Guest Blogger: My Dad

The Conscience of Franz Jägerstätter:
A Homily by Deacon Tim Vineyard

“Jägerstätter reasoned that, since God gives us free will and a conscience,
God holds us responsible for what we do.”


This past summer when I was home in Texas, I heard my dad preach this homily. It was pretty long for a homily, but you could have heard a pin drop. As the story built and the courage of Franz Jägerstätter came to life, we all got wrapped up in this story—this witness—of the power of human freedom and conscience.

One of my college professors, a Cistercian monk who himself had escaped an evil regime in Hungary, told us that the human will has limitless power. He said, “The whole universe could blow up in your face. You can still be saying ‘no.’” Franz Jägerstätter said “no.”

Thanks Dad—for preaching and sharing this homily, and for being a man of conscience in my life.

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The German army invaded Austria in 1938. The Austrians didn’t offer any resistance. Many Austrians actually welcomed the German invasion! At that time, there was a lot of support for the goals and aims of the Nazi movement in Austria.

Hitler was greeted by enthusiastic crowds waving Nazi flags and giving the Nazi salute. Afterward, some 70,000 Austrian political opponents of the Nazis were arrested and Hitler ordered a universal vote in Austria on the issue of the unification of Austria with Germany. A Nazi-led propaganda campaign supported unification. The Catholic hierarchy advocated a “yes” vote. In the end, the Nazis claimed that Austrians overwhelmingly favored the dissolution of Austria and its becoming a part of Germany. Hitler then began the process of the deep humiliation of Jews and, with the cooperation of the locals, ran many Jews out of Austria.

Franz Jägerstätter was an Austrian farmer. He married a woman who took her Catholic faith seriously. His marriage to her changed him, and he, too, became devout in his Catholic faith. He voted in the German/Austrian unification plebiscite but, unlike his countrymen, he voted “no,” rejecting the Nazis. Due to the subsequent German annexation of Austria, Jägerstätter became subject to the German military draft. Would he serve as a soldier in the Nazi army?

Jägerstätter was happily married and had young children. The last thing he wanted was to put himself or his family at risk.  But he carefully examined the morality of the German war. He witnessed the suppression of the church—the churches had to fly the swastika flag and pray for Hitler; priests were jailed. He saw the Germans take over other countries for no just reason. He heard reports of the beginning of the Nazi Jewish genocide program. For him, it all came down to this question: “Should I be a Nazi or a Catholic?” Jägerstätter recognized that to support the Nazi movement was to oppose Christ and his Church.

He met with his bishop to discuss what his response should be, but the bishop refused to discuss the matter with him. Several well-meaning priests tried to talk him into cooperating with the Germans. There was a great deal of discussion about the morality of a decision to refuse to serve as a combatant in the Nazi-led military. This decision was punishable by death; did it amount to suicide? Some questioned the morality of such a decision in light of his family responsibilities. But Jägerstätter wondered how good a husband and father he would be if he chose social conformity over obedience to Christ’s teaching.

Jägerstätter reasoned that, since God gives us free will and a conscience, God holds us responsible for what we do. He believed that people can’t escape personal responsibility for their actions simply by arguing that they were following the orders of their government.

When he was required to serve in the German army, Jägerstätter said a final good-bye to his wife and children and refused to serve as a combatant, offering instead to serve as a medic. He was promptly beheaded and forgotten.

In 1964, Gordon Zahn published a biography of Jägerstätter, In Solitary Witness. His story circulated among those participating in the Vatican II Council, which was in progress at the time. Jägerstätter’s life and writings made a significant impact on what the Catholic Church teaches today about war, peace, conscience and individual responsibility. His life had a significant impact on the 1965 Vatican II document entitled The Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World. Jägerstätter was declared a martyr in 2007 and beatified in the same year.

Looking back, we think everyone should have seen things the way Jägerstätter did. Why would anyone want to participate in the Nazi movement? But when you’re living in the middle of a national crisis, things get complicated fast. Really complicated. Even in our day, such complications can lead us to think and act based on fear, pride, confusion, fatigue, anxiety, and the desire to conform. Jägerstätter was able to see past all of that because his heart and conscience were fixed on Jesus Christ above all else. Naturally, such a path will not be taken by everyone; it takes conviction and courage to lay down your life for what you believe. Perhaps this is why Jesus said, “Do you think I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division” (Luke 12:51).

Today we face issues that will affect the lives of thousands of people in profound ways. We don’t respond out of mere human pragmatism, fear, pride, or a desire to conform. We’re not confused. Instead, we listen to our conscience, which is formed by the Gospel, and we face the current issues with our hearts firmly fixed on Jesus Christ above all else. As the Body of Christ, this is what we do.

Blessed Franz Jägerstätter, pray for us.

