When I got to my inbox this morning, there was an email informing me that Fr. Jim Kiernan had died.  One could write several books about Fr. Kiernan.  He had a folksy way of delivering a homily, no doubt a product of the Irish appreciation for telling a story.  Before I head out my door this morning, I’ll share one I remember.

“When I taught at St. Albert’s, sometimes the kids would ask me, ‘Father, how come there are no miracles anymore?’

I would tell them I don’t know.  Maybe God at one time thought we needed miracles, and He simply doesn’t now.  Maybe it was how He communicated with us once, but now He communicates in a different way.  Maybe it has nothing to do with God at all.

Imagine, if you would, a world where everything was brown.  Now, I don’t know the science behind that, I don’t know how such a world would work, but imagine it, in your mind, a world where everything was brown.

One day, here in Stuart, Iowa, right in your own backyard, something green begins to grow.  Can you even imagine that?  A color no one had ever seen before begins to emerge right there, behind your house, in the midst of all that brown.  Why think of how excited your kids would be.

And Stuart, well it’s a small town, and you know how the news would travel.  Your neighbors would come over first, and then those from across town, and behind them those from the countryside, all coming to your place to see what was growing in your yard.

Could there be any doubt that the Des Moines Register would be interested in a story like that?  Or the local news channels?  Why before long the national press would descend right here in Stuart, Iowa, with an assortment of microphones in your face, their news trucks in your driveway, and helicopters hovering over your home.

Yes, sir.  That would be big news for Stuart, Iowa.  How long, do you suppose, it would take for someone to utter, ‘It’s a miracle.’?

But you know what?  It happens everyday, the whole world over, and no one even notices.”