Catholic Hotdish

On Tuesday, April 9, the Center for Mission at the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis hosted a speaker’s forum for Bishop Emeritus Paride Taban to hear his personal stories of joy, struggle and heartbreak as he works for much needed peacemaking in the South Sudan.

Bishop Paride Taban served in the Diocese of Torit in the South Sudan from 1983 – 2004 and was present during the brutal and socially debilitating war between the North and the South.  Villagers were often killed or kidnapped by the army, and the conflict left many homeless and hungry.  He spoke of villagers, left without food, eating “dogs, cats and rats” whatever they could find. Taban himself spent 100 days in jail and with other prisoners went on a hunger strike until international pressure forced his release.

As a reaction to these events, Bishop Taban became an outspoken leader for peacemaking and established Holy Trinity Peace Village in Kuron in 2005.  This village emphasizes human dignity and sharing of the common good regardless of age, sex, political affiliation or religion (Christian, Moslem or Tribal).  The village has successfully accomplished his objectives of peace and tolerance providing food, education and health care for all.

This year, U.N. Secretary General Ban Ki-moon awarded Bishop Taban the 2013 Sergio Vieira de Mello Peace Prize for his tireless efforts at peacemaking in war-torn Sudan.

After speaking at the Center for Mission Forum, Bishop Taban accepted an invitation from Principal Kathleen Segna and Assistant Principal/Teacher Amy Hoenecker to speak at St. John’s Catholic School in Hopkins. The entire school assembled to greet him with a rousing “Karibu” (“welcome” in Swahili).  Bishop Taban shared his experiences and walked among the student to greet everyone, answer questions and shake hands.   At the end, the students presented the Bishop with several items from Minnesota and sang a farewell blessing.  He was so touched, that this 77 year-old Bishop demonstrated for the kids his ability to hop like a frog 100 times and led students in jumping jacks.

The Center for Mission will continue to periodically host guest speakers for the Mission Forum lunches.  For more information regarding the forum or Bishop Paride Taban, contact Mickey Friesen, missions@archspm.org.

By Lisa Weier

A couple years ago, I walked out of a Nebraska thrift store with the close friends I had come with, a couple new-to-me skirts I hadn’t, and the satisfaction of time and money well spent.  One of the skirts in my shopping bag was particularly feminine and flowery, and billowed out perfectly when its wearer spun around. My friend Lucy and I split its cost with the shared understanding that this particular skirt would dance its way between our closets.  We never really planned for it to go between our suitcases too.

When Lucy went to Rome in the spring of 2012, it was an easy decision to send the skirt with her.  I also, then, took the skirt with me this year on my own Roman adventure, having no idea how much of an adventure it would really be.  The Conclave, for instance, was unexpected.

March 13 was the most personally convenient time for a new pope to be chosen; I would not need to run across the city, dodging people and vaulting mini-cars.  Instead, we had set time aside to go and pray in the square, and of course keep an eye on the Sistine chimney. So I went, with the thirty-three other students in my Catholic Studies Study Abroad program.  And I wore the skirt.

I did a bit of singing and dancing in the rain down the streets of Rome, fabric swishing underneath my trench coat and over the tops of my boots.  When we entered the square, there were already many people present, from seemingly everywhere in the world.  Most of them were holding umbrellas, beautifully arched over heads, a ridiculous amount of patterns and colors.  We prayed, talked and waited.  And waited.  And a seagull, I presume wanting to be on TV, landed on the top of the smokestack.  And we waited longer.

And suddenly, there was gray smoke.  Gray?  Everyone was trapped in confusion for a couple seconds, but as we saw the smoke become whiter and whiter, our confusion turned into desire for a good view.  There was a mad rush for the front of the square, closest to the doors where the new Pope would emerge.  I grabbed onto one of my classmate seminarian’s book bags and listened to the joyful yells of another classmate seminarian gripping my shoulder as we snaked toward the front, “LISA! WE HAVE A POPE! WE HAVE A POPE!”

We waited in suspense for an hour under our group’s US and papal flags.  I was in a sea of umbrellas, cameras, reporters and conjecture. The Swiss Guard band played and marched.  Then they stood still for a long time (I sometimes think they are some of the best statues in Rome).

