Homily for 4th Sunday of Easter

Homily for the
4th Sunday of Easter

April 25, 2021
John 10: 11-18
Holy Name of Jesus, New Rochelle, N.Y.

“Jesus said, ‘I am the good shepherd’” (John 10: 11).

The 4th Sunday of Easter is always Good Shepherd Sunday with a gospel reading on that theme.  And because of that theme, it’s also designated as Vocation Sunday.

Jesus is a good shepherd because he diligently watches over his Father’s flock, God’s people.  He protects them, saves them from danger, looks for those who stray, and even lays down his life to save them from the worst danger, being snatched by a wolf called the Devil.

Someone hired to watch someone else’s sheep runs from the wolf, Jesus says (10:12).  He has no real concern for the sheep, only for his pay (10:13).  In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus could have run as, indeed, his apostles did.  But Jesus loves his Father, the true master of the sheep, and he loves the sheep—so he doesn’t run from the mob that comes to arrest him.  He even shows concern for one very lost sheep named Judas and tries to dissuade him from what he’s about to do.

As a good shepherd, Jesus knows each sheep of the flock.  To us who know nothing about sheep, it’s amazing that shepherds can distinguish them, give them individual names, know their personalities (so to speak).  We see this most especially in Jesus when he encounters Mary Magdalene at the tomb and she mistakes him for a gardener—until he calls her by name.  Then she knows him—the personal relationship is strong—and he commissions her to be the “apostle to the apostles,” to announce to them his resurrection (John 20:11-18).  Likewise, he treats Doubting Thomas so gently, patiently (John 20:24-29).  So kindly he lets Simon Peter atone for his 3 denials with 3 professions of his love (John 21:15-19).

This is our Good Shepherd, loving us individually, eager to meet us in personal prayer, ready to forgive our faults, ready to guide us on our pilgrimage thru life and its dark valleys toward a permanent union with him in the next life, till he brings us to the greenest of pastures to lie down in safety (Ps 23)—far from the clutches of Satan.

On this Vocation Sunday, let’s note 1st of all that every Christian has a vocation.  The most basic vocation is to be a disciple of Jesus—the vocation given us in Baptism.  More than that, we’re called to a close friendship with Jesus.

There are different ways of living out our Christian vocation, different ways of following Christ toward heaven and of helping others do the same.

Most Christians are called to marriage, the vocation of mirroring Christ’s love for the Church; of helping the closest of friends, one’s spouse, follow Christ; of becoming saints together, like the parents of the Little Flower, Sts. Louis and Zelie Martin (pictured, left and below).  That vocation includes (usually) raising a family of little disciples and patiently (like Jesus himself) training them to become big, mature Christians.

Other disciples, much fewer in number, follow Jesus individually—single Christians living in the world and bringing Christ into the world thru lives of service in some form, and of course lives of personal prayer and devotion.  Dorothy Day is a famous example that comes to mind.

But on Vocation Sunday, we note particularly the vocations of those whom Jesus calls to do his shepherding work in his place.  Some of them are even called “pastors,” the Latin word for shepherd.

These are men and women consecrated to God’s service, and service of God’s flock, by either vows or sacred ordination.  Ordained ministers—deacons, priests, and bishops—are essential to the Church for its guidance, its sanctification, and its public worship.  Christ continues to call men to this service, and we pray that those men will hear his call and be generous in responding; and that they’ll have the support of their families and friends.  Almost always, priestly vocations come from solid Catholic families.  Research shows that the greatest influence on a future priest is his mother.

The priesthood is a challenging but very rewarding vocation; I can affirm that after living it for 43 years.  If any young man here today feels in his heart that Christ may be calling him, I encourage him to pray over that, to cultivate a personal relationship with Jesus, and to seek advice from his pastor, his confessor, or some other wise people.  The Church needs you.  Christ needs you.  Be ready to sacrifice yourself and to live for Christ and his flock, to become “another Christ” saving souls in his name.

The vocation to consecrated life, to vowed life, is something else.  Christ calls chosen disciples to be nuns (or sisters), brothers, consecrated virgins, or vowed followers in another kind of institute.  These women and men are spouses of Christ, giving themselves totally to him, perhaps in secret lives of constant prayer—like St. Therese, the Little Flower, or a Trappist monk; or perhaps in some apostolic ministry like teaching, health care, or the missions.  Nuns and brothers live together in a religious community (like the Ursulines, the Christian Brothers, and the Salesians here in New Rochelle) and make vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty.  A faithful religious—they’re called “religious” because they belong to a religious order or congregation—is intimately bound to our Lord Jesus and knows great joy in being close to him.

