Long-dead Duluth priest’s body exhumed to begin winding path to sainthood

DULUTH – A rectangle of fresh dirt behind a small grave marker for the Rev. Joseph Buh, dead more than 100 years, marks the spot where he is no longer buried among the circle of Catholic priests at Calvary Cemetery.

Buh’s body was exhumed late last month, his remains taken to an undisclosed temperature-controlled location where they were sorted and now remain. The late missionary, who immigrated to this region from Slovenia in the mid-1800s, will eventually be moved to a place of prominence at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Rosary in Duluth, a more accessible location for those who want to visit.

Local Catholic officials are in the early stages of determining whether Buh, who was given the title of monsignor and was considered the “patriarch of the Diocese of Duluth,” has enough of a following for local religious leaders to start investigating whether he is a fitting candidate for sainthood. This is an early step before a layered process that could take decades — or prove fruitless.

“We’re discerning whether or not there is an organic devotion to this man,” said the Rev. Richard Kunst, priest at St. James and St. Elizabeth churches in Duluth.

An organic devotion would mean that Buh is still in people’s memories — and the fresh flowers frequently found at his former gravesite would be one such marker. Priests can’t force members of their congregation to celebrate Buh, but they can highlight his story and see if it resonates with people, according to Kunst.

There have been movements before to recognize Buh’s impact on the Catholic church. During his February 1922 funeral, then-Bishop Timothy McNicholas referred to Buh as “a saintly priest.” He had him buried in a protective metal-lined casket, since it was likely he would be later be exhumed.

“His reason: he considered [Buh] ‘a saint,’ and he set the stage, therefore, for an exhumation at some later date,” according to “Masinaigans,” the 300-plus page biography that two nuns from St. Scholastica Monastery published in 1972.

In the mid-1900s, cards with Buh’s bearded face and a snippet of his white shirt were distributed by the sisters. These were signs of faith and devotion, Kunst said, but no formal cause was taken up at the time.

“Even though there is interest in him over the years, no bishop stepped up and said ‘You know what, let’s kind of push this,’” Kunst said.

Until Duluth Bishop Daniel Felton reintroduced the idea in the fall of 2023.

Now there is a website dedicated to Buh’s story, and during a recent visit to St. James Catholic Church, prayer cards with Buh’s face were scattered on a table for the taking. His biography has been condensed into a booklet with photographs, information on his historical impact and a prayer for his beatification, the second stage in the church’s process of proclaiming someone a saint. Kunst has been involved in a short documentary about Buh that features a St. James parishioner whose grandparents were married by Buh and were deeply affected by his generosity.

Buh, born in Slovenia in 1833, was in seminary in his home country when he developed an interest in traveling to the United States as a missionary. He moved to Minnesota in 1864, learned English and Ojibwe in addition to the other four languages he’d mastered, and settled for more than a decade in Belle Prairie, where he ministered to Native Americans and European immigrants.

In the late 1880s, Buh worked in northern Minnesota, where he was in charge of nine active missions on the Iron Range and beyond. Soon after, he was named vicar general and chancellor of the Duluth Diocese. He maintained those roles for the rest of his life.

In a time of dire economics, Buh established a boarding house for unemployed people on the Iron Range. Later he created Buh Mission House for priests who served as missionaries. He wrote prayer books, started a Catholic union and newspaper and incorporated 57 parishes.

His successor at a parish in Ely said he “labored endlessly with one burning purpose uppermost in his heart and mind: Namely to bring the work of Christ to these northern parts of America,” the Rev. Frank Mihelcic is quoted as saying.

In the Roman Catholic Church, a saint is anyone who is in heaven with God. However, that is a saint with a small “s,” Kunst said. A capital-S saint is one who has gone through the rigorous, careful process of canonization. The church has recognized upward of 10,000 such saints over the centuries, though some of those stories have been lost to time. The United States has ties to just a few.

The process starts locally. In October, there will be a meeting of clergy from the Diocese of Duluth, where regional priests can report what they are hearing about the level of devotion to Buh, Kunst said.

“At that point, we will have had a year of kind of reintroducing his story,” he said.

If the diocese finds reason to continue, Felton would seek approval of his peers at the Conference of Catholic Bishops, and Buh’s name would be presented to the Holy See — the governing body of the Roman Catholic Church that would have to approve moving it forward. From there, it could take decades to work through a process that requires in-depth investigating and evidence of two miracles associated with that person before sainthood can be declared.

At least one nun has claimed she was miraculously cured of breast cancer with Buh’s intercession. Jean Castonguay’s story is told in a booklet-sized biography of Buh. She prayed not for a cure, but for God’s will to be done, she said of her diagnosis in 1947. She made a cap out of a scrap from an old shirt belonging to Buh and reported in 1970 that though she had once been given just days to live, she had since been cancer-free for decades.

Until recently, Buh was buried within a circle alongside dozens of other priests at the Catholic cemetery off Howard Gnesen Road. The sacred exhumation, described as a careful and lengthy process in a diocesan publication, was performed July 25. Those on site, including Felton, found bones, part of his cassock and a plaque attached to his casket reading “Rest in Peace,” according to Kyle Eller’s chronicle in the Northern Cross.

Dan Dougherty, who owns Dougherty Funeral Home, said he has twice been a part of the exhumation process — but never under these circumstances. He doesn’t know anyone who has been involved with exhuming someone regarded as a holy person, he said. The discoveries started before the dig: The funeral home had among its files the order form for Buh’s casket, paperwork from before Dougherty owned the funeral home.

“I was just honored to be a part of something for a guy who might become a saint at some point,” Dougherty said. “I think everybody was excited about what could happen with the monsignor. We were all interested in what we would find.”

One of those items: Buh’s clerical collar, dirtied but still intact.