Hiking Anthony's Nose

Hiking Anthony's Nose

That's it in the photo above, at the eastern end of the Bear Mountain Bridge, rising some 1,200 feet above the Hudson River (according to the Britannica). In any case, it's a long way up (or down--see photo below, which was taken from an overlook before we reached the summit).

Last Sunday was a perfect day for being outdoors, so Bro. Tom and I went out for a hike after Mass. We wanted to do the rest of the Camp Smith Trail, which we started on Aug. 30 (blogged way down below) but couldn't finish on account of time. Well, that was ONE reason we couldn't finish.

So on this perfect Sunday late morning-afternoon we drove up Rte. 6 to the 2d hiker's parking spot along the trail. When we arrived around noon, the little lot was already jammed, so we parked on the shoulder (as did others after us) and hit the trail.

We had plenty of company, both human and canine. It took us a good hour to reach the summit, what with stops to enjoy some views and stops to catch our breath/rest our legs a little. The 2d part of the trail isn't as difficult as the 1st part (up from the visitor's center), but it's still a good climb, including some downs and ups, not just ups. In fact, about halfway toward the summit from that 2d parking lot, you get this view of what you still have to surmount:Unlike the last time I hiked this part of the trail (Aug. 2005), it was pretty wet in places, and all the fallen leaves made footing treacherous often. Plus, there were no blueberries and raspberries!

We didn't count, but we must have met 2 dozen people coming or going, and at least 5 dogs. Two of the former and 1 of the latter are enjoying their lunch at the summit:

The dog subsequently tried also to enjoy Bro. Tom's lunch but left disappointed. (I couldn't get the camera fast enuf to catch the better action!)
Another hiker (also accompanied by a pooch) obliged us by shooting us. You can get an idea of the rugged terrain altho the better view, of course, would have been over the river somehow. But the sun was in a bad spot for that.

When you see the views, you want to soak them in, even photograph them, and that appeals also to youngsters:

It took us a good 45 minutes to get back down to the van (without any significant rest stops, but being very careful of our footing), and we had time to clean up before Evening Prayer!

You can read about Anthony's Nose, including speculations about the origin of the name, on the Web at see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony) and http://nynjctbotany.org/lgtofc/nyanthonys.html

2d Sunday of Advent

2nd Sunday of Advent

I didn't have to preach today. But there's a fine homily from Deacon Greg Kandra at his blog:
http://blog.beliefnet.com/deaconsbench/2009/12/homily-for-december-6-2009-2nd-sunday-of-advent.html

Homily for 1st Sunday of Advent

Homily for the 1st Sunday of AdventNov. 29, 2009
Jer 33: 14-16
Luke 21: 25-28, 34-36
St. Vincent’s Hospital, Harrison, N.Y.

“The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and Judah” (Jer 33: 14).

We begin a new church year, a new year of grace, on this 1st Sunday of Advent, returning to the front of our missals, turning in our lectionaries to a new cycle of Scripture readings, the so-called C cycle, which features the Gospel of St. Luke.

We just heard from Luke, his account of the words of Jesus foretelling the end of the world: “nations in dismay,” nature in turmoil, people dying of fright (21:25-26). It’s not a pretty picture. And then the Son of Man—Jesus—will come on the clouds of heaven (21:27), his 2d coming, which we profess every Sunday in our Creed: “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”

The last couple of Sundays the readings turned our attention to that 2d coming, and our attention remains there as we begin Advent, this season of expectation of the Lord’s coming. Next week our attention will start to shift to the coming of the Messiah in history, the coming that has already taken place to start our redemption. But for now our attention remains on his future coming at history’s end.

Luke’s description of that coming, as I noted, strikes a note of fear. “It’s a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,” the Letter to the Hebrews cautions us (10:31). Yet Jesus, speaking thru Luke, also says to us, “When these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand” (21:28). If we believe that Jesus is our Savior, should we not be happy to see his coming? Should we not stand erect, jump to our feet like sports fans as an exciting play unfolds? Should we not raise our heads and look our Redeemer in the face and exclaim, as the Book of Revelation does, “Come, Lord Jesus!”? In the opening prayer moments ago we asked that Christ might “find an eager welcome at his coming.” Don’t we want to be among the welcome party? When he comes in his glory, we don’t want to be like cockroaches running to hide under the cabinets, do we?

