Thursday, October 29, 2020

The Pope Francis Economy

“The Pope Francis Economy”
Young Protagonists of Change


Photo ©: Vatican Media

(ANS – Vatican City – October 29, 2020) – “In a world sick with short-term thinking and little vision of the future, giving a voice to young people means starting to build bridges toward the future,” said Sr. Alessandra Smerilli of the Daughters of Mary Help of Christians in her speech on Tuesday, October 27, at the press conference for the presentation of the event “The Pope Francis Economy: Francis and young people from all over the world for the economy of tomorrow.”

“The Pope Francis Economy” is an international event featuring young economists and entrepreneurs from all over the world. It will be held by live stream from November 19 to 21 on the portal www.francescoeconomy.org. The Pontiff himself will participate at the conclusion of the three-day event.

“In these times of uncertainty, Pope Francis invites us to look beyond, to prepare for the future, and to do so in a concrete way, always with an eye to those who are most in difficulty. And young people are responding to this invitation. Therefore, they will not present us a document, they will not make a treatise on what ‘the Pope Francis Economy’ means, but they will prepare proposals, they will tell us how they want to commit themselves and what help they need,” explained Sr. Smerilli, professor of political economy at the Auxilium Pontifical School of Education and councilor of State of Vatican City.

One of the central themes of Francis’s economy, the nun pointed out, is “the re-evaluation of care within society and the economy as a key to shaping the future, together with the need for a more feminine and more inclusive economy and finance with greater participation of women.”

But in order to pursue this change of approach, the Pope does not propose a ready-made recipe that young people must only follow: rather, as the nun herself observed: “‘The Pope Francis Economy’ means, above all, young people, hope, and concreteness. It is not about inviting young people to spread a message, but asking them to help create it,” because, she concludes, “young people are a ‘present’ (and not just the future) who must be listened to.”

The initiative of “The Pope Francis Economy” developed following the invitation that the Holy Father sent on May 1, 2019, to economists, students, and male and female entrepreneurs under 35, and was scheduled for March 26 to 28, 2020, attending personally in Assisi; following the Covid-19 emergency, however, it was postponed to November 19 to 21, livestreamed.

The organization of the event in an online version will allow all young people registered (2,000 from 120 countries) to participate in the meeting. And the 12 thematic villages initially planned for those present in Assisi have been transformed into online work sessions that young people have already carried out in recent months. They are work and care; management and gift; finance and humanity; agriculture and justice; energy and poverty; profit and vocation; politics for happiness; CO2 of inequality; business and peace; economy is feminine; companies in transition; life and lifestyles.

Sunday, October 25, 2020

Fr. John Masiello, SDB (1929-2020)

Fr. John G. Masiello, SDB (1929-2020)

At the province jubilees celebration in 2008

Fr. John George Masiello, SDB, died at Seasons Hospice in Tampa on Saturday afternoon, October 24. He was 91 and had several medical ailments, including most recently a positive Covid test. He had been a professed Salesian for 72 years and a priest for 62 years.

John Masiello was born in Grantwood, N.J., on June 19, 1929, to Pasquale and Maria Costanza Giorgio Masiello. He was baptized at Epiphany Church in Grantwood on June 15, 1930. The family later settled in St. Albans, Queens, where John was confirmed at St. Catherine of Sienna Church in 1940. He was an altar boy as a teenager.

After his high school graduation, John entered the Salesian seminary at Don Bosco College in Newton, N.J., in 1946, entered the novitiate in 1947 at Newton, professed religious vows on September 8, 1948. Three years of philosophy studies followed, and he was awarded his B.A. degree in 1951.

Bro. John did his practical training by teaching, coaching, and assisting the pupils at Mary Help of Christians School in Tampa in 1951-1953 and at Don Bosco Prep in Ramsey, N.J., in 1953-1954. He made his perpetual vows at Newton in 1954.

He studied theology at the Salesian Pontifical Athenaeum in Turin for one year and at Salesian College in Aptos, Calif., from 1955 to 1958. He was ordained in Newton on June 13, 1958.

This pic of the newly ordained Fr. John seems to have been in Father's personal collection;
it was used at a jubilee celebration in Tampa.

Fr. John earned a master of library science degree in 1964 from St. John’s University (Queens, N.Y.) and a master of pastoral counseling degree in 1978 from Iona College (New Rochelle, N.Y.).

Many years of Salesian ministry in schools followed. Fr. John was prefect of studies for a year at Don Bosco Juniorate in Haverstraw (1958-1959), then catechist (campus minister) and teacher at Mary Help in Tampa for five years (1959-1964). The Salesians provided Sunday Masses at various parishes in the Tampa area, and in Brandon Fr. John became a close friend of your humble blogger’s family. Our home was a couple of hundred yards down the street from the church, and we’d often have him over for lunch after the 2d parish Mass. (We hosted all the visiting priests—the pastor lived in Plant City, so there wasn’t a rectory—Salesians, Redemptorists, and Benedictines at various times.) There was also a connection with Fr. John because Dad was from Rosedale, Queens, close by St. Albans. As I was an altar boy, I often, happily, served Fr. John’s Masses, which in later years he was happy to brag about. He also began “recruiting” me for the junior seminary in Goshen. When Dad put the kibosh on my going so far away in 1962, Fr. John hurriedly got me enrolled at Mary Help of Christians for 9th grade. We all developed closer relationships with the Salesians thru that experience. And off to Goshen I sent for 10th grade.

