Goodness of God who is the source of their goodness, beauty, truth, simplicity, etc. Savor in your friend, husband, wife, co–worker, person on the street; savor in the birds, the sky, the trees, the grass; savor in these things God’s perfections. 

St. Francis, pray for us so that we might pay attention to God’s “vestiges” in his creation!