Celebrating Blessed Michael Rua

Celebrating Blessed Michael Rua (1837-1910)

It's 3 weeks since I've posted, and that's because I was in Europe for 2 of those weeks with limited computer capability.

The main reason for this trip was the Fifth International Convention of ACSSA, the association for Salesian historians. It took place at the Oratory of St. Francis de Sales, the Salesian motherhouse in Valdocco (Turin), from Oct. 28 to Nov. 1.

That venue was chosen because the meeting was all about Blessed Michael Rua, Don Bosco's first successor, whose centennial will occur next April 6--the centennial of his "heavenly birthday," i.e., the day he entered eternal life.

Rua was a native of Turin and began coming to the Oratory around 1846, about the time it settled at its permanent home. From the beginning Don Bosco marked him as special, and eventually he became his hand-picked vicar. The meeting brought together more than 90 Salesians, Daughters of Mary Help of Christians (FMAs), other religious, and lay people who are interested in Salesian history either professionally or as a hobby. (Most of us are pictured above, in the courtyard of the Oratory below Don Bosco's rooms. I'm seated in the front row, 7th from the right.) We came from every continent--Africa, Asia, Australia, Europe, North America, South America. By far most of the folks were from Europe and Latin America, where the Salesian presence is strongest; and of course the meeting was in Europe.

One of the best parts of these kinds of meetings is just being with other Salesians from all over the world--and in this case, one's fellow historians, many of whom I've met at previous such gatherings. One of the special features of this particular meeting was the presence of so many FMAs(Salesian Sisters).
41 papers were presented on almost as many topics about Fr. Rua. I was asked to give one on his dealings with the Eastern U.S., and so I did. It was the only one given in English and, as far as I know, the only one not given in Italian. (We had two afternoons with split sessions, so it's possible some papers that I missed were given in Spanish.)
The topics included Fr. Rua's relationship with the FMAs and with various parts of the SDB world; sacred music; hearing confessions; the theater as an educational tool; the 1st and the most recent biographies of him; the beatification process; and more. Strong themes that emerged from the papers and discussions included the differences between Don Bosco and Fr. Rua, despite the latter's nickname as "another Don Bosco," and the fact that Fr. Rua's personality was not nearly as stark or stern as it has sometimes seemed to Salesians: too much emphasis on him as "the living Rule," and not enuf on his fatherliness, patience, flexibility, practical side, and so on.

Celebrating his centennial, an exhibition on Blessed Rua opened in some side rooms of the basilica of Mary Help of Christians. Fr. Adriano Bregolin, the SDB vicar general, inaugurated the exhibit on the 28th.
Since Blessed Michael's liturgical memorial falls on Oct. 29, we were able to celebrate that--along with very many Salesians from the 2 local communities of Valdocco and perhaps elsewhere. Fr. Bregolin, who is Fr. Rua's successor as the vicar of the rector major, presided at the Mass and preached. After Mass, we all descended to the crypt of the basilica to pray at Blessed Rua's tomb.

A variation from the days of presenting and listening to research came on Oct. 30, when most of us got into 2 large buses and went to the hamlet of Sant'Anna di Caselle, not far from Turin, where Fr. Rua was ordained in 1860.
We received a royal welcome from the locals, including the mayor and the pastor (our arrival at the village entrance, above), celebrated Mass (literally filling the tiny church),
and then had a huge feast in town (Caselle proper) at the oratory that these devoted lay Salesians run.

The hospitality of the Salesians of Turin was wonderful.

On the final day of the convention, we elected a new board of directors ("presidency") for the association. Outgoing president Fr. Norbert Wolff of Germany is pictured above, presiding at that general assembly. The new president is Sr. Grazia Loparco, FMA, of Rome.

Painting of Blessed Michael's "first Mass," in the church of St. Francis de Sales at the Oratory, assisted by Don Bosco.

Since I arrived in Turin about 26 hours before the start of the convention and, due to airline schedules, was compelled to depart about 16 hours after it ended, and since we had one free afternoon (the 30th), I was able not only to visit the Salesian sites of the Oratory (the basilica, the church of St. Francis de Sales, the Pinardi chapel, Don Bosco's rooms) but also to visit some sites in the city. I opted particularly for Turin's cathedral, linked to Don Bosco's archbishops, the Holy Shroud, and Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati. At left (I hope!) is the memorial in the cathedral to Abp. Louis Fransoni, who ordained Don Bosco and was a great supporter of his work in its difficult beginnings.

I also opted to visit the Consolata, the church of Our Lady of Consolation, patroness of Turin, where Don Bosco often went to pray and where his mentor, St. Joseph Cafasso preached and heard confessions (including Don Bosco's every week) for some 20 years, and where Cafasso is entombed.

Homily for 30th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the 
30th Sunday of Ordinary TimeOct. 25, 2009
Mark 10: 46-52
Christian Brothers, Iona College

“On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, Bartimaeus began to cry out and say, ‘Jesus, son of David, have pity on me’” (Mark 10: 47).

Jesus has come to the last 15 miles of his journey up to Jerusalem, passing thru Jericho and starting the ascent toward the holy city. He’s a pilgrim going up for Passover. He’s the Son of David en route to David’s city. He’s the Son of Man “on the way” to his destiny (10:38,45,52).

The blind man, the son of Timaeus, interrupts his begging for alms from the crowds of pilgrims following this age-old road to beg for something better than alms. Evidently he knows Jesus is a healer. No pressure from the people around him—including the disciples, probably—will deter him from calling out to Jesus to have pity on him, to be allowed to come close to Jesus and be saved.

When Jesus has summoned Bartimaeus, he asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” (10:51). This is exactly the same question that he asked the sons of Zebedee in the immediately preceding passage (10:36), which was our gospel last Sunday. Mark starkly contrasts the 2 favored disciples and this stranger, this beggar. James and John also are convinced that Jesus is the Son of David, the Messiah, and see him as a means to personal power and glory. The blind beggar sees Jesus as a teacher and personal savior: “Master”—Mark uses the Aramaic emphatic form of “rabbi,” rabbouni, meaning “my teacher”—“My teacher, I want to see” (10:51).

In calling Jesus the Son of David, Bartimaeus implicitly sees him as the fulfillment of the prophecy of Jeremiah that was our 1st reading: “The Lord has delivered his people, the remnant of Israel. I will gather…the blind and the lame in their midst. I will console them and guide them. I am a father to Israel.” (31:7-9) The Son of David will restore Israel in joy, will gather the lost, will care for the weak, the ill, the helpless. Leadership and salvation aren’t about power but about service: “The Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” (10:45). As we saw last week, James and John haven’t grasped that yet; none of the apostles have.

This isn’t to say that Bartimaeus has grasped it. But his ambition is noble: “Master, I want to see.” In Mark’s gospel there’s a lot of blindness—very little of the physical kind, mostly of the spiritual kind. James and John and the rest of the 12 are blind. Jesus’ own family are blind (3:20-21). The Pharisees, the scribes, and the Sanhedrin are blind. The soldiers who will arrest Jesus and torture him, and Pontius Pilate, who will try him, are blind. The only ones who see are people like the woman with the hemorrhage, maybe (5:25-34), the Syro-Phoenician woman (7:24-30), the woman who anoints Jesus with “costly genuine spikenard” at Bethany (14:3-9), and most obviously the centurion at the crucifixion (15:39). All of these, incidentally, are outsiders, pariahs, as far as the chosen people, the elite, and the disciples are concerned. Mark is telling us something thereby. Asking to be able to see means knowing that Jesus enables us to see the created world and our relationships with other people in their true light. Asking to be able to see means seeing our own need, our own helplessness (“For human beings salvation is impossible, but all things are possible for God”—10:27). Asking to be able to see is akin to the prayer of the man who wanted Jesus to cure his possessed son: “I do believe; help my unbelief!” (9:24), having enuf faith to know that we still need a lot of healing, a lot of help on our way to salvation. Bartimaeus wants to see whatever this master, this teacher, has to show him.