Your humble blogger and Fr. John, 2008

From Tampa Fr. John moved on to Don Bosco Tech in Boston for two years (1964-1966), still as catechist and teacher. In 1966 he was appointed director of Salesian High School in New Rochelle, where he served for six years, also teaching and mentoring many young Salesians. He oversaw the enlargement of the school with the addition of two classroom floors above the chapel and the rise in enrollment to nearly 500 boys.

In his 15 years as a middle school and high school teacher, at different times Fr. John taught religion, English, history, and Latin; coached tennis and basketball; handled the library. His schoolwork continued for one more year (1972-1973) with an appointment as the province’s delegate for religious education in the schools while residing at the Marian Shrine in Haverstraw.

Fr. John remained at Haverstraw for six more years (1973-1979), becoming the second coordinator of the new Don Bosco Retreat House, specializing in youth retreats.

With his pastoral counseling degree in hand, in 1979 Fr. John took on a new “career” as a parish priest; it would last 28 years and take him to four of the province’s parishes. He served as pastor of Corpus Christi in Port Chester, N.Y., twice (1979-1988 and 1991-1994); at Immaculate Heart of Mary in Mahwah, N.J. (1999-2002); and at St. Kieran in Miami (2002-2005), where he was also director of the Miami Salesian community. He was assistant pastor thrice at St. Anthony Church in Elizabeth, N.J. (1988-1991, 1994-1999, and 2005-2007). He found parochial ministry very fulfilling, and his parishioners truly appreciated him.

In Port Chester he had the challenge of filling the shoes of the venerable Fr. Peter Rinaldi upon his retirement after 29 years, and (according to parishioner James Gambino) he did so with “enduring fortitude, wisdom, dedication, and love for the people.” He expanded religious and social programs in the parish, involved the youths of the parish in liturgy and other forms of prayer as well as in social activities, and coordinated the parish’s demographics as the village’s population changed due to new patterns of immigration.

At age 78 came another change: back to Tampa as part of the community of semi-retired confreres at St. Philip the Apostle Residence. Fr. John remained active for several years by assisting with parish Masses, preaching retreats, and hearing confessions. Eventually health problems put an end to that.

One former Salesian, Kevin Brophy, sent this note: “I didn’t know him personally but his reputation was impeccable.”

Well into his senior years, Fr. John retained his enthusiasm: “The Salesian vocation has been the best!  Fifty years of priesthood [as of 2008] have passed quickly and with a variety of priestly experiences. It was never boring!”

Survivors included his brother Gerard and various cousins, nieces, and nephews.

Fr. John was waked at Mary Help of Christians Church in Tampa on Oct. 28. A funeral Mass was celebrated there on Oct. 29.  A second wake and the Mass of Christian Burial were celebrated in the chapel of Salesian High School in New Rochelle on Oct. 30, with Fr. Tim Zak, provincial, presiding, and Fr. Bill Ferruzzi, director of the New Rochelle community, preaching; Fr. Bill did his practical training at Salesian HS while Fr. John was director there.


He was interred in the Salesian Cemetery in Goshen on Saturday, Oct. 31.

Walkin' in the Rain

Walkin' in the Rain

I got out to hike and camp for 3 days, 2 nites in Harriman State Park, Tuesday the 20th to Thursday the 22d. Altho I actually did more walking in the rain on my last hike, this trip truly was soggier.

I walked a 4-trail loop hike from Lake Skannatati’s parking lot.  


Many, many day hikers were out all 3 days, even in Wednesday’s fog.  Tuesday afternoon, when I started, was gorgeous.  I hiked up the Long Path to its crossing of the Dunning Trail, along which are several old iron mines.  (This area produced a lot of iron used to make Revolutionary War weapons, but these mines probably aren’t that old.)  

High above the Dunning Trail is a small plateau where Fr. Jim Mulloy and I camped many moons ago, and it’s still a fine place to camp; there were 2 fire rings used fairly recently, and no litter to speak of except a lot of broken glass.



                                         


Light rain overnite left everything sopping wet except the inside of my tent.  I was up about the same time old Mr. Sun should have shown up, but he never showed all day.  


I got on the trail at 9:00, refilled my water bottles at a stream (ugh--very heavy pack!).  Where there's a side trail directly to the Bald Rocks shelter, there was a park sign prohibiting overnite camping at there because of a bear problem.  Wasn’t my plan anyway.  Beyond that a short distance, I took the Ramapo-Dunderberg Trail north, part of which was completely submerged, crossed by some rickety logs.  


