World Mission Sunday and extending Christ’s love across the world through prayer, sacrifice and generosity

Father Woodrow H. Pace Director of the Mission Office

H ope and zeal in the name of Jesus Christ are ever-vital gifts for humanity, especially now in our divided and broken world. We are reminded of our dependence on God in each place where human suffering is intense and visible. We raise our prayers to Him with earnest pleas for consolation and relief. Although He can and does, in some circumstances, God seldom simply takes away our sorrows. Instead, He accompanies us intimately and powerfully through the incarnation of His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Brother.

Bishop Battersby consistently emphasizes the importance of love as a remedy for our hardships. He reminds us that love is the only way during his confirmation homilies, words of encouragement and conversations with leaders throughout the diocese. But he is clear to say that it is not just any kind of love; it must be a divine love—love itself, exchanged through the power of the Holy Spirit

In his vision for the “Rebuild My Church” initiative in the Diocese of La Crosse, this power is modeled by discipleship in Jesus and accompaniment with one another. Together, our hearts find a home in the wounded Sacred Heart of our Savior and together we walk with Him toward deeper faith and strength. In short, we are healed for eternal life and carry within us an infinite love.

A Century of Shared Mission

October 18, 2026, marks World Mission Sunday, a day dedicated to extending our companionship to the entire world. This vision was first articulated by Pope Pius XI in 1926 when he called on every Catholic parish to pray for missionary efforts and to hold a collection for those deprived of the resources necessary to proclaim the Gospel. Now, on the centenary of this bold move, we are drawn together in faith.

We become aware of the plight of persecuted Christians in Nigeria and the vast population living in poverty across India. Compassion moves us to hold up to God the struggling Church in China and people living with violence in Central and South America. Our souls ache for missionaries bringing good news to people we know as brothers and sisters in Christ from South Sudan and Iran. We pray, and we sacrifice.

How World Mission Sunday
Supports the Church

Our national office informs us, “The funds collected on World Mission Sunday are distributed according to requests submitted by local bishops in mission territories.”

According to the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, rather than functioning as an independent fundraising effort for one particular project, the World Mission Sunday collection serves the wider pastoral needs of mission dioceses. Requests for assistance are reviewed through the international structure of The Pontifical Mission Societies, which operates under the Vatican’s Dicastery for Evangelization, and the aid is distributed in communion with the Holy Father. Money collected in the United States is sent directly to the missionaries who requested support, with the approval of their bishop and the nuncio, the pope’s representative in the country where they serve. This process is intended to promote accountability, transparency and fair distribution of support throughout mission territories.

Throughout the world, 1,130 dioceses rely on the support coordinated through The Pontifical Mission Societies. The funds help support seminarian formation, catechists and pastoral workers, religious sisters and priests, schools and orphanages and pastoral outreach in remote communities. This is the daily life of the Church in mission.

Faith Made Visible in Mozambique

Any contribution you can make helps to improve the lives of Christians and those among whom they live. Let me share a story to illustrate this.

In Jécua, Mozambique, the Catholic parish of Our Lady of the Rosary serves 11 pastoral zones and 74 communities. It is staffed by the Franciscan Friars (OFM), an order recognized for their work at Viterbo University in La Crosse. With support from World Mission Sunday, they have built 100 homes for the poorest families. They established the “St. Francis Agricultural Institute,” which trains young people in sustainable farming practices. Additionally, they continue the “Water for All” initiative and provide access to quality education for rural students. The friars focus on evangelization through their presence, sowing faith, building community and restoring dignity.

When Franciscan missionary Father Jorge Alberto Bender, OFM, first set foot in Mozambique, he says he felt a rush of emotion mixed with questions and “a certain sense of powerlessness.” Yet behind those feelings was something deeper: the conviction that this was exactly where God was calling him to be. Missionaries like Father Jorge rely on your assistance and express gratitude to God daily.

One in Christ, United in Mission

World Mission Sunday, Oct. 18, 2026, by the invitation of Pope Leo and Bishop Battersby, makes us “One in Christ, united in mission.”

Accompaniment shared between those in need and those able to give is a sure sign that the kingdom of God is close at hand. This is our evergreen hope and zeal in Christ. As you participate in your parish, your sacrifices are cherished and multiplied in grace. God bless.

Bishop Gerard W. Battersby

Pope Leo XIV has proclaimed this a Jubilee Year in the Church in honor of the 800th anniversary of St. Francis of Assisi’s death. A jubilee is a time usually marking 25 or 50 years or when we celebrate a significant moment in the life of the Church. Biblically speaking, it is a time when all debts can be forgiven and nullified.

God reveals Himself to us as love, and Jesus is love’s face. He paid the debt for all of us, for all sins and for all time. As a preacher once said, He paid a debt He didn’t owe because we owed a debt we couldn’t pay. It is His sacrifice that enables the Church to call a Jubilee Year and to extend the mercy of Christ’s self-offering in payment for our debts in every age.

The treasury of the Church, which is inexhaustible, consists entirely of Christ and His suffering, death and resurrection given for us and for our salvation. It is Jesus’ blood poured out for us; it is His cross, which crushes death; it is His body, given in ransom for us all; it is His offering to the Father, accepted by God and wholly sufficient for all time.

Jesus’ words to His apostles after the resurrection remind us that the Church can and must dispense God’s mercy. He declares, “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” (Jn 20:23) Jesus’ blood is truly sufficient.

As we honor St. Francis, or Il Poverello, as the Italians call him, in this Jubilee Year, we remember that our faith is not some diaphanous or spiritual idea. Our faith must be incarnate, enfleshed in our life and manifest in our daily actions. St. Francis of Assisi reminds us all that we are called by the Holy Spirit to be witnesses of the light. We are anointed just as Jesus was anointed, just as the prophet Isaiah foretold of Him, to bring the Good News to the poor.

St. Francis of Assisi and his followers have done this in a profound way, so that even now, in the 21st century, their brown robes remain beacons to the poor in body and spirit, who still know they will find rest.

I had the privilege of making a retreat in Assisi about 10 years ago. It was the best retreat of my life, and part of the reason is that even today, Assisi is alive with the spirit of St. Francis. Stories of this holy deacon abound, including the words Jesus spoke to him from the cross of San Damiano: “Rebuild My Church.” Even today, these words echo and are the spear point of the Diocese of La Crosse’s pastoral renewal plan.

The Church is always in need of reform and renewal, something that should fill us with hope and confidence. It is not wonderful figures like St. Francis who bring renewal; rather, they are heralds of the renewal brought about by the evergreening Holy Spirit of Christ.

St. Francis always took to heart the words of Scripture and made them his own. Jesus’ words in St. Mark’s Gospel, “Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature” (Mk 16:15) became Francis’ command. He literally would then preach to the animals as he did to the people.

This may seem quaint, but in fact it is wholly in accord with God’s plan for all of us and for all creation. Jesus’ mission, which is His Father’s plan, is for all creation. St. Francis reminds us in word and action that we are witnesses of the light and bearers of the Gospel who have been sent on mission. Sisters and brothers, let us be rebuilt by the power of the Holy Spirit in us, and rebuild God’s Church in West Central Wisconsin. 

Jacob Zepp

Master of Pontifical Ceremonies and Assistant Director of the Office for Sacred Worship

Following the pilgrimages and festivities of the National Eucharistic Congress, the Ordinary Jubilee of the Year 2025 and the election of Pope Leo XIV, the decree that established the special Jubilee Year to commemorate the transitus of St. Francis of Assisi has largely been received as “just another jubilee year.” The jubilee year is—however—an extraordinary occasion for sanctification and indulgences.

To best explain how to celebrate this jubilee year, one must understand what the term actually means, how indulgences are granted during the year and why it is important to seek them to begin with.

Why Jubilee?

“Jubilee” comes from the Latin jubilare, which denotes a shout of joy or happiness. It is also derived from the Hebrew word yobel, which translates to “ram’s horn.” In the time of the Old Testament, a ram’s horn served as the trumpet which announced the beginning of the jubilee year.

The laws concerning the jubilee year are recorded in the sacred Scriptures. In the book of Leviticus, the jubilee year is prescribed to occur every 50th year, following seven cycles of seven years (49 years). The jubilee year was a year of restart—a socio-economic refresh. It was characterized by three primary elements: the prohibition against farming (Lv 25:11), the liberation of indentured servants (Lv 25:39-49) and the restoration of property to its original owner (Lv 25:10, 13). The jubilee year of the Old Law was a time of joy and gladness.

The laws regarding the jubilee year of the Old Law no longer bind us, and as stated in Hebrews 10:1, “The [Old] Law has a shadow of the good things to come.” Christ’s death ended the Old Law, and by His suffering, He fulfilled all its precepts. With Christ’s coming, the means to obtain the blessings of heaven became a present reality. Therefore, the ceremonies of the Old Law needed to cease and make way for new ceremonies, ordered toward the worship of God in the present immediate hope of heavenly blessings. (cf. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologicae, I-II, Q. 101, A. 3)

In the Christian era, jubilee years are times when the Church grants extraordinary indulgences. They have been observed at various intervals. The first Christian jubilee year is said to have occurred in 1300 A.D. Subsequent jubilee years were observed at intervals of 100 years, 50 years, 33 years and, as it is in current practice, 25 years. In addition to these Ordinary Jubilee Years, the pope has the authority to call special or extraordinary jubilee years. The current jubilee year is this second type, a special or extraordinary jubilee year.

Indulgences

To appreciate the great gift the Church is giving us during the jubilee year, it is important to understand what an indulgence is. To understand the concept, we must first understand what sin is and its effects. In the broadest sense, sin is any thought, desire, word, action or omission, voluntary or involuntary, forbidden by the Law of God. The effects of sin are threefold: (1) the guilt of sin, (2) temporal punishment and (3) in the case of mortal sins, eternal punishment.

Mortal sins are sins of grave matter, committed when the sinner knows that they are grave, and committed with full consent of the will. These sins deprive us of sanctifying grace and supernatural life. Without this communion with God, we are incapable of eternal life, and are doomed to hell— eternal punishment. 

Venial sins deter the life of grace, accustom us to sinful habits and lead us to commit mortal sins. The temporal punishment of sin is the punishment that is due to both venial sins and to mortal sins, even after the guilt of the sin has been forgiven.

The sacrament of penance does not remedy all the disorders sin has caused. Raised up from sin, the sinner must still recover his full spiritual health by doing something more to make amends for the sin: he must make satisfaction for, or expiate, his sins. Satisfactory penances greatly detach penitents from sin; they act as a bridle to keep them in check and encourage them to be more cautious and vigilant in the future. 

Aftereffects and Consequences

Moreover, these penances heal sin’s aftereffects and combat evil habits formed through a sinful life by fostering acts of virtue that oppose them. The sacrament of penance, worthily received, always and immediately removes the guilt and all eternal punishment. It also confers spiritual healing and the actual graces necessary for future preservation from sin. It also bestows communion with God in sanctifying grace, either by restoring it or increasing it.

Temporal punishment must be purified either here on earth or after death in purgatory. God requires temporal punishment for sin to satisfy His justice, to teach us the great evil of sin and to warn us not to sin again. This punishment must not be viewed as a form of vengeance God inflicts but rather as a consequence of sin’s very nature. As the name implies, temporal punishment lasts only for a time. In this life, this debt can be paid by fulfilling the penance after confession, through praying various prayers at Mass, fasting, almsgiving, works of mercy, patiently enduring suffering and through indulgences.