Someone turned the interior lights of St. Peter’s on to a collective gasp from the thousands below.  Something rustled the curtains inside the balcony door.  A cameraman emerged to groans. FINALLY the proclamation sounded, “Habemus Papam.”  An absolutely joyful noise erupted, screams and cries of “Papa!” emerged all over.

Once we quieted down, the cardinal announced the elect’s name to more confusion.  Who?  Finally the word circulated and was confirmed through technology, Jorge Mario Bergoglio of Argentina, Papa Francesco.  Chants of “Francesco, Francesco!” prompted his first steps onto the balcony.  He stood, taking in the crowd, probably overwhelmed with the day he was having.  And then his words cut through the cheers, “Buona sera. Come stai?”  Good evening.  How are you?  We laughed and he went on.

He spoke in Italian, I didn’t understand all of it, but I did know he asked us to pray for him in silence; I’ve never heard Rome quite that quiet before.  I also could see that he loved us in humility.  I was so happy to have a Papa again.  In the midst of it all, I found it beautiful that I was still very much connected to home, holding the hem of the skirt.  Lucy, my family and other friends, were on my mind, in my prayers, and also under the subsequent blessing of the new Holy Father.  I like to think the skirt can retain a bit of it too… Viva il Papa!

Pilgrims wave U.S. flags before the start of Pope Benedict XVI’s final general audience in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican Feb. 27. (CNS photo/Paul Haring)

by Renée Roden

St. Peter’s Square, Vatican City

At 8:55 a.m. on the morning of Wednesday, Feb. 27, my plane touched ground at Fiumicino Airport, a 30-minute express train ride out of Rome. A little over an hour and a half later, at 10:33 a.m., I was one of many pilgrims streaming into St. Peter’s Square, just as Benedict XVI, now Pope Emeritus, drove into the square in the popemobile.

And I knew I was witnessing something extraordinary.

There is a lot of speculation about what the cardinals at the Vatican will do, and how they will do it and why. The question that we are left with is: Why does this matter?

One of the most beautiful tenets of Christianity is that the ordinary becomes extraordinary. As I stood in St. Peter’s Square, listening to Benedict XVI offer his thanks for the Church’s love and support, listening to the cardinals thank Benedict for his work, and bowed my head to receive Benedict’s final apostolic blessing for myself and my family, I knew I was witnessing, I was experiencing, something extraordinary — something that doesn’t take place every day.

The busy crowd, loudly vibrating with the sounds of hymns being sung, people chattering together, and spontaneous shouts of “Benedetto!” Or “Il Papa!” subdued themselves as they respond to his greeting with a hushed chant of “et cum spiritu tuo.” A hush settled over the audience, as they settled into waiting to hear the pope’s final words.

Although I was only able to read Benedict’s speech later (given that my nascent Italian vocabulary is still at the level of “grazie” and “do’ve il bano?”), the spirit of his message was abundantly clear — it completely transcended the language barrier. His words were ones of thanksgiving and gratitude — gratitude for being able to carry the holy burden of the Petrine office, and gratitude for now responding to the call to lay it aside. Spontaneous applause broke out occasionally in response to his words. Sporadic cries of “¡Viva Il Papa!” broke out of the crowd.

There was an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the small man wearing white on the stage in front of the crowd of 150,000 pilgrims, native Romans and curious onlookers. Next to me, a group of chatty teenagers ignored the proceedings after taking several photographs all together; an elderly Jewish woman watched the stage intently; a pair of Mormon missionaries strolled through the crowd, eyeing the stage. Next to me, an elderly Russian man ran up and hugged his friend, and they stood side-by-side watching the scene unfold.

The massive stone Basilica that took up the entire skyline dwarfed the small, frail man wearing white. Yet he stood out all the more. “Now I am just a pilgrim beginning the last part of his journey on earth,” he said the next day at Castel Gandolfo. His soft, fragile voice was scratchy and weak, but his words and his actions came through loud and clear. This event, this action was about something greater than himself. This extraordinary fuss was about something greater than Benedict. As the audience ended, and the thousands rushed out of the square, I sat on one of the fountains and marveled at the amount of people in the square, and how I managed to be lucky enough to be among them.

Looking inward

These extraordinary events often raise the question: So why do we care? What makes them extraordinary?

The next evening at 5 p.m., as my friend and I were waiting in the square, waiting to watch Pope Benedict’s helicopter take off from the Vatican grounds, a journalist came up to us and asked: What do you think you will see here?