On top of Hogencamp Mt. I met the 1st couple of hikers of the day, taking pictures of the foggy world.  On my way down the other side, I met a large party of seniors (about a dozen) out for a vigorous hike.  The rocks, leaves, and mud were slippery, and my trekking poles were very useful--but didn’t save me from one spill that tore a hole in my rain pants (but not in me, thank God).


At Times Square I met a bunch of hikers—a couple having lunch, and later others just passing thru.  The couple informed me that the Fingerboard shelter, also—my intended destination—was closed because of bears.  At Times Square 3 major trails cross:  the Long Path, the RD, and the Arden-Surebridge; hence its name.  With Fingerboard out of the question (1.5 miles farther, and a return on Thursday), I wasn’t completely disappointed (that pack was heavy!) just to head in the direction of the car via the Arden-Surebridge Trail, which would’ve been my Thursday route anyway.  

On the ASB eastward there were hardly any spots suitable for camping except for one fantastic site where the Dunning Trail starts and a brook crosses the ASB—large, flat, and carpeted by birch leaves.  


The only fault was that it’s right alongside the trail.  I seized it, then celebrated Mass; several hikers came by as I was setting up, but "miraculously" none came while I was actually celebrating.  Everything was wet, so there wasn’t any point in gathering wood for a fire.  Lots of hikers came by as I enjoyed afternoon tea, set up camp, and cooked freeze-dried beef stew for supper (delicious and filling).

There wasn't any more rain to speak of, but there were lots of falling birch leaves and water shaking out of the trees.  The ground was harder than at the Dunning plateau, and I spent the nite tossing and turning; was ready to get up at first light and get back to the car, a mere 1.15 miles away (with a couple of climbs, but mostly downhill).  After prayer and breakfast, I packed everything up, much of it wet with rain, dew, or sweat. The only sign that I'd been there was a dry spot where my tent had been.


I was at the car a bit before 10.  I’d seen a few hikers already on the trail, and the parking lot was filling up again.

A good hike and campout, all in all, despite the weather.

Here’s the link to the pix: https://link.shutterfly.com/gRk587DXNab.

Saturday, October 24, 2020

Homily for 30th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
30th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Oct. 25, 2020
Matt 22: 34-40                                                  
Ex 22: 20-26                                                      
St. Joseph, New Rochelle, N.Y.
Holy Name of Jesus, Valhalla, N.Y.

“The whole law and the prophets depend on these 2 commandments” (Matt 22: 40).

The Pharisees questioning Jesus (James Tissot)

Jesus answers a question that the Pharisees put to him by quoting 2 verses from the Torah, the Law of Moses.  The topic—which commandment is the greatest or the most important—was a topic of debate among the rabbis, and it was natural that Jesus’ opinion should be sought.

His answer wasn’t unique.  It had been given before and was perfectly consistent with the Hebrew Scriptures that he and all the rabbis had studied.  The 1st commandment is to love God wholeheartedly, without reservation, with one’s entire being.  And the 2d is almost parallel:  to love one’s neighbor as much as one loves oneself.

By making a covenant with Israel, God had forged a close relationship with every member of the Jewish people, as he’s done with every Christian thru the new covenant based on the death and resurrection of Jesus.  To love those whom God loves is to love God, too.

In the 1st reading, from Exodus—part of the Torah—God takes the part of the most endangered members of Hebrew society, those most abandoned, those most hard-pressed by life.  He makes himself their defender, their champion, and in biblical terms, their redeemer.  The psalmist uses similar language:  “the Lord is his rock, his fortress, his deliverer who keeps him safe from his enemies” (cf. 18:3,4).

Jesus’ answer to the scholar of the law, i.e., one of the scribes, creates an identity between God and one’s neighbor:  the 2d commandment is “like” the 1st.  The entire Torah and all the prophetic writings “depend on these 2 commandments” (22:40).  You can’t truly love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind unless you also love your neighbor.

You know that Luke’s account of this dialog between Jesus and the scribe continues with the scribe’s asking Jesus who is his neighbor.  Obviously, the word means more than the person who lives next-door to you.  In 1st-century Judaism, most would have taken it to mean one’s fellow Jew.  But Jesus answers in Luke with the parable of the Good Samaritan.  One’s neighbor is any fellow human being, especially one in desperate need.  So Jesus’ meaning for “neighbor” aligns with the teaching of Exodus:  anyone like an alien—an immigrant—a defenseless widow or child, a poor laborer is one’s neighbor.

This understanding of the OT teaching and of Jesus’ teaching underlies the Church’s teaching on social justice, the social doctrine of the Church, which has been laid out by St. Paul, by the Fathers of the Church like Ambrose and John Chrysostom, by the Popes for 129 years, by the 2d Vatican Council, and by countless bishops all over the world.

