“These men knew where the love of Christ needed to be experienced, and they did their best to reflect that. Eucharist on Sunday was intimately tied to acts of love from Monday through Saturday. Eucharist was not about their collar, title, pomp, or circumstance. Eucharist was about loving people in concrete ways, knowing that they needed to be loved all week long.”
-Br. Duane Lemke, SCJ
Br. Duane Lemke, SCJ, was one of several speakers during the province’s Centennial dinner on July 17 at Sacred Heart Seminary and School of Theology. He spoke about the Priests of the Sacred Heart – the Dehonians – not as a member, but instead, from the perspective of someone who grew up with the community that he would one day join. His words:
Normally, I might speak about Dehonian life, ministry, or spirituality. This is only appropriate because I am a Priest of the Sacred Heart. Today; however, I’m going to take off my Dehonian cap. I stand before you as someone who has been a parishioner in a Dehonian parish. I grew up as a member of Sacred Heart Parish in Dupree, South Dakota.
In 1971, Fr. Joseph Ford, SCJ married my parents. Or, so I am told: I wasn’t there. I came along 10 months later (I counted). But, Fr. Ford also baptized me, and I am proud of that. That man could swear like a sailor. Well, at one time, he had been a sailor. Ford was a fitting witness to the start of my Christian life, and the seeds of my life as a Priest of the Sacred Heart. He was a down-to-earth man who knew the people he served, knew how to laugh, and how to make us feel like the love of God could be experienced anywhere, not just in Church and rectory.
Ford did not stand alone. There are others I remember coming and going over the following decades. Men with names like Clancy, Westhoven, Sheehy, Presto, Mueller, Russell, Koepke, Huffstetter, Watson, Klingler, and Kelly. That is only a sketch of those who served there. There was something about them that was unique and particular to the Priests of the Sacred Heart. They were not like the diocesan priests, nor like the other religious in South Dakota.
These men were part of our lives. It wasn’t unusual to have them in our homes. They would stop by for a beer and conversation with my parents on their way back from Sacred Heart’s Wednesday night mass (one of them preferred Coors Light). They were seen in the halls and gyms of our schools. They took time to be with us as teens for a whole weekend on a confirmation retreat. Our parish was strong, filled with laughter, prayer, worship, breakfasts, dances, and unity in the midst of the disagreements all parishes have. They were men of unity and reconciliation. These men further made Sacred Heart Parish, myself included, more aware and appreciative of the Lakota among whom we lived but, sadly, so rarely with whom we interacted.
These men were animated by the Eucharist. It could only have been an animation born of an experience of Christ’s love for them. For they treated people with care and particular concern. The attention they gave my parents was different than the attention given to me, or my siblings, or the family down the highway. A profound remark was by a high school classmate who said when her father died, the parish minister was at her house before members of her own family. These men knew where the love of Christ needed to be experienced, and they did their best to reflect that. Eucharist on Sunday was intimately tied to acts of love from Monday through Saturday. Eucharist was not about their collar, title, pomp, or circumstance. Eucharist was about loving people in concrete ways, knowing that they needed to be loved all week long.
These men were engaged with the world. We could witness them debating with each other about the meaning of this or that scriptural passage, or doctrinal development. They encouraged us to join in the dialog. What a chapter or verse or teaching means was always linked to what was going on in our life, in the community, in Washington DC, on Wall Street, the workplace, or people and places overseas. Over the years, they made me aware of the concerns of immigrants, or black America, or missions in Africa, South America, and Asia and of the people who live there. They introduced people at Sacred Heart Parish to the writings of Leonardo Boff and liberation theology.
Over the years, I am happy that the Heart of Christ led me to become part of their lives, to wear the hat that they wore. I find challenge and joy in the Dehonian words of love and reconciliation I once heard as a teen: “being a Christian means: here comes everybody.” God’s love is expansive. Like them, I want to experience the Real Presence of Christ’s love in my life, and feel impelled to reflect it concretely in people’s lives, where they are. I find energy in that particular Dehonian dialog and debate that surrounds the intersection of scripture, Church, and the world. An intersection where the presence of Christ is found, not in answers, but in discerning the right questions.
But, there is more. Now that I wear this hat, I am also very thankful that it is not only the Priests of the Sacred Heart that live the Dehonian mission. There are teachers, administrators, counselors, bookkeepers, custodians, cooks, receptionists, maintenance workers, catechists, and all manner of ministers in South Dakota, Texas, Mississippi, and Wisconsin who are partners and share in our mission.
And last, but greatest, there are benefactors across the United States and the globe. I’m thankful that this hat has brought me into awareness of you. Your generosity, compassion, and spirit of mercy and sacrifice make it all possible. To my fellow SCJs, to my brothers across the globe, to those who partner with us in ministry, and above all to our benefactors:
Thank you!