Her question resonated in my heart throughout the rest of the day: What did I think I was going to see here? Why was I there? Why had I felt that it was so imperatively necessary to be in St. Peter’s Square at 5 p.m. on Feb. 28?

As a large crowd, undulating between applause and cheers and a solemn, rapt silence filled the square, large screens showed the sequence of events:

Benedict leaving the Vatican.

Benedict driving to the helicopter.

The tearful goodbyes of his chauffeur.

The helicopter’s journey to Castel Gandolfo.

The crowds outside Castel Gandolfo.

And then, finally, the then-Holy Father’s last words:

“Thank you for bringing yourselves [here] — with all my heart, I give you my blessing…. Thank you and goodnight!”

People lingered.

The little bevy of American nuns behind me wiped tears from their eyes.

Next to me, an Italian woman carrying bags of groceries had a blotchy face and sniffled.

A priest walked past me hurriedly, the beads of a rosary slipping through his fingers.

There was scattered applause from several onlookers unsure of what to do next.

Several groups of German Catholics, in traditional garb, stood with a banner that read: “DANKE”

Later that night, at 8 p.m., there was a much smaller crowd gathered in St. Peter’s Square. As 8 p.m. approached, a group of seminarians from St. Paul, Minn., led the rosary. A circle of pilgrims surrounded them as they all prayed around several students kneeling, holding candles. A small wave of people walked up toward the barriers in front of the Basilica, our eyes glued to the clock, lit up, so close to striking 8 o’clock.

As a small chorus of voices started singing the soft, sweet tones of the “Salve Regina,” my friend turned to look at the view behind us and whispered quietly: “Here we are. Tucked in the arms of the Church.” I turned my eyes from the clock and looked over the square. The pilgrims kneeling in the bright street lamps mirrored the stony statues of the saints that processed out of the Basilica, atop the colonnades. We were surrounded by the Church.

I looked up to the Basilica of Peter — the Basilica of the Rock — as the clock gently, unceremoniously chimed 8 o’clock.

Our little Church that had gathered in the arms of the Church paused.

We applauded quietly.

And then someone started singing the “Salve Regina” again.

Our Church soldiered on with business as usual, as the Church has always done.

That was, I realized, why all this hubbub mattered. All the brouhaha and hoi polloi that surrounds the cardinals gathering, and discussing and coalition-ing and voting matters because of these pilgrims gathered at the feet of Peter. All that extraordinary fuss exists for the ordinary. The Church exists for the little second-graders in Stillwater receiving their first Holy Communion. It exists for the young couple getting married and starting a regular family. It exists so that a small piece of unleavened bread can be transformed into the body of the Savior of the World.

That is the miracle and magic of Catholicism — the grandeur of St. Peter’s is simply the grandeur that is in every tiny little parish church, with the veil of the ordinary removed. The extraordinary moments pull back the dim guise of ordinary-ness that we live our lives in, and reveals to us just how extraordinary each everyday moment truly is.

Renée Roden, a student at the University of Notre Dame, is from the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis. She is currently in Rome to cover the conclave for one of the university’s publications.

Shawn O’Brien, a member of St. Boniface in St. Bonifacius, sent a note saying that his daughter, Katelyn, a gifted writer and a senior at Watertown-Mayer High School, wrote a poem for a creative writing class and it was recently published in a national teen magazine. The poem subsequently has been published in a few area church bulletins as well. Here is Katelyn’s poem:

Sunday Morning

Every Sunday Morning you can be sure to see,

The beautiful old couple sitting in pew three.

I can’t help but notice the love in his eyes,

Not just for his bride, but his God lifted high.

The strong bond between this man and his wife,

It’s something I’ll strive for my entire life.

I sometimes notice my thoughts drift away,

I think of their love and forget to pray.

We say the Lord’s Prayer, the church as a whole,

Her hand in his, they pray with their souls.

He steals a glance of the woman on his arm,

He smiles and blinks as a tear causes alarm.

He bows his head, quickly finishes his prayer,

Squeezes her hand, and smiles with care.

As Mass comes to close, he looks at the cross,

Mouths a quick thank you, then nods in awe.

Now Mass is over, I slide out of my pew,

Smile at the man, who then smiles too.