Advent reminds us that the Lord has promised us redemption, salvation. So our 1st reading begins with the words of the prophet Jeremiah, “The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and Judah.” The Lord’s promised to save us, and he’s going to do what he’s promised.

Jeremiah, the prophet of doom to an unrepentant kingdom of Judah, also promises that after the Lord has punished Judah for her sins, he will deliver her. “In those days I will raise up for David a just shoot [these words resemble Isaiah’s prophecy (11:1) of a sprout from the stump of Jesse, from the family tree of King David]; he shall do what is right and just in the land” (33:15). David’s descendants have made royal mess out of their kingdom thru their idolatry, their injustice, their infidelity; that’s why Jeremiah rails so angrily against the leaders of his time. But God will redeem their kingdom thru one of David’s descendants.

Jeremiah couldn’t have imagined how the Lord would do that, thru Jesus of Nazareth, a son of David, the Son of David, who truly did “what is right and just in the land” and fulfilled the promise that the Lord would be our justice (Jer 33:16), that is, the Lord would make us all just by destroying our sins.

One of the big, big issues of the Protestant Reformation was the question of justice. How does God justify us, make us holy in his sight in spite of our sins? I read somewhere, a long time ago, that Martin Luther used an image something like this: Imagine a big pile of manure (Luther liked to use stronger words than that) in a barn yard or a field. It snows, and the pile of manure is covered over and looks gloriously clean and fresh. But underneath, it’s still a pile of manure. When the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ comes to us, it covers over our sins, our guilt, and makes us look clean and fresh before God, who accepts us again as his children. But under Christ’s grace, we’re still dirty sinners, only “pretend” saints, which however is good enuf for us to be saved.

Catholic theology, tho, says that the grace of Jesus Christ transforms us entirely. Our sins aren’t covered over but wiped out, destroyed, zapped! The pile of manure becomes a pile of gold, something pure and lovely in itself, just as if King Midas had touched it. There’s no make-believe necessary. By God’s grace, we’re no longer sinners but saints.

Transformed by Christ’s grace, by the forgiveness that he offers us, we really do become saints, “God’s holy ones,” as St. Paul calls Christians over and over again—for instance in today’s 2d reading, where he prays that “the Lord make you…blameless in holiness before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his holy ones” (1 Thess 3:12-13).

Until the moment of death, of course, we remain all too susceptible to sin. We need God’s healing grace, God’s transforming forgiveness, over and over. So Paul does urge us, “Conduct yourselves to please God” and follow the instructions he gives us in Jesus’ name (4:1-2). Jesus warns us against carelessness: “Beware that your hearts don’t become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of life…. Be vigilant at all times…that you may have the strength…to stand before the Son of Man” (Luke 21:34,36). Be on your toes to live out your belief in our Lord Jesus day by day, so that when he comes for you you’ll be ready and waiting and glad to see him. If you haven’t done your best at that up till now, now is a new day, and Christ comes to you today with his forgiveness, his grace, so you can start afresh on his path.

Remembering the War Dead

Remembering the War Dead

Hautrage Military Cemetery, Belgium
Just outside the village of Hautrage, Belgium, on the road to St.-Ghislain, there's a small military cemetery. On Nov. 5, a few days before what's called Remembrance Day in those parts, i.e., Nov. 11, I stopped in there.

Here in the States we remember our war dead on Memorial Day and honor all our military and naval veterans on Nov. 11, once called Armistice Day. Nov. 11 is of course the anniversary of the day the armistice ending World War I took effect: at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

At the gate (above) it is marked simply in 2 languages "Hautrage Military Cemetery 1914-1918." This being Belgium, you might expect those 2 languages to be French and Flemish. Hautrage, by the way, is in Wallonia, the French-speaking part of Belgium--just a few miles from the French border, in fact. But the 2 languages are German (left post) and English (right). And all of the war dead within are German and British.