In the Collect, we prayed that God the Father would “lead us to a share in the joys of heaven.”  Following faithfully our vocation in the Christian life—marriage or single life, the priesthood or vowed consecration—puts us on that joyful journey.

Homily for Memorial of St. Anselm

Homily for the Memorial of St. Anselm

April 21, 2021
Collect
St. Theresa, Bronx, N.Y.

This is slightly adapted from the homily I gave on St. Anselm 3 years ago in Washington.

“Bishop St. Anselm sought out and taught the depths of divine wisdom” (cf. Collect).

St. Anselm (1033-1109) embodied the universalism of the Church, at least in his own time.  He was born in Italy, became a monk in France, and was made archbishop of Canterbury in England.

His career also had a universalism about it.  In the words of Pope Benedict XVI, he was “a monk with an intense spiritual life, an excellent teacher of the young, a theologian with an extraordinary capacity for speculation, a wise man of governance, and an intransigent defender of the Church’s freedom … who was able to harmonize all these qualities, thanks to the profound mystical experience that always guided his thought and action.”[1]

Anselm was 27 when became a Benedictine monk in Normandy and before long became the monastery’s master teacher.  Like Benedict XVI when he was theology professor Fr. Joseph Ratzinger, Anselm was noted for his respect for the freedom of his students (“an excellent teacher of the young”).

The monastic schools were the forerunners of the universities, and Anselm is considered the father of scholastic theology—that great system of thought, the “theology of the schools,” that flourished in the medieval universities and whose finest examples are St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Bonaventure.  It was Anselm who defined theology as “faith seeking understanding,” which is still as fine a definition as ever, and it was alluded to in today’s Collect, when we prayed “that our faith in God may aid our understanding.”

He wrote many books, the best known being those concerning the existence of God and the mystery of redemption.  Concerning our redemption, Anselm wrote a book titled Why did God become human?  He said that since our sins have offended an infinite God, they require of us an infinite form of atonement, which, of course, we’re incapable of offering.  Only a Redeemer who combines the infinite nature of God and our humanity could do so—and that was how he answered to his question, “Why did God become human?”

After the Norman conquest of England in 1066, just a few years after Anselm entered the monastery, William the Conqueror, duke of Normandy and now king of England, brought many Norman monks and clergy to his new kingdom, including the abbot of Anselm’s monastery, whom he made archbishop of Canterbury.  So Anselm was elected abbot and governed the monastery as wisely as he had taught there.

Following the deaths of both William and the archbishop, the new king and the English bishops (who were all Normans) forced Anselm to become archbishop in 1093.  He was unwilling, but eventually he had to accept a papal command.  He was successful in reconciling the old Anglo-Saxon Church and the new, Norman-dominated one.  He was much less successful as a man of the world, as a politician, and soon had such great quarrels with 2 successive kings over the rights of the Church—concerning taxes, property, and episcopal appointments—that twice he had to go into exile (like his successor some 80 years later, Thomas Becket).  It seems that the liberty of the Church to carry out its mission to preach the Gospel in word and action is always in jeopardy from governments, which have a natural tendency to want to rule everything about the lives and even the souls of their subjects.  It was true in the Roman Empire, in Anselm’s England, behind the Iron Curtain, in Red China—and remains a danger in our own Western world, including in our country, where the rights of the Christians to follow our beliefs in schools, hospitals, social agencies, and private business, and of medical professionals to follow their consciences, is gravely threatened.

Anselm was a great devotee of our Blessed Mother and a great man of prayer.  All of his study aimed at knowing God better, at entering more deeply into contemplation.  One of his prayers is:  “I pray, O God, to know you, to love you, that I may rejoice in you.  And if I cannot attain to full joy in this life, may I at least advance from day to day, until that joy shall come to [its fullness].”[2]  Perhaps that prayer was the inspiration for our Collect petition that our faith-aided understanding “may give delight to our hearts.”  For delight—eternal joy—is the final object of all our believing, our study, and our following and loving Jesus.

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    [1] Church Fathers and Teachers from Saint Leo the Great to Peter Lombard (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2010), pp. 146-147.

    [2] Cited by Benedict XVI, loc. cit., p. 149.

Homily for Tuesday, 3d Week of Easter

Homily for Tuesday
3d Week of Easter

Prayer over the Gifts
April 20, 2021
Provincial House, New Rochelle, N.Y.

Have you noticed how often the Easter Mass texts speak of our exultation, or use similar words?  In today’s Prayer over the Gifts, for instance, we’ll call ourselves God’s “exultant Church,” note our “great gladness,” and pray for “perpetual happiness.”  These are the Easter effect on us and our Easter hope.