The lesson I learned is short but true,

Love is so strong, it captivates you.

All this Advent spreading of inspiration. What follows is a post that was headlined “Silent Christmas Angels” and shared by Bob Proctor as his “Friday story” on http://www.Insightoftheday.com

By Virginia Hay

From the emails I have been receiving lately and my own observations out there in the world I would have to say that a lot of people are really going through some difficult times right now.

The population is aging and this is impacting those who are growing older, those who are taking care of them, and those who are alone.

The other day I witnessed a lady in our building who had just been dropped off by one of those handicapped vans, and even though she was not in a wheelchair herself, I could see that she had serious mobility issues.

She had just returned from visiting her beloved husband and lifelong companion who was now confined to a nursing home. I had seen them out walking together a few years earlier, laughing and holding hands and thoroughly enjoying each others company.

As she slowly made her way to the front of the door, she held the key in her hand ready to open the lock. And then at that precise moment she just leaned in toward the building and started to cry. I could see from the look of anguish on her weary face, that she was trying to summon the courage to enter the building, walk up the stairs, and open her apartment door, just to be alone once again for yet another evening without him.

 Should I go comfort her?

My heart went out to her. I wanted to rush over and hug her but got the feeling to just honor her presence instead and the precious space she was in. I sensed that she was a very private person and just needed to be alone in that moment. Sometimes the moment can carry us through when we don’t have the strength to carry ourselves.

I did hold her in the light in my heart and whispered a quiet prayer that somehow things would get better for her and that she would know that she is deeply loved, even though I am sure she was certainly not feeling that love right then.

I think sometimes if we can simply acknowledge each others pain, without trying to fix things, then that may be the greatest gift we can give to another human being. I don’t mean wallow in the pain or focus on it, but to just acknowledge it with deep compassion, would make a huge difference to so many.

We are human and pain is part of the journey. If we ever allow ourselves to love anyone or anything for that matter, pain is an integral part of the process because some day we may, probably will, lose that person, place or thing to which we have become attached, either physically, mentally or emotionally. Of course, the price of not loving, of not seeking, of not becoming involved, is a much deeper and emptier pain that strips away at our soul and destroys our spirit.

Your spirit will always reach towards the love and your soul will always take the higher road.

 Let’s do our angelic part

And so I would suggest that this holiday season, we answer our soul’s calling and “take the higher road” by becoming “Silent Christmas Angels” for each other, especially at this difficult time of year for so many. Christmas has a way of surfacing so many emotions and memories, some joyful and some not so joyful.

So, as a “Silent Christmas Angel”, be on the look-out as to where you could shine your light on someone else’s darkness. Be constantly aware to where your wings may take you, whether it be in a busy shopping mall, a lonely sidewalk cafe, a homeless shelter, a park bench, a Christmas dinner or party. Be constantly vigil of where you could look beyond the surface to the deeper pain that may be lurking there and attend to it in whatever way and means may lie before you.

Pretend you have been given a mission and are part of the “Silent Christmas Angel Invasion” of whatever city you live in or visit and it is your job to keep the home fires burning and heal the hearts and souls of those you encounter along the way.

Sounds daunting? Fear not! You have at your command an arsenal of tools with which to do your work.

We have all that it takes

A magic wand that you can point and shoot better than any camera will ever do and grant silent wishes to unsuspecting troubled hearts, uplifting them in the twinkling of an eye and restoring peace on earth.

A big, beautiful, heart full of love, with light beams that extend from you for miles and miles ahead washing away any sadness that may appear in the distance and replacing it with joy, wonder, belief in the magic, trust in the knowing, that we are all in this together and we are truly loved.

Dancing, daring, delightful Angel eyes, that dispense laughter, spread kindness, seek miracles, offer compassion, give thanks and beam these out into all the other eyes that meet yours along the way, eliciting an enchanting smile of knowing and surprised look of tender acknowledgement.

And we “Silent Christmas Angels” have the ability to recognize each other. A knowing glance, a curious nod, a gentle, sweet and unsuspecting touch. A sacred salute to a comrade in arms and wings and halos.

And so, dear heart, will YOU join me? Will you take your place among us? Will I sense you standing there next to me wherever I may journey?

I think I already have and I know that I will, for I feel you here, reading these words, and I already recognize you.