Indulgences are often explained by analogy: imagine a young boy throwing a baseball through a window. Two things break as the glass shatters: 1) the boy’s relationship with the window owner is broken by guilt, and 2) the window itself is smashed. When the boy confesses his offense to the window owner, the owner will forgive the boy of his guilt. Simple justice also requires that the boy replace the window. It can be fixed in two ways: the boy can save up his money from small jobs to buy a new window or someone else can buy the window on the boy’s behalf. 

Remission of Punishment for Sins Already Forgiven

Similarly, when we sin, we are: 1) guilty of damaging or breaking our relationship with God and His Church, and 2) simple justice requires we atone for our sin to remit the temporal punishment due to them. Guilt can be absolved in the sacrament of confession, and the temporal punishment can be remitted in two ways: by our good acts, words and thoughts or by an extraordinary gift (like someone buying the new window). This second way of repaying our debt is called an indulgence.

Simply put, an indulgence is the remission, granted by the Church, of the temporal punishment due to sins already forgiven. There are two types of indulgences: plenary indulgences (remission of all temporal punishment due to sin) and partial indulgences (remission of part of the temporal punishment due to sin). To gain an indulgence, one must be in the state of grace, have a general intention of gaining the indulgence and perform the Church’s required works. We can gain indulgences for ourselves and for the souls in purgatory.

By its very nature, an indulgence is not a pure act of grace, in which the temporal punishments for sin are remitted gratis—without anything being done in return. Instead, indulgences are rooted in the Church’s treasury of satisfaction, which consists of the infinite satisfaction of Christ and superabundant satisfactions of the saints.

During this special jubilee year, individuals can obtain a plenary indulgence by fulfilling the following conditions:

· Participate in a pilgrimage “to any Franciscan conventual church, or place of worship in any part of the world named after St. Francis or connected to him for any reason.”

· Spend at least a suitable period of time in pious meditation and raise prayers to God so that, following the example of St. Francis, sentiments of Christian charity towards one’s neighbor and authentic wishes for harmony and peace among peoples spring up in hearts. Conclude with the Our Father, the Creed and prayers invoking the Blessed Virgin Mary, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Clare and all the saints of the Franciscan family. Are in the state of grace (at least at the time the indulgence work is completed).

· Have the interior disposition of complete detachment from sin, even venial sin.

· Pray for the intentions of the Holy Father the day the indulgence work is performed or within several (about 20) days. One Our Father and one Hail Mary fully satisfies this.

· Receive the Eucharist the day the indulgence work is performed or within several (about 20) days.

· Make a sacramental confession the day the indulgence work is performed or within several (about 20) days.

Elderly individuals, the sick and their caregivers, as well as anyone unable to leave their homes for serious reasons, can also obtain a plenary indulgence. This is contingent upon their genuine detachment from sin and their intention to fulfill the three usual conditions as soon as possible. They can join spiritually in the jubilee celebrations of the Year of St. Francis by offering their prayers to the Merciful God, along with the pains and sufferings they experience in life.

If you lack the full disposition, or if the work and the prescribed conditions are not fulfilled, you will still gain a partial indulgence, remitting part of your temporal punishment. 

The obtainment of these indulgences offered by the Church—whether plenary or partial—and the attainment of a closer union with God is the most fitting way to observe the current jubilee year. This is indeed an extraordinary occasion for sanctification and indulgences. It is a time to move past your sins and their just punishment and— following the example of St. Francis—to draw nearer to the Lord. 

A life formed by Franciscan joy and love for the Church

Father Sam Martin
Vicar for Clergy

On the morning of June 11, 2010, as the Universal Church celebrated the Feast of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Diocese of La Crosse welcomed its 10th bishop, William Patrick Callahan. One of the most memorable things said by our new bishop during the morning news conference was the quip that “We’ve gotta get St. Francis out of the bird bath!” Bishop Callahan, in his inimitable style, brought down the house with that quote. And while the road that led Bishop Callahan to La Crosse is impressive, it all began with how St. Francis ended up in the birdbath in the first place.

Because he is still one of the most popular saints of all time, most of us know the basic narrative of St. Francis’ life. Raised in a well-to-do family, he was a passionate man who loved the “good life.” Seeking to achieve valor and station, he became a soldier, was captured during a battle and spent a year as a prisoner of war.

The reality of solitude, silence and suffering began to lay groundwork for Francis’ later epiphany that life is more than ephemeral pleasures. As his conversion continued, he found himself drawn more to Jesus Christ and His love for the Church, especially for the poor. When Jesus spoke to Francis from the Crucifix in San Damiano Church, He told Francis to, “go and rebuild my Church, which, as you see, is falling into ruin.”

Because all roads lead to Rome, Francis found himself there, seeking approval for the radical way of life he had begun to live. Initially, Pope Innocent III was unimpressed. But he had a dream that changed the course of world history. In that dream, immortalized by Giotto’s fresco in the big church above Francis’ tomb in Assisi, Francis was holding up a collapsing church, which just so happened to be the Roman Cathedral of St. John Lateran. Upon waking, Pope Innocent III was so affected by the dream that he told the little poor man from Assisi that his new order was approved.

Thus began a chapter in Church history that seems to have no end. St. Francis’ spirit, his love for the Church, his joy in creation (including once preaching to the birds) and his solicitude for the poor robustly resonate with us even eight centuries after his death.

How that radical saint affected our Bishop Callahan all began when he was a little boy and he and his mother began making weekly visits to a Franciscan church in Chicago.

A Boy, a Candle and a Call

“Mom’s day off was on Tuesday, and we often visited St. Peter’s Church.” Franciscans ran the parish, and young Bill Callahan would light a candle and admire the Franciscan saints while his mom said her prayers and went to confession. Later, as his 8th-grade graduation loomed closer, he had to decide what to do next.

Because a friend of his had applied and been accepted to Quigley Seminary South, Bill decided to do the same. That door closed however, and he was informed that he did not have a priestly vocation. This happened in the summer of 1968, one of the most tumultuous times in the Church and in young Bill Callahan’s life.

Formed by St. Francis

But then something unexpected happened, as if those candles that he once lit and those prayers that he once said were answered after all. Through a friend’s invitation, Bill applied to St. Mary’s Preparatory Seminary, operated by the Franciscans in Crystal Lake. This time they said yes! And so began a journey of faith that would mold his heart, mind and soul, thus preparing him to serve at the altar of God for the next half century. He would do all of this as a member of one of the orders of St. Francis.

When Father William Patrick Callahan was ordained to the priesthood, his life was placed at the service of Christ and His Church. Reflecting on his journey without delving into every assignment, it becomes evident that the Holy Spirit was guiding him on a path that would ultimately lead him to La Crosse and to us. From St. Francis, Father Callahan was learning a sincere and undivided love for the Church. Of all the attributes we see in St. Francis, his love for the Church dwarfs his love for creation. This is because St. Francis realized that there was simply no comparison: while creation is God’s gift to us, the Church is Jesus’ Bride.

Like St. Teresa of Ávila three centuries later, St. Francis sought to die as a faithful son of the Church. To that end, he accepted humiliation and misunderstanding. Francis’ love for the Church, a towering achievement at any age, continues to manifest, time and time again, in his followers. This love continued to grow and expand Father Callahan’s heart throughout his years of priestly service.

A Priest for the Church

From his first parish, Holy Family in Peoria, to his years as rector of St. Josaphat Basilica in Milwaukee, Father Callahan’s Franciscan heart led him to deeper joy and greater service in the Church. Echoing the earlier sentiment that all roads lead to Rome, Father Callahan was invited to serve as a spiritual director at the Pontifical North American College in Rome. Here, he experienced a sense of peace because he considered it to be ‘pure priestly work.’ And while being a Franciscan in a diocesan seminary certainly stretched him in ways that were not always easy, Father Callahan found the work taught him how to love priests—a gift that would serve him well in the years ahead.

Father Callahan, much like St. Francis, learned to see Christ in all his priests, even those struggling to uphold their vows. Wherever he went, Father Callahan carried the irrepressible spirit of St. Francis, and it served him well. Like Francis, he found strength in the communities that he served and sought to strengthen. And if there was a trademark for his ministry, people were quick to point out that with Father Callahan, there was, and is, always joy.

As a priest of the Church and a true son of St. Francis, it was perhaps inevitable that others would recognize Father Callahan’s heart and readiness for greater service. Many of us first became aware of him during his time as an auxiliary bishop in Milwaukee.

A Bishop for La Crosse

When Bishop Jerome Listecki was assigned to Milwaukee in 2009, leaving our diocese vacant, some even began praying explicitly for Bishop Callahan to be named our new bishop. In a diocese of impressive beauty, fidelity and potential, we needed a shepherd with a heart large enough to love the entire Church while also being personal enough to love us. So, God sent us Bishop William Patrick Callahan!

For 14 years, Bishop Callahan exercised his apostolic ministry, bringing Franciscan joy and peace to the 19 counties of our diocese. His love for the people of the diocese remains steadfast. As his health has declined, like Francis, he has accepted his limitations with grace. Reflecting on his life, Bishop Callahan recalls a young boy visiting a quiet church, learning how to speak to God and listen for His voice.

Because he faithfully performed those deeds, countless graces entered our world, providing hope and healing to those who needed it most. While there are still statues of St. Francis in various birdbaths throughout the diocese, it seems that, thanks to Bishop Callahan, he is also present in our minds, hearts and souls. St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us! 

Dr. Rick Trietley
(Lieutenant Colonel, US Army, Retired)
President, Viterbo University

For most of my life, I understood very little about the man, St. Francis of Assisi. While I had heard the name and the stories of his unique relationships with animals and nature, I did not comprehend the profound impact of his life as a privileged youth, soldier, prisoner of war, wounded veteran, peacemaker and servant of God. The stories, life experiences and inspiring accomplishments of this simple yet complex man became a shining light for me and a source of personal healing and redemption.

My 22-year active-duty Army career began in 1986 as an infantry officer. My service took my family and me to Fort Bragg, N.C.; Fort Wainwright, Ark.; Fort Benning, Ga.; Fort Leavenworth, Kans.; and many other locations. While serving at Fort Bragg, with the 82nd Airborne Division, the tragic events of 9/11 occurred. These events set in motion my eventual combat deployment to Afghanistan in 2003. As the second-in-command of over 3,200 paratroopers, the deployment was challenging, rewarding, exciting and life changing. I attribute my faith, continual prayers, desire to make it home to my family and an unwavering commitment to our soldiers and the mission as the reasons that I persevered. However, like many veterans, the experiences of combat took a mental toll on me, which I did not fully understand or accept until years later.

For nearly 15 years, I experienced vivid and sometimes troubling dreams, anxiety, hypervigilance (“head on a swivel”), lack of patience and other effects that I now realize were associated with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Despite this, I was able to function at a high level, and my family and personal relationships did not suffer. However, I did not feel right. Something was off. I convinced myself to just suck it up. Airborne Rangers never complain and never make excuses, so I continued to deny the truth and avoided addressing the problem.

A Pilgrimage to Assisi

As providence would have it, I had the opportunity to travel to Rome in 2014 as part of an Assisi Veterans’ Pilgrimage, led by the Franciscan Pilgrimage Program. It was a transformative experience to walk in St. Francis’s footsteps, learn about his life journey, touch the same spaces he did almost 800 years ago and begin the process of letting go of the guilt I had been carrying.