(Bollettino Salesiano)

Our Easter effect and Easter hope are linked liturgically to “the gifts we bring,” which by God’s power become the source of our joy and our hope, “the true bread from heaven” that “gives life to the world” (John 6:32-33).  We rejoice to participate in the mystery of the Lord’s rising and his presence, and we pray that our participation may be fruitful now and forever, that our happiness in Christ’s resurrection may never end.

We pray that our exultation may be like Stephen’s, who bore witness in life and in death to “the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:56), so that “the gates of the heavenly kingdom” may be opened for us (Collect) and for those to whom God sends us as witnesses.

Homily for Monday, 3d Week of Easter

Homily for Monday
3d Week of Easter

April 19, 2021
John 6: 22-29
Ursulines, Willow Dr., New Rochelle, N.Y.

“You’re looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled” (John 6: 26).

Jesus teaching in a synagog

Of course they’re looking for Jesus because they saw a great sign!  Perhaps some of these same people had also witnessed Jesus’ healing of the royal official’s servant, which took place at Capernaum, “the 2d sign Jesus did when he came to Galilee from Judea” (John 4:46-54).

What they’ve failed to see is the meaning of the signs, either healing or miraculous feeding.  Jesus is right that they can’t see beyond their stomachs.

Then he tells the people to “work for the food that endures for eternal life” (6:27), a metaphor for his teaching, his way of life, his devotion to God his Father.

Assuredly, we need such a reminder now and then:  to put off our old selves with all their ways (Collect), and to keep our hearts focused on the true purpose of our lives.

Homily for 3d Sunday of Easter

Homily for the
3d Sunday of Easter

April 18, 2021
1 John 2: 1-5
Acts 3: 15-19
Luke 24: 35-48
St. Theresa, Bronx, N.Y.
Holy Name of Jesus, New Rochelle, N.Y.

“Jesus Christ the righteous one is expiation for our sins” (1 John 2: 1-2).

That Jesus Christ has taken away our sins is stated in all 3 of our Scripture readings this morning.  St. John states that he expiates our sins.  To expiate means “to purify by erasing what separates one from God,” “to make one pleasing to God,” “to allow oneself to be reconciled by God.”[1]  Jesus offers the sacrifice that sets us right with God.

In the Old Testament, the Jewish people offered many sacrifices for that purpose.  We who belong to Jesus offer only one sacrifice, which is Jesus himself.  His offering of himself to his Father is the perfect and eternal sacrifice that takes away all our sins, “and not our sins only but those of the whole world” (2:2).  Jesus is our reconciliation with the Father.

By Pascal Dagnan-Bouveret

At the Last Supper, Jesus took bread and wine and consecrated them as his body given for us and his blood poured out for us in sacrifice.  He commanded us to continue to offer the sacrifice of his body and blood in memory of him—the same body and blood that he offered on Calvary, the very same sacrifice—and to eat his body and drink his blood.  So we participate in his sacrifice of expiation for our sins and thru him are reconciled with God.

Preaching to the people of Jerusalem after having healed a cripple in the name of Jesus, St. Peter 1st tells the people that they, their leaders, and Pontius Pilate bore responsibility for killing Jesus, “the holy and righteous one,” for setting free, instead, a murderer, a criminal (Acts 3:13-14).  Jesus died instead of a terrible sinner.  That is an image of his expiating our sins, paying the price of our rebellions against God.

But St. Peter goes on to invite the people to repent:  “Repent, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be wiped away” (3:19).  Jesus, who was put to death, has risen (3:15).  His self-sacrifice so pleased God that the death penalty he suffered, undeservedly, has been cancelled also for us, for all sinners who repent and strive to change their ways.

To change our ways:  our harsh and unkind treatment of our spouses, our children, our parents, our co-workers, our neighbors, everyone; our abuse of God’s name; our lying, stealing, and cheating; our sexual unfaithfulness in or out of marriage; our indifference toward the poor and those in trouble; our toleration of abortion and society’s sexual depravity; our racial discrimination; our failure to take care of the environment; and other form of injustice.

All our sins are wiped away when we give them over to Jesus in repentance.  He is our expiation.

The risen Jesus appears to his disciples, as recounted in the gospel, on Easter nite.  Cleopas and another disciple, probably his wife, whom Jesus met on the road to Emmaus and who recognized him when they broke bread together at the end of their journey (Luke 24:13-35), have hurried back to the upper room in Jerusalem where the apostles and others are in hiding.  When Jesus appears to them, he reminds them that his death and resurrection fulfilled the Scriptures:  all that Moses, the psalms, and the prophets had said of the Messiah (24:44).  And he commands them to pass on to the whole world this good news, that he’s alive and they should preach “repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (24:47).

