Humble service in the heartland: 40 years as a deacon

By Christina Capecchi

For The Catholic Spirit

Deacon Dan Wesley was one of the first deacons to be ordained for the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis. He recently marked his 40th anniversary and retired from active ministry, allowing him more time to spend with his grandchildren and enjoy his rural homestead between Waterville and Elysian, land his greatgrandfather once farmed.

“Your heritage becomes more important the older you get,” said Deacon Wesley, 76, a member of St. Andrew in Elysian.

Q How has your hometown changed?

A Growing up, there were a dozen farms on Highway 60. Now there’s not one that’s being farmed by a resident farmer. I grew up at the right time. When I was a kid, they still threshed wheat and oats, and the neighbors all came together to do that and have a meal. We filled silos together and then would sit around and have a beer.

Q At the same time, there’s been a widespread decline in Mass attendance.

A I look at it and I see family life has declined, and I think that really contributes to the decline in the number of people going to church.

But I’m excited about the Synod. My wife, Gloria, and I have been involved. And at St. Andrew, we’re signing people up and getting new membership. We make a point to be welcoming — we greet people when they arrive and say we’re happy they’re there, Father is right at the door, and when they come out of the church, we have coffee and rolls every Sunday.

Q How did you meet your wife?

A I was 2 years old! Her family sat right behind my family one Sunday at St. Andrew in Elysian. I had long curly hair back then, and she reached forward and pulled my hair. I always tell the boys in youth group that if you ever have a girl reach forward and pull your hair, you might as well get the marriage license!

Q You dated as teens.

A She was definitely pretty and a very nice, likable person. A lot of guys wanted to go out with her. I give her a hard time about it; she dated everybody and then the only person left was me. When I came home from service in Vietnam, she was going to nurse’s school down in Rochester, at St. Mary’s (Hospital School of Nursing), and you couldn’t get married until you graduated. She graduated in May ’70 and we got married in July of ’70.

Q You farmed in your 20s, but then the farming crisis of the ’80s hit. How did you find a new path?

A We discerned that farming was not my vocation anymore, and the diaconate formation came along. We started volunteering with a youth group and volunteered to chaperone a retreat. We didn’t think we knew anything, but then all of a sudden, someone asks you a question, and you realize you do have something to say.

When we came home, it definitely felt like there was some kind of calling. The priest asked if I’d ever thought about diaconate. I said, “What’s diaconate?”

I talked to someone who was in the process of diaconate formation, and we figured we’d apply, and if it wasn’t our calling, someone would tell us no.

It wasn’t long after I was ordained that it was confirmed every day that this was what God had called us to. And I say “us” — it’s not just me, Gloria and I do a lot together. It’s enriched our marriage in a lot of ways.

Q As a deacon, you’ve done Latino ministry, prison outreach and sacrament preparation and you’ve served as parish administrator three times. What have you learned during the past four decades?

A It’s always about relationships. You can’t do prison ministry unless you have a relationship. My wife and I volunteered at Faribault state prison. Every Sunday I had Mass at the prison, and then, out of that, we led a gathering every Tuesday evening. We called it “inquiry class” — whatever the inmates needed, that’s what it was. Sometimes it was just a support group, sometimes we did Scripture sharing. One time an inmate told me about a letter the U.S. bishops had just put out on restorative justice, so I looked it up and printed it out, and we used that for a number of weeks.

I became the liaison to the community for the restorative justice committee at the prison. The inmates were making these little chairs, and the back would be the head of a lion or an elephant. They were very professionally done, and they would give those chairs to the domestic abuse center in Faribault.

We got a list of all the homeless people who had died in the last year, and we led a memorial service for them. The guys made tombstone replicas using plywood and put their names on them and then we displayed them in Central Park (in Faribault). The youngest one was 1 (year old). The guys shed some tears over that.

Q You relinquished your agenda for those Tuesday nights — your own notion of how it should go and what would be most beneficial — and instead let the inmates shape it around their needs.

A There are aspects of my life I like to control, but I think the first lesson I learned in the Church is: You have power, but don’t use it. The only time when power is really valuable in the Church is when it’s used to promote the love of God.

Q What do you appreciate about living in the country?

A We get up in the morning, and just to hear the birds singing, and go out and feed the birds, all the different kinds of birds that come in to eat. That’s a real joy. In a lot of ways, it’s a spiritual experience.

You can’t look at them and see all the wonders and not relate that to: They’re God’s creatures. And God created all of them — in such a simple way. In a lot of ways, God is very simple.

Q We shouldn’t over-think it. I was just reading a quote from St. Jane de Chantal: “put yourself very simply before God.” Children do that naturally. What’s the best part of being a grandparent?

A Not being responsible for them! We can just spoil them and send them home.

I always joke that the best part about having children is that you have grandchildren. The honest-to-God truth is the best part about grandchildren is watching your children be parents.

Q What do you know for sure?

A I’m going to die someday. That’s for sure. Other than that, I know for sure that God loves us. I’m so grateful that I have the gift of my faith, and I don’t struggle at all with the love of God and how powerful it is. I love being Catholic. I love the celebration. I love the liturgy and the richness of it. I love coming together as a community to continue our rituals. Where else are you going to find that?

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