I was accompanied by fellow veterans who shared similar experiences and challenges. I listened to them, and they listened to me. It was also on this pilgrimage that I met Father Conrad Targonski, a retired military chaplain and Navy captain who led the pilgrimage. Father Conrad and I forged a friendship that continues to this day. I like to say that Afghanistan took me to Assisi, and Assisi led me on a journey to forgiveness, healing and redemption. I returned from the pilgrimage with a new outlook, “less baggage,” and hope for the future. I had a new outlook on life, feeling lighter and filled with hope for the future.

Helping Veterans Connect with St. Francis

Fast-forward four more years to a new opportunity in my higher education career as divine providence surfaced once again. I was recruited to serve at another Catholic Franciscan university in the Midwest. The university chaplain at this school was none other than Father Conrad. I accepted the position and, with Father Conrad’s assistance, finally sought the help I had avoided for so many years. Father Conrad and I also partnered to recruit more veterans for the Veterans’ Pilgrimage to Rome and Assisi.

Additionally, Father John Cella of the Franciscan Pilgrimage Company provided me with the opportunity to serve as the liaison for the Veterans’ Pilgrimage. Our goal remains to serve our nation’s veterans by providing opportunities for healing, support and camaraderie with fellow veterans through the veterans’ pilgrimage experience. We have expanded to two veterans’ pilgrimages per year. We actively recruit veterans from the Korean War to the present day to join us in Assisi and Rome.

I returned to Assisi and Rome in 2018, accompanied by my wife of 37 years, Michele. The opportunity to share this experience with her and finally tell my personal story to the other veterans and spouses in attendance was meaningful and therapeutic.

Service as the “Lesser Brother”

I currently serve as the president of Viterbo University in La Crosse and have the privilege to work with Father Conrad every day as we continue to support our student veterans and their families. We are incredibly proud that Viterbo has once again earned the designation as a Military Friendly “Gold” status institution. Serving those who so selflessly served our great nation is an amazing honor.

The life and example of St. Francis have brought renewed clarity and inspiration to my personal and professional lives. Through humility, surrender and acceptance, I have journeyed with fellow veterans, family members and friends to follow in his footsteps. My post-military service experiences have reinforced my commitment to servant leadership and the concept of leadership as a “lesser brother.” I am truly blessed for all that God has provided in my life and will continue to live with a spirit of charity, service to others and deep faith. Thank you, St. Francis, for opening my eyes, ears and heart to this journey—a good journey indeed.

“Pace-e-Bene.” 

FSPA President Sue Ernster and embracing human dignity

Sister Sue Ernster

President of the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration

Celebrating the year of St. Francis of Assisi, along with the 800th anniversary of his death, offers the opportunity to reflect on how he lived, what was important to him and consider how he and the Franciscan charism are relevant in today’s world. Francis is quoted as saying, “I have done what was mine to do, may Christ teach you what is yours.”

I often find myself and others asking, “What is ours to do?” It seems that there is much to do, and it is difficult to know where to start. How we view the situation, such as a problem or gift, matters. Often, when we encounter a problem or situation, such as those we read or hear about in the news, we intertwine the person with the problem. The problem is the focus, not the person. The person is seen as something to be managed or fixed, as we would manage or fix a broken piece of equipment, rather than as an opportunity to engage in understanding the gift and how to receive and engage with it.

When we see the person as a task (a problem) rather than a gift, they become merely a function that needs fixing. This perspective may make us less open to or interested in them and their thoughts.

Rooted in Human Dignity and the Gospel

Genesis 1:31 reminds us how God sees: “God looked at everything He had made, and He found it very good.” Seeing or engaging each person as a gift given by God is living the Gospel and following in the footsteps of Jesus and Francis. Francis viewed all life as connected and not distinguished based on hierarchies. When he engaged with others, his primary focus was on the relationship rather than on judging the person or their behaviors. He recognized each person as good and a gift rather than as a task to be accomplished or a transaction to be completed.

All is a gift, reminding us to focus on how we want to engage with the person. As God loves us, so do we need to love. Focusing on the person’s dignity reminds us that everyone is inherently good and carries God within them. When we focus on dignity and goodness, opportunity and creativity are present rather than functionality.

We often look to our leaders for examples of best practices in leading others. Leading with dignity and respect is central to recognizing the gift we have from God and the Franciscan charism or spirituality.

Prayer as the Source of Right Relationship

As Francis strove to be another Christ, so do we. In doing so, he spent time away in prayer. To remember the gift we are and have, we need time away—just as Jesus and Francis did. For us, this time away, spent in adoration, allows us to regenerate, focus and remain grounded in what is important—Christ. Praying with and receiving the Eucharist grounds us in whose we are, nourishing us to sustain living our life for Christ and reverencing Christ’s creation.

Our time in prayer feeds us to go out, to live eucharistically, and to meet the needs of the world and live St. Clare of Assisi’s practices.

Clare of Assisi lived her life by the mantra she shared with St. Agnes of Prague: “Gaze upon Christ, consider Christ, contemplate Christ and imitate Christ.” Through gazing upon and meditating on Christ, we are drawn to imitate Him, to reach out, and to enter into relationship as He did. Christ’s capacity for relationship flowed from His relationship with God. As we seek to emulate Christ, spending time with God, the divine source of all being, is essential. One of the ways we do this is through prayer and adoration, especially in front of the exposed Blessed Sacrament.

A person’s dignity is at the heart of service and leadership and respecting this dignity helps us to keep individuals as subjects rather than objects. When they are the subject, relationships become more personal.

Encountering someone as a gift rather than a task recognizes their goodness and intrinsic value. It harkens to the importance of human dignity and openness in relationships with one another. When Francis encountered the sultan during the Fifth Crusade, the primary focus with the sultan was relationship and not successful conversion. They saw each other as subjects (persons) rather than objects (someone to convert). The relationship was a gift rather than a task or a problem to be solved.

Eucharist as the Foundation for Mission

Francis’ desire for being in right relationship sprang from his desire to imitate Christ. He knew that Jesus’ relationship with God and the Holy Spirit was communitarian, overflowing with love and goodness. Through time spent in prayer and being fed by the Eucharist, Francis was compelled to praise all of creation, recognizing God’s presence in it. Through the Eucharist, we receive the graces to become more fully Christ-like and to live lives of thanksgiving.

In our living of the Eucharist, we have come to understand our responsibility to strengthen all relationships, including those from our past. Our administration of St. Mary’s Boarding School in Odanah, Wis., from 1883 to 1969 is one of these and is part of our truth and healing work.

We recognize that our complicity in administering a Native American Boarding School in Odanah caused intergenerational trauma resulting from forced assimilation and cultural eradication. We actively seek to disrupt this trauma through the inner work of acknowledging our past and fully understanding the impact the school had on others. Through this, and by listening to their stories, we engage more openly and meaningfully.

Our truth and healing work is rooted and grounded in our desire to be in right relationship with others. This knowledge has led us to work with and strengthen our relationship with the Lac du Flambeau Tribe.

In working with the Lac du Flambeau on the land transfer in October 2025, the first of its kind in the U.S., the dignity of the person, unveiling our white privilege, care for creation, right relationship and encounter were all involved. During the process, we recognized that, due to our skin color, we have been afforded privileges that others have been denied or challenged to obtain, such as access to land.

In the discussions leading to the transfer, we tried to embrace this relationship as one of encounter and gift rather than trying to change the other as task or problem to be solved. There were challenges to address as we engaged in the relationship and closed on the land transfer.

Reliance on God for the Work Ahead

We are becoming more self-confident in who we are, which helps us avoid the need to change ourselves or persuade others. These actions, along with our ability to engage in and navigate difficult situations, stem from a deep relationship with God, reliance on Him and the recognition that God is always with us.

Reliance on God, seeing and believing in His goodness, lifts us to live the Gospel. This allows us to discern and do what it is ours to do now to meet the needs of the times. 

—Ministering to Others Since 1919

Story by Marcy Stenstrom

“Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”
—St. Francis of Assisi

St. Francis of Assisi is known for many beautiful and inspiring words of profound depth and simplicity, which he exemplified during his lifetime in the 13th century. Since then, so many other men and women have been called or attracted to follow his template of Christian discipleship, influenced by his model of simple living and harmony with nature. This template is the foundation of the Franciscan Order’s most basic principles: humility, poverty, brotherhood and service to the poor.

Just 100 years ago, Franciscan provincial leaders in the Archdiocese of Milwaukee sought a more remote, rural location to establish a house of studies that could accommodate the influx of men joining this religious order. Accordingly, 40 acres of land in Marathon, a small rural town 20 miles west of Wausau, were purchased in 1917.

After many local farmers donated and hauled tons of stones by horse and cart, and after major excavations, the masons and bricklayers began their work. They labored alongside friars of all ages, all laboring to fulfill God’s purpose and in service of their vocations.

In the Beginning

The cornerstone was laid on July 7, 1918. On Aug. 15 of the following year, with a Mass and eucharistic procession, the very first building, featuring four wings forming a rectangle, was completed and dedicated. The structure reflects strong German roots and demonstrates Gothic and Italianate architectural influences.

The massive house of studies operated as a friary under the patronage of St. Anthony of Padua because St. Anthony was the first lector of the Franciscan Order and an excellent homilist and preacher. The province leaders also chose the namesake of St. Anthony in memory of Father Anthony Rottensteiner, a highly admired German Capuchin intellectual, who died in Milwaukee in 1903.

As is typical of most monasteries and orders, St. Anthony’s has a central chapel for adoration and worship, flanked on three sides by small, peaceful interior courtyards. The halls, or plaza, form a square around the courtyards and chapel, where hundreds of Capuchins who lived and studied there walked upon the original concrete floors daily.

From House of Studies to Retreat Center

For the next 40 years, St. Anthony’s in Marathon served as a vibrant, thriving house for men eager to discern a vocation to the priesthood. During their time there, they studied theology and philosophy, practiced the Liturgy of the Hours, spent time with the Lord in eucharistic adoration, celebrated Mass and lived in community with one another.

Unlike monks who do not leave their monastery, the Capuchin friars often ministered outside their walls to the surrounding parishes and communities. Despite the house of studies being off limits to outsiders, the friars enjoyed much more than a limited community life.

They were known for their woodworking and carpentry skills; many of the Capuchin’s handmade wall décor, utilitarian necessities and folk-art creations are still visible throughout the building.

They were also exceptionally self-sufficient. They sewed their own brown cassocks in a dedicated tailor room, crafted leather sandals in a cobbler room, baked hundreds of loaves of bread in a special bakery room, grew fruit and vegetables, made maple syrup and made wine from grapes grown on the property. They even printed and published books, hymnals and a magazine about their order and prayerful way of life, and they produced, recorded and broadcast a TV show in the late 1960s.

A boom in enrollment in the early 1960s required an addition to the east side of the main building to accommodate additional living quarters. By the late 1970s, however, vocations and residency dropped dramatically, and St. Anthony’s was no longer a viable house of studies.

Many of the remaining older friars relocated to other provinces, but the Capuchins who remained pivoted and opened the house to retreatants, laypersons and religious sisters. They also encouraged on-campus residency for dedicated volunteers.

