Catholic Press Association Holds Regional Meeting

Catholic Press Association

Holds Regional Meeting in Baltimore
Every spring the Catholic Press Association and the Catholic Academy for Communication Arts Professionals hold a big convention—the Catholic Media Convention.

Last year, at the request of many members, the CPA revived a custom of holding annual regional meetings in the fall. In 2009 the Northeast Region met in Metuchen, and earlier this month (Nov. 4-5) we met in Baltimore.

About 40 journalists—editors, ad men, reporters, photographers, and CPA officers—attended the meeting at the Brookshire Suites downtown, a short walk from the Inner Harbor. Most of the attendees were Baltimore and Washington locals, but others were from New York, Rockville Centre, Philadelphia, Trenton, Metuchen, Pittsburgh, Toronto, and even the non-northeastern venues of Atlanta and Edmonton!

On Thursday morning, the 4th, we heard a keynote from Karen Ristau, president of the NCEA, on the challenges facing Catholic education today, before breaking into separate tracks for the editors-reporters and the advertising folks for most of the rest of the meeting. After an introduction that showed a certain continuity of concerns in Catholic education over the last 40 years (vocations shortage, financing, declining enrollment, effective religious education), Mrs. Ristau noted that 174 schools closed or merged in 2009-10, but 24 new ones opened. This is happening in a context in which our big cities also are closing public schools. She cited articles opining that Catholic schools will survive only if they stress the values that make them different, respond to the diverse backgrounds of the population (students in our schools are 30% minorities and 15% non-Catholic), and share a sense of ownership among parish, faculty, and parents. Archbishop Dolan’s recent essay in America urged the obligation of all Catholics (not just local parishioners) to support our schools. Three challenges that Catholic schools face are (1) to find way to acknowledge the good things going on in our schools, (2) to define problems accurately and find ways to address them, and (3) to preserve or restore a sense of civility. Our “top story” should be how much good Catholic schools are doing for their students.

Dr. Owen Phelps from Rockford, Ill., gave two presentations on management issues (time and people).

Helen Osman, the USCCB secretary for communications (and a past president of the CPA), spoke about social media; in particular, she presented brand-new guidelines from the bishops conference (“Social Media: Best Practices and Guidelines”). Mrs. Osman said that social media are a different way of delivering a message—in our case, the Gospel—to a new generation. That generation is the one whom Benedict XVI has called “the digital continent.” In particular, she said, young Latinos are adapting to new media even faster than other young people. We in the media business should be asking ourselves: (1) Who is our target audience? (2) What media are they using? (3) Who can help us use new media to reach them?

Late in the afternoon a bus transferred us to Baltimore’s original cathedral, the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary—which is also the original cathedral church of the entire U.S. It was begun by Bishop John Carroll in 1805, designed by Benjamin Latrobe (the architect of the U.S. Capitol), completed in 1821, and completely renovated a few years ago (a few details of renovation remain to be done). It’s a magnificent piece of neo-classical architecture; Carroll chose that form over a more traditional Gothic design that Latrobe also offered, to demonstrate that American Catholics belonged to this new country and the forms of life and government it was adopting. Set on what was at the time the highest hill in Baltimore, it also rivaled in size and grandeur even the Capitol (as it was in 1805), proudly broadcasting the religious freedom of American Catholics.

We got a good guided tour that pointed out such features as the old galleries for slaves and free blacks and for cloistered sisters, the extension of the sanctuary necessitated by Latrobe’s too-small original (a non-Catholic, he had no concept of Catholic liturgy), the paintings imported from France, the cathedra used by all the archbishops of Baltimore up to 1959 (when a new cathedral was built) and two Popes, and the tombs of Archbishop Carroll, Cardinal Gibbons, and other archbishops. We heard about great moments in Catholic history that occurred there, including the funeral of Charles Carroll of Carrollton (last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence, and the only Catholic), the ordination of Fr. Michael McGivney, who went on to found the Knights of Columbus, visits from Mother Teresa and various civil dignitaries, and the three plenary councils of the American bishops (the third of which, in 1884, decreed that every parish should have an elementary school, set up the Catholic University of America, and commissioned the famous Baltimore Catechism).

After the tour, I concelebrated Mass for our group with the rector of the cathedral in the cozy basement chapel.