Our practice of social justice, our love for our neighbor, begins at home:  with our families.  Our household chores, like cooking, cleaning, laundry, yardwork, taking out the trash, changing a diaper, reading a bedtime story to a child, shuttling kids to soccer or music practice—these are practical acts of love for those immediate neighbors who are our spouses, children, siblings, elderly parents.  Looking after a next-door neighbor who needs help with shopping or maintenance or a ride to a doctor, likewise.

We are obliged by what Jesus teaches to care for wider society’s unfortunates, in our own country and on other continents:  single mothers, the unborn, refugees, the victims of natural disasters, the homeless, the hungry, those who can’t find work, those without educational opportunities, the persecuted, those who are exploited by unscrupulous employers, businesses, landowners, government officials, or human traffickers.  In Jesus’ parable of the rich man and the poor beggar at his doorstep, the rich man lands in hell because he ignored the beggar (Luke 16:19-31).  We can’t be selfish, can’t ignore the needy, either as individual disciples of Jesus or as a democratic, self-governing society.

The Exodus passage concludes:  “If [your poor neighbor] cries out to me, I will hear him; for I am compassionate” (22:27).  When we show compassion to anyone in need—a family member, an immigrant, the victim of a disaster or of prejudice, the oppressed of the Third World—we’re acting like God; we’re being godlike—for the Lord is compassionate.

Saturday, October 17, 2020

Homily for Mission Sunday

Homily for Mission Sunday
29th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Oct. 18, 2020
Ps 96: 1, 3-5, 7-10
Is 45: 1, 4-6
St. Pius X, Scarsdale, N.Y.[1]

“Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all you lands” (Ps 96: 1).

Salesian sisters' choir at profession Mass, 2012

We observe World Mission Sunday this weekend, calling upon all the peoples of the world to sing the praises of the Lord God, to “tell his glory among the nations” (96:3).

Psalm 96, like all the psalms, originated among God’s chosen people—this particular psalm, apparently in the years after the Jews’ restoration to their land and to their holy city, Jerusalem, thru the graciousness of the Persian ruler Cyrus, “whose hand” the Lord “grasped and subdued nations before him … so that toward the rising and the setting of the sun people may know that there is no other” than the God of Israel, no other who rules the earth and orders all things according to his own mind and his own plan (Is 45:1,6).

That the Lord’s holy name should be recognized and honored from one end of the earth to the other, from the rising of the sun to its setting, is the mission of Israel; and since the coming of Israel’s Messiah, our Lord Jesus Christ, is the mission of his people.  As Pope Francis says in his message for this year’s Mission Sunday, we are all on mission in the world.  “This missionary mandate touches us personally,” Francis says.  “I am a mission, always; you are a mission, always; every baptized man and woman is a mission.”

We begin to fulfill that mission by “singing to the Lord a new song,” singing of the salvation that he’s wrought for us thru the death and resurrection of Jesus.  The Church proclaims thruout the world that Jesus is our savior, that he forgives our sins, that he calls us to eternal life alongside himself in his Father’s kingdom.  We proclaim this when we celebrate the Eucharist and in our teaching and preaching whenever we have the opportunity to do so.  We proclaim this when we live in the manner that Jesus teaches us, by “shining like lights in the world as [we] hold onto the word of life” (Alleluia verse) and by living as faithful citizens in our public lives and faithful adherents to God’s law—paying to Caesar what’s his and God what’s his (cf. Matt 22:21).

The Church is on mission in the world.  So, while we begin our worship “to give the Lord glory and praise” and “the glory due his name,” and to “bring gifts and enter his” temple (Ps 96:7-8), we’re also commanded to proclaim the Lord’s glory and the salvation of Jesus to the wider world, “among all peoples.”  There are some ways in which we can do that.

The 1st way is by prayer, by praying for the Gospel to be spread, “that Christ’s saving work may continue to the end of the ages,” praying “that from all the peoples on earth one family and one people of [God’s] own may arise and increase,” as we pray this morning.  Let this prayer not be only an annual concern, on Mission Sunday, but a regular part of our prayer, that missionaries may effectively make Christ known and loved, and that the hearts of people who don’t know Christ may be moved by grace to welcome his word and to believe; that he be known and believed on college campuses, on social media, in the world of science and technology, in political life, in the arts.

The 2d way is by giving material support to missionary efforts, whether the so-called “home missions” or the foreign missions; in places where the Gospel once flourished, such as the nations of Europe, North America, and Australia, which have largely become mission territory again, and in places where the seed of the Gospel is still trying to plant itself for the 1st time, in Africa, Asia, and the Amazon.

The 3d way is by becoming missionaries or by encouraging others to become missionaries.  On Friday, the pandemic notwithstanding, the Salesians gave the missionary cross (in a virtual rite) to 4 young men and women who will be Salesian Lay Missioners this year in Bolivia, Papua New Guinea, and a home mission.  The Holy Father reminds us, “Today too, the Church needs men and women who, by virtue of their Baptism, respond generously to the call to leave behind home, family, country, language, and local Church, and to be sent forth to the nations, to a world not yet transformed by the sacraments of Jesus Christ and his holy Church.”  Such missionaries do what the psalmist urges:  “Say among the nations: The Lord is king, he governs the peoples fairly and justly” (96:10).
May we faithfully do that right in our own home, among our own families.