With the help of all, the “new” retreat center flourished and, for the next 40 years, operated as a place for anyone seeking a peaceful retreat for renewal in a hospitable and communal environment.

The Capuchins continued to share their faith and simple virtues with laypersons, creating deep admiration and lifelong bonds of friendship.

“To heal…, unite…, and bring home…”

During this time, former seminary professor, retreat staff member and resident Capuchin Father Peter Hesse began the ministry of support for those struggling with addiction and seeking recovery. He was an integral part of creating the center’s well-known annual “serenity” retreats and developed trusting relationships with men and women in recovery. He was also a jack-of-all-trades, responsible for the maintenance and care of the entire building and grounds. Fellow Capuchin, Father Tom Zelinski, shared his sentiments during their time together at the center. “He did all his work with quiet humility and the trust in God that he had developed over many years.”

Father Hesse died on Nov. 18, 2004, and is interred in the small Capuchin cemetery plot behind St. Anthony’s just beyond the newly established prairie gardens. His legacy of recovery continues, and his imprint on St. Anthony’s is forever memorialized.

Transitioning Eras

By 2010, the number of friars in residency at St. Anthony’s had further decreased. Now there were only two: Father Dan Crosby and Father Tom Zelinski. Over the next three years, it became clear that the Province of St. Joseph, the owners and facilitators, needed to evaluate the financial viability of St. Anthony’s operations. The provincial leaders realistically assessed pastoral plans and province membership as fewer men were joining the order, while the significantly larger number of friars were aging and retiring.

“Many expressed strong support for maintaining our presence at St. Anthony,” said Father Zelinski. “This is because of the valuable ministry that continues there, our historical connection with that part of Wisconsin, and the nostalgia felt by the friars who passed through studying the priesthood or were brothers in formation there. Some friars used to refer to this place as the ‘Paradise of the Province.’”

Father Zelinski emphasized that this decision was not made lightly. “There was a stirring that many attributed to the action of the Holy Spirit,” he explained. “Lay people began to hold meetings, and ‘We can’t let this place close’ became a kind of battle cry.”

A group of dedicated St. Anthony Ministry Associates, consisting of retreatants, volunteers, and donors, formed a nonprofit LLC called St. Anthony’s of Marathon. They successfully negotiated a purchase agreement with the Province of St. Joseph to ensure the facility continues to operate as a retreat house, meeting center, and place of residency. The original rooms will also be available for private retreats.

With a board of directors, staff and volunteers, this historic and sentimental place is preserved.

Franciscan Living for All

In 2013, when the last Capuchin relocated to another brotherhood community, the Board of Directors continued operating St. Anthony’s but changed its name from a retreat to a spirituality center. Today, the house is finding its footing again under the leadership of Center Director Jackie Kellner, faithful staff and dedicated volunteers.

Visitors are encouraged to schedule a tour to explore the house and the 30+ acres of wooded trails, the Lourdes Grotto, outdoor Stations of the Cross, the grassy labyrinth and several peaceful natural water features along the Rib River that flow through the property.

As an independently owned nonprofit, St. Anthony’s relies heavily on generous donations to sustain its mission: a sanctuary for peace, hope, restoration and spiritual growth. They offer a range of historical rooms suitable for meetings or small group retreats.

St. Anthony’s is open to the public year-round, except on major holidays. Please call or email to schedule a free tour.

Visit sarcenter.com or use your smartphone to scan the QR code below to find retreat offerings or book a private retreat (starting at $65 per night).

Follow them on Facebook and Instagram to stay updated on current events, volunteer opportunities, and enjoy fun photos and videos of their building and grounds.

Deacon Kyle Lang prepares for ordination with a heart for parish life

Story by Mary Kay McPartlin

Growing up in West Salem with his older brother and parents, Deacon Kyle Lang learned the faith by watching it lived. His parents were active in their parish, St. Teresa of Kolkata (formerly St. Leo the Great), and the family was, as Deacon Kyle puts it, “very faithful.” He also admits, with characteristic honesty, that he took it for granted.

The Faith Grows

Kyle’s parents, who were public school teachers in Onalaska and West Salem at the elementary and middle school levels, centered their lives around family and faith. Their work schedule aligned with their sons’ school schedules and allowed the Langs to spend plenty of time together during the school year and holidays. Deacon Kyle especially recalls the family times spent camping and appreciating nature.

After graduating from high school, Deacon Kyle moved east to attend Princeton University. Like many young people, the faith practices from his family became his own in college.

While his experience of faith in high school mainly involved attending Mass, with less focus on developing a personal and robust prayer life, surprising changes occurred in college. “I assumed my faith practices would remain the same,” Deacon Kyle admits, “going to church on Sundays while neglecting my prayer life.”

It was Deacon Kyle’s friends who helped him discover a depth to faith that went beyond just attending Mass. He discovered the joy of doing God’s work.

“I was struck by two things,” Deacon Kyle says. “My friends were not only smarter and wiser than me, but they also lived their intellectual commitments to the Faith in a way that truly mattered. Mass was not just a Sunday obligation for them; it practically and tangibly affected how they lived their week. That was very attractive, and eventually, you start to adopt the habits of your friends.”

A Place at the Table

That deepening at Princeton gave Deacon Kyle a perspective on young people and the Church that has stayed with him. He sees a generation that has tried the alternatives and has been left wanting more.

“For a couple of generations, we’ve tried living life without God,” Deacon Kyle states. “Young adults are realizing that the world does not adequately answer the deepest questions we face. We are not just horizontal, flat beings; we are both body and soul.”

People come to the Church with different needs and can absorb different aspects of life as Catholics. Deacon Kyle likes to compare the Faith to a banquet, an image often used by Jesus in His parables.

The Church is like a great feast,” he explains. “She desires all to participate. If we aren’t ready for all 16 courses, maybe we begin with one. But importantly, we are still participating in the banquet. The mind of the Church is not, ‘here come the scholars’ or ‘here come the athletes.’ Rather, it’s ‘here comes everybody.'” 

He observed this dynamic while serving on the ministry team at Princeton. As the service chair, he organized volunteer outings at different locations, including a soup kitchen and a farm.

Some weeks, only a few people volunteered, and other weeks, a large group of people pitched in.

“I’ve come to realize that people can evangelize and bring people to Christ in any number of activities and places. An absence of presence at these events doesn’t indicate a lack of presence elsewhere.”

Which Path to Take?

As his Princeton years drew to a close, Deacon Kyle was weighing futures. There was always the possibility of working in a big city, commanding a large salary. But he could also see himself in a small town, trading salary for service. And then a third possibility surfaced—one that, in hindsight, had been present for a long time.

In third grade, young Kyle had dressed as a priest for Halloween and trick-or-treated through the neighborhood in his version of clerics.

The choice that presented itself at graduation was more concrete: teach religion and English in a small town in “the middle of nowhere” or move closer to discerning a calling to the priesthood. He chose the latter, moving in with a group of priests in Madison to begin discernment in earnest. Life among those priests gave him what he needed to take the next step: seminary.

All Roads Lead to Rome

During his propaedeutic year, Deacon Kyle lived in La Crosse as he prepared for his new life. He spent his first year in seminary at St. Francis de Sales in Milwaukee. That summer, he took additional courses to qualify for his move to Rome, where he would continue his studies at the Pontifical North American College (PNAC).

After completing the prerequisites, Deacon Kyle traveled to Rome to attend PNAC. While he spent much of the next four years there, he also had opportunities to serve the Church in a variety of settings.

During his second summer at PNAC, for example, Deacon Kyle volunteered at Casa Hogar in Peru. Spread across countries and cultures, these experiences prepared him for the kind of ministry that awaited him: parish life, where the feast is open to everyone who walks through the door.

The time he spent with people from diverse backgrounds and environments was a gift. It also served as an excellent prelude to parish life, helping him better understand the needs of his future parishioners. “It’s important for us to be surrounded by people at all stages of life throughout our journey. Christ cares about each of us at every phase of our lives.”

His years at PNAC also placed him at two extraordinary moments in Church history. He was present in Rome for the deaths of both Pope Benedict XVI and Pope Francis. He was also in St. Peter’s Square on Easter Sunday when Pope Francis gave his final Urbi et Orbi blessing, only hours before his death on Easter Monday.

The conclave began on May 7, and Deacon Kyle and his classmates followed it closely. They joined thousands in St. Peter’s Square on the evening of the first day. The following day, he planned to remain in the library to study, assuming it was unlikely a new Holy Father would be elected so quickly.

At 5:30 p.m., he was still in the library. Initially, he intended to keep studying, since white smoke seemed unlikely. But at 5:40 p.m., he changed his mind and walked down to the square. When the white smoke appeared only 27 minutes later, Deacon Kyle’s first thought was, “There goes my evening.”

As a resident of Rome, Pope Leo XIV has become a source of inspiration for Deacon Kyle in his ministry as a shepherd. “He’s my local bishop,” Deacon Kyle explains. “He carries the weight of the office very well. One thing he is doing right now is visiting many of the parishes on the outskirts of Rome.

The Sacrament of Holy Orders

Deacon Kyle will be ordained on June 27 at the Cathedral of St. Joseph the Workman in La Crosse. As throughout his life, his family will play a pivotal role.

“I tell people my mom is more excited than I am,” he says with a laugh. “My family has been wonderful and supportive. I’m especially excited to have my grandparents there. My maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother have been heroes in my life. Both are daily Mass-goers, and I see so much wisdom in their love for our family and their commitment to the sacraments.”

As he prepares for life as a diocesan priest, Deacon Kyle looks forward to celebrating the sacraments with his parishioners.

“I’m looking forward to the surprises of each day,” he says. “In the life of a priest or religious, we are set apart from the world to cling more closely to the divine. I’m grateful to devote myself fully to the affairs of the Lord.”

Family, he notes, is at the heart of parish life, and he looks forward to building relationships within his new parish community. “I’m looking forward to sharing meals with many different families, knowing that each home will have its own character and traditions,” Deacon Kyle says.

The Call to the Priesthood

When asked what advice he would give someone considering the priesthood, Deacon Kyle is brief and direct. “Do it!” he says. “It’s a very joyful thing to be this close to the Lord. He came that we might have life more abundantly.”

He believes the discernment process should not be unnecessarily stressful and that it requires more than abstract thought to understand God’s call.

“We are following a God of love and joy, not a God of angst,” Deacon Kyle explains. “Does God want me to become a priest? The answer comes through a deep friendship with Jesus in prayer and the Sacraments and through serving others—your family, your neighbors and the poor. 

Father Conrad Targonski, OFM, carried St. Francis with him to war and now continues to carry him home

Near the end of his life, worn down by illness and nearly blind, St. Francis of Assisi composed a prayer he called the Canticle of the Creatures. It moves through creation … praising God through the sun and moon, wind and water, fire and earth, and finally Francis praises God through suffering itself and through death.

It is the work of a man who found God in poverty, isolation, pain and God’s splendor in each.

The following text captures a conversation with Father Conrad Targonski, OFM. It is framed with the same structure as Canticle of the Creatures and what it means to carry Francis’ vision forward through war, priesthood and the warrior’s seemingly endless journey back home to Ithaca.

When Father Conrad’s dear friend, Kathy, learned that he was leaving Camp Pendleton to bury his mother, she asked him to bring back some of his mother’s clothes, his father’s shirts, and any old habits he had left, even the tattered ones.