A lavish dinner at a very upscale Brazilian restaurant followed, courtesy of Pentecost Tours.

Friday’s agenda for the editorial track opened with a panel consisting of three experts from the USCCB, who discussed the policy implications of the elections earlier in the week. The panel included John Carr, executive director of the Department of Justice, Peace and Human Development; Maria Odom, executive director of the Catholic Legal Immigration Network; and Richard Doerflinger, associate director of the Secretariat for Pro-Life Activities (for more about this, see http://www.thebostonpilot.com/article.asp?ID=12605).

They were followed by a presentation on new media from Chris Gunty of the Catholic Review of Baltimore: what media are new, and how they can work for Catholic journalists.

After lunch the whole group of us got another new media presentation from communications guru David Bell, chairman emeritus of Interpublic Group and former CEO of True North Communications. He told us that our organizations can’t afford not to develop a high quality Web site as well as to establish a presence at YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, etc. The Internet has been through two waves, the first about access, the second about the platform. The third wave will be about content, including data, aesthetics, the personalization of everything, ad formats, and of course quality. He cited as models the sites of ESPN, the Wall Street Journal, Forbes, and Patch.com. And he laid out several principles: (1) Catholic media have to work together; therein lies huge strength. (2) The Internet isn’t like print; it’s an experience. (3) Edited and curated content has its proper place. (4) Relevance is key amid the slews and slews of information and data that are available. (5) The Internet loves personalities. (6) Strong content brands will survive. Finally, Mr. Bell said, publishing requires a new age journalist at the top, and passionate, savvy youngsters on the staff. “Good news,” he said, “comes to those who are willing to kiss change on the lips.”

For the editors and journalists, the conference concluded with “Photography for Reporters—Managing Two Jobs in One,” led by Ann Augherton of the Arlington Catholic Herald with ample sharing from the floor.

Homily for 33d Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily
for the 33d Sunday
of Ordinary TimeNov. 14, 2010
Luke 21: 5-19
Mal 3:19-20
2 Thess 3: 7-12
Ursulines, Willow Dr., New Rochelle

“By your perseverance you will secure your lives” (Luke 21: 19).

Yesterday “perseverance” came up in the parable of the widow and the corrupt judge, and in the life of Mother Cabrini. Today it comes up with a different meaning: not perseverance in prayer or in the pursuit of a vocation or in the building of an apostolic enterprise, but in faithfulness to our Lord Jesus Christ thru the “toil and drudgery” of daily life, thru earthly travails, thru persecution (2 Thess 3:8) until the end of our individual lives or until that “day comes blazing like an oven,” the Last Day (cf. Mal 3:19).

After Jesus’ journey up to Jerusalem with his disciples, today we find them in the temple, the center of the Jewish world, gawking like tourists in Times Square. Jesus brings them down by predicting the temple’s destruction, which in turn leads to their questioning him about what will lead up to such a terrible event. Jesus speaks of false messiahs, wars and insurrections, natural disasters, omens, and persecutions—such things as in fact preceded the Roman army’s capture and destruction of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. His “forecast,” tho, seems to be open-ended, which is how Luke would have seen it, writing well after 70. The temple’s ruin wasn’t the end of the world; Christians would have to continue waiting for Jesus’ return, would have to persevere thru the various trials of ordinary life, thru the extraordinary trials of life, thru ongoing betrayals and persecutions.

Those who persevere to the end will secure their lives, i.e., will be saved when the Lord does return. There will finally be a day of reckoning. Both the anonymous prophet Malachi (the name means simply “Messenger”) and Psalm 98 speak of the coming of the Lord with justice: “He will rule the world with justice and the peoples with equity” (98:9). There’s precious little justice in this world; we wait for God to straighten everything out, put everything in proper order.

Malachi implies that the Lord, when he comes on “the day that is coming” (3:19), will separate the just from the unjust, will use fire and heat to punish the latter and reward the former. Fire as punishment for the wicked is a common biblical image, used by the prophets, by John the Baptist, and by Jesus. That day, “blazing like an oven,” will burn evildoers like stubble, like the refuse burned as fuel after the harvest.

