Anniversary of the Salesian Movement
for the Salvation of the Young
The feast of the Immaculate
Conception and the beginning of the festive oratory
Hardly had I registered at the Convitto of St
Francis, when I met at once a crowd of boys who followed me in the streets and
the squares and even into the sacristy of the church attached to the institute.
But I could not take direct care of them since I had no premises. A humourous
incident[1]
opened the way to put into action my project[2]
for the boys who roamed the streets of the city, especially those released from
prison.
On the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of Mary (8 December 1841),[3] I was vesting to celebrate holy Mass at the appointed time. Joseph Comotti, the sacristan, seeing a boy in a corner, asked him to come and serve my Mass.
“I don’t know how,” he answered, completely
embarrassed.
“Come on,” repeated the sacristan, “I want you to serve
“I don’t know how,” the boy repeated. “I’ve
never served Mass.”
“You blockhead,” said the sacristan, quite
furious, “if you don’t know how to serve Mass, what are you doing in the
sacristy?” With that he grabbed a feather duster and hit the poor boy about the
head and shoulders.
As the boy beat a hasty retreat, I cried
loudly, “What are you doing? Why are you beating him like that? What’s he
done?”
“Why is he hanging round the sacristy if
he doesn’t know how to serve Mass?”
“But you’ve done wrong.”
“What
does it matter to you?”
“It matters plenty. He’s a friend of mine. Call
him back at once. I need to speak with him.”
“Tuder! Tuder!”[4]
he began to shout, as he ran after him. Promising him better treatment, he
brought the lad back to me. He came over trembling and tearful because of the
blows he had received.[5]
“Have you attended Mass yet?” I asked him with as much loving kindness[6] as I could.
“No,” he answered.
“Well, come to Mass now. Afterwards I’d like to
talk to you about something that will please you.”
He promised to do as I said. I wanted to calm down the poor fellow’s spirit and not leave him with that sad impression towards the people in charge of that sacristy. Once I had celebrated my Mass and made due thanksgiving, I took my candidate into a side chapel. Trying to allay any fear he might have of another beating, I started questioning him cheerfully:
“My good friend, what’s your name?”
“My name’s Bartholomew Garelli.”
“Where are you from?”
“Asti
“Is your father alive?”
“No, my father’s dead.”
“And your mother?”
“My mother’s dead too.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Can you read and write?”[7]
“I don’t know anything.”[8]
“Have you made your first communion?”
“Not yet.”[9]
“Have you ever been to confession?”
“Yes, when I was small.”
“Are you going to catechism classes now?”
“I
don’t dare.”
“Why?”
“Because the other boys are smaller than I am,
and they know their catechism. As big as I am, I don’t know anything, so I’m
ashamed to go.”
"If I were to teach you catechism on your own,
would you come?”
“I’d come very willingly.”
“Would you come willingly to this little room?”
“I’d come willingly enough, provided they don’t
beat me.”
“Relax. No one will harm you. On the contrary,
you’ll be my friend and you’ll be dealing with me and no one else. When would
you like us to begin our catechism?”
“Whenever you wish.”
“This evening?”
“Okay.”
“Are you willing right now?”
“Yes, right now, with great pleasure.”
I stood up and made the sign of the cross to
begin; but my pupil made no response because he did not know how to do it. In
that first catechism lesson I taught him to make the sign of the cross. I also
taught him to know God the Creator and why he created us. Though Bartholomew’s
memory was poor, with attentive diligence in a few feast days[10]
he learned enough to make a good confession and, soon after, his holy
communion.
To this first pupil some others were added.[11]
During that winter, I concentrated my efforts in helping grown‑ups who needed
special catechism, above all those who were just out of prison. I was beginning
to learn from experience that if young lads just released from their place of
punishment could find someone to befriend them, to look after them, to assist
them on feast days, to help them get work with good employers, to visit them
occasionally during the week, these young men soon forgot the past and began to
mend their ways. They became good Christians and honest citizens.[12]
This was the beginning of our Oratory.[13]
It was to be blessed by the Lord with growth beyond my imagining at that time.
[2]
In the last chapter he mentioned that he had already begun to discuss some
ideas with Fr. Cafasso. Although he had been at the Convitto barely five weeks
at this point, Fr. Cafasso may already have begun taking him into the city
jails to offer spiritual counsel, encouragement, and material assistance to
youths who had ran afoul of the law; as mentioned in the last chapter, Don
Bosco did not yet have faculties to hear confessions. This was one of the older
priest’s own special ministries. We may assume that Don Bosco’s fellow students
also discussed their various pastoral experiences.
[4] A
Piedmontese term used in jest or scorn for a German; cf. “Kraut.” Since
Lombardy and Venetia were still part of the Austrian Empire, the Germanic
peoples were regarded as foes of Italy
[5] After
his first reception in the sacristy, why did the boy come back at all? Perhaps
Don Bosco had shouted loudly enough at Comotti that the boy overheard even as
he fled; perhaps once or twice he had been among the “crowd of boys” that
followed Don Bosco through the streets and “even into the sacristy.” He must
have had an inkling of Don Bosco’s sympathy.
[6] Amorevolezza,
one of the three key words of the Preventive System (together with “reason” and
“religion”).
[7]
According to the 1848 census of the Kingdom of Sardinia, half the population of
Piedmont, a third of Liguria’s, and a tenth of Sardinia’s were literate—this
all within a State where an education reform law in 1822 had mandated free
primary schools in every commune. Piedmont was
the most literate region in the Italian peninsula. The whole of united Italy England and Wales
[8]
At this point Lemoyne inserts two further questions, which he must have heard
from Don Bosco. These questions shed light on Don Bosco’s psychological and pedagogical
approach to the young:
“Can you sing?”
Wiping his eyes, the boy stared in surprise
at Don Bosco and answered: “No.”
“Can you whistle?”
The boy’s face broke into a smile, which was
what Don Bosco wanted, because it showed that the boy felt at ease. (BM II, 58)
The first thing was to win
the boy’s confidence, both in himself and in his would‑be teacher.
[10] When
Don Bosco speaks of “feast days” and calls his work the “festive” Oratory, he
means any day on which Mass was an obligation, the numerous holy days and
Sundays alike; these days were also public holidays, meaning that young workers
without families were left idle.
[11]
Garelli continued to come to catechism for a time and brought some friends with
him. Then he disappeared. All we know about him is that he visited the Oratory
even after 1855 (BM II, 59).
[13]
Don Bosco always dated not only his work but even the founding of the Salesian
Society from this historic catechism lesson. When he was seeking letters of
recommendation from various bishops in order to seek the Holy See’s approval of
the Salesian Society, he introduced its history thus: “This Society’s origins
are found in the simple catechetical instructions conducted by Father John
Bosco in a hall adjacent to St. Francis of Assisi Church
In this account, Don Bosco omitted one detail of great
interest. After the sign of the cross, “he recited a Hail Mary, asking our Lady
to give him the grace to save that boy’s soul” (BM II, 59). He recalled this in
1884 during a conference for the Salesians: “All the blessings graces that had
been showered upon them were thanks to Our Lady and were all the outcome of the
first Ave Maria that had been recited together with the young Bartholomew
Garelli there in the Church of St. Francis of Assisi with true fervor and the
right intention” (BM XVII, 471).
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