You’ll recall that 2 weeks ago, linked to the gospel of the rich man who couldn’t part with possessions and follow Jesus—part of this same 10th chapter of Mark (vv. 17-22)—Peter said to Jesus, “We’ve given up everything and followed you” (10:28). It’s evident of course from the disciples’ earthly ambitions and their fears that they haven’t given up everything to follow Jesus. The blind man, however, does give up the last remnant he has as he responds to Jesus’ invitation to come to him: “He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus” (10:50). He comes to Jesus with nothing, in utter need, even in desperation.

When Jesus summons the son of Timaeus to him, the people in the crowd tell the blind man, “Take courage. Get up; Jesus is calling you” (10:49). That sounds like what John Paul II used to tell us so often, doesn’t it? “Take courage” or “Do not be afraid” to answer the call of Jesus—the call to be his follower, even the call of a vocation to consecrated life. It takes courage to follow Jesus, to be sure, but what could be more encouraging than knowing that we are going to him, are going to be with him?—whether as a Christian disciple of this rabbouni or as a person totally consecrated to him by vow or ordination.

The insight that Bartimaeus has gained does something for him, again implied by our reading of Mark’s words. When Jesus came along, the beggar was sitting “by the road” (10:46). He’s not part of the disciples gathered around Jesus “on the road, on the way” but is apart from them. Once given his sight, tho “immediately he followed Jesus on the way” (10:52). Note this: Jesus told him, “Go your way” (10:52), he followed Jesus. He made the way of Jesus his own way. Bartimaeus willingly and with courage follows Jesus on this road.

The true disciples of Jesus, unlike the 12, know what following him on the way to Jerusalem means; they know what it means to be the Son of David who has pity upon all the wretched of the earth: not power and glory but death and resurrection. Now it’s up to us to have similar courage, to come to Jesus as he summons us, and to follow him to Jerusalem: the place of earthly passion and death, also the city of resurrection and eternal splendor (Rev 21:2).

Cardinal Zen Leads Day of Recollection for SDBs, FMAs

Cardinal Joseph Zen, SDB,
Leads Day of Recollection for SDBs, FMAs
Last Saturday, October 17, Cardinal Joseph Zen, SDB, the retired bishop of Hong Kong, offered a day of recollection at Don Bosco Prep in Ramsey, N.J., for all the Salesian priests, brothers, sisters, novices, and candidates (aspirants) in the New York area. Almost 90 came (most of them are in the photo above) from the communities of Newton, Haledon, North Haledon, Kenilworth, Elizabeth, Orange, Port Chester, and New Rochelle.

The cardinal (right) met up with his old canon law professor from what was at the time the Salesian Pontifical Atheneum in Turin: Fr. Jerry Sesto, SDB, now 88 years old and still an active assistant pastor at St. Anthony of Padua Church in Elizabeth.

In the Prep's auditorium the cardinal gave two conferences and, later, a Q&A session. He spoke of the devotion of his parents (especially his father); meeting the Salesians as a boy in Shanghai; the fatherly presence of the Salesians that enabled their students to survive the Japanese occupation of Shanghai and the dangers of war; the great Salesian missionary Fr. Charles Braga, who was the Don Bosco of China; the development of his priestly and religious vocation; of his long exile in Hong Kong and elsewhere after the Communists took over the mainland in 1949.

The cardinal showed how Salesian spirituality affected him thru all of that, and he quoted several articles of our Salesian Rule to make his points. (Those are the Constitutions he's holding above.)

In a separate session, Cardinal Zen met with all the young SDBs and FMAs in formation and the aspirants, as well as some of their formators. Mostly he took questions from them and answered very frankly, e.g., about how to discern their vocations and be faithful to them, about the Salesians in China, about hopes for becoming missionaries someday.

Of course the cardinal posed with the young (and less young) SDBs and candidates (above), and likewise with the FMAs and their aspirants (below).

The cardinal is very down-to-earth and approachable, as you can see from the photo below, where he, a priest, a brother, and a pre-novice are chatting easily while they wait in the school cafeteria for lunch to be ready.

One thing that impressed me besides the cardinal's easy manner and forthrightness about the Church in Hong Kong and the rest of China ("I am a troublemaker") when he spoke one-on-one or to the whole group, was his hands. They're the hands of a man who has worked in his life--and I don't mean with a pen or a computer.

The day concluded with Mass in the school chapel, where the cardinal presided and preached on the gospel of the day (James and John, suffering with Christ).

After Mass, Fr. Steve Leake on behalf of the province presented Cardinal Zen with a gift: the first five volumes of Fr. Art Lenti's magnificent study of Don Bosco (Don Bosco: History & Spirit, destined to be seven volumes).

Fr. Joe Tyminski, Part II

Father Joe Tyminski, Part II

At Fr. Tym's funeral in Ramsey on the 20th, Fr. Tim Ploch offered these reflections (sent from San Francisco):

In my life I have lost three fathers. My biological father, Ed Ploch, passed away in 1986. Long before that, I had a first encounter with a Salesian “father,” Bernard Justen, my “father” director in the four years of my high school aspirantate. Then at the other end of my initial formation, just before being ordained a priest, I was blessed with another example of a father like Don Bosco, Joseph Tyminski. Now all three are gone.

If I love the priesthood, and I do, it’s because Fr. Tym instilled in me a deep and profound respect for this inestimable gift. He would cut right through the hypothetical arguments we used to have about whether being a Salesian or being a priest was the more fundamental part of our vocation. He taught me that being a priest is not an accident or a part time job. Salesian Priest is who I was to be. Salesian Priest is who I try to be. If Don Bosco always signed his letters with “John Bosco, Priest,” Joe Tyminski signed the letter of his life that way. No accident that he dies in the Year of the Priest. When I myself became director of those preparing for Salesian priesthood in Columbus, I took him consciously as my model, not very successfully, to imitate.

If I love the liturgy, and I do, it’s because of Joe Tyminski. Unlike some of my companions, I never got a hand slap at the altar for trying to be too trendy and thereby forgetting that the Mass is not about me the presider but about Christ the High Priest. I did however receive a few less-than-discreet liturgical coughs.

I wrote my Master’s thesis on how the act of liturgical preaching produced its effect in the congregation in a way analogous to the way the sacraments worked. He inspired me to write it, and to live it.

When I was asked to take on the role of provincial in our Eastern Province, he was one of the first ones I informed. He encouraged me all along, and corrected me often, saying, “Dear Father, I’ve been to three chapters. Now listen to me.” I know I was the benefit of his experience, wisdom, spirituality, and culinary skills on the provincial council in those years. And I know that the whole province was too.

Father Joe Tyminski was for me a walking example of Don Bosco’s advice to Michael Rua, and through him, to all of us: Make yourself loved. He could be fierce in his opinions, but he made you, he made me, love him. If we asked him to go out for a drink or something at night in Columbus, he would bark: “Stay home and read a spiritual book.” But still he had that something that Don Bosco tells us all: it’s not enough to love. They must know they are loved. Fr. Joe made us know that he loved us.

Rest in peace, dear Father. There in the heavenly liturgy, there are no more liturgical coughs, no more arrogant theology students, only the Jesus whom you served as his priest for more than 60 years. There you are with Don Bosco, whom you imitated as a Salesian for more than 70 years. Pray for us there. Pray especially that both U.S. provinces be gifted with sterling Salesian vocations like yours. Thank you for everything. To your face we never called you “the Polish prince.” But now we say, “Rest in peace, sweet Prince, dear Father.”

Spiritual Father

Spiritual Father

I've been blessed with several true spiritual fathers in 46 years with the Salesians. I lost one of them this morning, Fr. Joe Tyminski.