In what was called at the time "the Great War," death didn't care what uniform a man wore. I didn't count the graves, but it seemed to me that the numbers were about equal. The small, dark crosses are all German graves, and the large white stones are all British.

At what appears to be an official Web site for the cemetery (http://www.ww1cemeteries.com/ww1cemeteries/hautragemilitarycemetery.htm), which I discovered thru Google in mid-December, I found this information:
For almost the whole of the war Hautrage was in German hands and this cemetery was started by them in August 1914, it was later used in 1918 when they concentrated the graves of many British soldiers killed in 1914 and buried on the surrounding battlefields or in local cemeteries here. After the armistice, graves were brought here from other cemeteries in the area.

That Web site also gives these stats: there are 773 graves, of which 538 are German, the rest U.K. So much for my impression of "about equal" numbers!
Inside there's a memorial from the Belgian people (above), reading in 3 languages (English and German on the front, French on the back): "The land on which this cemetery stands is the free gift of the Belgian people for the perpetual resting place of those of the Allied armies who fell in the war of 1914-1918 and are honoured here."

In case you don't remember your history, Belgium attempted to remain neutral while most of Europe was rushing fearfully, unwillingly, and witlessly into war in August 1914 (read Barbara Tuchman's classic, The Guns of August). But that didn't work because the Germans invaded anyway in order to attack the undefended border with France since their own border with France was heavily defended. The Belgians paid an awful price--every city, town, and village has its own war monument with a long list of the dead--and appreciated their defense and eventual liberation by the Allied armies, as they would in a later and much worse war.
As you can tell, the cemetery is well tended. I think that's always the case, and not just in the week before Remembrance Day. But there were fresh flowers at several grave sites of both nationalities (above, below), and in at least one case, a photo.

All of the British gravestones with names on them indicate the regiment to which the fallen soldier or officer belonged, and most also have a short phrase, probably selected by the family, such as "His glory is eternal," "There is no death; what seems so is transition," and from Job, "There the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest."
If you're able to enlarge this picture of German grave markers, you'll see that they're anonymous: "Ein Deutscher Soldat." It seemed to me--again, without my having counted anything--that perhaps as many as half of the German were similarly marked, and a third of the British graves, "A Soldier of the Great War...Known unto God."

Not that that anonymity was anything new. You can visit any of our Civil War cemeteries and see the same, or the War of 1812 cemetery at Sackett's Harbor, N.Y. I guess we became more sensitive to the question during WWI, which is when the idea of a Tomb of the Unknown Soldier arose. Happily, the problem has been resolved in so-called modern warfare (would that we could resolve THAT problem) by DNA testing, and there haven't been any unknown American casualties in the Gulf Wars or Afghanistan.

All of these German and British dead fell in two battles, one in late August 1914 as the Germans were driving thru Belgium toward France, and one in early November 1918 as they were being driven back to the Fatherland. Some of the men actually died after Armistice Day, presumably from wounds suffered earlier or from illness.

It is of course striking to see these enemy soldiers lying in peace together, and both British and German memorial books kept at the cemetery gate. Needless to say, I uttered prayers throughout my visit that they might be enjoying eternal peace.

Requiescant in pace!

Homily for Solemnity of Christ the King

Homily for the Solemnity of Christ the KingNov. 22, 2009
Collect
Dan 7: 13-14
Catholic Scout Retreat, JFK HS Somers

I was asked to be available in case the chaplain of the Archdiocese Catholic Committee on Scouting, Msgr. Anthony Marchitelli, was unable to make it to the retreat. So I prepared the following homily but didn't have to use it because Msgr. Marchitelli did make it. Monsignor gave a fine homily based not only on his faith in Jesus Christ but also on his expertise in the world of Harry Potter.

“Almighty and merciful God, you break the power of evil and make all things new in your Son Jesus Christ, the King of the Universe” (Collect).