From all of it, she made him a quilt and named it “The Canticle.”

“Don’t put it behind glass,” Kathy told him. “Put it on your bed. That’s your blankie.”

He still sleeps under it.

For Father Conrad, a retired Navy captain, former regimental chaplain with the Marines in Fallujah, and now chaplain at Viterbo University in La Crosse, the quilt feels especially fitting. It is stitched from his Marine dress blues, his brown Franciscan habit and the threads of both his parents’ civilian life and his own consecrated one. It is a life marked by loss and return, by war and by grace.

He has spent decades reflecting on the teachings of St. Francis of Assisi, who wrote the Canticle of the Creatures near the end of his life, and on what Franciscan spirituality offers men and women who have experienced combat. More and more, he has come to see that it speaks into that experience more deeply than most people realize.

Brother Sun: Clarity and Calling

St. Francis begins the Canticle with light. “Praised be You, my Lord, with all Your creatures, especially Sir Brother Sun,” he writes. “Who is the day and through whom you give us light.” Where, then, does a man who has been to war and back most clearly see God?

Father Conrad answers without hesitating: “The faces of people.”

He remembers that when Jesus entered Jerusalem and declared, “I am the light of the world,” the leaders turned away from His face. “Touching the face of God,” Father Conrad says, “is a principle of spirituality. The face of God reflects mercy and compassion.”

It’s why, after he retired from the Navy, he says with a smile, that his first instinct was to become a Walmart greeter. “I want to look people in the face and let them know they don’t have to carry a burden alone,” he explains. That yearning has not diminished. Father Conrad’s assuring gaze can be found at the gym, at the corner coffee shop and at the Place of Grace.

He recognizes the same instinct in St. Francis, who was himself a changed man after war. The 1972 film “Brother Sun, Sister Moon” opens with Francis returning from battle appearing unraveled.

To the men and women of today who have faced battle, Father Conrad shares that Francis’ message would be, “The God who made the sun made you, and the face looking back at you from the other side of the wire carries that same light.”

Sister Moon: Faith without Certainty

The moon and stars in Francis’ Canticle do not eliminate darkness. They cast light within it, a light that pierces it. They are faithful without being forceful, present without answering every question.

For Father Conrad, nature and the Beatitudes have sustained his faith through deployments, deaths and a brand of anxiety that can still ambush him on a given morning.

“Invariably, when I spend time in nature,” he says, “I see hope. Creation is always renewing itself, one season yielding to the next.” Over time, that pattern has reshaped how he reads the Gospel. He has come to see Matthew’s Beatitudes not as a preface, but as a map—and the rest of the Gospel as their commentary.

The Canticle praises God through the moon not because darkness disappears but because within it, clarity, preciousness and beauty come into view.

Brother Wind: Letting Go of Control

Wind can’t be directed. Francis praises God through it anyway.

Father Conrad retired as a captain from the U.S. Navy (equivalent to a colonel in the Army). He led chaplains in training and served as regimental chaplain for the Marines in the early days of the Iraq War.

He received the warning order indicating a deployment to Iraq and an accompanying feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I was trying to understand how to reconcile being a Friar Minor going to war.” His spiritual director sent him a passage from the Gospel of John: “When you were younger, you did what you wanted. When you are older, others will dress you and put you where you ought to be.” (Jn 21:18) Alongside it, he wrote: “Do not fear. I am with you.”

He packed that passage alongside his book of the Gospels and a wooden carving of Our Lady of Guadalupe he had bought in the alleys of Tijuana. The passage did not remove the fear but became a lifeline because it named what was happening. Someone else was now directing where he would go.

The tension between his rank and Francis’ radical poverty was real, but it resolved in an unexpected way. “That rank was for them,” he says of the sailors and Marines he served. With an eagle on his collar, he could walk into a general’s office and advocate for a young sailor or Marine who needed assistance and wasn’t receiving it.

In Fallujah, he was the only priest in his regiment. Of 15 chaplains, one was Catholic. He told the young evangelical chaplains he’d trained in Newport: “You have been ordained. God will provide. Step up.” And they did.

One afternoon, during pre-deployment briefings at Camp Pendleton, a sociologist who had been speaking to the Marines about winning hearts and minds pulled him aside. Formed in the Franciscan tradition, she quickly recognized his Franciscan spirituality. When she returned to the stage, she told the thousand gathered Marines: “Gentlemen, you should be excited. You’re going to Iraq with a Franciscan.”

He was not a Franciscan despite his rank. His rank became the way he lived it.

Sister Water: Healing and Humility

Father Conrad has led veterans’ pilgrimages to Assisi for years. When asked where real healing begins, he names four places: Poggio Bustone, where Francis returned from war and struggled toward grace; Greccio, where he revealed Christ’s humanity in a new Bethlehem; La Verna, where the stigmata came; and Gubbio.

Gubbio, in the Umbrian hills, is where Francis is said to have walked out alone to meet a wolf that had been terrorizing the town. He called him “Brother Wolf” and then simply spoke. Francis brokered a peace and when the wolf padded behind Francis back into the village square, the townspeople welcomed, fed and loved the creature they formerly considered dangerous and outcast.

For veterans who have made the pilgrimage to Assisi and visited Gubbio, the story punctures through to the soul as much, or more, than the basilicas, frescoes and sacred relics. Those returning from war can carry home a ferocity, hypervigilance and a darkness they cannot easily  make known to people who haven’t lived it.

To others, these people, akin to a wolf prowling in the woods, can be “other.” And veterans can feel that otherness so deeply that even the idea of welcome, safety, fraternity and belonging is overwhelming and brings them to tears.

To hear Francis walk toward that dangerous creature and name it as brother, not as a glib euphemism

 but as deep recognition, is to be met in a way the rest of the world rarely meets them. The village doesn’t ask the wolf to become a dog, hunt it down or turn their backs in fear. The village sets a place for Brother Wolf at the table.

“Every group after that,” Father Conrad says, reflecting how Gubbio became central to the veteran pilgrimages, “doesn’t want to leave.”

(“Come Here Brother Wolf,” a documentary produced and edited by Dustin Luecke during a recent veteran pilgrimage to Assisi led by Father Conrad, recently received Best Documentary honors at the Amsterdam New Cinema Film Festival.)

Brother Fire: Zeal and Passion

Fire, in the Canticle, is “handsome and robust and strong.” It gives light and heat. It can also consume. Francis praises God through it anyway.

For Father Conrad, that fire has a name: the “Office of the Passion of St. Francis of Assisi.” “That’s his fire,” he says, with a seriousness that leaves no room for metaphor. He reads it daily and keeps a copy in his truck.

He brought it with him to Iraq, alongside with the wooden carving of Our Lady of Guadalupe he had bought in the alleys of Tijuana. The carving was battered by mortar fire and was repaired again and again by a master sergeant’s hands. Several of its wooden rays are still detached and they remain that way.

This is what Francis means by fire: not enthusiasm as a personality trait but a furnace in the chest that the worst things cannot extinguish.

Sister Mother Earth: Place, Pilgrimage and Formation

After Fallujah, Father Conrad walked the Camino de Santiago. He did not plan it as a retreat. He planned to walk.

At one point, ready to quit, he nearly flagged down one of the buses that run along the route. His companion talked him out of it. They kept moving, toward bronze figures of pilgrims cut into the landscape, arms extended forward, faces resolute. A Spanish woman stopped them once. “You are walking in the footprints of people from 800 years ago,” she said. “And now they will walk in yours.”

The difference between intellectual formation and pilgrimage formation, Father Conrad believes, is that pilgrimage catches a person in the body. “You wind up somewhere different than you started,” he says. “That’s the whole goal. A vacation is organized around a destination. A pilgrimage is organized around the day-by-day.”

He now serves alongside the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration at San Damiano Chapel at Viterbo University. From them, he has learned what persistence in prayer looks like when it is lived. “I don’t have to be on my knees in a chapel,” he says. “I can be in a mood of prayer.” Late at night, he sometimes drives past and sees the tower lit, knowing the prayers inside have not stopped. That steadiness has taught him something even war, deployment and long roads through Spain could not fully reach.

Those Who Forgive: Mercy and the  Human Heart

Francis closes the Canticle with those who endure weakness and forgive. It is the hardest verse. Francis knew it too.

What Father Conrad has come to understand is that forgiveness is not a thunderclap. It is a process. It unfolds much like prayer itself, working through a relationship with God in real time.

“I’m a being in process,” he says. He still carries anger. Specific deaths. Specific failures. April is a hard month. The Battle of Husaybah was in April. Some things, he admits, he may carry to his grave. He is at peace with that in a way he was not 10 years ago. The process continues.

Sister Death: Trust and Surrender

Late one night, near the Syrian border, Father Conrad was brought to a medical van marked by green chem lights. He opened the doors and walked in. Two Marines, just recently killed, lay on litters. They had been struck by a landmine.

Their hands extended from beneath the sheets covering their bodies.

Still warm.

In the back of the van, a Navy corpsman, 18 or 19 years old, was shaking in the dark. Father Conrad spoke with him until he steadied, then prayed over the two Marines.

He speaks of this in a voice veterans use when sharing points of their military experience with another veteran that cannot be easily explained outside that shared service, with piercing depth, vulnerability and honesty.

“That embedded itself in me,” he says. April, when the memory returns most sharply, he has learned to do something different than he did for years: he sits with it rather than under it. He looks at it as something he now shares with the risen Christ, who, Father Conrad notes, always showed His wounds after the resurrection.

“Why does Jesus always show His wounds?” he asks. “He’s saying: I’m with you. I know what this cost.”

A Dominican priest, his spiritual director long since gone, once told him that what the war had done to him was a kind of stigmata. Not marks on the hands but wounds carried in the body as a conformity to Christ’s own. Francis hid his stigmata from nearly everyone. Yet what they came to mean is what Father Conrad believes wounds are ultimately for: solidarity with the suffering Christ, who is not finished walking with His people.

Final Praise: What Francis Offers Now

He is approaching 80 now. The Franciscans have asked whether he might move on to Silver Spring, Santa Barbara or perhaps Pulaski, Wis., where Franciscan friars who survived Nazi concentration camps are buried. He would like to walk among those graves. He knows some of those names. They were his teachers.

But his march is far from complete. He leads pilgrimages with passion and honor. He reads the Office of the Passion in his truck. He celebrates Mass at San Damiano Chapel at Viterbo University, and more often now than before, during consecration, something happens and the words open and he gets lost inside them. With emotion, Father Conrad describes these powerful encounters with Christ as “levitating.”

If asked what St. Francis requires of a person, not sentimentally or as a private devotion but as something lived, Father Conrad returns to the same word: compassion. But not softness. Risk. The friars who went to Mississippi in the 1950s to serve in the Delta. The friar who received a death threat and answered it with an invitation to coffee.

“You can’t justify risks,” Father Conrad says. “You just go.” Franciscan spirituality is not soft, it is a way of surviving and interpreting suffering through Christ.

That is, finally, what the Canticle of the Creatures is. It is not a poem about birds or weather but the witness of a man near the end of his life, changed by war and carrying wounds he could not set down. He looks at the world around him, at light and darkness, beauty and violence, the wolf in the woods, the sisters who pray unceasingly, the faces of those he meets and finds in all of it the face of God.

O praise and bless my Lord, thank Him and serve Him humbly but grandly! 

