52 Masses

Today’s stop takes us to the town of New Buffalo, Michigan, quite possibly the favorite place in the world of both my wife and me. New Buffalo is tucked just inside the southwest corner of Michigan, not too far from my home in Northwest Indiana. We usually go there at least twice a year for dinner, often, but not always, for burgers at the world famous Redamak’s.

But this time wasn’t a pleasure trip. I was heading back to my son’s school following another failed attempt to give blood (the Red Cross and I just haven’t been on the same page lately). With a little time on my hands and a full supply of hemoglobin coursing through my circulatory system, I stopped in at St. Mary of the Lake, just a few miles north of the Indiana line.

I stayed and prayed a little while, though my opportunities to wander and shoot some images were somewhat self-limited, as a fellow church-goer was sitting quietly in prayer at the front of the church, and I didn’t want to intrude. Still, I got a few shots of the church, sitting right on U.S. 12 in this wonderful lakeside town.

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There were many attention-grabbing moments in Father Ron Mrozinski’s homily this morning at Nativity of Our Savior Parish, the Portage, Ind.-church where I spend most of my Sundays. But the one that has stuck with me most forcefully was a simple statistic: 10,000 children around the globe die of starvation every day.

It is, as father noted, staggering. And heart-wrenching. And, frankly unacceptable.

Father Ron was a long-time academic in the Catholic university system before a serendipitous journey changed his life. He accompanied a friend on a trip celebrating the friend’s 25 years in the priesthood. But they didn’t make a pilgrimage to Rome or Jerusalem. Instead, they traveled to Haiti, where Father was put to work at a feeding center that fed 3,000 Haitians a day.

He recalled a small boy who came to receive his ration of rice and beans, less than a soup cup worth. But rather than immediately feed himself, as most of the others waiting in line had done, he placed his hand over the can and began walking away. He was taking the can home to share with his family of seven.

Soon, Father Ron was trading in the ivory tower to join Cross Catholic Outreach, an official Catholic ministry devoted to “Delivering Food, Shelter and Hope to the Poorest of the World.” He is assigned to Grenada, a country that most of us learned about 30 years ago during the brief military incursion there but have since mostly forgotten.

Cross Catholic Outreach pursues its mission in South America, the Caribbean and the Philippines by providing food, medicines and other life-saving resources through a network of priests, nuns and lay leaders. They operate and work with feeding centers, orphanages, schools, clinics, job-training centers and home-building programs in their regions.

In addition to his work in Grenada, he spends many Sundays back home, asking for support from parishes across the U.S. for this worthwhile organization. And a little bit of support from us can go a long way in a place like Grenada, as $25 can feed 167 children for a day, $50 can provide life-saving vaccines and $500 can deliver safe drinking water to a village.

To find out more about, or to pledge support to, the organization, visit the group’s website here. And pray for the work of Father Ron and the others in the group, and especially for those individuals and communities they are serving.

I don’t spend a lot of time traveling, nothing like I will in 2021. But when I do dart around the Midwest, my methods don’t deviate much from the average American. I travel mostly interstates, where available, preferring to get from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible. 

I’ve decided I’m going to change that up, at least when I’m on a solo run. Interstates are, by design, supremely boring, with little in the way of interesting view

On a recent trip home from the Cincinnati area, I opted instead to back-road it through Dearborn County (in this case, taking the path off-the-beaten path really didn’t add much time to my trip, given the unique nature of the I-275 loop around Cincy.

And a special opportunity awaited me on my journey. I stopped in the small town of New Alsace, a tiny community in northern Dearborn County I had never previously frequented, despite living not much more than a half-hour away for 13 years. And New Alsace was home to St. Paul, a pretty little church with a nifty place in history. Here are a few shots from the church…

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As for the history, back in 1863, Civil War General John Hunt Morgan darted through this area on his famed raid of union territory, designed to divert troops and attention away from the fronts at Vicksburg and Gettysburg. Here, at St. Paul, Father Roman Weinzapfel was celebrating 8:30 a.m. Mass when Morgan’s men spirited away with his horses as the raiders pushed toward Ohio.

It was a nice opportunity to stop and learn something about this church I wouldn’t have known about had I not diverted myself from the main thoroughfare. More important, it was merely nice to stop, walk around the church and simply sit/kneel and pray. Like most, I tend to convince myself I’m in a hurry to get where I’m going, though most often I am not. Taking this break reminded me of the calm that comes from simply sitting in a church in prayerful thought and reflection. I intend to make this a regular part of my solo trips in the future, and I’ll share the photographic evidence of these churches of all types as I do.

My oldest son, Ian, completed most of his undergraduate work at Johns Hopkins University with the conclusion of the first semester. But now that he’s on the employment trail, he’s returning to Baltimore to begin the hopefully short interview process before landing his first job.

Thus, the Christmas holiday provided one last opportunity for a father-son travel adventure, the kind we both enjoy (one heavy on seeing historical and other sights, rather than things to do).

We used this chance to make our first real visit* to Vincennes, Indiana, the Hoosier State’s first city. Our chief destination was George Rogers Clark National Historic Park, a nifty little place on the shore of the Wabash River.

We thoroughly enjoyed our too-brief stay, even with the government shutdown that kept the inside of the impressive memorial closed to visitors (if you have way too much time on your hands, you can see our thoughts on the shutdown here, as we were interviewed by a Terre Haute news channel that was reporting on the local effects of the “Closed. Be Back in Who Knows How Many Minutes” signs on all of our federal buildings).

A delightful side benefit to the trip was the fact the Memorial sits side by side with the Basilica of St. Francis Xavier, Indiana’s first Catholic parish. Old Cathedral, as it’s also known, doesn’t necessarily wow you from the outside, but the interior was drop-dead gorgeous, which I hope is reflected in the photos Ian shot.

*I’d been to Vincennes twice 30 years prior to play in college soccer games, though the city’s charms didn’t register at the time. To be fair, I wasn’t looking.

As most of you already here know, I’ve spent the past few weeks reaching out to parish leaders across the country seeking possible churches to visit in 2021. And the responses I’ve gotten already have been truly inspirational.

Last week, just before Thanksgiving, I got a call from Lisa Landone, a member of the choir at Our Lady of Good Counsel Chapel in Bridgeport, Conn. Nothing too unusual there, until you discover that the choir was founded after the tiny chapel was slated for closure due to membership numbers that had dropped down to unsustainable levels.  

But the existing members were determined to keep the tiny chapel alive. So they put together a message for Bishop Frank Joseph Caggiano, who graciously allowed them the opportunity to make their case.   

That they did, speaking passionately about the parish and the future they saw for it, capped by the presentation of the video here. And it worked. Bishop Caggiano agreed to allow the parish time to increase membership numbers and collections. And while the parish fell just short of the target numbers by the designated date, its progress and passion again convinced the bishop to let the small, but growing, parish continue its push.

That passion was so evident in our 20-minute conversation it thoroughly brightened my day. And it again reminded me why I’m doing this, and provided a glimpse of how wonderfully enriching the experience is going to be.