Message of the Rector Major for May

THE MESSAGE OF THE RECTOR MAJOR

Fr. Fabio Attard, SDB

Mary

The Visitation (Philippe de Champaigne)

Example of an open and giving heart

With God dwelling in us, like Mary, we see ourselves as called and sent 

Mary arose and went in haste (Lk 1:39). The words are few, yet full of meaning. Through these simple and decisive gestures, the inner structure of a heart that has truly allowed God to dwell within it is revealed. Mary’s departure isn’t for just any kind of journey; it’s the response of a life of recollection—of a soul that, having learned to listen and to discern, then moves to respond. After having lived through the experience of the Annunciation, Mary doesn’t stop to process what’s just happened to her. Mary doesn’t close herself within the intimacy of her own experience—an extraordinary and profound one—keeping it to herself. On the contrary, she allows herself to be molded and guided by the Word. She sets out to go to another.

Mary’s is a spiritual movement: she lovingly took in the Word, and now it’s the Word dwelling within her that directs her toward her neighbor. Those who truly love, as a consequence of feeling loved by God, forget themselves and place themselves at the service of others. Mary teaches us that openness of heart isn’t an optional virtue, but rather the very way in which God’s love takes shape in the life of one who believes in him.

Openness: Moving beyond a narrow vision

With God dwelling in us—like Mary—we see ourselves as being called and sent forth. Mary’s actions stand in contrast to a view of life built upon an unavailable “self,” closed in upon itself. When we choose to observe the world solely from a narrow observation point, we run the risk of arriving at the conclusion that our own opinion contains the whole truth. This is the longstanding temptation: to reduce reality to what we’ve already seen, measured, and planned. Our own way of thinking and seeing becomes the sole and exclusive measure.

Mary shows us that openness of heart is, first of all, an emptying of one’s own egoism. When we remain closed off—rather than allowing ourselves to be guided by charity—we lose that movement of the heart which receives God’s gift then to reach out to our neighbor. True openness of heart isn’t a human decision; it is, before all else, a grace – one that must be invoked, freely received, safeguarded, and exercised every day. We can’t truly reach out to others—in a full, free, and joyful sense—unless we allow God to be alive within our hearts. May he be the One to make us open—opening wide our eyes to what transcends our own small and poor human logic.

Emptying oneself is the first form of love

In a culture like ours, there is always the subtle risk of self-reference—the belief that one constructs his own identity by looking only at himself, as into an ever-smaller mirror. Mary bears witness to a different way of looking at life: she re-positions her entire existence toward the presence of the Word within her heart, and subsequently, toward Elizabeth’s need. It’s a choice that regards the need of one’s neighbor as a calling, as the fruit of one’s relationship with God. And it’s for this very reason that she sets out in haste to one in need.

True availability has, at its roots, the courage to question oneself and to renounce one’s self—even when this appears to be a loss. It’s not a matter of ostentatious generosity, but rather of an inner freedom born from having discovered that I can be myself only by giving of myself to another in a radical way. Here, an open and available heart isn’t the winning of a trophy, but an act of abandonment to the will of the Father.

Not an act of kindness, but an obedience to God who dwells in our hearts

Mary doesn’t go to Elizabeth because she believes from a human standpoint alone that her elderly cousin is in need of help. Her visitation to her cousin isn’t merely an act of kindness; rather, it’s the presence of the Son who, within her womb, is conforming his Mother to himself. Mary’s journey to Elizabeth is the mission of God himself, taking the form of a journey toward the other.

Mary’s visit is a mission born of the Son’s coming into her life. When Jesus truly becomes a part of our lives, everything we are and do flows from this single source. Mission springs forth from the personal encounter with Christ.

Unconditional availability: beyond the results

In the face of Mary’s free and generous choice, our desire to imitate her is marked by a very subtle yet ever-present temptation: that of wanting to see what kind of results our choices yield. Mary, who immediately sets out on her journey, conveys to us the decision of a heart that’s already full—one that seeks no security or certainty outside itself. For the true measure of a mission, and of its success, lies in its living relationship with the Word that dwells within it.