To this day, this is the mission of Christ’s disciples, his Church:  to participate in the breaking of the bread, the sacrifice of his body and blood, the Eucharist, and to offer humanity God’s forgiveness.  In the Eucharist we recognize Jesus, “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world,” our sins, when we repent of them—when we’re sorry for them and resolve to turn away from them and to “keep his commandments” (1 John 2:3), and we let God’s love work in us instead of doing the works of darkness.

The Church, which includes you and me, bears witness (Luke 24:48) that Jesus expiates our sins and opens for us the way of forgiveness and eternal life.

[Renew baptismal promises in place of the Creed.]

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     [1] Xavier Leon-Dufour, Dictionary of the New Testament, trans. Terrence Prendergast (SF: Harper & Row, 1980), p. 186.

Introduction to Ven. Simon Srugi

An Introduction to Ven. Simon Srugi

Ven. Simon Srugi, second from the left

(ANS – Beitgemal, Israel – April 9, 2021) - Salesian Fr. Giovanni Caputa, former professor of theology in Cremisan and Jerusalem (1980-2017), since 2014 has been a collaborator in the cause of beatification of Venerable Simon Srugi, a Salesian brother who was a central figure for the Salesians of the Middle East. Fr. Caputa recently wrote a new book in Italian on Bro. Simon (Simone Srugi nella storia di Betgamāl), and today he illustrates the history of the Venerable and the value of this publication.

It’s not your first book on Srugi. What’s new in this one?

In 2018 I published Vita e scritti di Simone Srugi (“Life and Writings”), which contains all the documentation. In this new book, I better frame both parts in their historical context, that is, the hundred years between the reconstitution of the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem (1847) and the partition of Palestine (1947). It was part of a region that during that century completely changed aspect, from a political, socio-economic, cultural, and religious point of view. The maps and the photo gallery, which complete the volume, help to offer a better picture.

Against that background, the life and action of Bro. Srugi stand out. After his childhood in Nazareth and the years of apprenticeship in Bethlehem (nurse, tailor, and baker), he made his religious profession as a Salesian brother (1896) and carried out his mission for 50 years in Beitgemal. In this out-of-the-way and malarial locality, the Salesians welcomed Palestinian orphans, Armenian, Lebanese, and Syrian refugees, and finally also Poles. They ran an agricultural school with an attached mill, olive oil press, mini-mart, and medical-pharmaceutical dispensary. Bro. Simon was teacher and catechist of the little ones, master of ceremonies in the shrine of St. Stephen, and above all a nurse: the sick came to him by the dozen every day, from about 50 villages. It is estimated that he treated tens of thousands of poor sick people.

What writings did Bro. Srugi leave?

He was not a writer; he was a practical, simple man, who loved to read Don Bosco’s books, manuals of piety, etc. From them he transcribed short sentences, which he distributed on strips of paper to brothers and boys. They resemble today’s tweets.

Here are a few:

-      A “thank you to God” is worth more, a “God be blessed” in adversity, than a thousand thanks in prosperity.

-      God does things slowly, but he does them well.

-      Carry the cross of each day every day with the grace of each day.

-      The cross, if it is loved, is only half a cross, because the love of Jesus softens everything, and one does not suffer much, except when one loves little.

-      It is worth more to lift a straw out of obedience than to fast for 40 days by one’s own choice.

-      You do not have to look for enemies in the town square, while the most bitter is hidden inside you, indeed, it is you. So look at your soul for yourself.

-      The happiness of pleasing God by doing all things well is the wisdom of heaven.

The book in Italian Simone Srugi nella storia di Betgamāl (“Simon Srugi in the history of Beitgemal”) will soon be included in the Salesian Digital Library (SDL).

 

Homily for 2d Sunday of Easter

Homily for the
2d Sunday of Easter

April 11, 2021
Acts 4: 32-35
Ursulines, Willow Dr., New Rochelle, N.Y.                  

“With great power the apostles bore witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus” (Acts 4: 33).