Fr. Tym became director of the Salesian community in Columbus in 1974, shortly before my class of a dozen young SDB clerics arrived to start our theological studies at the Josephinum. Over the next four years he guided us spiritually, theologically, liturgically, pastorally, and in assorted other ways that had nothing to do with the book learning we were getting in our classrooms up the highway at the Joss in Worthington.

You can't describe the impact that he had on most of us--not just my class but all the classes of SDB priests that he helped form for six years at the Salesian Center, and on the brothers who were there too as part of the staff of the Boys Club or as students at Ohio Dominican or Franklin U. That impact continues--in me, certainly, as I exercise the priesthood of Jesus more than 30 years later, and, I think, also in most of my confreres who shared the experience.

Here's a version of what I wrote on this beloved priest-father (I have tears in my eyes right now) in my "official" capacity as the province's communications coordinator, and sent out to various Church and secular media:

Fr. Joseph Tyminski passed away quietly on Thursday, Oct. 15, 2009, at 5:25 a.m. at Bon Secours-Maria Manor Nursing Care Center in St. Petersburg, Fla. He was three weeks short of his 90th birthday.

Throughout the province of New Rochelle, Fr. Tyminski was known simply as “Fr. Tym.” In Columbus he picked up another nickname among the seminarians, “the Silver Fox,” on account of his distinguished head of grayish-white hair—a name stolen, if you will, from the Cincinnati Reds’ manager of the time, Sparky Anderson.

Fr. Tym was born Nov. 3, 1919, in Orange, N.J. After graduating from Don Bosco Prep in Ramsey, N.J., in June 1937, Joe Tyminski went to Don Bosco College in Newton, N.J., in September as a Son of Mary (“late vocation”). He was admitted to St. Joseph’s Novitiate, also at Newton, a year later.

Bro. Tyminski made his first profession of vows on Sept. 8, 1939, and graduated from the college in June 1942 with a B.A. in philosophy. His practical training was carried out at St. Michael’s School in Goshen, N.Y. (1942-1944), and Don Bosco Prep in Ramsey (1944-1945).

Bro. Tyminski began theological studies at Don Bosco College in Newton in 1945 and completed them at the Salesian seminary in Aptos, Calif. in 1949. He was ordained a priest on June 29, 1949, in the chapel of Don Bosco College.

Fr. Tym’s first priestly assignment was at Salesian High School in New Rochelle, N.Y., from 1949 to 1954, first as a teacher, then as "catechist” (campus minister), and finally as prefect of studies. Since the school was both a day and a boarding school, it entailed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week of academic, social, and spiritual
work.

In 1954 he moved to Don Bosco Technical High School in Paterson, N.J., as the catechist. The school and community included day students, boarding students, aspirants to the Salesian brotherhood, and young Salesian brothers in their postnovitiate formation period. Five years later he was appointed director in Paterson, serving a single three-year term.

Fr. Tym became director of his alma mater, Don Bosco Prep in Ramsey, in 1962. During seven years in that office he oversaw the school’s expansion, including the building of DeSales Hall, a classroom and administrative building which includes also science labs and a large auditorium.

A change in Fr. Tym’s ministry came in 1969 with his appointment as assistant pastor at Corpus Christi Church in Port Chester, N.Y., where he labored alongside the parish’s beloved pastor, Fr. Peter Rinaldi, for five years.

The six years from 1974 to 1980 probably were the highlight of Fr. Tym’s Salesian “career.” He brought his combined pastoral experience in schools and parish to the Salesian Center in Columbus, Ohio, to serve as director. The Center included a Boys Club (no girl members at the time) and the residence of the Salesian seminarians attending theological courses at the Pontifical College Josephinum and a few coadjutor brothers studying at other local colleges—all told, a community of some 50 confreres each year, a youth apostolate reaching several hundred children and staff, and an extensive apostolic program in parishes, hospitals, and the Juvenile Detention Center of Franklin County. The director’s qualities of fatherliness, experience, wisdom, availability, straightforwardness, and love for the liturgy, the priesthood, and the Church—not to mention his skill in the community’s kitchen—earned him the affection of virtually all the confreres, affection that he returned.

The high respect in which the entire province held Fr. Tyminski was reflected in his being elected as the province’s delegate to three general chapters of the Salesian Society: the 19th in 1965, 20th in 1971-1972, and 21st in 1978.

Fr. Tym joined the retreat house staff at Haverstraw, N.Y., for the year 1980-1981, after which he served for one year as dean of students for the candidates to Salesian life (“Sons of Mary”) at Don Bosco College in Newton before being named director of the entire college community (1982-1985), which also included the novices, young professed Salesians, and staff. He came to the provincial residence in New Rochelle in 1985 as director for a three-year term, which was followed by a three-year stint as pastor of Corpus Christi Church. He returned to the provincial house in 1991 for a year.

In 1992 he returned to New Jersey as pastor of Immaculate Heart of Mary Church in Mahwah. After seven years of dedicated ministry, he stayed a year with the candidates to Salesian life in South Orange, N.J. (1999-2000), then did another stint at Corpus Christi in Port Chester as an assistant pastor for two years.

Fr. Tym finally went into a quasi-retirement in 2002 at the Salesian Center in Columbus until the community closed in 2008. He moved to St. Philip the Apostle Residence, the Salesian retirement home in Tampa, briefly before poor health required him to move into Bon Secours-Maria Manor early in 2009.

Someone who Fr. Tym long before I did wrote in this afternoon: "Although he was never my director, I will always remember him from my two years as an aspirant in Paterson. He was a friendly, loving priest and a fine gentleman."

Requiescat in pace!

Homily for 28th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the 
28th Sunday of Ordinary Time
October 11, 2009
Mark 10: 17-30
Willow Towers, New Rochelle
Wood Badge Scouters, Alpine (N.J.) Scout Camp

“Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Mark 10: 17).

When I was a kid growing up in Florida, we were well aware that Ponce de Leon had discovered Florida in 1513 while searching for the mythical fountain of youth—which of course he didn’t find; not only that, but he found an early grave.

Our contemporaries continue to seek youthfulness, as you know: resorting to diet, exercise, vitamins, dyes, Botox, hair plants, and Lord knows what else. Ted Williams was just back in the news on account of his seeking immortality thru cryogenics.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade presented us with a derring-do tale of quest for the Holy Grail, which turns out to be the key to immortality. But the quest also proved fatal to many seekers who, in one of the movie’s famous lines, “did not choose wisely.”

Choice! There’s our day’s prototypical American mantra. We’re a free people, and we want, we demand, to make decisions for ourselves and not be dictated to by Church or State. (Ironically, many of us—especially young people—want to do what we choose, as long as it’s what everyone else is doing!)

The freedom that Jesus Christ offers us is the freedom to choose wisely, to choose well; to choose the good and the true; to choose the way that leads to eternal life. Jesus promises his disciples, “The truth will set you free” (John 8:32), and he teaches them that he is that truth; he is the way; he is life (John 14:6).

“Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” In his answer, Jesus doesn’t say, “Keep the commandments.” He only reminds the man of them (10:19). When the man replies that he has observed all the commandments “from my youth” (10:20), Jesus tells him he’s still lacking something, i.e., he hasn’t earned eternal life just by keeping the commandments. More is required!

How can it be that keeping the commandments is insufficient for inheriting eternal life? What is the man, whom Jesus already loves (10:21), lacking? Complete attachment to Jesus. Jesus tells him to detach himself from his possessions, give to the poor, implicitly giving to God —“you will have treasure in heaven” (10:21)—and attach himself to Jesus: “follow me” (10:21). There’s a certain parallel here to the parable of the rich man and the beggar Lazarus, which we find in Luke’s Gospel (16:19-31), wherein the rich man is condemned not for anything to do with the Ten Commandments—they aren’t even mentioned—but solely because he ignored the beggar at his doorstep. Our gospel today, however, takes that attentiveness to the poor one step further by adding, “Then come, follow me.”