Mary, icon of a free heart – Word, faith, and charity

Cardinal Carlo Martini offers us a reflection that’s brief, yet profound and essential: the Word is the seed, faith is the womb that receives it, and charity is the fruit that is born. Mary is the woman who lived this dynamic in its fullness: with humility, she welcomes the Word; with faith, she rises and goes in haste; with charity, she gives of herself. Her “going in haste” conveys that gesture of charity which mirrors a heart that’s free and liberating, illuminated by the Word that sustains her faith.

An open and available heart isn’t merely a heart that’s sentimentally good; rather, it’s a heart that has learned to dwell within the tension between the proclamation received and embraced, and the brothers and sisters who await it; between interior grace and the road to travel; between the mystery of God and the concrete reality of human need.

Mary teaches us that we need not wait until we have understood everything before we set out.

Homily for 5th Sunday of Easter

Homily for the
5th Sunday of Easter

May 3, 2026
1 Pet 2: 4-9
Villa Maria, Bronx
Our Lady of the Assumption, Bronx
St. Francis Xavier, Bronx

The Last Supper (Jaume Huguet)

“Let yourselves be built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God thru Jesus Christ” (1 Pet 2: 5).

St. Peter gives us something of a mixed metaphor in this passage from his 1st letter.  We’re to be stones used to build a house, but living stones for a spiritual house; and we’re also to be holy priests—both houses and priests.

Both metaphors—stones and priesthood—point to our relationship with Jesus.  Jesus is the “living stone” (v. 4) that Peter refers to, based on Ps 118 (v. 22), which is one of many Old Testament texts that Jesus fulfills, a verse that he cited himself with reference to his rejection by the chief priests and elders (Matt 21:42).  They didn’t accept him as the Messiah, but instead sent him to his passion and death.  But the rejected stone has become a living stone because God the Father raised him from the dead and made him the cornerstone of his work to redeem the human race:  “a cornerstone, chosen and precious”—here Peter is citing the prophet Isaiah (28:16).

We allow Jesus to take us and build us up into a great temple for the honor of God, part of the temple of his living body (John 2:19-22)—living stones piled onto and around the chosen and precious cornerstone.

Jesus is also the great priest of the new covenant between God and the human race.  He offered himself as the sacrifice that inaugurated that new covenant:  “This is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and eternal covenant, poured out for the forgiveness of sins.”  Not only is Jesus the great priest of the new covenant.  He is the only priest of the covenant, as his sacrifice, offered on the cross, is the only sacrifice of the Christian people.

When Jesus commands us to offer his sacrifice—“do this in memory of me”—he gives us all a share in his priesthood.  That’s why Peter tells us “to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God thru Jesus Christ.”  The one sacrifice we offer is Jesus’ body and blood; we join ourselves to him to make this offering, or in the word our liturgy likes to use, this “oblation.”

While it’s true that Jesus appoints a few men to represent him by presiding over this sacrificial offering, he wants all of us to make the offering.  We’re invited to take part in “my sacrifice and yours,” the sacrifice of the ministerial priest and of the priestly people, to make Jesus’ sacrifice our own.  All of us are priests inasmuch as we offer ourselves along with the Lord Jesus.

Further, Peter suggests we “offer spiritual sacrifices thru Jesus Christ,” and these aren’t confined to the sacrifice of the Mass.  Our prayers at any time of day and in any place, especially our prayers of praise to God or prayers of atonement for our sins, are such spiritual sacrifices.  

