Kevin was born April 10th, 1938, to Laurence J. (Larry) and Margaret P. (Peggy) (Thompson) Lynch. He was named John Terence and known as Terry in his early years.

The youngest of three boys, Kevin was born and grew up in the Peace River Country, in the town of McLennan, Alberta. He attended school there before following in his brothers’ footsteps and heading to St. Anthony’s College in Edmonton, where he graduated from high school and then stayed on to study philosophy and arts.

Kevin made his vows with the Franciscan Friars in 1958, and studied theology in Montreal prior to his ordination to the priesthood. On June 16th, 1962, he was ordained at St. John the Baptist Cathedral in McLennan.

Following his ordination, he completed a graduate degree in philosophy at the University of Ottawa, followed by an education degree at the University of Alberta. He taught science and religion at St. Anthony’s College and Archbishop O’Leary High School in Edmonton for seven years.

In 1972 Kevin spent a sabbatical year at Corpus Christi College, in London, England, where he completed a diploma in Religious Education. It was during this year he met, for the first time, his father’s large Irish family. A deep bond formed and there were numerous visits with his Irish family over the years.

Upon his return, Kevin was appointed Director of Religious Education for Edmonton Catholic Schools (1973-1995), as well as serving as Provincial Minister to the Franciscans of Western Canada (1982-1992). He served as the Guardian in three friaries over the years.

Upon his retirement from Edmonton Catholic Schools, Kevin went back to studies and graduated with a Masters of Theology at Regis College in Toronto, through their “Integration for Ministry” program.

Kevin’s latter years were spent in retreat ministry at St. Michael’s Retreat Centre (Lumsden, SK), from 1996-2007, where he founded and chaired an interchurch board composed of the Anglicans, Evangelical Lutherans and the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Regina, which operated the Centre.

From 2007 he served at Mount St. Francis Retreat Centre (Cochrane, AB) in various capacities, including Director of the Centre (2007-2015). In a second retirement he continued to work with the addiction program and remained active with spiritual direction.

Kevin touched many people along his journey. He enriched the lives of his family and friends presiding over many baptisms, weddings and funerals. He was humble, kind, charismatic, approachable, wise and had a special way of bringing people together. He had a gift of making everyone around him, no matter their age or beliefs, feel welcomed and loved embodying the Franciscan mission in his daily life.

Kevin died peacefully, with family at his side, in the Foothills Hospital during the early hours of December 19th. He was 87 years of age.

Kevin was predeceased by his parents and his two brothers, Tom (Annette Laplante) and Michael (Betty Lou O’Rourke). He leaves to mourn his Franciscan brothers, his nieces and nephews – Kevin, Bryan, Larry and Erin Lynch, Nicole Mackenzie and Dawn Marie Crouse and their families, cousins in Saskatchewan, many Irish relatives and treasured friends.

Visitation and Prayer Service will take place at Mount St. Francis Retreat Centre chapel (41160 Retreat Road, Cochrane, AB), on Sunday, December 28th, at 7:00 pm.

The Funeral Mass will be celebrated at 11:00 am on Monday December 29th at St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church (10 River Heights Drive), in Cochrane, AB, followed by a lunch.

Interment will follow after lunch at the Franciscan cemetery at the retreat centre.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Mount St. Francis Retreat Centre, Box 430, Cochrane, AB, T4C-1A6, in memory of Friar Kevin.

The funeral will be live streamed:

Please pre-register here:

https://my.forever.link/register/mcinnis-holloway/rev-kevin-john-lynch-ofm

What do you hear and see?

In this Advent Season our senses are often overwhelmed with much goodness. In this goodness what do we hear and see? Do we see the blind receiving site? Do we see the lame walking? Do we see lepers cleansed? Do we hear the deaf speaking? Do we see the dead regaining life? Do we see the poor receiving good news?

It is in our “actions and words” these truths come to light. However, this common phrase of “actions and words” is now stack up with other common phrase “love it” and we lose sight of everyday miracles. Yet the truth is it is in our actions and words which transform and bring hope and joy. Everyday miracles which are the base of common joy.

What have I heard and seen to prove this?

I have seen a heart blinded by hurt seek healing.
I have seen the burden of uncertainty lifted from someone who now is no longer lamed.
I have seen how forgiveness and reconciliation have cleansed the leprosy of my own life.
I have heard the laughter of a brother and the giggle of a child deafness vanished.
I have seen the death of addictions dissolved from lives and new life gained.
I have heard the gratitude of the poor who have received hope and dignity.

Where you may ask?
In individuals, in families, in communities, in neighbours, in parishes, in our country.

