Msgr. Francis Braun

BRAUN - Msgr. Francis- November 23, 2022. Pastor Emeritus of St. Mark RC Church, Buffalo, NY. Son of the late George and Mary Hennessy Braun; brother of Paul Braun and the late Rev. John Braun, M.Afr., Jerome Braun, Jo Ann Crittenden and Mary Ann Anderson; survived by nieces, nephews and cousins. Friends may call Friday Dec. 2nd, 4-7 pm at the Dengler Roberts Perna Funeral Home 3070 Delaware Ave., Kenmore. Friends are invited to attend a Mass of Christian Burial Saturday Dec. 3rd, 10am at St. Mark RC Church 401 Woodward Ave. Buffalo. To view the mass live streamed Saturday at 10am please visit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fe8vrzXHnMo. In lieu of flowers, contributions in Msgr.'s memory may be made to St. Mark's School Scholarship Fund, 401 Woodward Ave., Buffalo, New York 14214. Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.DenglerRobertsPernafuneral.com

Jesus talks about us all as the “salt of the earth.” I’ve never known anyone more thoroughly “salt of the earth” than Msgr. Francis Braun. Brilliant and strong, Fr. Braun was also selfless, giving, and loving. His impatience with BS—and the occasional (heartfelt) curse-laden homily which would result— was evidence of the lunch pail Buffalo mix of all those things he represented perfectly. He didn’t have much— but always had everything he needed— and was quick to try and give you whatever little he had. He quietly spent thousands of dollars of his own money every year on pizza parties and sport uniforms and keeping the Holy Name keg full. All he needed was the Bills or Yankees on TV, a police radio, a couple of beers and a new gray hoodie every 18 months. He didn’t need or want anything else. Because his gruff, loving, blue collar personality would have fit so well into the families I grew up in, Fr. Braun fit into my heart as a bonus grandpa. I learned so much from him as a priest, as a teacher, as a man, and as a friend. By both his words and his actions. By the things he said and didn’t say. By calling out bullshit— but more importantly, by knowing when to let bullshit slide was the Christian thing to do. In me and in my teaching, there is so much Fr. Braun. Maybe too much— like when I look out the window and see rain and think, “the kids aren’t restless to get outside— what a great day to teach,” or when I make the freshmen giggle when I say “shit” in class, or when I sing joyfully— but loudly and off-key— at school masses. It’s all from my heart, but it was from Fr. Braun’s heart first. It was a great privilege to sit with him for one last beer only hours before he died. He was non-responsive, but he stirred when I told him I was there. He stirred when I cracked open that beer. And he stirred when I prayed the Prayer of St. Francis. Right before I left, I told him I loved him. The last time I did that, the grumpy old German gave me a grumpy “ALLLright, kid,” which I know meant he loved me too.