'God dwells here' (Homily for Anniversary of St. Remy Dedication)

 This weekend we recall the consecration of this church; 

the actual anniversary is August 18, 

but we move it to the nearest Sunday.

This year, we also celebrate 175 years of our parish. 

The first Mass offered in Russia was not here, 

but at what was then the DeBrosse farm on Versailles Road. 

Father Navarron, the first pastor, lived in a small house there, 

and he set aside part of his home as a chapel.

In October – after the harvest – 

we’re going to have a pilgrimage out to that very location. 

Also, as you know, after the 11 am Mass on Sunday, 

we will have a picnic lunch and some live entertainment; 

I hope you can come!

Let’s be clear about the meaning of this anniversary.

Our Mass prayers and our readings are all about this place, this church.

When this church was consecrated, it became a true Holy of Holies.

It is literally true to say: God dwells here.

This anniversary should be joyful; and yet there is anxiety.

Too many things in our church, our nation, our world, give us disquiet.

I am reminded of something Saint Augustine said 1,600 years ago: 

Is there any affliction now endured by mankind 

that was not endured by our fathers before us? 

What sufferings of ours even bear comparison 

with what we know their sufferings? 

And yet you hear people complaining about this present day and age 

because things were so much better in former times. 

I wonder what would happen if they could be taken back 

to the days of their ancestors – 

would we not still hear them complaining? 

You may think past ages were good, 

but it is only because you are not living in them.

With that in mind, let’s recall our forebears who first arrived here.

They barely had anything we would call a “road”;

whatever resources they had – tools, food, life savings – 

they brought with them.

None of their tools ran on either electric or gas – but sweat.

Imagine all the trees they cut down…with an axe or handsaw.

There was no 911 to call in an emergency.

No hospital to go to if you felt bad.

No antibiotics and not much to relieve pain.

It must have been a very hard life, and they knew it would be, 

when they left all behind in Europe, 

and sailed for several weeks across a vast ocean, 

and then made their way deep into a wilderness of unknown peril.

When they arrived and caught their breath and wiped their brows, 

it wasn’t long before they knew what they needed:

A house for God to dwell in. A priest to offer Holy Mass 

and to baptize and to give absolution and the anointing of the sick 

and all the sacraments.

They wanted God to dwell here, and their Catholic faith assured them 

that in the Most Holy Eucharist, indeed God does dwell here.

Stop and think about the burden of work they faced, 

and with what justification they could have said, 

“we have so much we must do first; we’ll get around to God later.” 

Instead they moved quickly to invite God to dwell in their midst.

You and I have heard such discouraging news in recent weeks.

How heavy it is to witness the suffering of people 

in Afghanistan, Haiti – or a farm family in St. Henry.

That first generation who came here fled the wars of Europe;

as their sons came of age, they were called up for the Civil War.

In those days, a bad crop wasn’t just lost income; it was famine.

Do you dread the hostile culture around us? 

Did you know that in 1855,  

a mob set fire to the first Holy Angels church – in Sidney? 

That was only one of many riots across the nation, targeting Catholics.

What gave them strength and confidence to keep going?

Their families; their faith; and this house of God.

Today when you leave this house, 

will you know and be sure within yourself, 

that you were with God today; 

that you beheld him with your very eyes?

Will others you meet realize, from having met you,  

that God dwells here?