You never know what you’ll find on Fr. Don’s Vocation Blog on our website, vocationvibes.franciscan.org. This photo accompanied a recent entry. Alongside it Don Miller wrote: “After an unseasonably warm start to winter, Cincinnati finally received its first significant snowfall of the year. Postulant Richard Goodin took advantage of it to create Friar Snowman in our front yard (at Mt. Airy). Some of the local community decided to have their picture taken with the newest member of our friary.” As the week wore on, Friar Snowman grew shorter and pudgier—aging just like the rest of us!

 If you’re one of those people who greets the day with optimism, life is full of little victories and small celebrations. Jan. 17, for example, was a day Fr. Bart Pax will long remember. “We finally got heat in the church,” he announced on the phone, glad to be sharing good news. That IS good news, considering the obstacle course Bart has been running since Hurricane Katrina laid waste to New Orleans and St. Mary of the Angels Parish in August of 2005. As anyone who’s seen photos of the Upper Ninth Ward can attest, life in Bart’s neighborhood is nowhere near normal. “I think a good part of the country still has not realized how devastating it is,” he says. “Sometimes I describe it as a small   city totally destroyed. People can visualize that.”

From Bart’s perspective, the view from his FEMA trailer, the community is ever-so-slowly returning to life. “The archdiocese has been very helpful financially,” he says. “They want to get the ‘designated parishes’ (those that will remain open) up and running.” Most houses around the church are salvageable—despite rumors that the entire Ninth Ward would be razed. According to Bart, “The news got that all messed up. A big section of the Lower Ninth was demolished.” In the Upper Ninth, “There are a number of houses they have to gut, ripping out everything inside,” but 50 to 60 of Bart’s neighbors have returned to their homes. “The part we’re in is above sea level, and ‘prime’ property, in that sense.”

Since contracts were signed in October of 2006, Belfor (an international disaster reconstruction company) has supervised the restoration of the friary, as well as the ceiling and floor of the church. When work is completed, it won’t be the same old St. Mary of the Angels. “We’re moving out the altar platform closer to the congregation,” Bart says. “The old confessionals have all been taken out.” Two of those spaces will become closets, and one will house artifacts from St. Philip, a parish that merged with SMA after Katrina. “I would expect us to be fully back in the church to celebrate Holy Week,” welcome news for parishioners scattered by the storm. “They’re really happy the church is coming back. That really lifts their spirits.” Nowadays, Sunday Mass at St. Mary of the Angels draws 80 or so, most of them from outside the neighborhood, but Bart thinks “that should pick up now that we have heat.”

The future of St. Mary of the Angels School, tagged by the archdiocese as one that would not reopen “for the time being,” is still unsettled. Workers from the Common Ground Collective, a volunteer organization providing short-term relief for hurricane victims, did some cleanup and rigged temporary wiring for electricity while they camped on the property. As for long-range plans, “I’m not sure what’s going to happen,” says Bart.

Last month, sheet rock was installed in the friary and painters went to work. Tony Walter’s nephew, a vice president at Whirlpool, has promised any appliances they need—once there’s a kitchen to put them in. Ask Bart if he’s sick of living in a trailer, and he laughs. “I can’t afford to be. I would like to move into the house; it’s just not practical.” Friars in the area have been helpful and supportive—especially Fr. Robert Seay and Bro. Juniper Crouch from Lafayette—but Bart prays his days as a Lone Ranger are numbered. “I would hope that someone soon will be assigned here with me.”

In large part, his post-Katrina role is a ministry of presence. Bart is a listening post for neighbors, a security guard for the premises, a consultant on renovation, a watchdog on the day-to-day reconstruction. Because contractors in New Orleans are still a hot commodity and skilled workers are in high demand and short supply, Bart spends part of each day with a phone attached to his ear, cajoling, entreating, reminding. The cumulative stress of this painstaking process—compounded by Bart’s treatment for prostate cancer last year—is hard to imagine. “Before they started working on the house, it was kind of depressing at times,” he admits. By now, “I hoped we’d be farther along. I was hoping we’d be back, completely restored.” For everyone involved, the recovery is protracted and excruciating. Restoration of electricity took months, for example, “because we had switches that had to be specially made.”

Bart has been buoyed by donations of all kinds from people he’s never met, organizations he never knew existed. “We’re extremely grateful for all the support we’ve gotten. We can’t say ‘thank you’ enough.” He especially appreciates offers of volunteer labor, but says “most of the work is being contracted.” Aside from that, “We don’t have places for them to stay.” For the time being, “We’re still going to need donations. Sometimes I suggest to people they might want to furnish a room,” by compiling a list of typical office equipment, for example, and donating money toward the purchase.

In a sea of decisions, Bart is swamped by details. “My biggest problem now is paying bills and writing thank-you notes. I have to do all that myself. I can’t have a secretary right now because I don’t have an office for her.” More than a year after Katrina blew through, much is unfinished and much is unknown. Someone—“we don’t know who”—is buying up property in the Ninth Ward, so speculation is epidemic. “Where all this is going to lead is hard to say,” Bart admits. But life in limbo sure beats the alternative.