Lazarus and Dives, illumination from the Codex Aureus of Echternach

Cut back to Indiana Jones: the Holy Grail is the cup of Jesus, the cup that he used at the Last Supper, the cup of the new covenant in his blood. To seek the Grail is to seek Jesus—Jesus who sacrificed himself for others. It’s a cup of self-emptying, of detachment. And, in the movie, it was the very simplest cup among all those on array— if memory serves me, it was a wooden one—bespeaking utter poverty. Indiana Jones chooses wisely by choosing this cup. Detachment from riches is related to attachment to Jesus.

Jesus loves this man, but he fails to respond to that love and give himself to Jesus. He has a choice to make, and he chooses his possessions, chooses a consumer lifestyle. The author of our 1st reading, from the Book of Wisdom (7:7-11), would say this man is a fool, for he chooses riches rather than wisdom. It would be the same, in Wisdom’s eyes, had he chosen power, prestige, beauty, or health (or eternal youth) (7:8,10). By our gospel reckoning, he chooses riches rather than truth and goodness (remember, he begins by addressing Jesus as “good teacher,” and he ends by walking away from goodness and wisdom). He prefers his possessions to the path of eternal life.

The man leaves Jesus sad (10:22). Perhaps he realizes in his heart that he’s choosing a path that doesn’t lead to eternal life, choosing instead that path which Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount, calls a broad road leading to ruin (Matt 7:13). Mark doesn’t say that Jesus, too, is sad. But how could he not be when someone spurns his love—“Jesus, looking at him, loved him”—and deliberately walks away from truth, goodness, and life?

Jesus comments that the rich will have a hard time entering the kingdom of God (10:23). He follows that shocker with a still broader pronouncement that doesn’t mention the rich: “How hard it is to enter the kingdom of God!” (10:24). The disciples are astonished (10:24); they’re used to viewing wealth as a blessing from God. They know that most people want money and the comforts and security money can provide. If we all crave wealth, “Then who can be saved?” (10:26). Aren’t we all in trouble, all on that broad highway toward eternal ruin?

The short answer is: yes. We’re all in trouble, and no one can be saved. “For human beings it’s impossible, but not for God. All things are possible for God” (10:27). God can save even the rich who are in love with their wealth, their comfort, their security, themselves, and not their fellow human beings, not God. God can save even us sinners who so often are selfish and self-centered, mindless of Jesus and the friends of Jesus (the poor, the abandoned, the outcast, the despised of society).

This brings us back to the rich man’s opening question: “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” None of us can do anything to inherit or earn salvation. It’s a gift from God thru Jesus Christ. As you know, you can’t earn a gift.

Or, if you will, what we can do is to make a choice for Jesus, follow him, listen to him, attach ourselves to him—then, he promises, we will receive home and family galore—a different form of wealth, the wealth of God’s household—along with persecution; and finally, the gift of eternal life (10:29-30).

Shelter in a Storm

Shelter in a Storm

Last week, I think it was on Wednesday (Sept. 30), Fr. Jim suggested we go hiking and camping on Friday and Saturday; he had his last class before lunch on Friday, and we could leave around 12:45, thus being pretty sure of getting one of the dozen hikers' shelters in Harriman State Park.

Each of us having secured the requisite permission from our superior, and I having arranged with someone to celebrate a Mass for the Ursulines on Saturday morning, we got our gear together and indeed were parked on Rte. 106 where the Ramapo-Dunderberg Trail crosses that road just west of Little Long Pond.

We passed a half dozen other cars closer to Rte. 17, but they weren't of much concern. There was one car parked where we parked, and Fr. Jim, at least, got nervous that our intended shelter, atop Tom Jones Mt., would be taken already. I figured (1) it's a small car, and thus only one or two hikers, and they'll likely be willing to share the shelter; (2) he/they could just as easily have gone north on the R-D as south. Fr. Jim added that he/they could just be day hiking. In any event, we never encountered anyone.

This weekend the fall colors are starting to come out nicely, but they haven't peaked yet. Last weekend there was very little color showing.
Here's Fr. Jim ascending Tom Jones Mt., southward on the R-D. At this point the worst of our climbing's done, and we're pretty near the top of the ridge. The ground shrubbery is colored, but not the trees, as you see.

Along the ridge, many of the trail blazes are on the rocks rather than on trees--rocks being abundant, and trees sometimes less so. The large white circle with the red dot in the middle is the blaze for the R-D, which starts at the parking lot of the Tuxedo railroad station and climbs northeastward over the hills and mountains of Harriman to Dunderberg Mt. along the Hudson, and then down to Rte. 9W at Jones Point. It's one of the longest trails in the park, maybe the longest (I don't have the trail guide at hand).

A hike of 45 minutes or so brought us to the Tom Jones shelter, built around 1930 and well maintained. Except that this Friday afternoon, Oct. 9, it looked more like a pig sty. There was lots of trash (Fr. Jim and I hauled out a couple of grocery bags of beer cans), and someone had ripped off the boards at the front of the sleeping platform (see below), probably to use as firewood.

We cleaned the place up and settled in (below). Some previous occupant(s) had done something nice and left two large foam sleeping pads. We shook them out and put them down, then put our own pads on top, which made for considerably more comfortable sleeping (until I tossed and turned so much overnite that somehow I maneuvered my air mattress out from under me and had only the foam mattress between me and the floor).

We don't burn down shelters. So in addition to a little bit of firewood that the last occupants had left (see above), we both went out and rounded up more. You have to roam a bit, of course, because anything close to the shelter gets grabbed and burned pretty quickly. Eventually we hauled in enuf stuff, large and small, to get up a fire that lasted for several hours.

A unique feature of the Tom Jones shelter is that it's open not only in the front, as are all the Harriman shelters, but also partly on one side (the east). This particular nite (Oct. 2-3) there was a ripping wind out of the east, so we had plenty of ventilation, shall we say? The couple of things we hung from the rafters swayed back and forth all nite.

There was rain in the forecast--and indeed, it rained very heavily for a couple of hours starting just before midnite--and we were afraid the wind might blow in thru that opening in the east wall, and we moved our gear to the west wall. But it didn't. We were nice and dry all nite.

We'd done our work of gathering wood. There's no water near Tom Jones shelter, so we'd brought in what we needed. After we'd prayed Evening Prayer, we had supper. Fr. Jim had brought soup, a sandwich, and cheese, and he shared the cheese with me. I had a can of beef stew, heated on a propane backpacking stove, and an apple. We drank Crystal Lite.

Then, with the wind up and the sun going down, it was getting a bit chilly. So it was campfire time. One reason for choosing the Tom Jones shelter as our destination was that it has an interior fireplace (two actually); with rain forecast, we didn't want only an outside firepit (which TJ has also).

A little newspaper, a small bit of firestarter, dry kindling wood, and one match!

Around 7:30 we had our only human contact of the day. A couple of guys (apparently) were up on the ridge making a din. If they had an idea of coming down to the shelter (which sits about 100 yards off the trail, and down quite a bit), they were discouraged by our lights and moved on.

Then some time to read a bit, converse, listen to WQXR on the tiny radio that I brought, before we both turned in around 9 o'clock.

By 9:05 he was snoring, which he did all nite. At least he sleeps well when he hikes!

We got up at 7:45 on Saturday. Heavy clouds covered the mountains, and loud recorded "music" blared up from somewhere down the mountain (Sebago Beach? Seven Lakes Drive?), quite disturbing the tranquility. Or maybe it was one of the other hiking groups we discovered up on the ridge when we hiked out later.

In any case, we had our breakfast, broke camp, prayed Readings and Morning Prayer, and hit the trail at 9:00. We hiked out with great care over the wet rocks and leaves.

About halfway along the ridge we came to a humongous tent pitched right on the trail--biggest I've ever seen in the woods (not counting "car campers")--with a big case of Bud Lite outside it. One guy was outside cleaning things up, and we greeted him as we passed. At least one person was inside the tent, but it'd easily have accomodated four or five with gear. I guess their tent stood up fine in the wind and rain because the guy said they'd had a good nite.