Veronica Hay is an inspirational writer. She provides inspirational support and resources to help you live a richer life. Visit her website at:http://www.insightsandinspirations.comor email her at:veronicahay@telus.net

Guest post by Jackie Daugherty – The Catholic Spirit

How do YOU keep warm in the winter? With Hats, Scarves, Mittens, and Socks, of course!

This year, The Catholic Spirit decided to decorate the Christmas tree – differently. We’re making our tree “warm and cozy” with items that’ll be donated to St Joseph’s Home For Children in Minneapolis.

St. Joseph’s Home for Children, a program of Catholic Charities of St. Paul and Minneapolis, serves children and their families by addressing immediate needs for shelter and stability and offering long-term solutions to emotional and behavioral issues with quality mental health care.

If you would like to find out more about St Joseph’s Home (and their other affiliates) and how you can help brighten up their holiday, visit their website for more info.

http://cctwincities.org/stjosephshomeforchildren

or call

Sheila Senescall
Corporate and Foundation Relations
Catholic Charities of St. Paul and Minneapolis
1200 Second Avenue South
Minneapolis, MN 55403
612-204-8364 (w); 612-664-8610 (f)

In 1099, during the siege of Jerusalem in the First Crusade, a lay religious fraternity led by Fra’ Gerard (Fra’ was short for Frater, Latin for “brother”), began ministering to the sick and wounded at a hospice adjacent to the Church of St John the Baptist. After the victory, Fra’ Gerard and his companions continued to help the sick and wounded of all faiths, the pilgrims to the Holy Land and all in need. Seeing the Christ centered work the fraternity was doing, a number of Crusader knights joined Fra’ Gerard and his companions creating what became the first “order of chivalry”.

The vesture and implements of the Knights of Justice. Photo from the blog of Cardinal Sean O'Malley.

In 1113, by Papal Bull, Pope Paschal II approved the institution of the fraternity of “The Hospital of Saint John” recognizing it as a religious order of the Church and placing it under direct protection of the Holy See. As such, it is “exempt” from other ecclesiastical or lay authority, is a sovereign entity (having diplomatic relationships with 80 countries and a permanent seat at the United Nations) and is the first religious order of the Catholic Church with a centralized administration and government. It is the fourth oldest religious order in the Catholic Church.

Today, nearly 13,000 Knights and Dames around the world, as lay religious, continue to live out the motto Fra’ Gerard and his companions created more than 900 years ago, “Obsequium pauperum et tuition fidei” – Service to the poor and defense of the faith.

In Minnesota, Knights and Dames, along with the Auxiliary and friends of The Order, carry out their lifelong commitment made during Solemn Investiture Ceremonies at the Cathedral of St Patrick in New York City, by serving meals at the Dorothy Day Center, staffing over flow shelter space for homeless men, marching on behalf of the unborn and the elderly, coaching the unemployed and the under employed, and serving our parishes as Eucharistic Ministers, Lectors, Catechists and in a multitude of other capacities. Service is central to who we are.

Officially the Sovereign Military Hospitaler Order of St. John of Jerusalem of Rhodes and of Malta, we are more commonly known as The Order of Malta. Information on world wide efforts is available at http://www.orderofmalta.int. Information on The American Association is available at http://www.maltausa.org.

Steve Hawkins, KM
steve@hawkins-associates.com

Steve Hawkins is a member of St John Neumann Catholic Church in Eagan, MN and a member of the Order of Malta, a lay religious order of the Catholic Church which for more than 900 years has lived out its call to “Serve the poor and defend the faith”. He and his wife Judi reside in Burnsville, MN.

As the weather in St Paul turns ever colder, the number of tents appearing out side the Dorothy Day Center increases.  For the first time in its 30 year history, the Center has begun to turn away those seeking a warm, safe place to spend the night because there is simply no more room.  Inside nearly 300 of the lucky ones sleep shoulder to shoulder on mats upon the floor grateful for the opportunity.  Tim Marx, CEO of Catholic Charities who operates the Center, calls it our “canary in the coal mine”, an early warning of pending disaster in our community.