“We’re alive; we’re here,” he says. “Look at the blessing.”

“I love my work up here and I love the community,” Bro. Clete Riederer said when we called to ask how things are going with the Franciscan Poverty Program in Southfield. Recently returned from the Philippines, Clete has been running the outreach program since last July (Bro. Luke Simon helps when he’s able) but confesses, “I didn’t expect it to be this big.” How big is it? Close to 400 turkey dinner packages were distributed at Thanksgiving, 1,475 children received toys in December and 500 families enjoyed a hearty Christmas meal through the poverty program. Clete, Luke and the volunteers thanked parishioners for their support with an announcement in a December bulletin: “Throughout 2006, we intervened with financial aid an average of 32 times monthly to prevent evictions or utility shutoffs. We provided emergency grocery packages daily.” Most clients come from Detroit, Clete said, and “Most of them are without jobs.”

Visitors to Sacred Heart Parish in Peoria can obtain a copy of a handsome new paperback book commemorating recent renovations. The book features photos of and stories about the 29 new Saints of the Americas paintings that line the inside walls of the church. Parishioners received a copy for Christmas; the suggested donation for others is $5.

Judy Ball of SAMP had a terrific article in the January issue of St. Anthony Messenger about the work of Franciscans International and its director, Fr. John Quigley, in the war against human trafficking. “He has fully embraced the dream of a Franciscan presence at the United Nations as it tackles some of the most profound and perplexing problems facing humankind,” Judy wrote. Speaking of the UN’s role in global affairs, John said, “In 25 years the world community may have something else, but for now there’s nothing better out there. We cannot afford to live alone, to be isolated. We’re not here to defend the United Nations. We’re here to defend the rights of the poor.”

Fr. Valentine Young talked about his Latin Rite ministry in a recent issue of Cross Roads, the newspaper of the diocese of Lexington. “There are about 200 households in the Bluegrass area who want to find a deeper spirituality in the Latin Rite and surprisingly, the majority are young people who were not a part of the old rite,” Valentine told reporter Linda Harvey. Latin Masses are celebrated daily at 7 a.m. and Sunday at 4 p.m. at St. Peter Church in downtown Lexington. Since last August Valentine has been teaching Gregorian Chant to children of the community.

While in Assisi many friars met Don Aldo Brunacci, Canon of the Cathedral and founder of the Casa Papa Giovanni. Don Aldo died Feb. 2, “surrounded by the Casa staff,” Fr. Tod Laverty reported. “He was very peaceful and tranquil.” The funeral was held Feb. 3 at the Cathedral of San Rufino, with Bishop Domenico Sorentino presiding. Don Aldo was 92 years old.

Radio Maria was the focus of a December story in The Church Today, the newspaper of the Diocese of Alexandria. Interviewed about their most popular programs, Fr. Duane Stenzel said the Holy Mass has been No. 1 with listeners since the inception of Radio Maria USA in 2000. Also popular is an hour-long call-in program, Apologetics, which airs Thursdays at 5 p.m. on 580 AM. Callers talk about “why we believe what we believe,” Duane said. In Take Your Limits Off God, broadcast daily at 9:30 p.m., Duane talks about “how we try to control God into solving our problems on our conditions and in our time frame.”

“Salt of the earth” is a term you don’t hear much anymore, probably because there are so few people who fit the definition: decent, dependable and unpretentious.

Bro. Linus Border was one of them. In 43 years as a friar he was never a councilor or a guardian; the jobs he willingly assumed are not the kind you typically brag about. But Linus was so loved and valued that his passing left a hole in the heart of the community at St. Clement Friary.

During the reception of the body in Cincinnati on Nov. 3, Fr. Loren Connell verbalized the prevailing sentiment. “Is it in the Fioretti that Francis is asked, ‘Who is the ideal friar?’ When I think of Linus…Linus was guileless, Linus was open and gentle. What a blessing to us to have such a brother.”

As Fr. John Stein recalled, the first friar he met at Duns Scotus was Linus, the friendly brother who ran the laundry. “I learned something then that I saw over and over,” John said. “Because of his demeanor and sense of humor, he put all of us at ease. He took away all of our nervousness and fright. He had the ability to make people feel welcome.” Students who were struggling saw Linus as “a light at the end of the tunnel,” said Bro. Norbert Bertram, whose load as Local Minister at St. Clement was lightened by Linus. “I asked him one time how he joined the friars. After he got out of the Air Force, he went to a mission” where a fire-and-brimstone evangelist held forth. “It scared the hell out of me,” said Linus, who promptly decided, “I’ve got to change my life” and entered the Order. “We as friars are blessed and grateful to that preacher,” Norbert said.

Others recalled the passion Linus had for details. He scoured the newspaper and corrected inaccuracies with letters of complaint to anyone who would read them. That attention to detail partly explained his obsession with baseball in general and the Detroit Tigers in particular. The material object he held most dear was a home run baseball hit by Kirk Gibson in 1986. “I caught it after it bounced off someone else,” he told Norbert. “I want it in my casket.”