As our common humanity continues to be torn apart by hour increasing greed, false fears, and gullible lies how are we being heralds of hope and bearers of joy? What do we hear and see? Do you hear what I hear? Do you see what I see?

Each new day is the chance to live the gospel and see the power of its goodness, hope and joy take root. We are messengers sent. Advent is the start of the living out the gospel for the whole year.

Let us go forth boldly.

This reflection is inspired by: Matthew 11.2-11
Photo Credit: Edi Libedinsky

– Br. Michael

In unexpected turns and unnecessary twists,

In darkest nights and dullest moments,

In waiting patiently and struggling to listen,

In longing hearts and wondering minds,

Come, O Come, Emmanuel.

In the year ending already,

In the new beginnings,

In the regular of routines,

In the endless invitations,

Come, O Come, Emmanuel.

In hopeful journeys,

In painful goodbyes,

In longed-for changes,

In welcoming words,

Come, O Come, Emmanuel.

In these few short weeks,

In moments brief,

In the here and now,

In Advent days,

Come, O Come, Emmanuel.

Photo Credit: Waldemar Brandt

A day set aside to give thanks on purpose. On this Thanksgiving I wonder if we have considered how our heart is? Is it full of gratitude? Is it aware of blessings? Is it just considering it to be just another day with the bonus of a bigger meal?

Philemon of Gaza, a monk from the sixth century wrote: “Ingratitude is a serious spiritual malady that affects the heart and soul. Ingratitude is a kind of interior leprosy” (Meditations on Luke’s Gospel). To be truly thankful, means we know all we have comes from God. Taking note of what we are thankful moves us from ingratitude to gratefulness. Gratitude heals the leprosy of our hearts and interior scars and aligns us again with God; being clothed in God’s goodness (Colossians 3.12-17).

As St. John Chrysostom reminds us, “Our acts of thanksgiving add nothing to God’s happiness, but they unite us more closely to God” (Homilies on Saint Matthew). This being closely united to God is at the heart of letter to the Colossians. To take note of being God’s chosen ones, of our holiness, our belovedness and the call to action declares we are rooted in thankfulness. Not as means of pleasing God, rather united with God and God’s actions of love, mercy and goodness.

On this Thanksgiving Day, as we celebrate the harvest and our many blessings may we carry gratitude into the places we are called to carry the gospel. May we have a heart filled with gratitude, not perfection, rather gratitude returning all praise and glory to God. May we live as God’s chosen ones, not boastful and prideful, rather with open hands to receive Christ who poured himself out for us. Let us give thanks to God from the rising of the sun to its setting (Psalm 113) for all our blessings, now and forever. Amen.

– Br. Michael, ofm

Photo Credit: Priscilla Du Preez

Many of us probably don’t think about our death on a regular basis. In fact, many of us probably avoid the conversation. However, it is good for us to consider “Sister Death” as Francis would say and ponder what would truly be a blessing “at the hour of death.” To consider our sister death, means we open our heart to trust in God and the mercy, compassion and new life only God can offer. To ponder the blessings of the hour when we take our final breath more than likely means we think of certain people.

When Francis lay dying on the eve of October 3, 1226, he desired his brothers who had been with him from the beginning to be closest to him. He also desired the companionship of Lady Jacoba and his sister Clare. He would request his brothers sing to him the Canticle of Creatures. He would request Lady Jacoba to bring cookies. From Clare he would desire prayer, closeness, vision and continued friendship. Clare offered all of these to Francis. She was present to him in his living and dying. She didn’t forget him as he was placed in the grave, rather she became an anchor for the Franciscan family.

I think of St. Clare as we St. Francis on his transitus. I think of her courage earlier in their story to leave everything behind and set a new pattern for living. I think of how she trusted, yes, in God but also in Francis and his vision for gospel living. I think of her compassion toward Francis. I believe she kept him grounded when he was lost in emotions and uncertainty reminding him of his vision in Christ. I think of how after his death she persevered in her leadership seeing through her rule of life being approved just before her meeting of sister death. I think of her friendship with Francis, how “instead of looking at each other, Clare and Francis looked in the same direction… Jesus, poor, humbled and crucified” (Raniero Cantalamessa, O.F.M. Cap.). To look at the poor, humbled, crucified Crist is look at love and the depth of relationship.

Thinking of St. Clare on the Feast of St. Francis, I consider those in my life who continue to show up. Those companions who don’t look to me but look with me toward our final home with hope. Those companions who are not afraid to have the hard conversations and still offer compassion. Those companions who like Clare for Francis, know my heart; it’s brokenness and its hope. Each year as we mark the passing of Francis from this world into the next, I am reminded one day this too will be my moment. I trust like Francis I will have someone like Clare by my side, who will whisper into my ears, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15.55).

– Br. Michael, ofm