At Prayer (by Antonio Parreiras)

St. Paul urged the Romans (12:1) “offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship.”  How much we have to offer to the Lord thru our bodies:  offering our physical and emotional pain, offering our fasting before Holy Communion, during Lent, or at other times, offering dietary restrictions, offering our weariness at the end of a long day or when tending to someone who’s sick, offering our getting out of bed in the morning, listening to someone who needs to unburden her heart—that list of bodily self-offering could go on and on.  (If you’re of a certain age, you may remember the sisters in school telling you, when something hurt or bothered you, to “offer it up.”)  These are “spiritual sacrifices” in that we’re not doing what the ancients did, bringing a bull or a lamb to be sacrificed; nor are we being literally crucified with Christ.  Our offering involves our bodies, but coming from our hearts and our heads, is intentional and spiritual.

And thus we exercise the priesthood of Christ’s faithful people:  “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own” (1 Pet 2:9).

Salesians Step Up Support for Displaced Lebanese

Salesians Step Up Support for Displaced Lebanese

Source: Misiones Salesianas (Madrid)

(ANS – Beirut – April 29, 2026) – The crisis in the Middle East continues to worsen despite the ceasefire declared in Lebanon. Bombings in southern Lebanon, rising prices, and a lack of jobs are putting thousands of families in difficulty. Against this backdrop, the Salesians are continuing their work to assist the more than 100 displaced people at the El Hossoun center and are stepping up their commitment to education, providing scholarships and aid so that children can continue their studies and maintain hope amid the war.

The crisis in the Middle East remains severe, particularly in Lebanon, where the ceasefire is fragile and hasn’t entirely halted the violence. “Bombings continue to be reported in the south, and more than 50 localities have received evacuation orders, causing further displacement,” explain the Salesians working in Lebanon.

In the early stages of the recent escalation of violence alone, at least 30,000 people sought refuge in centers such as the Salesians’ facility in El Hossoun, while many others were forced to flee without resources, settling with family or friends or in uninhabited buildings. This situation compounds years of accumulated crises that have deeply weakened the country.

The humanitarian emergency is closely linked to a structural economic crisis. Since 2019, the Lebanese economy has contracted by more than 38%, one of the most severe declines globally. Inflation and currency devaluation have sent commodity prices soaring, leaving a large part of the population without access to food, healthcare or education. Currently, around 44% of the population lives in poverty, and many families are forced to make extreme decisions such as cutting back on food, taking on debt, or withdrawing their children from school.

Displaced families: living on the bare minimum in extreme conditions

At the Don Bosco center in El Hossoun, the Salesians are welcoming displaced families into spaces set up as shelters. Currently, more than 100 people are living in makeshift facilities, with very limited resources and in emergency conditions.

Many of these families have been displaced repeatedly, have lost their homes, and arrive with only the bare essentials. Furthermore, “these are people who have nowhere to return to. Some displaced people have tried to return to their homes, but most have been destroyed. So they will likely be with us for a long time,” add the Salesians.

Fear, trauma and psychosocial support

Beyond basic needs, the war leaves a deep emotional mark. The Salesian teams active in this emergency phase are working with children and adults experiencing high levels of fear, anxiety, and stress.

“Many children struggle to express their emotions, experiencing crying fits and constant fear after having lived through situations of violence,” say the Salesians in Lebanon. Through activities such as play, drawing, or individual support, the teams try to help them regain their emotional stability.

Furthermore, they organize group sessions and safe spaces for women and minors, addressing situations of anxiety, trauma or even postnatal depression in contexts of extreme vulnerability.

The crisis is also having a direct impact on education: schools have been closed for many weeks, and many educational facilities have been bombed or are now housing displaced people. In addition to this situation, the economic crisis means that many families cannot afford to educate their sons and daughters, which is leading to an increase in school dropout rates.

Responses looking to the future

MISIONES SALESIANAS of Madrid, together with the Salesians in Lebanon, continues to adapt its response to a prolonged crisis, combining immediate humanitarian aid with sustainable initiatives. Food, shelter, education, and emotional support form part of a comprehensive approach that seeks not only to respond to the emergency, but to provide opportunities for the future.

In the crisis in the Middle East, the presence of the Salesians is a sign of hope for thousands of people who strive every day to carry on in one of the most challenging contexts in the world.