Sunday  Closed   Monday  8:00am - 3:00pm   Tuesday  8:00am - 3:00pm   Wednesday  8:00am - 3:00pm   Thursday  8:00am - 3:00pm   Friday  8:00am - 3:00pm   Saturday  Closed   Parish Office Hours: 8am to 3pm Monday thru Friday

Six years ago, I was sitting on my couch in the rectory in Stanley when Bishop McRaith called. He said to me, “I’m sending you back to where you came from.” I said, “What? You’re sending me to hell?” “No, you’re going back to Saint Joseph’s in Bowling Green.” “Oh Bishop,” I replied, “please don’t send me back to that briar patch.” And being from Minnesota, he didn’t get it. Little did I know at that point we would be embarking on restoring this great building. That became imperative, however, when after being here a month, I walked in, turned on the lights, and the smell of something burning filled the church. The wiring on the light fixtures had lost their insulation and smoke was filling the attic space. We conducted a feasibility study, and the question was asked whether we wanted to restore this building or tear it down and build a more modern structure in its place. The answer was practically unanimous that we restore. In fact, I think a few people were rather insulted that the question was even asked. So I stood before you and I said, “I’ll restore it if you agree to pay for it.” I did my part, and you’re in the process of doing your part. And for those of you who continue to ask, “Yes, we will be painting it eventually with beautiful details, but only after we pay off the debt on what we’ve done so far.” What is it about this building that is so special to people? As we saw during the restoration when we ripped out the floor and removed all the wiring and stripped the interior in many places down to the brick, this building is nothing more than regular building materials: wood – in some places, recycled wood probably from the old civil war forts in the area; bricks, that were obviously fired locally and really are not of the highest quality; and plaster that is susceptible to humidity, which can cause it to crumble and fall on people in the middle of Mass. I remember a couple of rainy days walking in here and enough plaster particles had fallen it looked like it had snowed. Yet, we are today because this building is more than the sum of its parts. We are here today because of what takes place in this building, and what has taken place over the past 150 years. We are here because this is the place where new parents have brought their children to be baptized and have secretly and desperately prayed for God’s help because they realize that babies do not come with instructions. This is the place where grandparents have come to see little ones make their first Holy Communion and known for a brief moment that all they did to instill the faith in their children had taken root. This is the place the bishop came to celebrate Confirmation and parents breathe a sigh of relief because their sweet adolescent child did not embarrass them and for just a brief moment they remember why they wanted to have children in the first place. This is the place where fathers walked their daughter down the aisle and realized they were no longer the most important man in their little girl’s life. This is the place where, in the midst of a bad day, we have come on a really bad day and known that in the midst of difficulties, God still cares. We all have our own memories and stories about what has taken place here. After being around here for 15 years off and on, either as a seminarian or a young priest with all the answers or a pastor who is absolutely clueless and making it up as he goes along, I know there everything that happens around here and everything you see here has a story that goes along with it. EVERYTHING!!!!! And I should have understood the first day I got here, because I even have my own stories. I came here on the Tuesday after Memorial Day in the summer of 1994. I had never been here before, I had no idea what to expect, and I knocked on the door and a red-headed very loud woman met me at the door. I introduced myself as the seminarian, and that woman whom I had never met in my life said, “Well get yourself in here. I was just telling Thelma, ‘What are we going to do with that rascal when he gets here?’” That was my welcome to Saint Joseph’s Parish and how I met Dot Harper. And I still remember that the day of our ordination, I celebrated my very first Mass here at this altar, and Dot was sitting in the pew over by the column. And after Mass, she came up and hugged me and cried, and said, “I’m so happy. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.” Sometimes when I’m out at the cemetery, I’ll walk by her grave, and say, “I’m still here.” Another story about my first day: the year before that, the pastor had decided to move the Blessed Sacrament out of the central Tabernacle and put it in the Marian Altar. On the Tuesday after Memorial Day, that pastor left here at 10 in the morning. By noon, the Blessed Sacrament was back in the central Tabernacle. I arrived at 2 that afternoon, and had absolutely no idea about any of this. The next few Sundays, there were visiting priests, and after Communion each time, I put Blessed Sacrament away – in the center Tabernacle, because that’s where I thought it belonged. After three weeks, at the end of Mass, Charlotte Smith walked up and said, “Honey, I want to thank you for putting the Blessed Sacrament back in the Tabernacle.” Just like now, I was totally clueless, and I said, “Well, that’s where it belongs, isn’t it?” And she said, “That’s what I think, too.” It wasn’t until three years later that I found out the rest of the story, and that’s when I realized that everything here has a story associated with it. One more story, that has nothing to do with Dot Harper: one day during the restoration work on the building was exceptionally stressful. I remember walking in and walking up to where Fr. DeVries is buried, and I asked him, “Was it as much trouble building this place as it is to restore it?” And I am convinced that he answered me. “I was dealing with Irish and German immigrants. What do you think?” This building that we all love so much is not our parish. We are here today because of who we are. Over 150 years, names and faces and languages may have changed, but we are still a parish who celebrates the sacraments, welcomes the immigrant, feeds the poor, educates our children, and proclaims to Bowling Green and Warren County, Kentucky that God loves all men and women in this world. This building serves as a place for our parish to come together around the table of the Lord and it serves as a symbol to the world around us that here one can find a community who loves and serves God. This building only has meaning because of the people who appear here and the milestones that are marked here and the stories that are started here. This parish has lots of stories and characters associated with it, after being here 150 years. Some of those stories are funny and some are tragic. All of those stories give meaning to our building because what happens here gives meaning to our lives. Today we are marking the first century and a half of this parish and the Catholic Christian presence in Bowling Green, Kentucky. But when we think about it, we’ve only just begun. I am confident this community will be here another 50, 100, 150 years and more. Maybe in another 150 years, some priest will stand up here and tell more stories. Maybe there will even be a few stories about the bald headed priest who put the Blessed Sacrament back in the Tabernacle. But no matter what, there will be the knowledge that God has poured out many blessings on and through this community of believers. May God continue the good work God has begun in St. Joseph’s Parish.