We all know how welcome a fire is on a chilly evening—or on a Scout camping trip! We know how the snowbirds fly to Florida and Arizona for the winter, seeking a warm and sunny climate. For the just, “you who fear my name,” fire—“the sun of justice”—will bring healing warmth and light. On a cold spring nite, we light a great fire to signal that Christ, light of the world, is risen for our salvation—and we burst into an Exsultet and then into a Gloria: “with trumpets and the sound of the horn, [we] sing joyfully before the King, the Lord” (98:6).

Between now and “that day,” how are we to wait for the Lord? What are we to do? Paul’s friends in Thessalonica struggled with that question. It may be that some of them, believing the Lord’s return was imminent, sat on their hands waiting. Why engage “in toil and drudgery, night and day” (3:8) if Jesus will return at any moment to complete our redemption? Thruout the Christian ages there have been groups who thought the 2d Coming was imminent, sold their belongings, and gathered to wait…and wait…and wait. Their waiting has always been disappointed. Paul explains that life must go on, including toil and earning one livelihood. Anything else is a disorder, an imposition upon the community. Furthermore, those who don’t work wind up as nuisances, or worse, among the community, “not keeping busy but minding the business of others” (3:11)—at best, distracting and interfering in the work of others, worse yet gossiping. (What would Paul have said in the age of texting, blogging, and tweeting?)

No, Paul tells us, we have to keep on working, day by day, carrying out our duties, “working quietly” (3:12). The Christian lives in the world, contributes to this world, is “faithful in serving” the Father (Collect) until the Lord comes again or until the Lord calls her home.

Out of Brandon

Out of Brandon

On October 30, 2010, I received an e-mail informing me: “Nativity is celebrating the Golden Jubilee, 50 years of being a canonical Parish. Are you the same Mike Mendl [a friend] mentioned? I found you on the internet and the numbers match but nowhere do you mention Brandon. I am working on the book to celebrate this occasion and would appreciate any thoughts you might offer regarding Nativity on your ‘Journey of Faith.’” So, over the course of a couple of weeks, I composed what follows.

Brandon, Florida, 1957
My family—John and Cecilia and three small kids—moved to Brandon in June 1957, relocating from Tampa's Palma Ceia section and Christ the King Parish. I was the oldest sibling, not yet 9 and fresh out of third grade at CK; Chris was 7, Rita about to turn 6.

Tampa was really not much of a city in 1957, certainly not nearly what it has become. Brandon was positively country, acres and acres of citrus groves and pasture. Hwy. 60 had only 2 lanes from 301 to Vero Beach, and Parsons Ave. had the only stop light between 301 and Bartow.

“Downtown” Brandon didn’t have much besides the post office, some gas stations, Frenchy’s tavern at the southwest corner of Bryan Rd. and Hwy. 60, and Scogin’s department store. For groceries, serious shopping, banking, or Dad’s building supplies and hardware you went into Tampa. Likewise if you needed a hospital. We had 2 doctors in town, a young Dr. Greenwell and the veteran Dr. Ted Grabel. The post office was a tiny place on the north side of Hwy. 60 (I don’t remember exactly where) where most residents kept a box (ours was 194). If the person writing to you couldn’t remember your address, that was all right: your name and “Brandon, Fla.” sufficed to secure delivery. It was a big deal, by the way, when 1st-class postage rose to 4¢. There was also a tiny library of about one room in what had been someone’s house.

It was somewhat exciting when a strip mall came to town, and then the big shopping center, ca. 1960. And then a bank. But as best I can remember, we still had only one traffic light! And we still had too many cows and horses to count, and uncounted acres of orange and grapefruit trees. Around 1960, South Oakwood got paved, and then the old oat field across the street became a subdivision. I earned a few bucks cutting lawns in there when I was about 12.

Mom & Dad, Easter Sunday, 3/29/64, in front of our house

Dad, a contractor, had built us a house at 309 South Oakwood, a couple of blocks from Hwy. 60, on land that not long before had been part of Mr. Fietz’s goat farm—the Dew Bloom Dairy. Oakwood Ave. was a one-lane dirt road with a house here and there on the east side, on the other side only trees and what had been the goat farm’s oat field. Most of what lay east of Oakwood was just woods and pasture, great spaces for roaming. About where the swim club is now there was a humongous old live oak tree that we called Monkey Island on account of its great low-lying limbs that invited hours of scrambling up, over, and through.