Liturgically speaking, it’s already Sunday, Nov. 22. Our Christian calendar has its roots in the Jewish calendar, where the day begins with sundown, as you know, and not at midnite like our Western calendar. That’s just one of many traces of Judaism within our faith, which grew out of Judaism. We sing alleluia and hosannah, Hebrew words, in our liturgy. We call Abraham our father in faith. What we call the Old Testament, the Jews call the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings. The Eucharistic celebration grew out of the Passover seder. And of course, as the bumper sticker says, our boss is a Jewish carpenter.

Ask people of my generation—Mr. Collins or Mr. Gervat, for example—what Nov. 22 means, and they’ll tell you it’s the day Pres. John F. Kennedy, for whom this school is named, was shot 46 years ago. (Heavens, it’s hard to believe it was that long ago!) And they’ll tell you what class they were in when the principal announced the news, the reactions teachers and students had, how everyone was glued to their TVs for the next 4 days, how people cried—and maybe what they had for lunch that day.

Ask an older generation—like Mr. Kelly’s—what happened on Dec. 7, 1941, and you’ll hear how their Sunday rest was disrupted by the news interrupting whatever they were listening to on the radio, news that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor—a place few Americans had even heard of—news that the U.S. was now part of what turned out to be the worst war in history.

Many of you guys are old enuf to remember 9/11. If you don’t remember it vividly because you were too young 8 years ago, you’ve certainly heard about it from your parents, teachers, Scoutmasters, the news.

These kinds of days that stick in our national and individual memories—Dec. 7, Nov. 22, 9/11—are exactly what Pres. Roosevelt called Dec. 7, 1941—“date[s] that will live in infamy.” Infamy, as you know, is fame for all the wrong reasons. The dictionary defines it as “evil reputation brought about by something grossly criminal, shocking, or brutal.” Hitler and Stalin aren’t famous; they’re infamous. Likewise Lee Harvey Oswald and James Earl Ray and Osama bin Laden. Days like Dec. 7, Nov. 22, and 9/11 are symbols of evil because horrible events took place on them, events that were planned and executed by deliberate, evil human choices.

Not every evil choice has such world-shattering impact, of course. We’re all aware of awful things people do on a somewhat smaller scale: drug dealing, child abuse, piracy, human trafficking, abortion, genocide, broken families, irresponsible sex, racism, sexism, environmental pollution—we could go on and on, couldn’t we?

We’re also aware of evils we’ve done ourselves. How many people, including ourselves and our families, have we hurt by deliberate, evil choices we’ve made? by using abusive words or actions, by lying, by stealing, by cheating, by laziness, by breaking a promise, by disobedience, by disrespect, and so on?

Yes, without doubt, there’s a powerful lot of evil in the world around us and within our own hearts. I’m reminded of a cute—and clean—limerick:

God’s plan made a hopeful beginning.
But man spoiled his
chances by sinning.
We trust that the story
Will end in God’s glory.
But at the present the other side’s winning.

Yes, to a very great extent, the world appears to be in the hands of the wicked, or we might say, in the power of the Evil One. Who’s the Evil One? Obviously, I don’t mean Voldemort or Darth Vader!

Do you remember the 3 temptations of Christ? One of them is Satan's offer to him of “all the kingdoms of the world” with all their power and glory, claiming that these were his to give to whomever he wished. All Jesus had to do to possess them was to worship Satan (Luke 4:5-7). Satan has staked a claim on the world, and all the evils we see, all the evils we experience—some of which we’re guilty of ourselves—give some validity to Satan’s claim.

But today we’re celebrating the claim of Someone else. In our opening prayer we praised God for “breaking the power of evil and making all things new in Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.” The 1st reading promises the coming of “a Son of Man on the clouds of heaven” who will receive “dominion, glory, and kingship” and the service of all mankind, receive them not from Satan but from Almighty God (Dan 7:13-14). The 2d reading tells us that Jesus Christ is “the firstborn of the dead and ruler of the kings of the earth” who “is coming amid the clouds” (Rev 1:5,7).