   [1] Adapted for the Christian Brothers at Iona College, New Rochelle.

Thursday, October 15, 2020

Homily for Memorial of St. Teresa of Avila

Homily for the Memorial of
St. Teresa of Avila

Thursday, Week 28 of Ordinary Time
Oct. 15, 2020
Collect
Provincial House, New Rochelle, N.Y.

Based on Benedict XVI, Holy Men and Women of the Middle Ages and Beyond: General Audiences (San Francisco: Ignatius, 2012), pp. 185-192.

“O God, thru your Spirit you raised up St. Teresa of Jesus to show the Church the way to seek perfection…” (Collect).

In the 1st reading, Paul teaches that God chose us before the world was created “to be holy and without blemish before him” (Eph 1:4).  Teresa de Cepeda y Ahumada from Avila came to that realization early in life, well before she entered Carmel.  She tells us in her autobiography that she recognized 2 fundamentals:  “All things of this world will pass away,” and God alone is forever.

In that light, she writes elsewhere, “Let nothing disturb you.  Let nothing frighten you.  Whoever has God lacks nothing; God alone suffices.”

As she matured, Teresa nurtured her spiritual life on the Scriptures, the Fathers, and reflection on her own experience of God’s mercies and of Christ’s friendship.  This was the basis of her writings and for her prayer.  [Cf. Bernini’s St. Teresa in Ecstasy.]


But her busy, reforming life rested also on the evangelical counsels and such human virtues as affability, truthfulness, modesty, courtesy, cheerfulness, and culture.  She was staunchly faithful to the Church during the turmoil of the Church’s reform and her own reform of the Carmelites, and she backed up St. John of the Cross in his reform of the men.  (They say that behind every great man is a great woman.)

When Paul VI named both Teresa and Catherine of Siena doctors of the Church, the 1st women so exalted, it demonstrated that even without ordination women have, and merit, a powerful place in the Church and in Christian life.

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Homily for Memorial of Bl. Alexandrina da Costa

Homily for the Memorial of
Bl. Alexandrina da Costa

Oct. 13, 2020
Gal 5: 1-6
Tuesday, Week 28 of O.T.
Salesian H.S., New Rochelle, N.Y.

“For freedom Christ set us free” (Gal 5: 1)

In his Letter to the Galatians, St. Paul contrasts the salvation hoped for from obedience to the Law of Moses—“trying to be justified by law” (5:4), i.e., made holy and worthy of eternal life, contrasts that with the salvation that comes from Christ—“from faith working thru love” (5:6).

Thinking that we have to obey the Law meticulously and perfectly, e.g., by how we wash up before a meal, like in today’s gospel (Luke 11:37-41).  Since we’re sinners, repeatedly, we can’t be perfect, and that makes us slaves of a sort.  So Paul tells the Galatians “not to submit to the yoke of slavery” (5:1).  “Christ has set us free” by grace, by forgiveness that we don’t deserve, by his divine love, that we might enjoy God’s love and share it with others.


Bl. Alexandrina knew a kind of bodily slavery—not from being owned by someone and having to work for them, but from a harsh physical paralysis that left her bedridden from age 20 until her death in 1955 at age 51.

She didn’t sink into self-pity, moan about life’s unfairness, or despair.  Instead, she offered herself in a total union with Jesus as a sacrifice, and she did so with serenity and even joy.  That’s something we can do too when we experience some kind of pain—physical, mental, or emotional—or times when life is just unfair, as it is inevitably to everyone sometimes.

Bl. Alexandrina had mystical experiences based on her intense love of Jesus and surrender to him:  for 4 years every Friday she suffered the terrible pains of Christ’s passion in her hands, feet, and side.  When that ceased in 1942, for her last 13 years she ate no food but survived only on the Holy Eucharist.  Thru all that, her peaceful joy brought many people to her seeking spiritual advice or consolation.  She knew the true freedom of being close to Christ.

We don’t need to have such mystical experiences.  Indeed, they’re very rare graces given only to souls extremely close to Jesus.  What we can do is to thank God every day for his graces and his gifts, and with peace of mind and joy offer him ourselves by carrying out our responsibilities in family, school, and work (if we have a job) and by being patient and kind with family, schoolmates, and others.  This kind of attitude will set us free, as it did St. Paul and Bl. Alexandrina.

Sunday, October 11, 2020

Homily for 28th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
28th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Oct. 11, 2020
Matt 21: 1-14                                                                      
Is 26: 6-10                                                                          
Holy Name of Jesus, Valhalla, N.Y.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a king who gave a wedding feast for his son” (Matt 22: 2).