Story by Dan Rislove

The Society of Jesus, also known as the Jesuits, has been preaching the Catholic Faith in Wisconsin since the earliest days of French missionary activity in the region. On June 13th, the Jesuits celebrated the ordination of Father Erin Kast from Wausau. Father Kast was first welcomed into the Jesuit order in 2015, and he made a personal commitment in perpetuity two years later. His ordination is the culmination of more than a decade of prayer, discernment and formation.

Growing up in Wausau, Father Kast and his family attended St. Anne Parish. During the week, he received a solid Catholic education through Newman Catholic Schools. He was initially drawn to the Capuchins, who have a strong presence in Wausau, and came to know Father Dan Crosby through his work at St. Anthony Retreat Center (now St. Anthony Spirituality Center).

The Jesuits were also woven into his family history. His mother had attended a Jesuit school in Mumbai, India, and one of her closest childhood friends, Father Frazier, became a Jesuit priest. The Jesuits later helped her earn her doctoral degree at Fordham University.

When the time came for college, Father Kast followed in his mother’s footsteps to Fordham University. While there, he found the Jesuit vocation director’s contact information online and reached out to Father Paul Coelho, S.J. A fruitful conversation led him to enter the Jesuit novitiate for the Midwestern Province in St. Paul, Minn., in 2015. Over the years, Father Coelho, who also grew up in India, became a spiritual mentor and friend. He vested Father Kast at his ordination on June 13 at the Church of the Gesu in Milwaukee.

The Long Road of Jesuit Formation 

The journey from novitiate to priestly ordination has taken 11 years. The journey is long but typical for those in Jesuit formation. Like most seminary programs, formation involves community life, prayer, spiritual direction and retreats. Academic formation is especially rigorous: Jesuit seminarians receive extensive training in both philosophy and theology, spending roughly three years on each. Between those programs of study, they serve in an apostolic ministry called a regency. Father Kast spent his regency teaching chemistry and biology at Creighton Prep in Omaha, Neb.

Jesuit novices participate in what are called “experiments.” The term comes from from the Spanish word experimentar, meaning “to experience.” These take many forms: working in a prison, a hospital or a school. One experiment, the pilgrimage, involves going out into the world as a mendicant, relying entirely on God and the generosity of strangers. The purpose is radical dependence on God. Father Kast described it as “an opportunity to put your life entirely in the hands of God, to let God take care of everything.”

For his pilgrimage, Father Kast was given $30 and a one-way bus ticket to the city of his choice. He could not return for 30 days. He chose Selma, Ala. He brought a pocket New Testament, a copy of “The Imitation of Christ,” a water bottle and a letter from his superior with a contact number. He had no phone, no plans to stay with friends or family and was instructed not to volunteer that he was a seminarian.

In Selma, Father Kast volunteered at a soup kitchen and was given shelter. From there, he walked to Montgomery, retracing the route of the 1965 civil rights marches, having spent 50 cents on a blanket so he could sleep on the side of the road.

In each city, he volunteered at a homeless shelter or Catholic relief agency, giving away whatever money he had accumulated when he left and beginning again with nothing. In the final days of his pilgrimage, he befriended a group of Japanese Buddhist monks and spent hours in conversation with them while helping build a pagoda in the Appalachian Mountains. As his 30-day deadline approached, they offered to buy him a bus ticket home if he stayed a few extra days. He called his superior for permission. Permission was granted.

Thoughts on Discerning a Vocation

Father Kast draws deeply from St. Ignatius of Loyola on the subject of discernment. Sometimes, he notes, a person simply knows what God is calling them to do, but that is rare. More often, Ignatius teaches two modes of discernment. The first attends to the interior movements of the spirit: Is what you are feeling consolation, drawing you toward God? Or desolation, pulling you away? When feelings are stirred, their origin reveals their direction. When feelings are absent, the second mode applies: reason through the decision, weigh the options and make the best judgment available.

For Father Kast, discernment often calls for concrete acts of commitment: Make an initial offering of faithfulness, take a vow, accept an assignment, say yes to what God seems to be asking and then trust. “God makes it fruitful in ways you couldn’t imagine,” he says. “Sometimes it’s scary. Sometimes it’s unexpected. But what God is doing is working with the faithfulness you give him.” He points to Romans 1:17, where St. Paul writes that the righteousness of God is revealed “from faith to faith,” from our faithfulness to God’s answering faithfulness. In his novitiate vows, his pilgrimage, and each missionary assignment, Father Kast has made that offering. What God does with it, he trusts, will continue to unfold.

From Formation to Ministry with the Society of Jesus

As he completes his theological studies at the Jesuit School of Theology of Santa Clara University in Berkeley, Calif., Father Kast is awaiting his missionary letters from his provincial, which will determine his assignment after ordination. He expects he may be sent to teach biology at a Jesuit school in Indianapolis.

His scientific background deepens rather than competes with his faith. He loves hiking and finds God in the natural world, but he is careful to distinguish love of nature from understanding of it. He traces that distinction to a high school biology class and Gary Larson’s “There’s a Hair in My Dirt!” The humorous tale, narrated by a worm, is about a girl who romanticizes nature without truly understanding it. Real understanding, Father Kast says, reveals something far richer. Biology helps you see “what God has given us, what God does for us.”

As Father Kast’s parents, siblings and friends gathered at the Church of the Gesu for his ordination, they witnessed the latest fruit of a faithfulness that began long before a $30 bus ticket to Selma. The missionary letters have not yet arrived. The assignment is not yet known. But for a man formed in the tradition of St. Ignatius, one who has learned to give God his faithfulness and trust the rest, that is precisely as it should be.

by Chris Ruff

Director of the Office for Ministries and Social Concerns

This issue of Catholic Life carries profiles of six men being ordained permanent deacons for the Diocese of La Crosse on June 6, 2026. With their ordination, I will have been privileged to witness the ordination of 61 of the 70 deacons currently serving our diocese. Over this span of 25 years, I have seen the program grow, change and deepen in ways I could not have anticipated when I first walked through the door. This seems a fitting moment to tell that story.

Deacon Formation Reset and Renewal

I was hired in 2001 by then-Bishop Raymond Burke to direct the Lay Ministry Program (now called the Lay Formation Institute) and to restart and direct the Deacon Formation Program after a hiatus of five years.  Bishop Burke wanted to be sure we were aligned with the Basic Norms for the Formation of Permanent Deacons, issued by the Vatican in 1998.

The permanent diaconate as one of three ranks of Holy Orders (the other two being priest and bishop) had only been restored by Pope Paul VI in 1967, so it was still very young. In fact, deacon formation in the Diocese of La Crosse had begun in 1977, with the first class ordained in 1983. But the approach to deacon formation varied widely across the U.S., and the Vatican saw the need to establish basic norms for a more unified approach. 

Bolstering the Program

One emphasis was on more rigor in formation, bringing men studying for the diaconate closer to the level of education received by men studying for the priesthood. And so, in 2002, our diocese engaged the Institute for Pastoral Theology (IPT) of Ave Maria University to establish a satellite “weekend campus” at St. Stephen’s Catholic School in Stevens Point. The IPT would run their master’s program in pastoral theology once a month from Friday through Saturday evening, and we would devote Sunday to our own specifically diaconal formation.

It was a lot. Deacon Jerry Rynda, now the coordinator of pastoral field education for deacon formation, was one of 11 men who made it through that adventure. He recalled with a smile, “It was rich, but very intense—and it nearly killed us! We were all men with families, jobs and various responsibilities in the Church and in our communities. Yet, in the end, we were very well trained and, by the grace of ordination, ready to serve the Church.”

Father Felix Steps Up

We on the formation team could see Deacon Rynda’s point. Insisting on a master’s program for men discerning a call to the permanent diaconate was too much. We were determined to find a better way. But just as we were wrestling with that, the U.S. Bishops issued a national directory for deacon formation, and in it they mandated that the director of deacon formation for a diocese must be either a deacon or a priest. I was neither.

I vividly remember going to Bishop Burke and telling him, “Bishop, I’m afraid I need to be replaced!” The good news is that Father Felix, who was at that time the program’s director of spiritual formation, agreed to take the helm as the overall director, and I would be his assistant director and academic dean, while continuing to direct lay formation.

It was providential, as Father Felix has long held a special love for the diaconate, rooted in his own experience as a transitional deacon, a man on the path to priesthood who serves first as a deacon. He was assigned to a rural parish whose pastor was on sabbatical, and he recently recalled those months: “I celebrated parish Communion services during the week, brought holy Communion to the sick and the homebound, led funeral vigils, prepared couples for marriage, and so on. My experience of diaconal ministry not only helped prepare me for the priesthood; it also gave me a deep appreciation for the diaconate itself.”

A New Blueprint

Still to resolve was the question of how to form men for the diaconate without the grueling demands of a master’s program. We decided we could better serve them through a curriculum created in-house, tailored specifically to the diaconal vocation and drawing on the teaching expertise within our diocesan offices and presbyterate. So, we built that curriculum. It has served us well for the past 19 years, with periodic refinements along the way.

We also decided to extend the length of deacon formation from four years to five, with two years of aspirancy (a time for initial testing and “aspiring” to the vocation of deacon) followed by three years of candidacy (a time of more solid conviction, while still allowing for discernment).

Building a Hybrid

We made another change heading into the fall of 2007, one that has been enormously fruitful. Up to that point, I had been running the Lay Formation Institute separately from deacon formation, on a different weekend each month. I love the LFI, through which I’ve seen hundreds of men and women deepen their discipleship in Christ and become contagious witnesses in their parishes. But the teaching and logistical demands of running both programs monthly were stretching our resources.

Father Felix proposed a solution. Since LFI was a two-year program, matching the duration of our diaconal aspirancy, what if we ran them simultaneously? They could share core courses—Introduction to Sacred Scripture, The Creed, Christian Prayer—and split off for others, all on the same weekend of the month. The men in diaconal candidacy would have separate classes on the same weekend for their own three-year curriculum. The puzzle pieces required careful assembly, but it was a brilliant solution, and we implemented it that fall.

This consolidation has saved time, money and travel. We maximize our monthly use of St. Anthony’s Spirituality Center in Marathon, where most of the formation is held, and each weekend we enjoy a buzzing beehive of energy and enthusiasm, with priests, deacons, aspirants, candidates and LFI students all gathering for Mass, prayer, classes, meals and fellowship.

A Multi-Diocesan “Diaconal Seminary” is Born

But the new developments didn’t stop there. In 2009, we received an inquiry from Bishop Robert Morlino of the Diocese of Madison, which did not have an active Deacon Formation Program. He asked if we would be willing to accept a man from his diocese into our program. We agreed, and that opened the door to an ongoing collaboration with the Diocese of Madison, followed in 2011 by the Diocese of Superior, which was also without a program of its own. As of today, 30 men from those two dioceses have gone through our program and been ordained deacons, and 16 are currently at various stages of formation.

The arrangement has benefited everyone involved. The dioceses of Madison and Superior invest in our program, sparing them from building their own. As Bishop James Powers of Superior put it, “The Diocese of La Crosse has a wonderful permanent Deacon Formation Program. The shared programming has been of great value thanks to the strength of numbers this model brings and the cross-diocesan insights the men share with one another.”