When Jesus Christ rose from the grave on Easter Sunday, the 1st human being ever to conquer death, he became “the firstborn of the dead,” and he broke the power of evil. Death is evil, the consequence of our sins. If death can be broken, evil can be broken. Now all things are made new; the world is recreated by God, destined to be brought back to life on the Last Day when Jesus returns in his glory. Altho we’re sinners, our sins don’t have to be our masters, death doesn’t have to be our master, Satan doesn’t have to own us any longer because Jesus Christ “loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood” and called us into God’s kingdom (Rev 1:5-6).

Those who’ve found new life in Jesus are already making the world new and breaking the power of evil. Those who’ve given their lives to Jesus—allowing him to be their king, the ruler of their lives—are making the world better by practicing justice, peace, kindness, purity; by healing, teaching, spreading joy, serving others instead of stealing, lying, making war, taking advantage of the weak. Do you want to see what the world can be when Christ rules? Look at the saints, at the world they created around them: St. Benedict, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Catherine, St. Thomas More, Don Bosco, St. Dominic Savio, Mother Cabrini, Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, Mother Teresa, Dorothy Day.

If we’d imitate the saints, God would be breaking the power of evil thru us, making all things new thru us, by the power of Christ at work in us. Jesus answered Pontius Pilate concerning his kingdom, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice” (John 18:37). If we listen to Christ’s voice, if we act on his teaching, we’ll be acting on the truth: the truth that God created us and the whole world, and we all belong to him; the truth that God created us in love and has destined us for happiness; the truth that every human being is a child of God with immortal value and dignity; the truth that the power of Christ for goodness can work in us to make a better world.

Homily for 33d Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the 
33d Sunday of Ordinary Time

Nov. 15, 2009
Daniel 12: 1-3
Mark 13: 24-32
St. Vincent’s Hospital, Harrison, N.Y.

“It shall be a time unsurpassed in distress…. Your people shall escape, everyone who is found written in the book” (Dan 12: 1).

I’m always amused a little bit by the link between the appearance of Michael, the great prince—St. Michael the Archangel, my patron—and “a time unsurpassed in distress.” But Michael appears as a guardian of God’s people, not the cause of the unsurpassed distress but the one who will help God’s people escape the distress and horror of “that time.”

“That time” is vaguely defined, but it’s a cataclysmic period—rather like those disaster movies that come out every so often (one called 2012 is about to hit the theaters). We Scripture readers often associate it with the end of the world, the end of history, the 2d coming of the Messiah and the Last Judgment.

Jesus, too, seems to speak in those terms in today’s gospel. It’s no accident that we read such passages at this time of year. As the days shorten in the Northern Hemisphere, as darkness and gloomy days fall upon us, as temperatures drop, as leaves fall and flowers fade, as various animals go into hibernation—as nature seems to die—the Church has us reflecting for several weeks on the End, the Last Things: death, judgment, heaven, hell. Next week will be the last Sunday of Ordinary Time, the last Sunday in the liturgical calendar, and the feast of Christ the King, “the Son of Man who will come with great power and glory” (Mark 13:26) on the Last Day to establish his everlasting reign over his elect and to pass judgment on the wicked, who “shall be an everlasting horror and disgrace” (Dan 12:2). On the following Sunday we shall pass into the Advent season, again reminding ourselves that he who came once in history to save us will come again at history’s end to judge the living and dead.

In many biblical passages, like those we read today, the End is described as terrifying, as horrible. Signs and portents are given that might be read as indications that the end is at hand. In fact, Christians have read those signs and portents for almost 2,000 years and often have interpreted them to mean the 2d Coming of our Savior is at hand. What generation of humanity hasn’t experienced natural disasters, famine, plague, and war? A few days ago I was reading about Pope Gregory the Great, who died in 604, and was convinced during his pontificate, a time unsurpassed in terrors (famine, plague, foreign invasions, political and ecclesiastical corruption) that the End was at hand. And aren’t these sorts of horrors magnified by our modern technology —nuclear weapons surely are more terrifying than the crossbow—and by our mass media, which let us all know almost instantly of every tsunami, Ebola outbreak, terrorist bombing?

