Where are All Those with the Heart of a Pat Mullen?

Mark S. Roberti, Director of Stewardship

Heartland Parishes of Ellis County

I live very close to the St. Joseph Cemetery in Hays.  Sometimes, I take my rosary and stroll through the cemetery.  At times, I will stop at the tombstones of people I know.  I talk to them.  My presumption is always that they are in Purgatory.  I pray for them.  I ask them to pray for me.  Likewise, I stop at the graves of people I’ve never known and I pray for them.  I might say, “Joseph, you died in 1896, you are now long forgotten, what was your story?  What was your life about?  What did you do for a livelihood?  Were you ever married?  Do you have any living relatives?  Is anyone praying specifically for you, Joseph?  Well, I consider it a privilege to pray for you.  Will you also intercede for me?”

Taking these little strolls through the cemetery, for me, is very healthy.  It helps keep things in perspective.  “Remember, man, you’re made of dust, and into dust you shall return.”  My hope is that one day somebody will be standing above my grave, likewise, praying for me.  My fear is, maybe not. Catholics, as a whole, do not seem to have the faith of yesteryear. 

At this point in my life, it strikes me as kind of odd that on the day I die, a good number of people will probably say, “Gee, that’s too bad, he was a nice guy,” then go on with their lives.  Heck, maybe that’s all the average person can expect. Life goes on.

Working as a stewardship and development director, I’ve heard some people say that they don’t feel it’s best to put one’s name, or the name of a loved one, on a memorial monument (outside the cemetery), a plaque, a stained glassed window, a renovation, etc.  Donations, they say, should be between the donor and God.  Personally, I don’t have any problem with people who think like that, but I can’t say I agree with it.  I mean, what’s wrong with leaving this world with a past—with a legacy—that’s more than, “Gee, that’s too bad, he was a nice guy”?  To me, that can be an act of stewardship in itself.  It can be a stimulus to encourage other people to likewise be generous.  Many of our churches, Catholic schools, hospitals, etc., stand today just because of that mindset.  Why not encourage that? 

Where I do get a little disjointed, is when people of reasonable means die and leaving nothing to their Church, or when people who are living and of reasonable means give little or nothing to their Church.  As I write, I think of a recent Salina Register article about Larry Patrick “Pat” Mullen who left $2.44 million to Sacred Heart, Salina, Junior-Senior High School, and $1.22 million to the Sisters of St. Joseph of Concordia.  What makes a Pat Mullen different from a regular John Smith (my apologies if your name is John Smith)?

In fact, a better question might be where are all the people with a heart and passion like that of Pat Mullen?  Surely, we as Catholics have the financial resources to help our Church.  There are some Catholics who could give what Pat gave right now, while they are alive.  There are also many others who could give substantially more from their abundance.  They could have that satisfaction—that joy—of giving right now.  They could see their gift at work while they are alive.   But they choose not to.

A friend said to me the other day, “You’ve lived next to that cemetery several years now, you’ve probably seen hundreds of funeral processions drive in, have you ever seen a U-Haul follow a hearse into the cemetery?”  I had to chuckle.  “I haven’t seen hundreds,” I responded, “but I’d guess I’ve seen at least a hundred, and, no, never have I seen a U-Haul in a funeral entourage.” 

“That’s my point,” he said grinning, “in the last analysis, it is our conception of death which decides our answer to the all important question that life puts to us, and you ‘ain’t gonna’ answer that question in monetary terms.  The all-important question is, do you believe in Jesus Christ or not?  And if you do, why aren’t you living like that?”  My friend is pretty black and white.  I have to say, that’s one of the things I very much appreciate about him.

That made me flash back to a discussion some of us had in our Men of Myra Saturday morning Bible study group a few weeks ago.   Fr. Daryl Olmstead, the pastor, has been joining us recently.  He reflected on a poster he had once seen in the seminary.  Superimposed over the face of a lion was a quote that read, “Being a Christian didn’t use to be a spectator’s sport.” Then, underneath that, it said, “It still isn’t today.” 

It is nearing Christmas and year-end.  Please reflect on what the Christmas message is about.  It wasn’t easy then, it’s not now.  Hopefully, our little walk together through the cemetery via this article will make us both better understand that we have a role to play in this journey we call life.   Our journey will soon end.  In this life, it will end in that, or another, cemetery.  But the legacy we can leave though our Church will journey on and rendezvous with us in the next life…one way or the other.

Please be generous with your parish this Christmas and year end.