Christ presiding over the marriage banquet (Paolo Veronese)

There’s a lot of feasting in today’s sacred Scriptures:  the banquet that God prepares on his holy mountain in the passage from Isaiah (25:6-10), the table that the shepherd Lord spreads before his people (Ps 23:5), and Jesus’ parable of the king’s wedding feast for his son.

The wedding feast is a traditional image of heaven—of its joy, pleasure, contentment, warmth, sense of family and friendship.  The image carries into our Eucharistic celebration when we acclaim, “Behold the Lamb of God!  Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb,” which is a quotation from Rev 19:9, omitting one word, wedding, before “supper,” but implying it.  Blessed, or happy, are those invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb in the kingdom of heaven, of which the Holy Eucharist is a foretaste.

That wedding feast of the Lamb of God, our Lord Jesus, God’s Son, is the subject of the parable Jesus tells today, addressing his opponents, the chief priests and elders.  He’s saying to them that God has prepared for them a place in his kingdom, has invited them and “all peoples” (Is 25:6) to a feast celebrating his Son’s marriage.  As Christians we recognize the sacred union of God’s Son with the Church, which is his bride.          

But to Jesus’ distress, many of those invited in the 1st place reject the invitation and even do violence to the king’s servants, the prophets, the apostles, and other preachers of the Gospel.  Jesus—or perhaps Matthew, writing his gospel after the fact—even alludes to the destruction of Jerusalem by the enraged king (22:7), a historical fact of 70 A.D., when a Roman army crushed a Jewish revolt and leveled the city.

With his initial invitation rejected, the king expands his invitation to everyone.  That is, the Gospel is offered to the whole world and not only to the Jewish people:  “The servants went out into the streets and gathered all they found, bad and good alike, and the hall was filled with guests” (22:10).

Jesus didn’t confine his preaching or his grace to the virtuous—which scandalized the chief priests and elders and many of the Pharisees, the “good people,” but encompassed the “bad” as well:  “Those who are well don’t need a doctor, but the sick do.  I didn’t come to call the just but sinners” (Matt 9:12,13).  And he’s come, in Isaiah’s words, “for all peoples,” for the Gentiles too.  “The Lord of hosts … will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations” (25:7).

We, of course, are part of that great assemblage of the nations invited to the marriage feast of the Lamb of God.  We’re invited.  Choosing to accept the invitation is up to us.  The king wants us at the feast of his Son—at the Eucharist, which prefigures the greater banquet of the heavenly kingdom, and at that banquet itself:  “Behold, I have prepared my banquet, … and everything is ready; come to the feast” (22:4).

So—will we accept the invitation?  Will we show up for the feast?  We make a good start by coming to Mass and welcoming the gospel message.

Jesus tags onto the parable of the wedding feast what some interpreters think is a separate parable, that of the wedding garment.  One doesn’t show up at a royal wedding dressed in raggy jeans and a tank top.  The parable obliges us to assume that the unexpected guests were provided at the palace with suitable attire.  But this particular guest has chosen not to put it on, and he’s speechless when challenged by his host—without excuse—and he’s cast out of the party.

Similarly, just because we’ve shown up for the feast—we come to Mass—doesn’t mean we’re properly disposed to be guests of the king.  When we receive the invitation, whether we’re among the good or the bad (relatively speaking, for “there is only One who is good” [Matt 19:17]), we must be garbed with an attitude of conversion, of rejecting sin, of changing our evil habits, and of doing as best we can the deeds of Christ.  Calling oneself a Catholic hardly suffices to count as a welcome guest at the marriage feast of the Lamb.  As we prayed in the Collect earlier, may God’s grace help us be “determined always to carry out good works.”

Wednesday, October 7, 2020

Two Days, Five Trails in Central Harriman State Park

Two Days, Five Trails 
in Central Harriman State Park

Taking more vacation time, on Thursday, Oct. 1, I landed at a parking lot on Rte 106 in Harriman State Park at the trailhead for the Victory Trail.  I loaded up my pack, camera, cell phone, and trekking poles and started at 1:10 p.m. on a familiar route that Fr. Jim Mulloy and I have used often.


A quarter mile south brings the hiker to the crossing of the Ramapo-Dunderberg Trail.  I turned westward, climbing gently on a path I last traveled in 2008.  I met a couple coming east, and we greeted each other.  Then the trail started up Parker Cabin Mountain.  I met another couple coming east, nearing the end of a long loop hike, they said.  Near the mountain’s summit, I saw a couple of guys resting off the trail, and we greeted each other.


When you finally get to the summit of Parker Cabin Mountain (over 1100 feet), there are fine views to the south and the west.  

Looking west from Parker Cabin Mt.

I leaned my poles against a large boulder while taking some pictures.  Suddenly a woman of mature age popped up from the other side of the boulder, startling me a little.  She said she’d heard me and wanted to make sure the noise came from something with 2 feet and not 4.  That was worth a chuckle.  She was snacking on an apple, and I observed it was a great spot to stop for a snack.

