Tomorrow—July 28^th— marks the anniversary of the first American-born martyr, Blessed Stanley Rother.

            If you are not familiar with his story, I urge you to view the video, “An Ordinary Martyr,” on YouTube. Further information can be found in The Shepherd Who Didn’t Run, by  Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda.

            Below is a homily from a votive Mass in honor of Blessed Stanley Rother delivered in my great-nephew’s barn. 

(Note: The church pictured above is of the Blessed Stanley Rother shrine in Oklahoma City.) 

 

                         “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth 

                         and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat.

                         But, if it dies, it produces a good yield.”

 

             I have no doubt that Fr. Stanley Rother would feel right at home inside this barn this evening. After all, he was raised on a farm like most of us!

            So, yes, it’s easy imagine him completely at ease and talking about the weather and crops in the field and the local high school football team.

            But here's a question to ponder: Would we feel at ease with him? Would we feel at ease in the presence of someone as courageous as Fr. Rother?

             Personally, I have to say, No.

             When I consider someone like Blessed Stanley Rother—someone who gave his all, who gave his life—all I can do is shake my head and say, "I could never do what he did. I could never take that kind of hit!"

             So, if you happen to be like me, you have a choice: You can focus on the blood on Stanley Rother's back as a missionary and martyr in Guatemala…or you can focus on the sweat on his brow as farm kid baling hay on a summer day in Oklahoma.

            I believe that, if we start by focusing on the sweat of his brow, we’ll eventually discover a connection—a vital connection—between the sweat on his forehead and the blood on his back.

            The story of Stanley Rother’s life, as you know, begins with him doing the same things we do day after day: fixing tractors, canning tomatoes, feeding calves and praying for rain.

             This sort of ordinary life is what made Fr. Stan the kind of man that he was. And this is also the sort of life that make you and me the kind of people that we are.

            Tonight's first reading from he First Letter of St. John opens with these words: Something we have heard, something we have seen with our own eyes and touched with our own hands, the Word of God, who is life…

            This says it all, does it not? Does this not convey the very heart of our Catholic faith? For, indeed, we touch the Savior of the World with our own hands each time we receive Holy Communion at Mass. And, in a similar way, we embrace Christ's presence every time we lift a grandchild into our arms and every time we help our elderly mother get up out a chair.

            Such is the closeness and intimacy of God...an eternal and divine Mystery we touch with our hands, our rough and calloused hands!

            So, friends, when we contemplate the life of Blessed Stanley Rother, we have a choice. We can focus on his martyrdom, then shake our heads and say, “I could never do that.”

            Or we can recall a farm kid baling hay on a hot, summer day, then life our heads and, “Thank you, Lord, for send us this brother! Help us be more like him. Help work as hard as he does! 

            "Help each one of us, Lord, pull our share of the weight. Help us complete the chores that you’ve assigned us to do.”