HOLY CROSS CHURCH - WENDELIN, ILLINOIS
Phone: 618-752-5671 - E-Mail: holycrosschurch@illiniwireless.com
Phone: 618-752-5671 - E-Mail: holycrosschurch@illiniwireless.com
© 2012 Holy Cross Parish - All Rights Reserved | MapQuest Directions| Diocese of Belleville
5782 Ingraham Lane Newton, Illinois 62448 - Phone: 618-752-5671 Fax: 618-752-6006
5782 Ingraham Lane Newton, Illinois 62448 - Phone: 618-752-5671 Fax: 618-752-6006
The first time I met Father David L. Braun, who died, unexpectedly, on Wednesday morning, December 30, 2009, four months before his seventy-second birthday, April 19, 2010, we talked about our brothers; how they lived and how they died. He knew that my only brother, Cullen L. Braxton, Jr. had died of cancer when he was only fifty-four years old on January 30, 1997, leaving behind a heart broken family. His twin brother, Father Dean Braun gave up his position as eighteenth Pastor of St. Agatha Parish in New Athens in 1989 to serve as an evangelist and missionary in Australia and Tasmania. Ten years later, he died of cancer when he was only sixty-one years old on July 29, 1999. We stood in front of a striking oil painting of his brother (painted by an Australian friend) that hung on the wall of his cottage across the street from the cemetery, a cottage to which he wished to retire if his failing health prevented him from continuing his pastoral ministry. He told me how much he admired his brother for his willingness to leave his familiar world of family and friends in southern Illinois and serve as a missionary in a distant, very different world. We talked about our closeness to our brothers, how deeply we missed them, and the ways in which we were similar to and different from them. I told him he was fortunate to still have two surviving brothers, Donald and James. Of course, he had a unique bond with Dean because they were twins. More than that, he, like Dean, had cancer.
Because of his various health concerns, I called him from time to time in the evening just to keep in touch. I always tried to spend a little more time with him when I came to his parishes for Confirmation. As I visited with his parishioners at St. Joseph Parish in Stringtown and Holy Cross Parish in Wendelin, (where he served faithfully for nearly twenty-one years), it was easy to sense how much they appreciated his generous, unselfish approach to the priesthood, serving when he was feeling strong as well as when the burden of multiple illnesses was acute. They loved him for that. He clearly loved them in return. In one conversation, I asked him what he enjoyed most about being a priest. His initial response was, "Everything!" He then said, "Just being with the people and serving them." He elaborated, "The heart of it is the sacraments. Isn't it? The Mass, Confessions, Anointing the sick, Marriages. Especially Communion calls. Bringing Christ to members of the parish family who are home bound."
Father Braun brought an almost unique perspective to the meaning of "family" to his parishioners. As a priest, he was ordained to be "Father" to all and yet, paradoxically, "father" to none. However, when he adopted his son, (who was eleven and took the name Mark Anthony in memory of Father Braun's brother who died in infancy), he learned a great deal about fatherhood in traditional family life. He told me that he never found it difficult, as most priests might, to balance the two responsibilities. Having a teen-aged son, a daughter-in-law (Kourtnie) and a granddaughter (Gwendolyn, whose fourth birthday he celebrated on November 18, 2009), gave him direct experiences and insights into the challenges and joys his parishioners experienced as parents and grandparents.
By temperament Father Braun was a quiet, gentle reflective person. However, once he entered into dialogue with you, the sharing could be quite rewarding. One of our most profound conversations turned to the topic of suffering, both spiritual and physical. In that conversation we talked about the pain and suffering we experience when we do something that actually brings harm to another person. We regret this very much and yet it can be painful to rectify the situation and ask forgiveness. We also shared our views on impenetrable questions of why seemingly good and innocent people suffer terrible tragedies and long, painful illnesses. Is this all random? Does it have a purpose? Is it a punishment? Can good be drawn from it? Could he unite his sufferings with the sufferings of Christ as a prayer of vocations to the priesthood? Ultimately, his approach seemed one of quiet acceptance. He did not seek an explanation of the cross he carried. He endured it without complaint. From a deep spiritual reservoir, he seemed to be simply living into the Mystery.
When I learned that his illness had returned in a very aggressive form requiring aggressive treatment, I called Father Braun for what became our last conversation. He sounded stronger than I expected considering he had undergone more than five hours of therapy earlier that day. He said in his soft-spoken voice, "I don't know how much good these treatments are going to do. I have a feeling I might not make it. If I don't, well, I'm ready." I expressed great gratitude to him for the gift of himself to the Church. I said at the start of this reflection that his death was "unexpected." And so it was. It was unexpected yesterday morning because he was tolerating his therapy quite well. In another sense death was expected every day for many years. Each time death passed over him was Grace poured out upon Grace. When "Sister Death" finally came, he was ready!
("Praised be You, my Lord through Sister Death, from whom no-one living can escape."--St. Francis of Assisi)
As I ponder the life, ministry, example, and death of Father David, one passage from the Book of Wisdom floods my spirit again and again. "The souls of the just are in the hands of God, and no torment shall touch them. As gold in the furnace, He proved them, and as sacrificial offerings He took them to Himself. They are at peace!" (Wis 3,1,3,6)
Because of his various health concerns, I called him from time to time in the evening just to keep in touch. I always tried to spend a little more time with him when I came to his parishes for Confirmation. As I visited with his parishioners at St. Joseph Parish in Stringtown and Holy Cross Parish in Wendelin, (where he served faithfully for nearly twenty-one years), it was easy to sense how much they appreciated his generous, unselfish approach to the priesthood, serving when he was feeling strong as well as when the burden of multiple illnesses was acute. They loved him for that. He clearly loved them in return. In one conversation, I asked him what he enjoyed most about being a priest. His initial response was, "Everything!" He then said, "Just being with the people and serving them." He elaborated, "The heart of it is the sacraments. Isn't it? The Mass, Confessions, Anointing the sick, Marriages. Especially Communion calls. Bringing Christ to members of the parish family who are home bound."
Father Braun brought an almost unique perspective to the meaning of "family" to his parishioners. As a priest, he was ordained to be "Father" to all and yet, paradoxically, "father" to none. However, when he adopted his son, (who was eleven and took the name Mark Anthony in memory of Father Braun's brother who died in infancy), he learned a great deal about fatherhood in traditional family life. He told me that he never found it difficult, as most priests might, to balance the two responsibilities. Having a teen-aged son, a daughter-in-law (Kourtnie) and a granddaughter (Gwendolyn, whose fourth birthday he celebrated on November 18, 2009), gave him direct experiences and insights into the challenges and joys his parishioners experienced as parents and grandparents.
By temperament Father Braun was a quiet, gentle reflective person. However, once he entered into dialogue with you, the sharing could be quite rewarding. One of our most profound conversations turned to the topic of suffering, both spiritual and physical. In that conversation we talked about the pain and suffering we experience when we do something that actually brings harm to another person. We regret this very much and yet it can be painful to rectify the situation and ask forgiveness. We also shared our views on impenetrable questions of why seemingly good and innocent people suffer terrible tragedies and long, painful illnesses. Is this all random? Does it have a purpose? Is it a punishment? Can good be drawn from it? Could he unite his sufferings with the sufferings of Christ as a prayer of vocations to the priesthood? Ultimately, his approach seemed one of quiet acceptance. He did not seek an explanation of the cross he carried. He endured it without complaint. From a deep spiritual reservoir, he seemed to be simply living into the Mystery.
When I learned that his illness had returned in a very aggressive form requiring aggressive treatment, I called Father Braun for what became our last conversation. He sounded stronger than I expected considering he had undergone more than five hours of therapy earlier that day. He said in his soft-spoken voice, "I don't know how much good these treatments are going to do. I have a feeling I might not make it. If I don't, well, I'm ready." I expressed great gratitude to him for the gift of himself to the Church. I said at the start of this reflection that his death was "unexpected." And so it was. It was unexpected yesterday morning because he was tolerating his therapy quite well. In another sense death was expected every day for many years. Each time death passed over him was Grace poured out upon Grace. When "Sister Death" finally came, he was ready!
("Praised be You, my Lord through Sister Death, from whom no-one living can escape."--St. Francis of Assisi)
As I ponder the life, ministry, example, and death of Father David, one passage from the Book of Wisdom floods my spirit again and again. "The souls of the just are in the hands of God, and no torment shall touch them. As gold in the furnace, He proved them, and as sacrificial offerings He took them to Himself. They are at peace!" (Wis 3,1,3,6)
The Most Reverend Edward K. Braxton
Bishop of Belleville
"A Just Man Now in the Hands of God"
A Reflection on the Life and Death of The Reverend David L. Braun
(New Year's Eve, 2009)