Lake Skenonto from Parker Cabin Mt.

Then a steep descent.  When the trail leveled off (as much as these do in Harriman), I passed the crossing of the trailhead of the White Cross Trail before coming to the White Bar Trail, 1.1 miles from my turn onto the RD Trail.  I headed south on the White Bar, another trail I hadn’t been on since 2008.

The White Bar has a few ups and downs but isn’t as strenuous as the RD was.  Near where the White Cross intersects it, there were power lines down, presumably from Isaias a few weeks back.  

Downed power lines near intersection of White Bar and White Cross trails

The White Bar passed beneath wires still up.  Open woodlands gave way to thickets near a swamp, but we’ve had not much rain and the trail wasn’t mucky.  After a little eastward bend of the White Bar, you can see a well-worn unmarked trail going north toward Lake Skenonto, which I’ve used a few times in the past and planned to use on the morrow.

Another bend in the trail, southeastward, brings one to an intersection with the end of the Triangle Trail, coming from Lake Skenonto and Lake Sebago.  From there it was just .2 mile to the Dutch Doctor shelter, my destination for the day, reached at 4:20 p.m., a bit more than 3 hours from car, and about 3.35 miles of moderate hiking.

The shelter was dirty and cobwebby, as it was when Fr. Jim stayed there on June 23-24.  There was also a lot of litter both inside and out, unlike our earlier stay.  There are spots where water seeps in from the rear wall or the ceiling, but enuf dry spots for me to put down my pads and sleeping bag and settle in.  Then I took my water purifier and headed for a nearby brook.

Late-day sun hits trees in front of Dutch Doctor

Camped at the brook were 2 chaps—with a fantastic set-up of tent, large tarp under which a hammock was strung up and, I think, place for meals, and a good fire going with a log windscreen set up in front of it.  They were friendly guys as we exchanged some conversation before and after I pumped 3 liters of water into my Platypus bags.


Back at the shelter, I put water to boil on my stove and prayed Evening Prayer.  My freeze-dried meal was chili mac with beef; the “mac” component was definitely al dente, requiring more time to soak than the package indicated.  I washed it down with Crystal Lite and followed it with some trail mix and dried apricots.  All in all, a satisfying dinner even if not exactly a chef’s delight.

Sunset, from Dutch Doctor

I hung up my bear bag with my remaining food and the trash, and hunted up firewood.  At dusk I laid and lit the fire in a small pit in front of the lean-to under the overhang.  Dutch Doctor’s main fault is that it doesn’t have an actual fireplace within.  I don’t know whether there was a wind causing it, or the shelter somehow drew the smoke, but I nearly got smoked out.  Eventually the smoke became tolerable (and maybe I had some drier wood).  So, in front of the fire I read from an issue of America and then Night Prayer.  Clouds were gathering, but some stars were still visible, and a full moon gave some light outside.


Around 8:45 p.m. I turned in, not exactly comfortable on a wooden floor, even with 2 pads under me.  At least I was warm in my sleeping bag.

The weather forecast was for rain after midnite, and sure enuf, rain came; it rained steadily right past dawn.  When it was light enuf to see, I went out (at 6:20) to visit Mother Nature and to bring in the bear bag.  The bag itself was wet, of course, but the contents were dry, thanks to their packaging or and a Ziplock bag for my oatmeal.

I celebrated Mass,


 then had oatmeal, nuts, and apricots for breakfast—and coffee, of course.  I prayed Readings before breakfast and Morning Prayer after.  Wearing rain pants, I packed up everything, put on my rain jacket, put the rain cover over the pack, and off I went in the rain at 9:19 a.m.

That was a little later than I’d hoped, as I was eager to get to Tom Jones shelter by noon before the expected Friday crowd of campers would show up.  The unmarked trail toward Lake Skenonto is labeled as unmaintained, and it lived up to that.  There were a lot of big trees down across it, Isaias’s legacy, but the trail has been well enuf traveled that it wasn’t difficult, and I covered its mile (approximately) by 10:00, reaching the lake and a segment of the Triangle Trail.

About .3 mile north, the Victory Trail comes in from the west and follows the lakeshore north by northeast while the Triangle continues north to go over Parker Cabin Mountain (where I’d crossed it yesterday).  The Victory Trail along the lake climbs, then dips at the north end, where there’s an easy approach to the water.  


Across the lake at a favored camping place were 2 tents, and at least one person was stirring over there.  I spent about 20 minutes pumping a gallon of water for my 2 Platypus bags and canteen; there’s no water on Tom Jones Mountain, so I’d have to tote with me whatever I’d need for lunch, supper, breakfast, and cleaning.