As a builder, Dad was doing his small part to turn Brandon into one of Tampa’s bedroom communities. At first he was an independent builder, but eventually he went to work for Jerry Lane, and later for Mr. Ragsdale (whose 1st name I don’t recall). Mr. Ragsdale built all over the area, not just in Brandon.

But in 1957 the goats were still down the road, and in the little, shaded ravines where they wandered was a kid’s paradise for playing cowboys and Indians or Yanks and Rebs. (There weren’t a whole lot of goats, and Mr. Fietz was a friendly old fellow. One event that stands in my mind is his inviting all the neighborhood kids—through our parents—to come one day and watch a nanny give birth.) I also learned the hard way that it was great soil for contracting hookworm, and more than once Mom had to cart me to Dr. Greenwell for a treatment of ethyl chloride to freeze the little vermin into oblivion. No more running barefoot, as we’d loved doing in Tampa.

There weren’t many kids in the neighborhood. In fact, there were only the Mendls and a passel of Labadies—I don’t remember exactly how many, maybe 6 or 7, all boys except 1 girl. They lived in what’s now Nativity’s rectory, the corner of their large backyard touching a corner of ours.

Now and then I’d be taken to Valrico to play baseball with some friends I’d made. When Brandon got a Little League in 1961 (that had to be the year, because I was 12 and only got to play for one year), I was an eager participant, playing the outfield and catching for a team sponsored by Everina Homes. Our team finished in 1st place. The next summer I played a little, with less success, in some kind of a summer league.

The Church of the Nativity, Late 1950s
Nativity had 5 mostly empty acres on the south side of Hwy. 60 (an orange grove was on the north side), stretching from Oakwood to Bryan Rd. The only building on it was the little mission church—less than half the present social hall (which it has become, after various additions). I don’t know what the seating capacity was—maybe 200. I’m not sure when the little wooden outbuilding outside the front door was added; that was the religious articles store, which Mom looked after diligently for quite a few years.

Eventually the parish leaders—Fr. John Lima and I don’t know which men and women—decided the church needed a social hall. Someone arranged for the parish to buy an old barracks from MacDill, and the men converted it into a hall down about where the drainage pond is now.

Nativity was a mission of St. Clement in Plant City, where Fr. Lima lived by himself. With no resident priest, the Blessed Sacrament couldn’t be kept in church after the second, and last, Sunday Mass. So after the sermon (there were few homilies in those days before Vatican II) Fr. Lima or the “Sunday supply” priest had to count who intended to receive Communion and put that many hosts into the ciborium; any that were left over had to be consumed at the end of Mass. Of course, with only 100 or 150 people in attendance, getting a reasonably accurate count must not have been too much of a challenge.

Sunday supply came mainly from the Salesians at Mary Help of Christians School, but occasionally from the Redemptorists at Our Lady of Perpetual Help (OLPH) in Ybor City or even as far away as the Benedictines of St. Leo’s Abbey. Every other Sunday, one of these visitors would be in Brandon while Fr. Lima said the Masses in Plant City. The next Sunday they’d switch. Our family became friendly with most of these visitors, often inviting them to lunch after the 2nd Mass, which was convenient since we were only a couple of hundred yards down the street. We had Fr. Lima over often, as well, and his old friend from his Maryknoll days, Fr. William Fletcher, when the latter would come south on a vacation. The only parishioners who were closer to the church were the Savoies (Frenchy, of the tavern) and the Labadies.

I don’t remember when I decided I wanted to become an altar boy; probably in 5th grade, ca. 1958. I was soon a dependable regular, along with the Walden boys, Kenneth Davis, Steve Brannigan, the Martins, and a little later, the Grabels and my brother. We were happy and proud to serve at the altar, to master the arcane movements of the missal and the bows and the ringing of the bells (in fact, for a long time we didn’t have bells at the altar, but a small chimes set—bong! bong! bong!), and of course all the Latin responses. Fr. Lima treated us well, and so did his eventual successors, Fr. John Linnehan and Fr. David Cronin. When I had a Sunday “off,” I was always on the lookout to see whether one of the assigned boys had failed to show, so that I could fill in for him. (Need I say that there were no altar girls way back then? Totally unthought of.) Whenever our family traveled, I’d do the same thing, and so I wound up serving Masses in a church in Atlanta once and even in the lower church of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in D.C.

