By Thea Jarvis

Brothers Larry Joachim and Virgil Siefker are approaching the finish line.

With just the inside work to be completed on St. Paul the Apostle Church in Cleveland, they are hoping to make the building as presentable as possible for the dedication service Mary 25.

On a clear, chilly day in early March, Brother Larry is sanding the church’s outside doors, readying them for final painting. Brother Virgil, brush in hand, spends his time on a ladder painting ceilings.

“There’s lots of work to do yet,” Brother Virgil says easily. “So many little things you can’t even see need doing.”

Though the Cleveland project is the biggest church-building task the two Glenmarys have yet tackled – a “whopper” in the words of Brother Larry – the easygoing attitude of the men attests to the spirit of humility and interior poverty that is the strength of the Glenmary commitment.

“There are no deadlines to meet,” Brother Virgil says from his perch on the ladder. “We just try to do a good job.”

A good job has been done. The structure is warm and attractive, built to last and to be energy-efficient. It combines practicality and clean, eye-pleasing lines in one well-planned package.

Growing up, the brothers both worked on family farms and now seem to thrive on their grass-roots lifestyle. They arrive at the building site around eight o-clock each morning after a communion service, shared prayer and breakfast. Their work continues until five, with a short break for lunch.

From Monday to Saturday, they can be found hard at it. Yet anyone who stops by to visit or help is always welcome. Their philosophy seems to be that work is never more important than the people they are called to serve.

Brother Larry’s million dollar smile and Brother Virgil’s quiet hospitality tell visitors more about the Lord they follow than a hundred Sunday sermons could begin to explain.

There are setbacks, of course. Brother Larry recently found himself with a broken wrist that slowed down his customary pace. A fluke fall from a ladder just four feet up was the culprit.

“It hurt,” Brother Larry admits ruefully, but adds that he can’t really complain because it’s the first broken bone in all his years on the job.

“I consider I’ve been pretty fortunate,” he says with good humor.

Despite the normal run of work-related snags, the faith of the team is strong and seasoned. “There are days when nothing goes right, but the Lord always seems to send some kind of blessing,” Brother Larry believes.

St. Joseph, the brothers’ patron, is close at hand through their labors. His statue, a dust-covered wood carving housed in a little A-frame niche built especially for him, sits atop the water heater in one of the new rooms.

“He stays outside” until the exterior work is completed, Brother Larry explains. “When we get the roof on, he moves back in.”

The brothers’ time in Cleveland is drawing to a close. In a few more weeks, they will move on to their next building project, a new chapel for the Glenmary headquarters in Cincinnati.

Their leave-taking, like their comings and goings in north Georgia, will be accomplished with simplicity. The home on wheels that they pull to Glenmary territory all over the United States will go with them, an unpretentious but serviceable trailer that suits them well.

“We just load the tools in our truck and pull the trailer behind,” Brother Virgil explains. “Then we’re back on the road again.”

This time, without a doubt, they will be sent off with the gratitude and good wishes of the Cleveland Catholics they have so willingly served.