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There’s a movie out about the life of Franz Jägerstätter called “A Hidden Life.”
Here’s a preview:

Ancient God, How Young You Are

I can’t remember how or when I came across this poem written in 1983 by Jim Forest, legendary peace activist, biographer, and friend of Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day.  But I found it so kind and intimate in its portrayal of the loving relationship between creature and Creator. Jim has given me permission to share the poem, which was written while he was honeymooning with his wife Nancy in France. The poem was inspired by a sculpture at Chartres Cathedral (pictured below).

Ancient God, how young you are
I know your touch
It is in that motion of
your hands on my head
that I recognize you
and remember
that first day
when you called me Adam
and your knee
was my pillow
when I first opened
my eyes.

Jim’s most recent biography is At Play in the Lion’s Den: A Memoir and Biography of Daniel Berrigan. He is currently working on an autobiography. Visit Jim and Nancy at jimandnancyforest.com. And see Jim’s collection of Adam & Eve art at flickr.com.

Pictured from left to right: The sculpture at Chartres that inspired Jim’s poem; a copy of the original, hand-written poem; Go On, Adam by Jack Baumgartner, shared with permission (visit Jack’s website here); The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo.

Guest Blog: We Grieve, We Believe

My colleague at Little Rock Scripture Study, Cackie Upchurch, wrote these clear, gentle words in response to the recent revelations about our Church in Pennsylvania, Washington, D.C., and beyond. These words helped me, and I hope they may help you too. I don't want to be bitter, I want to believe. But I have children, I have been a child. A sacred trust has been broken.

In times of confusion, we need guiding voices to acknowledge truth and point us back to the light. I found one here.

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We Grieve, We Believe

We grieve the scandals that have plagued and continue to plague our Church. 
We grieve because we are outraged and disappointed and even disgusted by the revelations of sexual misconduct and abuse, and the lingering violence these do to the human person.
We grieve the cover up and the misplaced loyalties.
We grieve because the body of Christ is injured and in need of healing that will not come easily (nor should it). 
We grieve because, as communities of faith, we’re not quite sure how to proceed – how to bind up ugly wounds so that they heal and are not simply covered over, and how to be forgiving but also demand consequences.
We grieve because our ideals are tempered by ugly realities that demand a reckoning.
We grieve because we know the corrupting influence of power that goes unchecked.

We believe and affirm that Christ is suffering with us, in us, and through us.
We believe and affirm that we have a sacred trust to bring Christ into this broken world, and into our very broken Church.
We believe and affirm that God’s mercy and goodness will have the last word.

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Cackie (Catherine) Upchurch is the director of Little Rock Scripture Study, general editor of the Little Rock Catholic Study Bible, associate editor of The Bible Today and contributor to Give Us This Day. She is the author of four volumes of the Alive in the Word series, including Mary, Favored by God and Christmas: Season of Wonder and HopeCackie finds great joy in meeting people around the country and beyond when she speaks at conferences and leads retreats for lay people and religious communities.

Guest Blog: What is it like to be related to a "Blessed"?

My friend and colleague, Barbara Jean Daly Horell (B.J.), is the grand-niece of the recently beatified Fr. Solanus Casey, OFM Cap. (her grandmother was Fr. Solanus’ sister!). You may not know much about Fr. Solanus, but you may have heard that his Beatification Mass in November was held at Ford Field in Detroit and that the stadium was filled to capacity.

After B.J. attended the Beatification Mass along with many members of her extended family, I asked her to share her thoughts with us about what it’s like to be related to someone who has been declared “Blessed.” As you will see, her reflections point outward, as all authentically Catholic things do. Blessed Solanus Casey may be related to her by blood, B.J. explains, but in the heart of Christ, he belongs to the whole human family.

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“Holy Families”

One of my favorite “days of Christmas” is the Feast of the Holy Family. My three children were all baptized on the Feast of the Holy Family. Every year we celebrate with gifts and special foods, and we lift up the holy family as our model for the new year. Of course, we walk in holiness no more, and maybe no less, than most Catholic families of our generation. But we have been gifted with one special grace. We were raised into a kind of “heart-knowing” of one who is unequivocally holy: my granduncle, Fr. Solanus Casey, OFM, Capuchin.

Fr. Solanus died five years before my birth, so there are many who speak with more authority about Fr. Solanus than I: my cousin Sr. Anne Herkenrath, SNJM, for example. She is a Casey of my own generation, whom I know and love. She was privileged to have met Fr. Solanus face-to-face, as God spoke to Moses. I am more like one of the crowd of underlings in the Book of Exodus, struggling with brazen calves but still hoping to be true, as my granduncle was true.

Fr. Solanus deeply loved his huge Casey family. He kept close to his parents and siblings, even from Detroit when most of them had resettled in Seattle. Family letters through the years, though, show the comfort he continued to draw from his mother in particular. Two lines of a poem he wrote speaks to me of his love for his parents: “Everyone needs someone, knowing that somewhere someone is thinking of you.” And it’s true that from Solanus’ holy parents he came to his unshakeable devotion to Our Mother Mary, a love relationship which only deepened what has been called his “astonishing familiarity” with Father, Son and Spirit.