Up ahead of us we could here the same noisy characters who'd come by the shelter last nite, and we made no effort to overtake them.

And we returned to our van at 9:30 and soon were on our way home to New Rochelle. It poured again in the afternoon. So we counted ourselves blessed to have been dry while hiking in and out, and well sheltered in between.

Ancient History

Ancient History

"As old as Methuselah" is pretty old, right? According to Gen 5:27, he lived to be 969.

Last Sunday, Sept. 27, the Eastern Province of the Salesians celebrated 970 years of vowed religious life--spread out among 20 priests and brothers who during 2009 had reached 25, 40, 50, 60, 65, 70, and even 75 years as SDBs.

Brothers Bruno Busatto, Richard Pasaik, and Gerald Warner celebrated 160 years of religious life--among them.

Also honored in the celebration were 7 priests with anniversaries (25, 40, 60, 65) totaling 300 years.

Fr. Tom Dunne preaching, with concelebrating Salesian priests in the foreground

Here's the full story:

On Sunday, September 27, the New Rochelle Province celebrated the profession and ordination jubilees of 25 confreres, 5 from Canada and 20 from the Eastern U.S. These were for major anniversaries that occurred in 2009.

Although most of the anniversaries of profession fall in August and September, and most of the ordination anniversaries occur in the spring, the province customarily holds one large celebration for everyone in the fall at the Marian Shrine in Haverstraw-Stony Point. The celebration is timed with fall pastoral meetings to encourage broad participation.

This was the first year when the weekend for all of that was scheduled in September. In years past it has been placed on the Columbus Day weekend; but that’s Thanksgiving weekend in Canada, which would cause problems for our Canadian confreres, who have been part of our province since July 1, to attend either the meetings for the jubilee festivities.

The jubilarians included 5 brothers and 20 priests who come originally from Louisiana, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, North Dakota, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Quebec, Wisconsin, Italy, Korea, Poland, Scotland, and Slovenia. They have served in schools, parishes, youth centers, formation communities, and provincial administration.

Two of the jubilarians were celebrating anniversaries of both profession and ordination. The senior member of the group, Fr. Emil Fardellone, age 92, has been professed 75 years and ordained 65 years. He traveled unaccompanied (apart from dozens of fellow air travelers) from Louisiana to New York for the festivities. In his homily, Fr. Tom Dunne noted that Fr. Emil has been a Salesian for more than half of the Congregation’s almost 150 years.

Fifteen of the jubilarians were present for the celebration, the others being prevented by distance, illness, or pastoral responsibilities.

Fr. Dunne presided over the four o’clock Mass at the shrine chapel, in which about 200 members of the Salesian Family and of the jubilarians’ families took part. Preaching on the gospel reading of the day (Mark 9:38-48), Fr. Dunne contrasted the attitude of the apostles, who “were accustomed to thinking of life in terms of advancement, influence, and power,” with the attitude of the jubilarians, who have experienced their own helplessness apart from Jesus and have come instead “to trust in the divine presence,” who therefore have understood the importance of serving “the most needy among their brothers and sisters.”

Fr. Dunne said that he thought the lesson of Jesus in the day’s gospel “would strike a chord with most of our jubilarians today. In our Constitutions, we are called ‘to be signs and bearers of the love of God for young people, especially those who are poor’ (art. 2). In this article we are called to be what Jesus directed the apostles to be in today’s gospel: animators rather than those who do it all their own.”

Unlike John, who was upset about someone from outside the group driving out demons in Jesus’ name, said Fr. Dunne, we “share our ministry more completely with lay colleagues and members of the Salesian Family. We appreciate those who do good for the young in Christ’s name but who are not among our [SDB] members. We have begun to look at the Church and society around us with an eye to calling together a vast movement of people interested in carrying on Don Bosco’s care for the young and the poor. This expanded vision of ‘give me souls’ sums up our passion for serving the young most at risk today.”

After Mass, the jubilarians present pose with Fr. Dunne (provincial), Fr. Steve Dumais (vice provincial), and Fr. John Puntino (director of the Marian Shrine).

Homily for 26th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the 
26th Sunday of Ordinary TimeSept. 27, 2009
Num 11: 25-29
Christian Brothers, Iona College
Ursulines, Willow Drive, N.R.

“Would that all the people of the Lord were prophets!” (Num 11: 29).

Moses needs to share the burden of leadership. Guided by the Lord, he chooses 70 elders to work with him as leaders in Israel. The Spirit of God descends on those 70, including 2 who had inadvertently missed their official installation rite, as it were.

Joshua, young and relatively inexperienced in the ways of the Lord, is jealous for the prerogatives of Moses, as he’ll be zealous later to carry out whatever the Lord tells him when he leads Israel across the Jordan and into the Promised Land. But at this point he still has a good deal to learn about the ways of the Lord.

I suppose it’s useful to pause and note that. This future great leader served an apprenticeship under Moses, learning how to relate to Yahweh, learning how to lead. It wasn’t all inborn. So we shouldn’t be surprised that we, too, have to grow in the ways of the Lord, and our learning goes on, or should go on, all our lives regardless of our chronological age.

The 1st lesson in the experience of the 70 elders is that there’s no limiting the Lord; he’s not constrained by human beings, by time, by space. He’ll bestow his Holy Spirit on whomever he wishes, wherever he wishes, however he wishes.

The 2d lesson is that the Lord does choose to work within some human framework. It was Yahweh who instructed Moses to “assemble for me 70 of the elders of Israel, men you know for true elders and authorities among the people, and bring them to the meeting tent. . . . I will take some of the spirit that is on you and will bestow it on them, that they may share the burden of the people with you” (9:16-17). The Lord didn’t choose the 70; he left that to Moses and to the established institutions of Israel, the existing system of tribal leadership. Altho God sometimes breaks from established institutions—calling shepherds to become kings or prophets, inviting a maiden to become a virgin mother, for instance—he also works in a partnership with men and women, using the gifts and the limitations of them, their society, their culture.

The 3d lesson flows from Moses’ wish “that all the people of the Lord were prophets! that the Lord might bestow his spirit on them all!” (9:29). The Lord heard his plea, if not in Moses’ time, if not under the Old Covenant, certainly in the New Covenant, when, as Peter announced on Pentecost morning, quoting from the prophet Joel:

It will come to pass in the last days, God says,
“that I will pour out a portion of my spirit upon all flesh.
Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
your young men shall see visions,
your old men shall dream dreams.
Indeed, upon my servants and my handmaids
I will pour out a portion of my spirit in those days,
and they shall prophesy.”

And Peter went on to link the fulfillment of this prophecy, and implicitly of Moses’ wish, to Jesus of Nazareth, risen from the dead, “exalted at the right hand of God, who received the promise of the Holy Spirit from the Father and poured it forth, as you both see and hear” (Acts 2:17-18,33).

God has anointed all of Jesus’ followers with the Holy Spirit, made all of us prophets (as well as priests and rulers). All of us are given the Spirit in Baptism and Confirmation, and sometimes, like Eldad and Medad, some are chosen for a special share of the Spirit, some special charism, some special prophetic work in the Church and for the Church (the institutional, establishment side of things) but not necessarily in a manner that the institutional Church right away recognizes and accepts (the Spirit blows where he wills, when, how, and on whom). The Spirit inspires a Pope to call an ecumenical council, inspires an [Irish widower[1]/Italian orphan girl[2]] or an Italian farm boy[3] or an Albanian missionary sister[4] to found a great religious family.