Catholics in Brandon were few and far between, certainly in contrast with parts of Tampa. In 1957 some of the locals may not have been certain that we didn’t have tails and horns. Not only was Nativity a fairly new establishment, and not a parish, but of course there wasn’t a parochial school.

Going to School
In fact, Brandon, which registered only 5,000 people in the 1960 census, had only 2 schools, period: the elementary school, Walter S. Yates, and the high school (now the McLane Middle School). Horace Mann Junior High opened, at the site of what’s now the high school, the same year we came to town. With no Catholic school option, we 3 Mendls went to Yates, where Frances Studstill was my 4th grade teacher, and a very fine one whom I remember very fondly. Rita had Frances Gunn in 1st grade, likewise an excellent teacher who also became a family friend—because her husband Donald ran the gas station that we patronized, and her sister, Evelyn Clites, eventually became my grandmother’s landlady in Limona. (I have no recollection of who Chris’s 2nd grade teacher was.)

Most days I think Mom took us to school by car. What is it from South Oakwood to Yates? Maybe a mile? And most days we had to walk home, down Morgan St. to North Oakwood, which also was just a dirt track, thru the orange grove, and across Hwy. 60. Hard to imagine a 4th grader doing something like that nowadays! Of course, Hwy. 60 also is a LOT harder to cross now than it was in 1957-58.

There was a big old farmhouse at the end of North Oakwood, amid the orange grove. I think the family who lived there was named Mays. I became friendly with one of the boys, and sometimes we played together. It was a sad day, I’m not sure when, when their house burned down.

How rare were Catholics in Brandon? As I remember it, there was only one other in my class, Mike Potter. But there was still a religious feel to public education in the ’50s. Every day began with a Bible reading, and the students, at least in Mrs. Studstill’s class, took turns saying grace before lunch. Despite all that, we got a great education!

Across the street from Yates was Brandon’s one public park, which was a good place to hang during the summer, playing Monopoly or other games in the rec building, or baseball outside. Next to Yates was a well shaded pasture occupied by Dynamite, a donkey who was something of a hero to us kids. He loved to be petted and scratched, and occasionally he’d treat us to a nice bray.

Some of the Catholic parents wanted a Catholic school, however. Fr. Lima was more than willing, but the main obstacle—as hard as it is to imagine today—was finding sisters to staff it. He wrote request after request, and many families had finding sisters in their daily prayer intentions. Ours were addressed to St. Jude!

In the meantime, some of the parents decided to get the kids to Catholic school if a school couldn’t come to Brandon. So the Mouchas and the Mulligans and the Mendls (3M?) arranged a carpool that would haul 8 of us to OLPH every day. I think the Grabels got involved too eventually. I guess we must have used 2 cars; even the proverbial 1950s station wagon would have been a squeeze for 8 children and a parent. But maybe we did squeeze. It seemed like a long ride—yes, even tho we were on our way to school, it seemed long—but it was only about 12 miles, with few stop lights till you got into the city. And that went on for 4 years!

Except that eventually OLPH began to send a bus to Clair-Mel City (a section on the east side of Tampa); that was closer for our carpool than going all the way into Ybor City, so our parents would drop us and pick us up there. That might have been for my 7th and 8th grade years.

At OLPH we had the School Sisters of Notre Dame, who were wonderful. Most of them, anyway. There were a couple who sort of scared us, perhaps unjustifiably. They’d also been the CCD teachers at Nativity back when we were going to Yates, and I suppose they continued to do that ministry after we were no longer involved. (It must have been a challenge to conduct CCD classes all over the church, because that was the only building in 1957-58.) The SSNDs were competent and, mostly, friendly. I had Sr. Mary Timothene for both 7th and 8th grades (not simultaneously!)—it was quite a shock to us when she was “promoted” along with us. For grades 1-6, OLPH has 2 classes at each level. Not so for grades 7-8. So Sr. Timothene got all 70 of us, in one room. And she taught, and we learned!

The Redemptorists at OLPH were an occasional, friendly presence too. One of my classmates, Don Roth, became a Redemptorist and a missionary in South America. Two vocations from the class speaks well for the training we got at school, as well as from our families and our parishes.