Peter preaching to the people of Jerusalem

(Free Bible Illustrations)

          One commentator on today’s liturgical texts poses this question:

How does the resurrection make a difference in my life?  Clearly, the readings and the liturgy suggest that the resurrection, while a doctrine and a creedal backbone of the church, is not only about life after death, it is about a way of living in the world because God has changed all things in Christ:  we are living in a resurrected time, where Christ is truly present and living in our midst.*

Acts records that the apostles were changed into courageous preachers of the resurrection, the forgiveness of sins, and God’s gift of life.  The rest of the disciples practiced a dramatic communal sharing of goods (4:44-45) and regular prayer in the Temple and in their homes (2:46).

Today’s believers are called to praise God in prayer, to evangelize our society, and to “love the children of God” (1 John 5:2).  Altho our circumstances are obviously very different from those of 1st-century Jerusalem, we still have the power to bear witness to the resurrection.

We pray privately and publicly, praising God for what he does for us and for the whole world thru Christ.  In the words of the Collect, we’ve been washed in the baptismal font, reborn in the Spirit, and redeemed by the blood of God’s Son.  Therefore we sing “Alleluia” to the Holy Trinity among ourselves and before the world.  We pray for the world, that every woman and man may share in this rebirth and redemption.

We’re all evangelizers, preachers of the Good News.  We’re ready to speak to one another, to our families, to our past pupils, to others in our circle of the great things that God is doing in Christ.  One need not be an official preacher to be a convincing, effective teacher and to share the peace that Christ bestows on his followers (cf. John 20:20).

The 1st way in which we preach Christ’s Good News is by keeping his commandments, especially by loving one another generously, compassionately, consistently.  We religious already profess to do what the 1st believers did:  “no one claimed any of his possessions was his own” (Acts 4:32).  It’s a greater challenge to share ourselves with our sisters and brothers day in and day out by our patience, helpfulness, and forgiveness—the sign that Christ lives among us, that his resurrection makes an effective difference in our lives.

     *Guerric DeBona, OSB, Between the Ambo and the Altar, Year B (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2014, pp. 116-117.

Homily for 2d Sunday of Easter

Homily for the
2d Sunday of Easter

April 11, 2021
John 20: 19-31
Holy Name of Jesus, New Rochelle, N.Y.

“Unless I see the mark of the nails …, I will not believe” (John 20: 25).

(Rembrandt)

Most of us have a little bit of Thomas in us, Thomas whom we often call “doubting Thomas.”  Penitents will often tell a priest, “I have doubts”—about the faith, about the Church, about the afterlife, about God.

An honest doubt is no sin.  Thomas sincerely doubted the resurrection, which made him the same as the other 10 apostles, the holy women who went to the tomb, and the rest of the disciples.  Only seeing their Lord, risen and very much alive, touching him, eating with him—only that brought them around to belief that he is truly risen.  It was something unheard of, something beyond imagining, even tho Jesus had foretold it.  Who could blame them, or Thomas?

Thomas isn’t completely faithless.  After all, he’s still lingering in Jerusalem instead of going home to Galilee.  He’s still in touch with his 10 companions and the others.  Why?  He probably couldn’t explain why.

When Jesus appears before him a week after his resurrection, he already knows Thomas’s mind, and he chides him gently, as he’d done a week earlier with the 2 disciples on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35).  He’s not upset.  He’s understanding.

So when anyone today has doubts or asks questions about our faith, about the Lord, about virtue, about right and wrong, about life after death—the Lord must be just as patient, gentle, and understanding.  St. Anselm in the 11th century gave us a famous definition of theology:  fides quaerens intellectum, “faith seeking understanding.”  It’s the nature of theology to ask questions.  It’s the nature of human beings to ask questions.  That’s how we pursue truth, whether it’s scientific truth, the truth about human beings, truth in a classroom, truth in an investigation—or, within the limitations of the human mind, truth about God.

Thomas’s doubt came down to this:  Is what my friends are telling me really true, or are they deluded?  Likewise, someone who doubts today wants to know what’s true:  about God, about our human nature, about our purpose in life and our destiny, about the right path to God.

It’s essential only that one’s questions be sincere.  Certainly there are people who conveniently tell themselves what they want to hear, who make excuses for what they profess to believe or how they behave.  One whose pursuit of truth is sincere listens to arguments, evaluates evidence, considers his or her own experience, reckons with the experience and expertise of others; and in the case of our faith, one considers the wisdom of the Scriptures and what the Church has believed and taught for 2 millennia.

The Church’s wisdom is rooted in what we heard in today’s gospel:  Jesus bestowed the Holy Spirit upon his disciples.  Explicitly, he authorized them thru his Spirit to forgive sins; but also to “retain sins,” to withhold forgiveness.  Judgment of cases and persons is implied—judgment based on the gift of wisdom from the Spirit.  If the disciples collectively—the Church—have this gift, then we ought to test our doubts before the wisdom of the Church and ask whether there’s light to be found in that wisdom.