This collaboration has also enabled us to draw gifted teachers and retreat masters from the other dioceses. Deacon Chris Schmelzer, a 2018 graduate of our program and current director of the Permanent Diaconate for the Diocese of Madison, is a beloved member of our faculty. He appreciates the balance between classroom learning and spiritual growth, noting that “the instructors combine strong academics with spiritual insights. Many of our men have said formation has such a strong spiritual element that it is like going on retreat once a month, and they look forward to each weekend and journeying with the brothers in their cohort.”

Deep Bonds of Friendship

The friendship that develops among the men in formation is striking and it extends to their spouses, who are encouraged to attend formation weekends alongside their husbands and who gathered for a wives’ retreat this past spring. The diaconate is a shared vocation, and the program treats it as one. Patrick Conley, one of the six men being ordained for La Crosse on June 6, observed: “Our formation has been top-notch, but the element I will miss most will be the time spent with the other men in my cohort and their wives. We bonded in a very short time, and they have become true brothers. It pains me to imagine not having the opportunity to spend time learning, laughing, telling stories and praying with them on a monthly basis.”

Russell Yount, who will be ordained for the Diocese of Madison this summer, is also a member of that cohort. He noted the same bonds of brotherhood and then added: “These past four and a half years have been quite the journey, filled with many opportunities to grow and many challenges as well. Formation doesn’t require perfection. It only requires the grace to persevere and a willingness to keep saying yes to the call. Fortunately, my wife Bonnie has enthusiastically supported this journey from the beginning and has been there with encouragement when I needed it most.”

A Wonderful Team

No reflection on this history would be complete without honoring the team that has made it possible.

It begins, of course, with Father Felix, pastor of All Saints Parish in Stanley, whose leadership and creative vision as director have been central to the program’s growth and refinement. He teaches two core courses, holds both group and individual conferences with the men, and somehow manages all of this while pastoring a parish.

As assistant director, academic dean of deacon formation and director of lay formation, my own responsibilities include procuring instructors for both curricula, teaching in the LFI and periodically in deacon formation, and managing the scheduling, budgeting and administrative dimensions of both programs.

Father Justin Kizewski, a priest of our diocese, serves as director of spiritual formation. His day job is director of intellectual formation at St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee, and yet he also teaches two core classes and holds both group and individual spiritual conferences with the men in formation. His commitment to this work is extraordinary.

Deacon Jerry Rynda coordinates Pastoral Field Education, placing the men in practical, real-world learning opportunities in parish life. His wise mentorship helps them discern the action of Christ and the Spirit in their apostolic efforts, supported by a team of deacon mentors from all three dioceses.

Chris Carstens, director of the Office for Sacred Worship, expertly coordinates the men’s liturgical formation and teaches in both programs. Ann Lankford, director of the Office for Catechesis and Evangelization, has taken on a growing role in teaching and mentoring evangelization across both programs. This is a contribution that has enriched the formation experience considerably.

The broader faculty, priests, deacons and laypersons from all three dioceses is too numerous to name in full. But one name must not go unspoken: Deacon Bob Hansen, who passed away unexpectedly in 2019. A classmate of Deacon Rynda, Deacon Hansen was a much-beloved mentor whose kindness and wisdom left a lasting mark on every man he accompanied. He is not forgotten.

Finally, Deacon Robert Riedl serves as director of the diocesan Office for the Diaconate, overseeing the ongoing formation of the ordained deacon community. He also carries the crucial responsibilities of screening applicants for admission to formation, chairing the committee that evaluates the men at key junctures, and shepherding matters related to ordination itself. His work is the hinge on which much of the rest turns.

A Humble Mission

The history of deacon formation is a history of many faces—faces of people seeking to respond to the ever-present grace of God. And the mission of forming deacons, or of becoming one, is clothed in humility. Because whatever office they may hold, whatever assignment they may be given, deacons are ordained to personify Christ the Servant, bending down to wash the feet of all whom they encounter. What a privilege it is to be associated with that mission. 

Story by Amy Eichsteadt

The diaconate is an ancient office. It appears in the Acts of the Apostles, when the earliest Church, overwhelmed by the needs of a growing community, set apart seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, to serve at table so that the apostles could give themselves to prayer and the ministry of the word. The word chosen for what those seven men did was diakonia. Service. Not administration. Not management. Service.

Deacons distribute the Eucharist, baptize, witness marriages, preach the homily and accompany the dying. But the theology underneath all of it is simpler and more demanding than any job description: the deacon is, above all else, the visible sign in the Church that service looks like washing feet.

On June 6, 2026, six men from the Diocese of La Crosse kneeled before Bishop Gerard W. Battersbsy at the Cathedral of St. Joseph the Workman and received the laying on of hands. They came from dairy farms and dairy barns, military deployments and university campuses, from a pub in Oxford and a tree stand in the Wisconsin woods. One of them watched his son enter the seminary before he considered it himself. One of them heard God say “not yet,” twice, before everything fell into place. One of them walked a grieving friend through loss and heard, in that moment, something that sounded like a call.

They are a software engineer, a registered nurse, a campus minister, a radio host, a former dairy farmer and a man who spent more than seven years serving at-risk youth at Fort McCoy before he was asked to serve his Church. They are husbands, every one of them, and their wives have said yes alongside them, which the Church recognizes as no small thing. The diaconate is not a solo vocation.

These are their stories.

Emilio Alvarez

Husband, Father, Franciscan

As director of Campus Ministry at Viterbo University, Emilio accompanies students in their faith journeys through liturgy, retreats, service, pastoral care and leadership formation. He has also led pilgrimages to Rome and Assisi through the Franciscan Pilgrimage Program.

Emilio and his wife Emily are professed members of the Secular Franciscan Order. “Through this vocation, we live the Franciscan charism in our marriage, family life and work,” Emilio shares. “This commitment has deeply shaped how I understand ministry, service and accompaniment within the Church.”

The Alvarezes have four children, ages 3 to 12. Emilio calls family life “full, active and deeply life-giving. Our days are busy, but they are also very rich. Our faith is woven into our family life, and over the years, many Viterbo students have become an extension of our family. Sharing meals, celebrations, prayers and everyday moments with students has been one of the great joys of our lives in La Crosse.

“I can see how the Lord has been forming me for [the diaconate] for many years through relationships, mentorships and service. From high school onward, I felt drawn to youth ministry and campus ministry. Learning the faith and sharing it with others consistently brought me deep joy.

“Early in my discernment, I prayerfully considered religious life, but the Lord clearly affirmed my vocation to marriage through my relationship with Emily. Once I said yes to that call, the Lord began forming me in fatherhood, first within my family, and then more broadly through mentorship roles with campers, students and young adults.

“Over time, others began to name gifts they saw in me for service, accompaniment and pastoral presence. The call to the diaconate emerged gradually, often through encouragement from trusted members of the Church.”

Walking closely with a friend through grief awakened something deeper in Emilio. “I sensed the Lord saying, ‘I want you to be here for people. I want you to help bridge their lived experiences with my presence,’” he shares. 

“Through prayer, conversation and discernment, the path forward became clear. I applied for diaconate formation, and now, several years later, I am preparing for ordination with deep gratitude for the ways God has patiently led me here.”

Patrick Brueggen

Praying in a Tree Stand

Based at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Patrick works as the international coordinator of the Marian Catechist Apostolate and national coordinator of the Real Presence Association. He and his wife, Cindy, have four children and five grandchildren.

Patrick enjoys many outdoor activities and sharing them with his family. “I love spending time in a tree stand, waiting for that buck to appear,” he says. “All the while I pray my rosary, listen to nature and feel the Holy Spirit’s inspiration. I can’t count how many times I’ve harvested a deer halfway through my rosary. I suppose it’s the stillness that draws me in.” 

Patrick has a deep kinship with the Church’s newest canonized saint, Carlo Acutis. “Through my work with the Real Presence Association, I had the opportunity to meet his mother, Antonia, through our promotion of the Eucharistic Miracles of the World Exhibit, which was created just before his passing in 2006,” Patrick explains. “My wife and I were even invited to attend his canonization in Rome, which we gratefully accepted. It was a wonderful week, culminating in the canonization Mass with Pope Leo. I also have the privilege of traveling the country to give presentations on Carlo and his apostolate.”

Patrick’s journey to the diaconate began in his 30s, when he lived on a dairy farm near St. Mary’s Ridge. Monsignor Roger Scheckel asked him to teach a ninth-grade Old Testament class. His first reaction was no, but with Cindy’s encouragement, he agreed. Monsignor Joe Hirsch continued to encourage him to serve the Church, pointing him specifically toward the diaconate. In 2002, Patrick and Cindy sold their farm and committed to full-time Church ministry.

“Over more than 20 years in parish and youth ministry, I’ve formed many relationships with priests and deacons, and I’ve come to believe God was calling Cindy and me to this vocation. She is my biggest supporter. The past five years of formation have been a great joy, and my brother classmates are all exceptional men. I would not have wanted to go through this journey with anyone else. I would encourage any couple discerning this call to take the step. God will give you a peace that only He can provide. Without great faith, no great grace can be given.”

Jonathon Burbach

From Lukewarm to All In

Jon and his wife, Bridget, call Tomah home. They have six children, aged 9 to 23, four of whom are still living at home. One child is away at college, and their oldest is married and serving in the Army. Jon and Bridget were recently blessed with their first grandchild.

Throughout his life and career, Jon has felt called to work with youth. After serving nearly 20 years as an Army officer, Jon became the Commandant of the Challenge Academy at Fort McCoy—a program for at-risk youth. Then, six years ago, he answered a call to serve his parish as director of religious education (DRE), a position he still holds.

“I experienced something of a reversion about 15 years ago,” Jonathon shares. “I was raised Catholic and never really ‘fell away,’ but practiced my faith in a pretty shallow and lukewarm way. God used several things to wake me up, and one of the most impactful was attending a Men of Christ conference in Milwaukee with my father. That experience stoked a fire within me and a hunger to know more about and do more with my faith.”

“I got involved in men’s ministry and became a volunteer catechist for my parish’s religious education program.”

“Even as I became more involved, grew in knowledge and strengthened my relationship with the Lord, I felt He was calling me to more. It took several years to realize it could be the diaconate, and then a few more to seriously consider it. By the time my pastor asked me if I had thought about applying, I was able to tell him yes right away. I had been discerning for some time, and Bridget and I had already discussed it.” 

“Discernment has continued throughout formation and was not without struggle, but under the guidance of our excellent formators and with the support of my wife, family and brother candidates, I have become confident that God is calling me to be His deacon.”

Patrick Conley

Finding the Church in an Oxford Pub

“We are both converts to Catholicism,” Patrick explains. “God led us in parallel but distinct journeys, drawing us each closer and closer to the Catholic Church.”

In 2005, Patrick followed the call to Oxford, England, where he entered seminary in the Anglican Communion, while Kendra accompanied him. There, he met two Americans who shared his deep interest in history, tradition, liturgy and the sacraments. “We decided to start meeting on our own each week, in the local pub, naturally, to discuss these things.”

It wasn’t long before one of them asked, “What about the Catholic Church? They have all of these things, and they claim to be the Church founded by Jesus.” That question set the group on a path of reading, discussing, arguing, laughing, crying and praying, all centered on the claims of Catholicism. “By Easter 2010, all three of us had become Catholic,” Patrick said. “Two of us were married and entered the Church with our wives. The third, who was single at the time, is now a Dominican priest.”

