They came.
They sang.
The ate at 150.
But before all that partying Sunday on the 150th anniversary of founding of the historic Sacred Heart Catholic Church at Utica Road and Gratiot in Roseville, MI., they were planting, hoeing, picking, growing, weeding and watching faith grow.
Hundreds gathered Sunday to mark a milestone for the people and edifice that serves as a city on a hill. . .a beacon in the community stooping low to lift up life where it may be met.
From a mere thirty-five families back during the Civil War days in history, a pastor and his people moved north on Gratot's gravel toward Erin, a town now called Roseville. They planted, grew and celebrated faith Sunday with Allen Vigneron, Archbishop of Detroit, and crowds of people in the edifice on the corner that shines hope these days. "Wherever the bishop is the people are," a Church Father said centuries ago.
Street people, and bag people, and young and old gathered for the festivities in and outside the historic building.
Later, in the Eastpointe Manor, they partied some more and ate pasta and chicken and chocolate cake.
They laughed. Paused. Planted a story or a joke. Swallowed. They drank fresh water and
crispy bread.
God is good all the time, all the time God is good, one partygoer told me.
And, another said: "Don't worry about tomorrow, God is already there." God is. Bring on 151.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
All Aboard for Pilgrimage of Historic City Edifices
All aboard!
Join a pilgrimage of prayer with visits to historic edifices Saturday, November 5, 2011 with boarding on the round trip motor coach at 8 am with return to embarking sites beginning at 6 pm.
Tours of downtown Detroit SS. Peter and Paul Jesuit Church, Old St. Mary's Church in Greektown, Sacred Heart Major Seminary, and evening Mass with Archbishop of Detroit, Allen H. Vigneron, a native of Mt. Clemens, MI., in Ste. Anne de Detroit Church.
Participants board the bus at the Ford Community and Performing Art Center in Dearborn, and, from the Warren Civic Center in Warren. Church historian, Bill Worden guides the pilgrims.
Reservations are required at (313) 565 8888 (Ext. 121). Tickets are $40. Lunch is included.
Join a pilgrimage of prayer with visits to historic edifices Saturday, November 5, 2011 with boarding on the round trip motor coach at 8 am with return to embarking sites beginning at 6 pm.
Tours of downtown Detroit SS. Peter and Paul Jesuit Church, Old St. Mary's Church in Greektown, Sacred Heart Major Seminary, and evening Mass with Archbishop of Detroit, Allen H. Vigneron, a native of Mt. Clemens, MI., in Ste. Anne de Detroit Church.
Participants board the bus at the Ford Community and Performing Art Center in Dearborn, and, from the Warren Civic Center in Warren. Church historian, Bill Worden guides the pilgrims.
Reservations are required at (313) 565 8888 (Ext. 121). Tickets are $40. Lunch is included.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Catholic Lawyer Society
They gather for Mass on Thursday each month at 12:15 pm in Saints Peter and Paul Church on Jefferson across from the GM Ren Cen.
Lawyers read God's Word of the day and meet for a meal afterwards with staff of the historic downtown church.
Over turkey and tuna wraps, a soda and Better Made potato chips, the discussion turned to the vitality of the Church, its meaning, purpose and promise for tomorrow in the Archdocese of Detroit.
Concerns ranged from clustering parishes and mergers and the reasons for it, the stewardship campaign, debt and the mission of the Church.
Serious thoughts were shared and welcomed by all at the table as believers broke bread again.
Although worry filled some, hope pervaded the critical state of parish life today across the counties and country, for that matter.
Taking time to talk helps people to be relieved of rumors and to bond more deeply in the faith.
After all, it was the feast of St. Paul of the Cross, founder of the Passionist pastors who lead a retreat house by the same name off of I-96 near Telegraph in Detroit. Someone at the table said that to get people to commit to a day at a retreat house one has to add a few hours at the casino to fill up the bus.
Imagine that.
Whatever it takes to pause, ponder and converse about a wonderful world God made for you and me.
Lawyers read God's Word of the day and meet for a meal afterwards with staff of the historic downtown church.
Over turkey and tuna wraps, a soda and Better Made potato chips, the discussion turned to the vitality of the Church, its meaning, purpose and promise for tomorrow in the Archdocese of Detroit.
Concerns ranged from clustering parishes and mergers and the reasons for it, the stewardship campaign, debt and the mission of the Church.
Serious thoughts were shared and welcomed by all at the table as believers broke bread again.
Although worry filled some, hope pervaded the critical state of parish life today across the counties and country, for that matter.
Taking time to talk helps people to be relieved of rumors and to bond more deeply in the faith.
After all, it was the feast of St. Paul of the Cross, founder of the Passionist pastors who lead a retreat house by the same name off of I-96 near Telegraph in Detroit. Someone at the table said that to get people to commit to a day at a retreat house one has to add a few hours at the casino to fill up the bus.