In life, Linus and Fr. Howard Hudepohl were kindred spirits who elevated good-natured kidding to an art form. In his homily, Howard talked about the void left by the passing of his friend. “There’s an empty space, a gap in our community at St. Clement’s,” he said. “A seat in the chapel, a seat in the dining room, a seat in the TV room—the chairs once occupied by the littlest guy in our community. He was always around and always of tremendous service.”

Nothing on Linus’ list of accomplishments was “earth-shaking,” Howard said. “He was not a great teacher or preacher, not things the world considers important. He was a master of little things.” Always looking for ways to make himself useful, “He was a man of service. He filled salt shakers. He was a good shopper at the grocery store for things we needed. He was one of the best examples we had of our title ‘Friars Minor’—a real example of minority,” Howard said. “This funeral is not so much a time for us to mourn as a time for us to learn. The last thing Linus wanted was to be a teacher. He’s teaching us tonight about minority.”

Linus liked things “short and to the point,” Howard said. “We would have house chapters. He and I and a few others don’t like meetings much. We made it a rule to finish in an hour. Linus would come in and say, ‘8 o’clock, I’m out of here.’ Tonight we began this service at 7. For one last time I can say with Linus, ‘8 o’clock and I’m out of here.’”

Following communion, Fr. Fred Link shared some of “The Wit and Wisdom of Linus Border,” accumulated through the years. Fred once asked if Linus had any expectations as a senior friar. “He said, ‘I have no needs for the province to meet.’ Here was truly a poor man who knew he had everything—his God and his brothers.”

Norbert invited those gathered to stay for a reception, and closed the funeral the way he closed friary chapters. “Time to go, Border,” he announced. Somewhere along the way, as Linus was rounding third and heading for home, the baseball he prized slipped quietly back into his possession.

Last year at a provincial gathering, Bro. Norbert Bertram asked Fr. Benno Heidlage, “When are you going to come live with us at St. Clement’s?” Meaning, when are you joining the ranks of the retired? And Benno’s response was, “Not yet.”

“He wanted to keep going,” Norbert said, reminiscing during the reception of the body preceding Benno’s Nov. 29 funeral in Oldenburg. Throughout the last few years of backaches and frailness, “He ministered gracefully and with much joy to many people. He never wanted to give up.” For Benno, an old-school friar who seemed determined to die with his boots on, the decline before death was blessedly swift. But even in his last days in the hospital, he and Fr. Carl Hawver belted out hymns with such gusto that “the nurses had to close the door to intensive care,” Carl said.

Entering Holy Family Church, Fr. Mel Holtel sized up the line of mourners stretching the length of the aisle. “Oldenburgers show up,” was his assessment, and the same could be said of Benno, a true son of Oldenburg. Six-foot-three, with snowy hair and clear blue eyes, he was an imposing and dignified fixture at almost every provincial gathering. The regard in which he was held—respect that bordered on reverence—was obvious in the sea of friars who spoke on behalf of the former novice master.

“I knew Fr. Benno when he was pastor of St. Boniface in Lafayette,” Fr. Bob Weakley recalled. “I distinctly remember him standing in the vestibule at Sunday Mass. He would greet every person coming in and call every one of them by name. He really loved to be a pastor and he really cared so much about his people.” That devotion was evident in the way Benno memorialized Valery Lonteen and Barrian Brauntstein, two young novices who died at Mt. Airy in 1958 while Benno was novice master. After the two were accidentally electrocuted, he grieved for them daily. Pictures of the pair were never far from Benno’s sight; he visited their graves at least once a year.

Others called him “a mentor,” “a giant,” “the perfect priest.” In his homily, Fr. Cyprian Berens spoke of his lifelong admiration for Benno, whom he would always consider an “upperclassman.”

“We are gathered in this very place where Fr. Benno was baptized, made First Communion, Confirmation and did his theological studies,” Cyprian said. “We instinctively look up. We look beyond what is seen here, beyond the hills and fields. We close our eyes to see what is unseen, to renew the faith in that beyond.

“I feel many of you here have been inspired by the life of this exceptional man. In high school seminary, as a freshman ‘shrimp,’ I looked up to upperclassmen like Herman Heidlage. Those guys looked like supermen to me. They had it all together, superior to freshmen in academics, sports, maturity.”

As a novice master, “Benno had a quality I envy and don’t see as much as would be ideal. He easily entered into real serious, meaningful talk with us…spiritual subjects we were reading about and cared about. He was a good communicator…simple, hearty words. After ordination he was sent away for higher studies.” In formation, in parish work, as a member of the provincial council, “His was a tremendous life of service to the Church. Those are some reasons he’ll always be an upperclassman to me.”

After communion, Fr. Fred Link spoke of the “privilege” of having Benno as a novice master. “I assure you, we novices stood in awe of this man. He held us to great accountability...(he was) conscientious but never hard. We revered him. He was for us a spiritual giant,” one who continued to set an example even in his final days. “He was singing in intensive care. He was preaching in intensive care,” Fred said. That was Benno, “solid to the core, all the way to the end.”