Jesus concludes his dialog with Thomas by blessing those who believe without having seen him, without having probed his wounded hands and side.  Obviously, we haven’t seen him or examined his wounds.  We haven’t personally sat at his feet listening to his teaching or witnessed his miracles.  So our faith rests on the testimony of those who did—Thomas, Peter, John, Mary Magdalene, and the others, who asked questions and needed convincing before they became men and women of conviction; who have passed on to us what they experienced, the truth they encountered in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, so “that thru this belief we may eternal life in his name” (cf. John 20:31).

May your faith be deepened by your pursuit of the truth.  May you find in Jesus “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6) for which we’ve all been created.

Don Bosco a Debtor of St. Francis de Sales

Don Bosco a Debtor of St. Francis de Sales

The Thought and Example of the Saintly Bishop of Geneva educationally relevant to the Saint of Valdocco

(ANS – Turin – April 8, 2021) – Without the action and the person of Francis de Sales, would there ever have been the Don Bosco of the Preventive System? And why did the Saint of Youth choose him as a source of spirituality for the congregation to which he gave life’? Even more radically: “Was Don Bosco a true SALESian?” These questions were answered by Fr. Gianni Ghiglione, one of the greatest connoisseurs of St. Francis de Sales’ thought.

For Fr. Ghiglione, some expressions that embody the Preventive System – “It’s necessary to win the hearts of young people”; “To be authoritative you need to be loved”; “Let us form good Christians and upright citizens” – even if they spring from the heart of Don Bosco, they started from the mind of St. Francis de Sales.

These roots take nothing away from Don Bosco’s genius, which was able to translate the intuitions and innovative methodologies and make them the cornerstone of his service to young people, especially the most “at risk.” And when it is necessary, as in this time, to face an educational emergency, the search for those roots and their extension to the present is a commitment to be assumed in the Salesian house and beyond.

Fr. Ghiglione underlines “two beautiful and important things St. Francis de Sales can still teach us today.”

The first is the sense of friendship: one finds ample traces of it in his biography and precise definitions in his letters. “When he finished his studies in Paris, his return to Annecy was a march of over 200 miles on foot, on horseback, and in a carriage together with four of his fellow students with whom he evidently had a very close relationship.... His writings and his letters are a mine of considerations and testimonies on friendship,” Fr. Ghiglione recalls.

He is also a model for today’s young people: “They have a tendency to keep their eyes down, bent over their mobile phones: they should rather turn them to the gaze of others in an interpersonal exchange,” Fr. Ghiglione recommends.

“The second thing is the care of one’s character. He was not born a saint: he had a proud temper, ready to take action against adverse people.” The mild manner commonly attributed to the holy bishop was not an expression of his character, but of a committed education to mildness. Self-control – to which he adhered in his relationships with others and in carrying out his pastoral ministry – is part of his spiritual asceticism. It was a lifelong education not to the repression of feelings, but to their conversion in empathy toward others.

Salesianity is this, and Don Bosco made that spirituality his standard by embedding the name of Francis de Sales in the shield of his religious “family”: “A project for the education of young people that has gradually extended to the whole world …, based on the well-known principles of loving kindness, reason, and religion,” Fr. Ghiglione reaffirms.

Finally, he concludes with satisfaction: “Ours is a method that comes from afar and goes far!”

Vacationing on the Hill

Vacationing on the Hill

Excellent spring weather (daytimes around 70⸰ and nites in the mid-40s) and the Catholic schools’ Easter break coincided to induce Fr. Jim Mulloy and your humble blogger to take to the woods for 2 days, specifically Tuesday noon to Thursday 9:00 a.m., April 6-8.

It was our 1st hike of the year, and neither of us is in tip-top shape.  So we chose a short jaunt in Harriman State Park without a lot of elevation:  about 1.8 miles in each direction from a hiker’s parking lot on St. John’s Rd. to Big Hill Shelter, mostly following the Long Path.

The shelter, built in 1927 (Harriman Trail Guide, p. 116), is a sturdy 3-sided stone construction with a wide interior platform and 2 fireplaces—a favorite destination of hikers.  It’s at the intersection of the Long Path and the Suffern-Bear Mountain (SBM) Trail.  Weather conditions and foliage permitting, it offers grand views of the Hudson River to the east and Manhattan’s skyline to the south (some 36 miles distant).  Thru a gap in the hills, you can also see the tops of the towers of the Tappan Zee Bridge.  The leaves weren't out, so our views were unobstructed. 