By the time I had reached 8th grade, Nativity had found sisters for a parochial school. I’m not sure whether Fr. Lima was still pastor at that point, or had already been succeeded by Fr. Linnehan. In any case, the Trinitarian Sisters had agreed to come and staff a school, and a 6-classroom building was put up behind the church. Before that building was ready, in 1961 the school opened with grades 1-6 in the old barracks, which the men of the parish had divided into classrooms. One grade was added each of the following 2 years. Which meant that Chris and Rita could go to Nativity School, but I couldn’t. So that commute to OLPH via Clair-Mel City continued for some of us.

I completed 8th grade at OLPH in June 1962. What next?

Meeting the Salesians
As I said, our family had become friendly with many of the Sunday supply priests. We became closest to Salesian Fr. John Masiello, who was newly ordained in 1958, young, darkly handsome, and lively. Plus he came from Queens, where Dad had grown up. In fact, much to everyone’s surprise, we discovered that Dad’s older brother had once worked for Fr. John’s dad (before World War II, I guess). On one of our family vacations back to Long Island, the Masiellos had all of us over for a big Italian dinner.

I don’t remember whether Fr. John ever sounded me out, but I was open to the idea of being a priest. (I was also open to being a baseball player and in 7th or 8th grade wrote an essay about that.) But unbeknownst to me, he sent my name in to the Salesians’ vocation office when I was in 7th grade (it could even have been earlier), and soon I was getting promotional literature. It was a big, happy surprise when I even got a hardcover book in the mail, a life of Don Bosco (which had been printed at the school in Tampa, no less!). Such bounty! Such generosity!

So by the middle of the 8th grade, I was giving serious thought to going off to New York for high school seminary, to become a Salesian. My parents let me apply, and I was accepted. I also took the entrance exam for Jesuit High School and was accepted there. But Jesuit was never really in cards; it was too far away, too difficult to get to. I never heard Mom and Dad say anything about the tuition, and I have no idea what it was in 1962. OLPH was an option; they had a parochial high school, one floor above the grammar school’s two floors. But I didn’t want to continue there (Chris and Rita later did go to high school there, until it was closed, and then they finished at Brandon High).

I decided to go to the seminary, Salesian Junior Seminary in Goshen, N.Y. We made grand plans for another northern family vacation in August that would culminate in dropping me there. Of course, as a 13-year-old I wasn’t sure I wanted to be priest. But a good education would do no harm. I said as much to some family friends, and word got back to Dad, who must have had his own doubts all along. About a week before we were to head north, he decided that I was too young to leave home, especially since I wasn’t sure of my vocation. No discussion. Mom cried. I was much disappointed.

So I was promptly enrolled at Horace Mann, with school to start in a few days. Word got to Fr. Masiello, who was at the house in a day or two. He offered to get me into Mary Help of Christians, which had grades 5-9 at the time. They took day students (in fact, there was but 1 in 1962-63, out of about 145 students), but if I wanted to board it would be a “training” year for living away from home, yet not very far. Parents and family could visit any Sunday, there were monthly weekends at home—and I’d be in a Salesian environment and could find out more about who these priests and brothers were, what they did, what their lives were like.

It was really a decisive intervention. I went to Mary Help as a boarder, came home many Sundays for a few hours, and on those monthly weekends. My career as a Nativity altar boy continued in these intervals. At Mary Help I became quite close to several of the Salesians besides Fr. John—to native Tampan, former football star, and war hero Fr. Orlando Molina in particular. So did my family. Eventually—after I had really left for the seminary—they became heavily involved in Mary Help and sometimes had all the Salesians over to our house for a pool party and dinner. (Mary Help had no pool at the time, and the students, but not the staff, swam in East Lake.)

And in the spring of 1963, with Dad’s approval, I reapplied to Salesian Junior Seminary. I looked forward to a summer of playing baseball in a local league and was all set for that, when another Mary Help intervention came, an invitation to be an unpaid staff member at the summer camp, continuing to board at the school. I accepted, with mixed feelings (I really did love baseball, and had just earned my way onto a team).

In late August we finally made that trip up to Goshen. From then on, I’d see Brandon and Nativity only for a week of Christmas vacation and three weeks of summer vacation, and once I entered the novitiate in August 1966, even less than that. Fr. Linnehan and then Fr. Cronin were very encouraging of a young seminarian.