The Holy Spirit works more quietly in most of us, enabling us to prophesy by how we live out our vocations [as religious or as married people]: in such wise that we testify to Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior when we teach, when we converse, when we lead, when we act, when we serve one another, when we make sacrifices of ourselves—“whether eating or drinking or whatever we do, doing everything for the glory of God” (cf. 1 Cor 10:31) for all the world to see, not that we be seen but that Jesus Christ be seen; “performing mighty deeds in his name” (Mark 9:39) or simply “giving a cup of water to drink” to one of Jesus’ people (9:41). We testify to Jesus Christ by bringing the Gospel and Gospel values to our public as well as our private lives, using whatever influence and power we might have to advance justice and peace, human life and human dignity, the common good, the preservation of God’s creation, the sharing of goods and opportunities by all.

[1] Blessed Edmund Ignatius Rice, founder of the Christian Brothers.[2] St. Angela Merici, foundress of the Ursulines.[3] St. John Bosco, founder of the Salesian Family.[4] Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

How Close to Manhattan?

How Close to Manhattan?

Outside the New York metro area, many people have never heard of New Rochelle (I guess they weren't Dick Van Dyke-Mary Tyler Moore fans), and even many of those who have--vaguely, sort of--have no clue where "The Queen City of the Sound" (Long Island Sound) is located. Well, from that remark you can tell it's on Long Island Sound!

On a sunny summer weekend (such as this one, Sept. 19), Long Island Sound fills up with sailboats. Too bad I can't shoot panoramically with my camera, because the whole horizon was full of sails (plus the occasional freighter, kayak, and paddle boat). This was shot from the east end of Pine Island, New Rochelle.

In 1906 George M. Cohan produced a musical called Forty-five Minutes from Broadway that was set in our fair city. Later in the century many of the country's top illustrators lived here because of its proximity to Manhattan, including Norman Rockwell (24 Lord Kitchener Rd.). So did baseball's greatest-ever first baseman, Lou Gehrig (4 Meadow La./Lou Gehrig Way), across the street from the College of New Rochelle. So did TV producer Carl Reiner, whose home at 48 Bonnie Meadow Rd. in the city's far north end was the setting for fictitious Rob and Laura Petry's fictitious address of 448 Bonnie Meadow Rd.

Nowadays MetroNorth, the commuter railroad, will get you to Grand Central Terminal in half an hour. If it takes you 15 minutes to get out of the terminal and walk to Broadway, there's your 45 minutes!

How's this for visual evidence of how close New Rochelle is to Manhattan?

This shot was taken on Pine Island, just outside our city's harbor, looking toward Glen Island, where Glenn Miller used to play in the late '30s, tho not in that building at the left, which is much more recent. But the tall, spiked building in the center of the photo isn't in New Rochelle or even in Westchester County. It's the Empire State Building. That's how close we are to Manhattan. (It's even better if you click on the pic and enlarge it.)

Another stunner is this, shot from the same spot at the west end of Pine Island, just turning slightly southward, relative to the previous shot:
It's the Whitestone Bridge, which crosses the East River and connects the borough of The Bronx with the borough of Queens. The East River is wide enuf at that point that it's on the verge of becoming the Sound.

Homily for 25th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the 
25th Sunday of Ordinary TimeSept. 20, 2009
Mark 9: 30-37
Provincial House, New Rochelle

“Whoever receives one child such as this…” (Mark 9: 37).

This passage has a particular appeal to Salesians because we see Jesus welcoming a child and encouraging his disciples to welcome children. Don Bosco liked to cite another passage where Jesus prevents the apostles from chasing away little children and in fact embraces them and blesses them (Mark 10:13-16).

Here at least the focus is not on children per se. Rather, it’s on the least important in society. In Jesus’ time, children qualified as among the least important. For starters, high infant mortality rates meant there was much less emotional investment in small children than we’re used to. Second, society’s emphasis on the maturity and wisdom of elders placed a premium on being older rather than younger—all very different from our society, which goes ga-ga over babies (once they’re born), goes to great lengths to maintain youthfulness (or at least the appearance of it), and puts elders aside.

In Jesus’ Palestine, a child can’t contribute to the family by working; until he or she grows, it’s just another mouth to feed, and whatever attention is requires is a distraction from the serious business of earning a living, cooking, baking, drawing water, washing. At best, a child is an investment in the future—a future worker on the land, in the shop, or in the household.

It is such an insignificant person whom Jesus presents to his disciples as someone to be received and welcomed in his name. He’s giving a value to the child by identifying himself with the child—a precious Salesian theme—but in the context of the disciples’ arguments over their own importance, he’s emphasizing what it means to serve, to attend to the least significant people, to count them as precious in God’s eyes, to look to their needs. Whoever receives a refugee, an immigrant, a leper, someone with AIDS, the poor, the homeless, the uneducated, someone who counts for nothing in society, is receiving Christ.

Most of us received a copy of Frank Moloney's commentary on Mark's Gospel[1] on our retreat in 2003. His remarks on this passage highlight the word receive, being receptive.The disciples’ idea of leadership, of greatness, is to exercise power and influence. Jesus says it’s being innocent and powerless like a child; it’s being wide-eyed and open to the world around you, ready to take it all in as it is, being eager for new experiences.

To receive Jesus, and the One who sent him, means we have to look at the world in a fresh way—like the vintner who uses new wineskins rather than old (Mark 2:22). Jesus demands a fresh approach to our understanding of God, of our relationship with God, of our relationships with one another. In his own time, Jesus was calling Israel to aggiornamento, and in our time he calls us to keep looking at the world like children to figure out what it means, how God’s speaking to us today, how do we receive God today—thru society, culture, events, science, the Scriptures, everything and everyone. What is God speaking to us thru such contemporary issues as the women’s movement, the environmental movement, globalization, any number of movements, issues, happenings that we’re all familiar with? What is God telling us thru movements in the Church, like the dynamic lay movements Focolare, Communion and Liberation, St. Egidio, and others; thru the call to ressourcement (the return to the sources of the Scriptures, the Fathers, the ancient liturgy, and so on)?

Tuning in to God—it’s a radio term, isn’t it? It means seeking him and having our reception set ready to listen to him with all the openness, innocence, and wonder of a child seeing, hearing, smelling, touching the world. “Disciples,” says Frank Moloney, “are called to be receptive to one another, and also to the design of God … [and] … to all that Jesus asks of them….”[2]

[1] Francis J. Moloney, SDB, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2002), pp. 188-189.
[2] Ibid., p. 189.

Homily for 24th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the 
24th Sunday of Ordinary Time
September 13, 2009
Isaiah 50: 4-9
Mark 8: 27-35
Christian Brothers, Iona College

“The Lord God opens my ear that I may hear” (Is 50: 4).

The 2nd part of the book of the prophet Isaiah contains 4 poems about the Servant of the Lord. Our 1st reading was 6 verses from the 3rd of these poems.

It’s not at all clear who this Servant of the Lord is: some unknown individual of Isaiah’s time, some future individual, or Israel collectively. Different parts of the poems make it seem like now one, now another of those possibilities.

What is clear thruout these poems is that the Lord has chosen this Servant of his: “Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased, upon whom I have put my spirit…” (42:1); “The Lord called me from birth, from my mother’s womb he gave me my name. You are my servant, he said to me…” (49:1,3); “The Lord God has given me a well-trained tongue, that I may know how to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them. Morning after morning he opens my ear that I may hear” (50:4).

It’s also clear that the Servant suffers a great deal: “I gave my back to those who beat me” (50:6), and similar passages; and the Servant remains unshakably loyal to God: “I have not rebelled, have not turned back. I have set my face like flint” (50:5,7), and so on.

Finally, it’s clear that God saves or vindicates his Servant: “The Lord God is my help, therefore I am not disgraced; [I know] I shall not be put to shame. He is near who upholds my right” (50:7-8).
Whomever the prophet may have meant by these poems, from the beginning the Church has seen in them an image, a figure, of our Savior. He is the Lord’s true servant, intent entirely on doing the Father’s will. There are echoes of these poems at Jesus’ baptism and transfiguration and in the details of his passion. The Father has chosen him to be the Christ, as Peter recognizes (Mark 8:29), but—as we considered last week in reference with the “messianic secret” (cf. 7:36), and which Jesus exercises again this evening: “he warned them not to tell anyone about him” (8:30)—that role doesn’t promise national liberation and political power. Jesus makes clear today that it means rejection and suffering (8:31,34). The fate of Jesus mirrors that of the Servant of the Lord. But God will also vindicate Jesus; he will rise (8:31) so that he’s not shamed (cf. Is 50:7), but glorified instead. The Lord God proves to be his help, and no one will be able to deny it on the day of judgment: “Who disputes my right? Let him confront me. See, the Lord God is my help; who will prove me wrong?” (50:8-9).