Manhattan skyline, late Tuesday afternoon

On the way up the Long Path there’s a memorial to a 1974 plane crash (Northwest 6231from Buffalo to LaGuardia to pick up the Baltimore Colts; only 3 crew were aboard and died).  The memorial was put up in 2015, after the last time I’d hiked that particular approach to Big Hill.

On our 1st 2 days, we saw a good many day hikers passing by our encampment—maybe a dozen each day, some singly, some in groups.  There were a couple of dogs, too.  Only one other backpacker came by; he set up his tent in a nice spot about 150 yards farther west along the SBM.  There are quite a few decent camping spots around the shelter.

Fr. Jim and I have a settled routine when we camp.  He fetches water, and I hunt up and cut firewood.  Around the shelters it’s usually a challenge to do either; you have to hike a half mile or more to water, and ready fallen wood has long since been picked up and burnt.  (Some barbarians resort to cutting live standing trees and shrubs.  Seasoned, environmentally conscious campers don’t.)  Since I carry a small Sven folding saw, I can take on some larger woodfalls.  

The log in photo center was part of fallen tree (the rest is at the left) 

snagged in the fork of the upright tree, which Fr. Mike cut in 2, 

then used rope to haul the upper part from its snag and cut off usable portions for our firewood.

Consequently, we accumulated a fine pile of firewood, had blazing fires both chilly nites (about 50⸰ inside the shelter), 

When this settles down a bit, it'll "host" our hot dogs.

and even left a modest pile for the next visitors to the shelter.  Fr. Jim has an interesting way to filter the water that he hauls in from lake or stream, using components of the Sawyer “system.”

Besides those chores, we pass the time by reading, praying, chatting about camping, school, and Salesian life, and taking naps.  This was actually the 1st time we’ve camped 2 nites in the same spot instead of hiking from one place to another (see 1s paragraph!).  Both of us get up before the sun does,

Wednesday dawn

Early sun on Wednesday turns the SBM 

leading west from the shelter to gold

 and we go to bed earlier than we would at home.  Fr. Jim is a hammock-lover, but he did spend the 1st nite in the shelter because it was chilly.  I exasperate him a little by refusing even to try a hammock because I have a bad back (which, fortunately, tolerates a 35-lb. pack and steady movement).

Our supper the 1st evening was hot dogs roasted at the fire with some sides of cheese, trail mix, dried apricots, and nuts.  

Hot dog in hand

We followed up with a freeze-dried chocolate cheesecake dessert.  Both of us pack Crystal Lite for a beverage.  On the 2d nite, he opted for Ramen noodles, cheese, and crackers (putting aside a freeze-dried package of chili), while I tried out a new pot with macaroni and cheese (plus some of the aforementioned sides).  

He doesn’t take much of anything for breakfast or lunch.  One of my lunches was a sandwich packed in from home, the other peanut butter and crackers.  My 1st breakfast was oatmeal, nuts, and apricots; my 2d one, a freeze dried granola mix plus the nuts and apricots.

One experience we could’ve done without:  a problem raccoon.  On Tuesday nite around 11:15, it intruded 3 times into the shelter, ratting some of our pots, and I chased it out; since I got up the 3d time, I fed our fire.  Fr. Jim slept thru all that!  

From the funnies the Sunday after our outing!

On Wednesday nite, somehow it got at our bear bags—specifically at Fr. Jim’s, which was just a plastic bag hung with my sturdy cloth one.  

They were about 20 feet off the ground (10 feet above a sloped rock) and 3 or 4 feet below the tree limb they hung from.  The critter must have dropped from the limb, shredded the plastic open, and fallen to the ground.  That was the end of the uneaten chili, another pack of Ramen noodles, and the pecans.  Fortunately, my granola, nuts, trail mix, and Mass kit were intact—and our trash bag.

Our backpacking neighbor also had a food problem.  The coon got into his food on Tuesday nite altho (he said) it was hung high, and he had to forgo a 2d nite of comping.

But at least we didn’t have any bear sightings!  Not even a deer, for that matter, except along the highways.

Salesian Cooperator Fr. Felix Canelli, a "Universal Brother"

Salesian Cooperator Fr. Felix Canelli, 
a “Universal Brother” for the Needy

(ANS – San Severo, Italy – April 6, 2021) – “Religion is the interpenetration of the needs of others”; “What is our altar? The Tabernacle of the Temple and the hand of the poor.” These are two expressions of Fr. Felix Canelli, priest of the diocese of San Severo (Foggia, Italy) and Salesian Cooperator, today recognized by the Church as a Servant of God. They are two mottos that he himself lived first: for almost a century (1880-1977), moved by his faith in Jesus, he was the “universal brother” – using an expression of Pope Francis – of many poor, young, abandoned people who resorted to him.