A smashed utility pole along the Victory Trail near Lake Skenonto

Swamp full of cattails with pines beyond, along the Victory Trail

The Victory Trail tended uphill as it ran north from the lake, especially as it approached the edges of Tom Jones Mountain.  One spot was really troublesome, not because of steepness but because a huge tree lay across the trail as the trail scrambled up a short rock face.  I had to get on my knees to get under the tree—carrying 40 pounds of backpack—and then try to stand up in very narrow confines, which I finally managed, and then continued to step up the trail.  In retrospect, it would have been worthwhile to take the pack off and then muscle it back on.

The Victory Trail, as often as I’ve hiked it, never seemed quite so long—in part because of the weight of my pack with a gallon of water in it, and in part because I was in a hurry to get to the shelter.  Worse, my glasses kept sliding down my nose, due to the moisture.  Several times I took them off and put them into my camera case, but anytime the trail got a little uncertain, I had to put them back on to discern a trail blaze. 

The rain had started to ease up, at least.  But at last I’d covered the 1.9 miles from the Triangle crossing to the RD crossing where I’d been yesterday.  Coming down the mountain was a couple who said they’d misread their map and gone the wrong way—east up the mountain instead of west, as I’d done yesterday.  And off they went on a long loop route that would take them, eventually, to Lake Skenonto and then up the trail that I’d just taken.

I, on the other hand, started up the trail they’d just been on mistakenly.  The climb up Tom Jones Mountain on the RD is short, just .2 mile, but very steep (all the worse with a full pack!).  Was I happy when I reached the top!  Shortly, the shelter was in view, about 100 yards off the trail below the ridge on the east side.  It was about noon and the sun was making an effort to come out (as had been forecast).


No one was there, to my relief.  There was, however, an amazing amount of gear within:  at least 4 chairs, a cooler, a grill, food, cooking implements.  I didn’t know whether someone had left it and gone hiking, or someone had left it for some future visit.  


So I didn’t rush to settle in, just to get lunch ready (ramen noodles, trail mix, nuts, apricots, hot tea).  The shelter itself is in a sorry state—lots of leaks, a hole in the roof, and the rest of the ceiling not looking good.  At least there wasn’t a lot of litter around.

I collected and cut firewood—my Sven saw is great!  I relaxed in one of those chairs, reading (after Daytime Prayer).  Then, around 2:00 p.m., hikers began to show up:  first 4 youths from Brooklyn, without any gear, water, or map, “looking for a place to camp.”  We talked a little, and eventually they departed back up to the ridge.  (Later I discovered they had friends coming up with tents and at least one cooler, and they settled in nicely on the west side of the ridge.)


A couple showed up with a dog.  He (Andrew) and the dog (Winston) were from Hoboken, she (Ashley) from Norwalk, all friendly.  He’d been there often and had a favorite spot to pitch a tent and get a good fire going.  He was hacking at wood with a hatchet; I offered my saw, but he declined, liking the exercise he was getting.

A younger couple came up from NYC—the guy (Dee) from the Bronx and the gal (Emma) from Brooklyn.  He’s a veteran camper, she a rookie.  We talked a while, and I invited them to come to the shelter when I had the fire going after sunset.  They did, and they brought marshmallows, graham crackers, and Hershey bars—s’mores!

Before the fire and the s’mores, of course there was supper:  freeze-dried sweet and sour chicken and rice, along with the usual Crystal Lite, nuts, trail mix, and apricots.  I said the Rosary, then went up to the ridge to watch the sun set.  Not spectacular this time.


Quite a few other folks, almost all guys, eventually showed up and pitched tents or tarps here and there—including one guy on Saturday morning right on the trail from the shelter back to the RD.  “Do you realize you’re right on the trail?” “I had no idea.”  (That’s a very big no-no in camping etiquette.)  Everyone was mercifully quiet and respectful of social distancing.  The only loud sounds were the trains running off to the west near Rte 17 and some jerks running motorcycles up and down Rte 106 well after dark.


After the s’mores, I helped Dee hang their food bag up with my bear bag, and they retired to their tent.  I sat by the fire and read from America for a while, then Night Prayer, and went into my bag around 9:00 p.m.

"Blood moon" from Tom Jones shelter

It was a chilly nite, and eventually I put on additional clothing to stay warm enuf in my bag.  As usual, I didn’t sleep very well and did a lot of turning over.  So at dawn I was ready to rise; it was 6:30.  I celebrated Mass and went to fetch my bear bag.

Happily, there weren’t any bears.  One deer at Dutch Doctor—not a threat to one’s food; and lots of chipmunks around Tom Jones, definitely a threat.

Breakfast, the same as yesterday.  Overnite my iPad had expired; it shouldn’t have, but maybe the cover wasn’t completely shut.  So no Divine Office before I packed up.  Happily, I’d brought my breviary in the car, so could attend to that later.  And I was back on the trail at 8:11 a.m.  Needless to say, the descent of Tom Jones was much easier than the ascent had been (and my pack much lighter)—12 minutes down (carefully) to the Victory Trail, and then 9 minutes (gently downhill) to the parking lot.

End of another hiking and camping saga!

Photos:  https://link.shutterfly.com/6xTnCs1riab