Patrick is keenly aware of God’s generosity, especially since following his call into the Catholic Church. He currently serves in several capacities, all in service to God. He teaches religion at Thorp Catholic School, serves as DRE for St. Bernard-St. Hedwig, is a traveling presenter for the Catherine of Siena Institute and hosts a daily Catholic radio program on spiritual direction called “The Inner Life” on Relevant Radio. 

A self-professed “liturgy nerd,” Patrick confesses, “The more I learn about it, the more in awe I become. It facilitates so well a profound encounter with God Himself.”

Patrick first felt the call to the diaconate while living in the Twin Cities, but twice he sensed God saying, “not yet.” After moving to Thorp, the call arose again, and this time everything fell into place. “It still seems surprising in some ways. I am on the brink of ordination! Deo gratias!”

Randall Myszka

Forty Years a Soldier. Thirty a Nurse.

Randall is the youngest of 10 children in a farming family. “The entire family helped with chores in the dairy barn and helped make firewood to keep the farmhouse warm,” he reminisces. Now, he and his wife Patty have two adult daughters. The couple has found great enjoyment growing their own food and raising animals on their own hobby farm.

Randall works as a registered nurse in Marshfield, where he has been employed for 30 years. “I currently work on a medical-surgical unit. In this position, I have the opportunity to minister to people at a time when they need care most. It is very rewarding and offers me a chance to serve others, as Jesus himself showed us.”

Additionally, in May 2023, Randall retired after a 40-year career in the military. “I never thought my time in the Army would span that long,” he says. “It was an incredible career serving alongside many dedicated soldiers. I keep all the members of our Armed Forces in my daily prayers.”

In 2012, Father Bob Streveler recognized Randall’s willingness to serve at the parish and told him, “You are going to make a good deacon,” encouraging him to look into the diaconate. Around this time, Randall witnessed the ordination of local deacons Brian Hilts and Greg Kaiser, which prompted him to seriously consider this unique role. In 2014, Randall was deployed to Kuwait and placed his discernment on hold, but when he returned home, Father Bob was once again there to encourage him, and Randall enrolled in formation in 2021.

Randall is deeply grateful to the diocesan staff and to the priests, especially Fathers William Felix, Justin Kizewski and Alan Wierzba, who taught, coached and mentored him throughout formation.

“The program is nothing short of amazing. I am not the same person who started this journey. It changes you and your relationships with other people and brings you closer in your relationship with God. I have learned so many things about our dear Catholic Faith.”

“My message to other men would be to prayerfully consider the diaconate—even if you tell yourself, ‘I could never do that.’ Our parishes need men to step up and help serve the people of God. Jesus said, ‘Follow me.’ That invitation is always open.”

James Nowicki

His Son’s Vocation Became His Own

James and his wife, Ann, reside in Athens, where they both grew up. Their son, Father David Nowicki, was ordained for the Diocese of La Crosse in 2024, and their daughter and her husband serve as missionaries with FOCUS (Fellowship of Catholic University Students). Jim spent his career as a software engineer and recently moved to part-time work.

“I am a cradle Catholic,” Jim shares, “and while I always practiced the Faith, for quite a while, I’d call myself a minimalist Catholic. I’d pretty much do what I considered ‘necessary,’ but not really go beyond that. Things really began to change when our son came home from college and told us he would be entering the seminary. His calling set me on the road to my calling.”

David introduced Jim and Ann to the Liturgy of the Hours and they began praying it regularly. They also joined a parish Bible study, which enlivened Scripture in a way they had never experienced. “I believe the Holy Spirit was nudging my wife and me,” Jim shares, “increasing our prayer life and opening our eyes to the many riches of our Catholic faith. He did this through our children, our parish and the Lay Formation Institute [LFI],” which the couple felt called to join.

“Early in the LFI program, something became very clear: I was not simply to retire and live for myself. God had other plans. Talking with men who were in diaconate formation, I began to prayerfully consider whether I was being called, too.”

“During my discernment, two things came to mind. Both of them came from my children. When my son told us he was entering the seminary, he said something that stayed with me: ‘Even if I discern out, I will be a better man.’ I figured the same applied to me. The second came from my daughter, who had decided to become a FOCUS missionary: ‘God does not call the equipped. He equips the called.’ If I were to become a deacon, there was still a great deal of formation needed. And perhaps the final nudge I needed was when my wife started including my discernment as a prayer intention. Her support has been one of the great blessings along this path.”

The “Yes”

On the morning of June 6, before the Cathedral filled, before the bishop took his seat and the candidates processed in white albs, there was a moment of ordinary quiet. Six men woke up for the last time as laymen.

Each of these men, from six different directions, had arrived at the same word—the word the Church had been waiting to hear from each of them since before they knew they would say it.

“ Yes.” 

By Deacon Emilio Alvarez, OFS

Director of Campus Ministry at Viterbo University  

Eight hundred years after the death of St. Francis of Assisi, the Church remembers not only a beloved saint, but a deacon whose life reshaped how the Gospel could be lived in the world. Francis deliberately remained a deacon, devoted to proclaiming the Word, serving the poor and reverencing the Eucharist with profound humility. His ministry reminds the Church that renewal does not begin with power or perfection, but with faithful service rooted in love.

A Living Rhythm of Gospel and Mission

Francis’ life illustrates a rhythm at the heart of both Franciscan spirituality and the diaconate itself. The Gospel is proclaimed, carried into the messiness of human life and returned again to prayer, Eucharist and discernment. From this movement flows a mission for healing and restoration. It is a way of life that continues to shape the Church’s understanding of service today.

To observe the Gospel means allowing it to take flesh in the ordinary contours of daily life. What we say and what we do, who we encounter and who we avoid, how we spend our time and direct our attention, all of it shapes how the Gospel is either embodied or obscured. For Francis, this was grounded in the conviction that all life is sacred, all creation is good, and every relationship is worthy of sacred dignity. The Gospel does not hover above reality. It enters it, sanctifies it and gently transforms it from within.

Life itself has the capacity to question and refine how we understand the Gospel. The world is encountered through our senses, through touch and sound, through suffering and joy, through memory and longing. Christ Himself became human to enter fully into this reality, not to escape it but to redeem it. When we engage the world honestly, without fear or denial, our understanding of the Gospel is often purified. We discover anew that salvation unfolds not apart from human experience, but precisely within it.

Returning to the Source: Prayer and Sacrament

This is why prayer, the Eucharist and discernment are not optional supports but essential sources. Without returning to them regularly, our efforts to live the Gospel begin to resemble a stream cut off from its source. The movement may continue for a time, but eventually it grows stagnant or dries up. When ministry relies solely on personal strength or good intention, it becomes exhausting and hollow. When it flows from prayer and sacrament, it becomes grounded, patient and life-giving. Our souls, like our bodies, need to be nourished by the living God.

The Gospel often needs to be received again most urgently in places of woundedness. When relationships are fractured, when trust has been broken, when individuals or communities carry deep hurt, the Gospel must be proclaimed not as abstraction but as healing presence. Whether we encounter woundedness in ourselves or in others, among the poor, the marginalized or those forgotten by institutions, it is there that the Gospel is most needed. It is there that Christ desires to speak words of restoration, mercy and new life.

Holiness in the Ordinary

The Franciscan charism insists that this work happens within the fabric of ordinary life. Marriage, family, work and responsibility are not distractions from holiness but its primary setting. Life is often messy, unpredictable and demanding, yet God is present within it all. The temptation to separate “ordinary life” from “spiritual life” is strong, but Franciscan spirituality resists this division. Integration is essential. It is amid the ordinary that reverence for life is cultivated, humility is learned and relationships are formed and restored.

This integrated rhythm leads naturally to an understanding of penance as restoration rather than punishment. For Francis, conversion was not about self-condemnation but about returning relationships to right order, with God, with others, with creation and within oneself. Daily conversion often looks small and hidden, unspectacular and quiet. It takes the form of listening, apology, patience and sacrifice. In this way, penance becomes an expression of love rather than fear.

The Diaconal Heart of Service

Here, the diaconate finds a natural home. The deacon stands close to the hearts of individuals and communities, not as the source of healing, but as one whose heart is conformed to Christ the servant. There is a distinct grace in diaconal listening, shaped by secular lived experience and grounded in the self-giving love of Jesus. From that listening flows a movement toward restoration, accompaniment and care. The deacon does not resolve all things but bears them prayerfully and faithfully toward the altar, trusting Christ to do the transforming work.

The Eucharist at the Center

At the center of this rhythm stands the Eucharist. For Francis, the Eucharist was the clearest and most concrete way Christ remained present in the world. His reverence for the body and blood of the Lord shaped how he saw human dignity, humility and service, and it formed his conviction that the mystery of the Incarnation continues not only in history but also on the altar and in the lives of God’s people.

Eucharistic reverence shapes how we see human dignity and teaches us patience towards the world’s imperfection, slowness and fragility. Just as simple bread and wine become the body of Christ, so too we are transformed into Him. This transformation is gentle, often unseen, yet profoundly real. A eucharistic life does not end with dismissal but continues in acts of mercy and charity where Christ is present.

Eucharistic vision protects the Church from both clericalism and activism. It reminds us that ministry is not about control or efficiency, but about humility and availability. Christ makes Himself present in the smallest and most vulnerable form, teaching us that God’s power is revealed through self-emptying love. This vision calls the Church to remain close to the ground, attentive to real people and real needs.

Fraternity as the Context of Discernment

Franciscan life emphasizes fraternity not because personal holiness is unimportant, but because it is incomplete on its own. Discernment is never meant to happen in isolation. It is formed and refined in the give‑and‑take of shared life, where conversion is sustained through relationship. Francis sent the friars out two by two, modeling a shared and communal way of following the Gospel. Fraternity mirrors the Trinitarian life of God Himself, a communion of love rather than solitary perfection. It provides correction, support, accountability and mutual encouragement. For the deacon, this means living ministry with the Church and not merely for the Church.

Within this shared life, obedience takes on its proper meaning. When discernment is formed in fraternity and lived in communion with the Church, obedience is no longer experienced as limitation, but as freedom. In a culture that equates freedom with self-determination, Franciscan obedience offers a countercultural peace. Trusting God’s will, as mediated through community and the Church, relieves the burden of constant self-direction. It frees the heart from anxiety and opens space for joy, humility and deeper trust.

The 800th anniversary of the death of St. Francis invites the Church to reflect anew on these truths. Francis lived in a time marked by division, fear and institutional strain, not unlike our own. His response was neither withdrawal nor aggression, but radical fidelity to the Gospel. He approached every person and all creation with reverence, dignity and love. He trusted that fear is dispelled not by control but by humility and sacrificial love.

This Jubilee is not about nostalgia but about hope. It reminds the Church of the vision of the New Jerusalem promised by Christ, a future free from fear, grounded in love. When the Church lives the Gospel simply and faithfully, hope emerges quietly and persistently. People respond. Hearts soften. Fear loosens its grip.

A Quiet Path of Transformation

Faithfulness does not require having all the answers. It asks only that we remain open, attentive and willing to be transformed. Living the Gospel in the ordinary renews the Church from within, not through grand programs but through everyday acts of love, service and presence. In this way, the Church continues to move from the Gospel into daily life, and from daily life back to the Gospel, following the humble and joyful path first walked by St. Francis and now entrusted anew to each generation.