Imagine that.
Whatever it takes to pause, ponder and converse about a wonderful world God made for you and me.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Pastor Not Welcomed
A friend of mine who is pastor of a huge mega church told me over lunch that pastors aren't welcome to attend the huge money campaign in the archdiocese when leaders meet with parishioners.
That's another fear-driven way to thwart off questions from the shepherd's who lead in the trenches.
I have to wonder about all this fear. What's happening?
Years ago, I remember being ingnored by the staff of the AOD (Archdiocese of Detroit).
Yet, we promote the dignity of every human being in our Catholic doctrine, go figure.
Pastors work hard and ask pastoral questions as they lead their flocks.
It seems that the AOD is trying to be a huge parish when history shows that the early church had few if any offices, and dioceses were minimally staffed. The Vatican didn't view dioceses either as branch offices but each, like a parish, has its own authority as it kept lines of communication open.
Pastors are to be welcomed where their people are gathered always.
That's another fear-driven way to thwart off questions from the shepherd's who lead in the trenches.
I have to wonder about all this fear. What's happening?
Years ago, I remember being ingnored by the staff of the AOD (Archdiocese of Detroit).
Yet, we promote the dignity of every human being in our Catholic doctrine, go figure.
Pastors work hard and ask pastoral questions as they lead their flocks.
It seems that the AOD is trying to be a huge parish when history shows that the early church had few if any offices, and dioceses were minimally staffed. The Vatican didn't view dioceses either as branch offices but each, like a parish, has its own authority as it kept lines of communication open.
Pastors are to be welcomed where their people are gathered always.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Cheboygan's Fall
Wind fiercely blew Sunday as I rode into town.
Into Cheboygan, Michigan, that is. It was about 4 pm when a storm of hale and rain thundered in the north. The sky darkened after a sun-shiny afternoon.
Then, minutes later, the sun returned and golden leaves showed the glory of God's gandeur and
hand at work coloring creation.
It was Fall at work in this state.
About three hundred miles from Detroit, about twenty miles from Mackinaw City, Cheboygan is a poor resort town where my mother grew up before coming to the city to earn some cash to send home.
My two other uncles live there while farming some with chickens. But, Uncle Chet has been in Ann Arbor for therapy after five surgical procedures at 81 while Uncle Phil handles the farm.
Native Americans live there alng with Polish, French and others.
In fact, while visiting Pat Watson at St. Mary's Church, one woman I met said she was a Native American "but not with the card."
"I know who I am; it doesn't matter," she concluded as she waited for the pastoral care minister.
After a two-day visit, and a five-hour ride back home, I've arrived in Motown.
A peaceful ride North with a look at the leaves and colors.
A deer crossed my path on the freeway south while taffic slowed. A sight to behold.
Beauty in action.
God's hand at roots and relations.
Into Cheboygan, Michigan, that is. It was about 4 pm when a storm of hale and rain thundered in the north. The sky darkened after a sun-shiny afternoon.
Then, minutes later, the sun returned and golden leaves showed the glory of God's gandeur and
hand at work coloring creation.
It was Fall at work in this state.
About three hundred miles from Detroit, about twenty miles from Mackinaw City, Cheboygan is a poor resort town where my mother grew up before coming to the city to earn some cash to send home.
My two other uncles live there while farming some with chickens. But, Uncle Chet has been in Ann Arbor for therapy after five surgical procedures at 81 while Uncle Phil handles the farm.
Native Americans live there alng with Polish, French and others.
In fact, while visiting Pat Watson at St. Mary's Church, one woman I met said she was a Native American "but not with the card."
"I know who I am; it doesn't matter," she concluded as she waited for the pastoral care minister.
After a two-day visit, and a five-hour ride back home, I've arrived in Motown.
A peaceful ride North with a look at the leaves and colors.
A deer crossed my path on the freeway south while taffic slowed. A sight to behold.
Beauty in action.
God's hand at roots and relations.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Monuments, Memorials, Martin
Mountains, memorials and men and women who press for change are similar.
Strong, sure, firm, prophetic, reminders, and resounding with a clarion call to justice.
Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., among others speak up truth to power. By their lives more than their words, they preach love.
Nonviolent love like Ghandi, among others who poured their blood that others could be free.
King knew that the violence done upon him and other protesters in Alabama could not be met with more violence.
Only love.
The memorial of King in Washington, D.C., is a mountain to a man of a dream as President John F. Kennedy told him when King and others worked for human dignity of all in the 60s.
I like living voice more than museums and memorials. But, memorials are reminders to be more of the same all the days of our living on earth.
People for others.
Always.
Strong, sure, firm, prophetic, reminders, and resounding with a clarion call to justice.
Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., among others speak up truth to power. By their lives more than their words, they preach love.
Nonviolent love like Ghandi, among others who poured their blood that others could be free.
King knew that the violence done upon him and other protesters in Alabama could not be met with more violence.
Only love.
The memorial of King in Washington, D.C., is a mountain to a man of a dream as President John F. Kennedy told him when King and others worked for human dignity of all in the 60s.
I like living voice more than museums and memorials. But, memorials are reminders to be more of the same all the days of our living on earth.
People for others.
Always.
Joy has peace, pain
The other day some medical news came that unsettles me these days.
Although I don't like to make much of life's travails, an infection from a colonoscopy, is the reason that alarms me.
Yet, deep within the fruit of the Holy Spirit, called joy, are two conditions:
pain and peace. They pronounce loud and clear.
Pain pokes deep when it pentetrates one's being.
We all experience it by way of rejection, abandonment, betrayal of friendship, and more.
Peace is overriding also. It pervades.
Like Louis Armstrong's, What A Wonderful World, the mood and memory of listening to him sing
buoys the joy within me.
Music is like that. It stirs into the recesses of our being and brings up lasting joy. That is the joy that cannot be robbed from any of us unless I give it away.
Perhaps the prolific writer, C.S. Lewis, meant this in his, Surprised By Joy. I don't know.
Maybe the peace felt by Jesus is this joy I describe. I'm not sure.
The pervading sense may be like the runner who aims for the prize and accomplishes the task and the miles-long trek to victory.
It may be like one's life's choice, vocation, or job. I know service in lifting up life pressed down and packed at the bottom of the heap is like that.
When one reflects on joy, the pain and the peace, perhaps not at the same time always, emerge readily. A drive North and a walk with Woof and Wolf, lunch and a call tame the seeming tempest for a bit. The gold and brown and orange of a leaf leave me knowing full well of life's desolation and consolation - the roller-coaster-like ride of the spiritual life, let alone the day in and day out trail we take. Philosophy helps. Roots in God ground me deeper, however.
Joy is like the rain. Its deep down refreshing longevity is awash with peace amid the pain and ache of bad news.
Such is life's unfolding and wondering: Why me? Well, why not me? After all, the "me" I wonder about is the others who I always hear about in their own grief and pain.
In the telling and sharing of this episode in my story relief settles in some. I know I am not alone.
The effects of the infection have their own basketfull of consequences, elevations of counts, and, as the litany of doctors say, "There's something going on within you - the tests prove this."
What a wonderful world, thanks be to God. This also will pass. Yet, joy seems eternally pervasive within. I like it that way. And, to Louis Armstrong's music ministry, thanks be to the Maker who is everywhere, I learned. In this too.
Although I don't like to make much of life's travails, an infection from a colonoscopy, is the reason that alarms me.
Yet, deep within the fruit of the Holy Spirit, called joy, are two conditions:
pain and peace. They pronounce loud and clear.
Pain pokes deep when it pentetrates one's being.
We all experience it by way of rejection, abandonment, betrayal of friendship, and more.
Peace is overriding also. It pervades.
Like Louis Armstrong's, What A Wonderful World, the mood and memory of listening to him sing
buoys the joy within me.
Music is like that. It stirs into the recesses of our being and brings up lasting joy. That is the joy that cannot be robbed from any of us unless I give it away.
Perhaps the prolific writer, C.S. Lewis, meant this in his, Surprised By Joy. I don't know.
Maybe the peace felt by Jesus is this joy I describe. I'm not sure.
The pervading sense may be like the runner who aims for the prize and accomplishes the task and the miles-long trek to victory.
It may be like one's life's choice, vocation, or job. I know service in lifting up life pressed down and packed at the bottom of the heap is like that.
When one reflects on joy, the pain and the peace, perhaps not at the same time always, emerge readily. A drive North and a walk with Woof and Wolf, lunch and a call tame the seeming tempest for a bit. The gold and brown and orange of a leaf leave me knowing full well of life's desolation and consolation - the roller-coaster-like ride of the spiritual life, let alone the day in and day out trail we take. Philosophy helps. Roots in God ground me deeper, however.
Joy is like the rain. Its deep down refreshing longevity is awash with peace amid the pain and ache of bad news.
Such is life's unfolding and wondering: Why me? Well, why not me? After all, the "me" I wonder about is the others who I always hear about in their own grief and pain.
In the telling and sharing of this episode in my story relief settles in some. I know I am not alone.
The effects of the infection have their own basketfull of consequences, elevations of counts, and, as the litany of doctors say, "There's something going on within you - the tests prove this."
What a wonderful world, thanks be to God. This also will pass. Yet, joy seems eternally pervasive within. I like it that way. And, to Louis Armstrong's music ministry, thanks be to the Maker who is everywhere, I learned. In this too.
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