Those sorts of terrors—the unfortunately “normal” events of human history, many of them the results of human sinfulness, of deliberate human choices—are however only prelude to the terrors of divine judgment, to the Day when Jesus Christ will “trample out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored,” as one of our favorite national hymns puts it. That men and women will be judged, will be held accountable by our Creator on that Last Day, is what the Scriptures are teaching us—not the signs and omens, as such.


How can we avoid the terror of that Day? How can we assure ourselves that our names will be “found written in the book” of God’s people, what the Book of Revelation (passim) calls “the book of life,” so that we “shall escape” the disaster, the distress, the disgrace, and we “shall awake from the dust of the earth to live forever” (Dan 12:2)? The readings, you note, are not about only “unsurpassed distress” and “everlasting horror”—eternal damnation—but also about deliverance and salvation: “The wise shall shine brightly like the splendor of the firmament” (12:3). (You have to understand that “wisdom” in the Bible isn’t an intellectual quality; it means obedience to the Law of God.) How can we be sure that we’ll be among those whom St. Michael comes to guard (12:1), that we’ll find ourselves among the elect whom the angels of God “will gather from the four winds,” from every part of the earth (Mark 13:37)?


The Responsorial Psalm provides us with an answer: “I set the Lord ever before me; with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed” (16:5,8). We turn to Jesus Christ our Savior, to the example of his life and to his teaching, and we set this ever before our eyes, before our minds, before our hearts as the model and the basis for our own lives: for our desires, for our decisions, for our words, for our actions. We journey thru life arm in arm with the Lord—“with him at my right hand.” WWJD: what would Jesus do? Insofar as we can know that, we do it: we forgive, we attend to the needs of our neighbors, especially the sick and the poor, we speak the truth, we respect the good name of people we know, we honor marriage between one man and one woman, etc. What we can’t know —how would Jesus vote today in a particular election, exactly what kind of immigration laws would he write, what kind of curriculum would be plan for our schools—those sorts of things we try to figure out and act on as best we can in the light of more general principles in the life and teachings of Jesus. But in all things, Jesus is the standard of our life; we set him ever before us.

And if we’ve set Jesus ever before us, if we’ve always done our best to have him at our right hand, then when he returns in his heavenly glory, when he comes again to judge the living and the dead, we shall not be disturbed. We’ll be part of the welcoming party! You know, the earliest Christians didn’t live in fear of the Lord’s return; they prayed for it: “Come, Lord Jesus!” You read that in the Book of Revelation. If we’ve lived for him, then we shall live with him. No fear, no terror, no everlasting disgrace.

Ah, but we don’t always set Jesus before us. We’ve all sinned, and each of us in his or her own heart knows the awful details. What then? Listen 1st to the verse preceding today’s reading from the Letter to the Hebrews: “We have been consecrated thru the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (10:10). And then listen to what follows, from the reading we heard a short while ago: “This priest [Jesus] offered one sacrifice for sins….  By one offering [of himself on the altar of the cross] he has made perfect forever those who are being consecrated” (10:12,14). He has consecrated us thru his self-offering, a consecration that touches us in the sacraments, and so he takes away our sins, makes us perfect forever—provided only that we turn to him in repentance and commit ourselves to him. Perfection is a lifetime journey: we “are being consecrated” day by day as Christ works in us, as much as we let him do that, as much as we set him ever before us. Have confidence in him, in his mercy, in his forgiveness, and recommit your life to him, to his teachings, to his way of life. Have confidence that he’ll finish the job he started on the cross, which is our salvation.

Bulging in Belgium

Bulging in Belgium

Following the (almost) week in Turin, I spent a week in Belgium with my sister Rita and her husband David. I haven't had a chance yet to process the photos that I took in Bruges, Ghent, Tournai, Mons, or their little village.

David and I also visited some of the places where the Battle of the Bulge was fought in Dec. 1944-Jan. 1945. We were accompanied by his unit commander, who is familiar with the area and the topic, which added immensely to our visit.

Since David has already blogged very competently about the day, I'll refer you to him:
http://thedrbbasite.blogspot.com/2009/11/bastogne.html

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).