Peter was reluctant to believe that the Son of Man “must suffer greatly and be rejected… and be killed” (Mark 8:31). He didn’t grasp the identity of the Son of Man with the Servant of the Lord. As events proved, Peter and the rest of the 12 were even more reluctant to identify themselves with the Son of Man, to see that they also might have to suffer and be rejected, be put on trial and condemned. It’s one of the indications of the truth of the resurrection of our Lord Jesus that they were so convinced after Jesus’ crucifixion; convinced not only in mind but even in their total commitment. St. John Chrysostom, whose memorial we ordinarily observe on Sept. 13, writes in a homily on 1 Corinthians:

How [do you] account for the fact that these men [the apostles], who in Christ’s lifetime did not stand up to the attacks by the Jews, set forth to do battle with the whole world once Christ was dead—if…Christ did not rise and speak to them and rouse their courage? Did they perhaps say to themselves: “…He could not save himself but he will protect us? He did not help himself when he was alive, but now that he is dead he will extend a helping hand to us? . . .” Would it not be wholly irrational even to think such thoughts, much less to act upon them? (Homily 4, 3.4, in LOH 4:1345-46)

Evidently Peter and the rest had also come to see themselves as the servants of the Lord, chosen, destined for rejection in this world, redeemed and vindicated by Jesus—who is not John the Baptist, who is not Elijah, who is not a prophet, who is the Messiah for the world to come.

That identity between the Christ and his disciples Jesus spells out with terrifying clarity when Peter objects to the prediction of suffering and death (8:32): Peter is a satan, an “adversary,” a “tempter,” for thinking to mislead Jesus from his true role as the Father’s servant; moreover, if we wish to be with Jesus, we must walk the same road that he does, the way of the cross (8:34). The Christian way of life makes us, also, servants of the Lord who have been chosen, who will be rejected for identifying ourselves as Christ’s people—sometimes openly persecuted, as is happening now in Pakistan, India, and elsewhere; sometimes more subtly persecuted, as when defenders of human rights are harassed, threatened, and assassinated (as happened to a priest in the Philippines last Sunday); sometimes just pushed aside as irrelevant.

Jesus promises to those who are unshakably loyal final vindication: “whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it” (8:35). On the last day his disciples will not be shamed but raised up with him.

Remembering

Remembering

Most of us kept a somber remembrance of some kind yesterday, September 11, perhaps reliving the emotions of the day, perhaps mourning someone we lost.

Loss was definitely on the mind of the Scouts and Scouters of Troop Forty from Mt. Vernon, N.Y., although none of the boys now in the troop were there eight years ago. One of the more than 2,700 who died in New York was our Scoutmaster, Michael Andrew Boccardi.

Credit: Ed Maselli

Mike, just 30 years old, had grown up in Troop Forty, attaining the rank of Eagle Scout, then becoming an assistant scoutmaster and finally in the mid-90s Scoutmaster. He was practically married to the troop, giving loads and loads of time and attention, and not a little bit of his own money, to every detail of the program and to the Scouts and Scouters. For more than one Scout, Mike was the only father in their lives.

He also served young people through Rockland County Child Protective Services.


Mike was one of five Mt. Vernon citizens who perished on 9/11. When the city decided to memorialize them with a plaque at city hall this year and invited Troop Forty to participate in the memorial service on the evening of September 11, 2009, we eagerly accepted. In particular, during the service five Scouts lit candles in honor of the five who died: Michael A. Boccardi, Johnathan Eric Briley, Sandra Patricia Campbell, Katie Marie McCloskey, and Rochelle Monique Snell

The ceremony honored all the first responders of Mt. Vernon as well as remembering those who lost their lives. A substantial number of city officials, police officers, firemen, and others attended, in addition to the Scouts, Scouters, and parents.


Mike Boccardi wasn't a 9/11 hero. He was just at work on the 92nd floor of the North Tower, as usual. But he was a hero every day with the young people of Troop Forty. I witnessed that for six years as I served alongside him with the troop, and I saw it again at Mt. Vernon City Hall in the tears of one of those boys, now a young adult.

Blue Dot Special

Blue Dot Special
On Sunday afternoon Fr. Jim Mulloy and I undertook an overnite backpacking trip into Harriman State Park. Since it was Labor Day weekend, we knew there wasn't any chance of landing one of the dozen hikers' shelters scattered thru the park, and even finding a place to park a car overnite would be a challenge. I suggested the parking area at the end of Johnsontown Rd. in Sloatsburg, and he agreed.

Then we picked out route: the Blue Disc Trail (white blaze with blue dot), which starts there and goes 2.8 miles up a couple of strenuous climbs and then down to an end at Tri-Trail Corner, where it runs into the the Ramapo-Dunderberg Trail (at 21 miles, the 2d-longest in the park, I think) and the trailhead for the Victory Trail. There's water there, running out of Black Ash Swamp into a creek, and I remembered some likely camping spots around there. (My memory was better than the reality in this case. But at least we had no competition for a site.)

As it turned out, there were exactly 2 parking spots available when we got there, and about 20 cars parked. We ran into lots and lots of day hikers on our route, and other trails (e.g., the White Bar and the Kakiat) are easily accessed from Johnsontown Rd. This morning, as we drove by the Reeves Meadow Visitors Center on our way home--it's on Seven Lakes Dr. not far from where we parked--cars lined the highway for at least a quarter mile on either side of the visitors center, indicating what the main parking lots were like, just for hiking areas (not to mention those that also serve picnickers).

There are a lot of things to remember about hiking, some of them essential to your safety, others just to your convenience. One that falls in between is "pay attention to the trail blazes" on your chosen route. In the photo above, the Blue Disc Trail (bet you can figure out which one that is!) is turning right, indicated by a double blaze with the top one to the right of the lower. The Kakiat Trail, which had joined the Blue Disc for a very short distance, is forking off to the left. In Harriman there are numerous unmarked side trails and woods roads. Miss a trail marker, and you'll soon get lost!


The trail map indicates a spot called "Almost Perpendicular." That sounds not just challenging but a little scary. (Someone I was backpacking with once let it scare him, and therefore me, from attempting it.) The Harriman Trails guidebook (very valuable) gives a fair description of a pretty steep climb--that's it in the photo above, which doesn't quite do justice to it, but it is manageable. In fact, we encountered several dogs along the route, a mom and dad each toting a tot (on their way down the climb pictured), one or two bigger kids, and many other hikers. The views make it worthwhile.

From the top of Almost Perpendicular, this is one view: that's the Reeves Meadow Visitors Center parking lot and Seven Lakes Dr. If you're able to enlarge the photo, you'll see what I meant above about parking. This shot gives you an idea of how much climbing we'd done just to get to this point.

When we got back into some woods, Fr. Jim saw this orange fungus growing at the base of a large tree and got excited. He called it "sulphur shelf" and said it was edible. For a minute I thought he was going to grab a handful and eat it, but he didn't. I sure wasn't going to!

Eventually, after some hard hiking we got to the large cliff where Claudius Smith Den is located (he was a notorious outlaw in the 1770s). The Tuxedo-Mt. Ivy Trail crosses the Blue Disc here, and we considered cutting short our original design and heading along the TMI to the Dutch Doctor shelter, where there's usually water in a nearby creek and quite a few camping spots if the shelter's already taken. But Fr. Jim wanted to check out the view from the cliffs, which we found at least 7 hikers and a dog already doing: grand westward views toward Tuxedo.