The family connection goes both ways, though. So as lately born as I was, I still grew up knowing Fr. Solanus with a profound “heart connection.” Really, he looked so much like my Jesuit uncle (his nephew) Fr. John McCluskey, who literally bounced me on his knee (and I have pictures to prove it!). Of course, the family resemblance went more than skin deep. When my mother and her siblings gathered in our home, the joy of the Casey clan echoed as if from the far away farmstead in Wisconsin, where Fr. Solanus was born and grew in holiness. It is said that my mother’s first word was “Whoopee!” This characteristic family joy accompanied a deep Irish mysticism that resonated God’s presence in the household as plainly and palpably as my fingers can feel my keyboard as I write. The prayers passed down to us were the same prayers said in voices that would be as familiar to Fr. Solanus as they are to me. We were cherished by our elders, who were themselves cherished by Genevieve, who was the cherished youngest child of the Bernard Casey family. Grandma surely picked up her Celtic mysticism from the “bricks and boards” of the old Prescott farmstead. Or so it seems to me. In November, when more than 350 Caseys gathered in Detroit to witness Fr. Solanus’ beatification, I felt at home among familiar strangers.

But the “graced connection” to Fr. Solanus was passed not primarily by common voice or tradition. It was always passed more fully by the heart and the spirit. Even though Fr. Solanus firmly “belongs” in my family, he never belonged to us in any way that excludes others. Fr. Solanus experienced his holy, joy-filled family and manifested that love with all. Fr. Solanus had a deep appreciation for the preciousness of every single person he met. I’m told that he had a way of being wholly present in every single moment and situation, so that his visitors didn’t mind waiting hours to meet with him at St. Bonaventure’s door.

Yes, I think Fr. Solanus cared for and was loved as family by almost every single person he ever met. In his final hours, a time when words reveal the heart so clearly, Fr. Solanus was overheard to say, “I can’t die yet. Not everyone loves Jesus!” This saying reminds me of St. Paul’s words to the Philippians: “I long to depart this life and be with Christ, for that is far better. Yet that I remain in the flesh is more necessary for your benefit” (Philippians 1:23-24).

Anyone who shares Fr. Solanus’ simplicity of faith, presence of mind, generosity of soul, and joy of heart, is part of his family. This is no more true of me than it is of Paula Medina Zarate, the Panamanian catechist whose 2012 healing at the tomb of Fr. Solanus resulted in his beatification. It is no more true of my mother than of Brother Richard Merling, tireless vice-postulator of Fr. Solanus’s Cause, who always offers us a welcome and a smile. It is no more true of my cousin Sr. Anne than of Mary, the Fr. Solanus Guild volunteer who opened her home to me when once I was stranded in Detroit. It is no more true of the cardinals who celebrated  liturgy on November 18 in Ford Field than of the homeless and poor who brought the gifts to the altar that day. As all are known by Jesus, all are welcome to live in the heart of Blessed Solanus Casey.

Blessed Solanus lived a life that was not his own, but Christ’s, in kinship with “his two loves, the sick and the poor.” In his lifetime as now, Fr. Solanus desires nothing more than to walk with his family in faith. I invite you to get to know my Granduncle Barney. His presence “can’t die” because “not everyone loves Jesus yet.” Let this be the legacy of Blessed Solanus Casey and his whole extended, not-necessarily-by-birth family, among whom I am so grateful to be counted.

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B.J. Daly Horell is the Director of the Hartford Catholic Biblical School. She has a Masters from Harvard Divinity School with a concentration in Scripture. B.J. is also a trained spiritual director.

To learn more about Fr. Solanus Casey, click here.
For a USA Today article about the Beatification Mass, click here.
To view a short video of B.J.’s aunt, Sr. Anne Herkenrath, talking about Fr. Solanus, click here.

Click on the pictures below for a larger view.

The "Casey Clan" at Ford Field on November 18, 2017.

Fr. Solanus (in Capuchin habit) with his parents and siblings on the occasion of his parents' 50th wedding anniversary in 1913. B.J.'s grandmother Genevieve is the woman in the center of the picture, behind her parents. Photo courtesy of the Father Solanus Casey Guild.

Descendants (and their families) of B.J.'s grandmother, Mary Genevieve Casey (Fr. Solanus' youngest sister), at Ford Field in November 2018. B.J. is seated on the front row, second from the right.

Fr. Solanus with B.J.'s aunt, Sr. Anne Herkenrath, SNJM.

Taught by Student

One of my Catholic Biblical School students wrote this on her homework. Brilliant!

I want to be priest, prophet, and king — not judge, jury, and executioner.
— April Brilvitch
Christus by Giovanni Meschini, goache-painted pochoir print (Courtesy Sacred Art Pilgrim)

Christus by Giovanni Meschini, goache-painted pochoir print (Courtesy Sacred Art Pilgrim)