But thanks to the volunteer efforts of men from St John Neumann Catholic Church in Eagan, the Knights of Malta and friends from through out the Twin Cities, there will be room for 50 more homeless men seeking shelter ever night through March.  Each night 2 volunteers and a staff member from the Dorothy Day Center, open up the old Catholic Charities offices on Old 6th Street and admit those who otherwise would have been forced to spend the night in the cold.  By 7:00am the next morning, everyone is up and on their way and the old building is once again quiet till it opens its doors to welcome those less fortunate in our midst once again the following evening.

Each evening nearly 7000 of those whom Christ loved the most, seek a warm safe place to sleep in our 7 county metro area.  50 beds hardly seems like a drop in the bucket, unless you’re one of those 50 guys.  And maybe if more men like those from SJN and Malta and friends throughout the area join together, we can find more opportunities to help in the current crisis and to advocate for a real, long term solution soon.  In the mean time,

• Consider investing 1 night with us.  You may not sleep well but you will enable 50 other men, who have no bed of their own, to do so.
• Contact your State legislator and make certain that during any Special Session or during the upcoming 2012 regular session, the issue of hunger and homelessness in MN gets as much attention as a billion dollar stadium or a $750,000,000 bridge to Wisconsin.
• Pray.  Pray that we as a society come together to meet everyone’s needs.  Its not only what Christ told us to do, it is what we must do if our society is to survive.

Sleep well.

Steve Hawkins, KM
steve@hawkins-associates.com

Steve Hawkins is a member of St John Neumann Catholic Church in Eagan, MN and a member of the Order of Malta, a lay religious order of the Catholic Church which for more than 900 years has lived out its call to “Serve the poor and defend the faith”. He and his wife Judi reside in Burnsville, MN. 

By Justin Stroh

Pope Benedict XVI waves to the crowd from his popemobile as he arrives for a welcoming celebration as part of the World Youth Day festivities in central Madrid Aug. 18. (CNS photo/Susana Vera, Reuters)

Recently, I made a pilgrimage to Madrid, Spain for World Youth Day with Pope Benedict XVI.

WYD is one of those intense experiences that requires every fiber of a person’s existence. There are amazing joys and unmet expectations, 110-degree heat and subway sing-alongs, 100 acquaintances in a day and intimate sharing about the meaning of life.

This was my seventh WYD, and I knew what I was getting myself into; yet, I did not know what God was going to surprise me with. This, I now realize, is the path of a Catholic pilgrim — having a plan, setting out and being surprised by God. Here, I recount some of my favorite divine surprises:

• I have had the honor of journeying with youth who where struggling with their faith and others who were firm.

• I have seen teens that did not believe in God transformed by the witness of the saints buried for centuries.

• I have encountered tour guides who thought they were guiding tourists and later realized that God had sent these youth to witness to them.

• I have sat next to priests who have gained deeper insights from an aging pontiff into how to relate with teens.

• I have watched multitudes singing in joy and cheering in the rain.

• I have cried with millions enjoying the greatest fireworks display, a gift from a blessed pope.

• I have venerated a cross carried by hundreds of thousands of youth throughout the world.

• I have stood in a mob for 30 minutes just to fill my bottle with water.

• I have chatted with cardinals who happened to be strolling among the thousands.

• I have exhaled as much as I can to make room for one more pilgrim in a subway car.

• I have recommitted my life to Christ because of the faith of thousands and strong words from the pope.

• I have laughed with a hundred people who do not speak my language.

• I have sung to the One Father in heaven in one language with millions.

• I have seen the flags of the nations of the world waving for the vicar of Christ.

• I have been entrusted with the task to make the knowledge and love of Jesus Christ known to the world by the successor of Peter.

Here is what the pope told me and the other million pilgrims:

“He [Jesus] wants you to be the apostles of the 21st century and the messengers of his joy. . . . He sends you out to be his witnesses, courageous and without anxiety, authentic and credible! Do not be afraid to be Catholic, and to be witnesses to those around you in simplicity and sincerity! . . . You have met Jesus Christ! You will be swimming against the tide in a society with a relativistic culture, which wishes neither to seek nor hold on to the truth. But it was for this moment in history, with its great challenges and opportunities, that the Lord sent you, so that, through your faith, the Good News of Jesus might continue to resound throughout the earth.”

I have now passed it on to you. What will you do to seek God and become more firm in your Catholic faith?

Justin Stroh is an evangelizer, speaker and musician from Divine Mercy in Faribault. Find out more at http://justinstroh.webs.com.