It was precisely faith that made him sensitive to material and spiritual needs because whoever follows Jesus does not alienate himself from concrete life or theorize about solidarity, but on the contrary, becomes more human.

Why he was everywhere: first on the altar in profound dialog with God, then in the hovels of the poor around the city outskirts, in the homes of the rich to ask for financial aid for his many charitable works, on the stage of a political rally, as secretary of the Partito Popolare to ask for just laws for everyone starting with the excluded, in his office as a sought-after confessor-director of spiritual life, in the parish courtyard to play with the little ones, in the schools of the city to talk about the joy of the Gospel, at the bedside of the dying, in front of the door of the municipal administration to ask for help for all the needy.

His lean, wiry physique seemed a concentration of energy when it came to defending the rights of God and the poor. Strong as a lion, but tender as a father for all the excluded, Fr. Canelli did not stand by the window looking at the harsh existence of the poor, but did his utmost for them in every way, and with the audacity of Christian charity he invented ways of closeness and solidarity.

In October 1919, an extraordinary tax was announced on the wine stored away in people’s cellars. There was yet another popular revolt: hunger made the nerves of the poor tense as strings. Fr. Canelli wrote a telegram to the ministers of Agriculture, of the Interior, and of Cults, requesting the reduction of the tax and the facilitation of the sale of wine, and a second telegram to the Hon. Mucci, a convinced local socialist – who also left for Rome to plead the cause of the winemakers – to point out that, despite ideological differences, it was possible to become a “we” for the common good.

Again: in 1910-1912 cholera broke out in San Severo, which aggravated the already precarious living conditions for almost all of the population. The city faced grave adversities: without bread or medical aid. Fr. Canelli, assisted by Graziana Russi and Luisa Lacci, took an interest in the poor sick, first with modest financial means of their own, then helped by wealthy families and the Municipality, creating a circular movement of humanity, faith, and solidarity.

And together with the medicine he brought a plate of pasta, seasoned with a smile and hope; he brought God’s nearness, tenderness, and compassion to the sick.

Homily for Easter Sunday

Homily for Easter Sunday

April 4, 2021
Collect
Acts 10: 34, 37-43
Holy Name of Jesus, New Rochelle, N.Y.

“O God, on this day thru your Only Begotten Son you have conquered death and unlocked for us the path to eternity” (Collect).

Why have you come here this morning?  What are you looking for?  Assuredly, it’s not pretty Easter eggs.  Whom are you seeking?  Assuredly, it’s not the Easter bunny.

(Church of Sts. Cyril and Methodius, Prague)

No.  You’ve come, like the women at the tomb, looking for Jesus.  They went there looking for his dead body.  As all the gospels show, they were entirely amazed not to find his body and to be informed that he was, in fact, not dead but very much alive; and in the coming hours and days, along with the 11 apostles and other disciples, to meet him, speak with him, eat with him—and be commissioned by him “to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God” for the “forgiveness of sins thru his name” (Acts 10:42-43).

Do you believe that this Jesus is truly alive?  Do you believe that when you come to celebrate the Eucharist you find his living body and you eat his living body, the very body that rose from the tomb and wasn’t there for the soldiers to guard or the holy women to anoint?     

The apostles testify, we the Church testify, that God the Father raised his Only Begotten Son Jesus from death, and thus “conquered death,” the penalty for our sins, for all of us.  In Jesus Christ God has “unlocked for us the path to eternity”—not just any eternity but an eternity of light, life, glory, and happiness.

There is another eternity.  St. Peter preached (in the 1st reading) that God “appointed Jesus as judge of the living and the dead” (10:42); we profess that in the Creed.  As judge, filled “with the Holy Spirit and power” (10:38), he has the power to grant us forgiveness and “open up for us the path to eternity”; and also to declare the unrepentant unfit for an eternity of light, life, glory, and happiness, but instead, by their own choice, guilty still in their sins and doomed for eternal darkness, anguish, and hatred—an outer darkness of “wailing and the gnashing of teeth,” as Jesus says in several of his parables (Matt 8:12; 24:51; Luke 13:28).

That dark eternal path is the one all of humanity was on until God, in his limitless goodness and compassion, sent his Only Begotten Son to us, to conquer sin and death, to call us to life.  We come to church this morning to celebrate that, to thank God for so loving us, to commune with the living body of Jesus.