Once up that high, on top of Claudius Smith Rock, we decided we might as well continue on the Blue Disc (not having noted that there was still one big climb to come). There's nice woods up on that ridge, including a lot of birch.

When we reached Big Pine Hill, the highest point on the trail, we had a fine view to the north. Here you see Black Ash Mt., and in the center, Black Ash Swamp, whose west end was our destination.

It took us almost 3 hours to do the 2.8 miles of the Blue Disc Trail, with several pauses to enjoy views or catch our breath.

The available water at Tri-Trails Corner was less than we'd expected, but it was usable (with a water filter). We found 2 camp sites flanking the Ramapo-Dunderberg Trail just above the "corner," with existing fire rings; neither had been used for a while. I picked the slightly larger of the two and set up my little home for the nite:

This, with the rain fly, weighs just over 2 pounds and is roomy enuf for me and a tiny bit of gear (mainly whatever nite wear plus the change of clothes for the morrow). This shot was before I put in 2 sleeping pads (which still leaves quite a hard bed to sleep on, but not as hard as bare ground!) and my sleeping bag. The sleeping bag's stuff sack plus some extra clothing, e.g. a quilted jacket, makes for an adequate pillow.

Fr. Jim and I have a nice arrangement: he fetches the water, I fetch the firewood. That wasn't hard here: there was a superabundance of it, almost all very dry. After we ate our freeze-dried suppers (beef teriyaki and chicken teriyaki) plus a few other morsels, we got a little fire going around 8:00 p.m.--one match required, plus a bit of paper and one of Fr. Jim's unpatented firestarters (lint and parafin in a section of egg carton) and the ample kindling wood. We kept the fire going for an hour while we talked or listened to a radio (Fr. Jim) or read (me). He was disappointed there weren't many stars out--lots of clouds instead. We could just barely hear traffic from the Thruway, there were lots of cicadas, and otherwise it was very, very quiet. We turned in at 9:00 p.m., Fr. Jim in sleeping bag under what stars there were, I in my tent.

Monday morning, after rising between 6:45 (me) and 7:15 (Fr. Jim), we prayed and celebrated Mass. Fr. Jim's a light breakfast eater--a little bit of bread and cheese. I went for a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and coffee (see above, with water almost boiling on my Pocket Rocket stove), plus some bread and cheese.

At 9:00 we got onto the trail. With no desire for serious climbing, we took a longer--3.7 miles--but easier route: the Victory Trail toward Lake Skenonto, but picking up the White Bar Trail about halfway to the lake and following that south to the Dutch Doctor shelter, thence west back to Johnsontown Rd.

Along the White Bar Trail we had a little bit of uphill, especially as we went over a shoulder of Blauvelt Mt., and a lot of downhill. There were already signs of autumn. If you look behind me in the photo above, you'll see a tree already turned red. Most of the trail is quite pretty with fairly open woods. There was one vista with a good view toward Tuxedo.

When we got to Dutch Doctor, we took a good rest. The shelter had indeed been used Sunday nite; in fact, the users had left their campfire still smouldering in the fire ring! That's a big no-no! We didn't have enuf water to douse it well, but we at least made sure all the remaining wood was removed. From there the White Bar Trail pursues pretty much a straight run down a woods road to within a quarter mile of the Johnsontown Rd. parking area; that last stretch is a narrow footpath.

This morning at first we met almost no one: a trio of hikers going up the RD Trail before we left our camp, another trio on the Victory Trail coming, apparently, from overnite camping at Lake Skenonto. But there was more traffic once we got to Dutch Doctor, two pairs of day hikers and a trio of overnite backpackers (one a small lad) heading toward Tuxedo's train station.

We got back to our pickup truck about 11:15: a longer route in mileage, but a shorter one in time and energy expended. The parking area was nearly full. Since we hadn't seen that many people, I guess a lot of hikers were heading up the Blue Disc Trail....

Homily for 23d Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the 
23d Sunday of Ordinary Time
September 6, 2009
Mark 7: 31-37
Collect
Christian Brothers, Iona College, N.R.
Willow Towers, New Rochelle, N.Y.

“He ordered them not to tell anyone. But the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it” (Mark 7: 36).

In our gospel story tonite, we have one of several examples of Jesus telling people not to talk about his wondrous deeds. This is a feature of Mark’s gospel in particular and has the name “messianic secret”: here’s Jesus healing the sick, expelling demons, feeding thousands, being transfigured before the eyes of his chosen apostles—and not least, announcing the presence of the kingdom of God—and he doesn’t want people to talk about it!

Why?

Of course there’s been an abundance of speculation about that. Most often, it seems to me, the answer proposed is that people didn’t understand Jesus’ role as Messiah, so he didn’t want them proclaiming him as the Messiah. For most of the Jews, Messiah was a political role: a liberator and just ruler; for the Romans, he would be a rebel, an insurrectionist—and in the end, that was the charge brought against Jesus before Pontius Pilate, who executed him as “King of the Jews.”

Jesus’ wondrous deeds and his teaching, instead, are signs of God’s desire to love and to heal humanity, to make people whole, to restore a family relationship between God and men. It’s a whole different idea of redemption and restoration, one that even his closest followers were extremely slow to grasp. Hence, lots of caution about publicity.

What kind of salvation Jesus has come to offer us—that relates to our prayer this evening. We begged God to “redeem us, make us [his] children in Christ, give us true freedom, and bring us to the inheritance [he] promised.” The inheritance isn’t any earthly kingdom. True freedom is neither national security nor the agenda of the ACLU; it’s not even physical or mental health. Redemption isn’t economic recovery nor the restoration of our forests, clean water, and clear skies. The inheritance is divine life; true freedom is casting off the chains of sin and practicing virtue without inhibition; redemption is returning to God’s family as “his children in Christ.”

“He ordered them not to tell anyone. But the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it.”

There’s another way we could view this “messianic secret.” In the 2d half of the 1st century, when Mark wrote his gospel, Christianity was outlawed and Christians were being harassed, exiled, put to death. Later on, when they had collections of sacred writings, those writings were burned when found by the public authorities. Those public authorities, like the Sanhedrin in the Acts of the Apostles (4:18; 5:28), forbade any teaching about Jesus as the Christ (the Messiah), about the coming of the kingdom of God. Those public authorities, both Jewish and imperial, wanted Christianity not only kept a secret but suppressed entirely—as do various regimes and movements today: Communists in China and North Korea, Muslim jihadists, Hindu radicals, militant atheists and secularists in Western society, the ACLU, the abortion industry, the homosexual marriage lobby.

But there’s no suppressing the word of God, no stifling the Good News of the kingdom. The more these oppressors order the Church to shut up and disperse, or to keep our opinion to ourselves—you can believe whatever you want in your heart; just don’t talk about it, don’t let it affect what you do in public life—the more does the word of God spread. “The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church,” Tertullian wrote early in the 3d century, and it’s still true.

Human ears and human hearts remain open to the truth—indeed, hunger for it; and Christian tongues continue to speak the truth plainly (cf. Mark 7:34-34)—because God created us for truth, which is to say, for himself, as St. Augustine confessed so many centuries ago on the basis of his own experience:

O eternal truth, true love and beloved eternity. You are my God. To you do I sigh day and night. When I first came to know you, you drew me to yourself so that I might see that there were things for me to see…. I sought a way to gain the strength which I needed to enjoy you. But I did not find it until I embraced the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus…. He was calling me and saying: I am the way of truth, I am the life. . . .
Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. . . . You touched me, and I burned for your peace. (Confessions, Book 7, ch. 10, in Liturgy of the Hours 4:1356-57)

And in his most famous passage, Augustine proclaims to God, “You have created us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you” (Book 1). The powers of this world can no more keep Jesus a secret than they can keep us from hungering for the truth, for freedom from evil, for love, for an eternal inheritance.