Vocations
Research has shown that religious and priestly vocations generally grow out of the soil of a devout and encouraging family (and the grace of God, of course). It was true in my case. Mom and Dad were churchgoers, and we prayed as a family. They were, moreover, heavily involved in parish life at Nativity in the various social activities. Earlier I mentioned Mom’s running the religious articles store. She was active in the women’s club, and Dad in the men’s club. Both contributed a lot of work for the early parish carnivals, annual affairs that were the forerunners of today’s Novemberfest (although I don’t remember what month they were held in)—with games, rides, food, and a lot of fun for both kids and grown-ups. These usually lasted about three days, I think. After the liturgical renewal of Vatican II, Mom and Dad took on additional roles in the parish: she as an extraordinary minister of the Eucharist, he as a lector. Dad also served on the parish council. Both were highly respected because of their generosity and practical experience, and my father in particular was more than ready to speak his mind whenever he thought it necessary (sometimes to the chagrin of Fr. Lima or Fr. Lara, as I understand it, but not in a way that violated charity).

Good parishes help too. Nativity has been recognized in print (Paulist Press) as an outstanding parish. I don’t know the exact count, but quite a few vocations have come from there, maybe as many as a dozen. I hope that the parish’s golden jubilee history will have further information.

One story that has always stuck in my mind comes out of the preparations for Nativity School. When the convent was being planned, the pastor of the time invited some of the men who were knowledgeable about buildings to review the blueprints (I don’t know whether women, also, were consulted). Someone—not my father—eventually said something along the lines of, “Father, either the sisters are more angelic than any of us realize—or your architect has forgotten bathrooms.” That got around the parish pretty quickly! A great example of why pastors should always consult lay experts, too.

Around 1960 my widowed grandmother, Rita Hirsch, moved to Brandon from New York. 

Nana with 7 of her grandchildren: Carol Hirsh, Lynn Setteducati, Rita Mendl, Mike Mendl, Joe Hirsch.

Kneeling: Frank Setteducati and Chris Mendl. The photo was actually taken by Aunt Felicia Setteducati 

in her backyard in Bellmore, N.Y.

She lived briefly with us, till we found her a place of her own in Limona in a neat little cottage on the property of Raymond and Evelyn Clites (sister of Frances Gunn, as I mentioned above—and both of them were Lumsdens, members of a prominent Brandon family). (Limona used to be a separate hamlet with its own post office.) “Nana Rita” played her own part in the parish’s senior circles, especially contributing her amateur musical talent as a pianist. She was noted for her ability to play almost any popular song (of her era, not of the ’60s!) by ear. She was, in addition, a beloved nanny for the three Clites kids, her memory still very much cherished in the family. She remained a Brandon resident and Nativity parishioner until her death in 1980, although that occurred while she was on an extended visit with my Aunt Felicia up north. Her funeral took place in our family’s former home town of Bellmore, N.Y., and she was buried next to her long deceased husband.

As it turned out, after I made my religious profession (Aug. 15, 1967), I had 2 summer assignments to the camp at Mary Help, in 1968 and 1969. So I saw a bit of Brandon and Nativity still, and got some vacation time with the family, as well. There were further short summer vacations in 1970 and 1971 after I graduated from Don Bosco College. And then Mom and Dad moved to North Carolina. I would seldom see Brandon again—a family trip or two, plus my grandmother’s 75th birthday surprise party in April 1975, another summer camp assignment to Mary Help in 1975, my first Mass in June 1978, thanks to Fr. Lara’s graciousness—until I was assigned to Mary Help as a priest in 2002 and, most happily for me, sent on Sunday supply to Nativity with some regularity until Fr. Provincial called me back north in 2004 to my present ministry of communications and publishing for the province.

For more about "old" Brandon, see
http://www2.tbo.com/news/community-news/2012/feb/29/brnewso14-brandons-beginnings-and-earliest-residen-ar-363399/ (a Tampa Tribune article dated 2/29/12)

Celebrating my "first Mass" in Nativity's old church.  I'm flanked by Fr. Lara and Fr. Ed Liptak, SDB, who preached.  Concelebrating behind Fr. