Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ:

“I am in your midst as one who serves.” These words of Jesus challenge every Christian. For my part, when I was young, I never thought I wanted to serve God and the Christian community as a priest. I always thought I would become a physician, an attorney, or even an actor, marry Beverly Anne Ponton, with whom I thought I was in love in 7th grade, and have 12 children. My teachers, Sr. Mary Antoine and Sr. Mary Mildred, and my pastor, Msgr. O’Brien, encouraged me to think about the priesthood, since I served Mass almost every day. Looking back, I think of my 14-year-old self, acutely aware of the brevity of life and the unbearable lightness of being. These musings, enflamed by my prayers, listening to the scripture readings, and receiving the Eucharist at daily Mass no doubt triggered the idea of considering the priesthood. It was a gradual discernment, part of a long dialogue of the soul.

In this Mass of Thanksgiving, I wish, first of all, to give thanks to God for the wonder-filled gift-mystery of my existence in this world. I express the deepest gratitude for the extraordinary blessing of my family, especially my Mother Dear, Evelyn K. Braxton, my wonderful Father, Cullen L. Braxton, Sr., my beloved brother, Lawrence, my dear sisters Gwendolyn, Adrienne, and my precious Patricia. My whole life was shaped by growing up in this remarkable family. I am also grateful for a circle of loving and true friends from “the old neighborhoods of my life,” who have made my life a song. You know who you are!

This evening, the Prophet Isaiah tells us, “The spirit of the Lord has anointed us; He has sent us to bring good news to the afflicted.” We are all anointed by the Holy Spirit to be bearers of God’s love. We cannot live our lives fruitfully as God’s anointed without prayer. I learned this watching my Mother Dear and my Father praying their morning and night prayers on their knees in spite of the pain of arthritis.

Deacon Templin proclaimed from Luke 22: 14-20, 24-26 the words of Jesus, giving us the great gift of the Eucharist, which is certainly the heart of the prayer of a priest. Like the Scripture, the gift of Christ present in the Eucharist feeds our lives of prayer. I am deeply concerned by studies indicating many American Catholics no longer believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the consecrated bread and wine. This may be why we see less reverence for the Eucharist. If Catholics do not affirm Christ present in the Eucharist, which St. Ignatius of Antioch calls bread that breathes and wine that bleeds, their lives of faith and their lives of prayer will not flourish. This is why our National Eucharistic Revival and our National Eucharistic Congress, July 17 to July 21 in Indianapolis, are so important for the revitalization of faith, especially for our young people who are searching for God in time and memory.

It is the nourishment of the Eucharist that strengthens the bonds of love in families. It is the nourishment of the Eucharist that opens our hearts to the needs of others. No one who understands Christ’s Eucharistic love could take up a gun and attempt to assassinate a presidential candidate simply because they disagree with his political views. No one who understands Christ’s Eucharistic love would destroy developing life in a mother’s womb. No one who understands Christ’s Eucharistic love would ignore children in our country going hungry, not receiving a good education, or adequate housing and healthcare. No one who understands Christ’s Eucharistic love would ignore those suffering and dying amid senseless wars in Ukraine and Israel, those deprived of human rights by oppressive governments, those rejected because of their religion, racial or ethnic backgrounds, or sexual identity. All people everywhere need the loving concern of a Eucharist-fed Church that, as Pope Francis often says, serves as a field hospital opening its doors and its heart to those most in need.

In Hymn to the Universe, the great French Jesuit theologian and paleontologist, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, meditated on the cosmic meaning of the Eucharist. Chardin called us into deep Eucharistic prayer about our human condition. He pondered how the first stars began to burn as unfathomable vessels of brightness that would create the carbon, the nitrogen, and the oxygen that make up 86.9% of our human bodies. By some alchemy of thermodynamics, by some act of primordial grace, we human beings are mostly composed of starlight, our mass coming from some mysterious vibration of immortal and timeless energy, echoing through the universe from the beginning of time. Chardin reminds us that the Eucharist is the food for our Eternal life with God. It is the Living Gift of Divine Love.

My life as a priest and Bishop, like all lives, has been filled with exhilarating joys and unspeakable sorrows. But I can say this: in times of sorrow, I was never sorry that I

was a priest. The Joy in my life as a Bishop comes from journeying with the priests and parishioners through the drama of life, from birth to death to the hope to the life of the World to Come. As a priest and Bishop, I obtained wisdom when I learned the importance of silence. Silently being there can be better than superficial, pious answers to life’s hard questions. Wisdom came when I learned to say, “I don’t know why,” when people ask, “Why did this terrible thing happen to me?” “Why did this wonderful young person die of cancer?” “Why?” As a priest and Bishop, I affirm that God is with us no matter what happens, even if we do not understand. But this much I know: God is not God the way we would be God, if we were God.

Gradually, as a priest and Bishop, I came to a deeper appreciation of the paradox of my fatherhood. Father to all, yet father to none. With the passing of the years, I have grasped just how great is the sacrifice of a life lived without the companionship of a wife and the loving support of children and grandchildren. This truth has become acute for me as I experience the painful deaths of the dearest of the dear in my life, my family members, and others. In some ways, like Christ Himself, a Bishop leads a solitary life!

I have led a solitary life. Please pray for me.

Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ:

I am truly grateful to each of you for gathering here to pray with and for me this evening as I give thanks for four score journeys around the sun, 54 years as a priest, and 29 years as a Bishop. Pray for vocations to the priesthood from our Diocese. Pray for our country in a time of crisis at a political crossroads.

As we each approach the “unknown unknown” of our future journeys around the sun, we must acknowledge that life, being what it is, will have its way with us. We must heed St. Paul’s words to the Christians living in Philippi. “Do not be anxious about anything. Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is beautiful, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about these things. Then, the peace of God, which surpasseth all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Jesus Christ. And the God of peace will dwell with you always.”

“We must stand as living witnesses to truth and freedom,

to peace and justice,

so that all people may be raised up to a new hope!”

Praised be Jesus Christ. Both Now and Forever! AMEN!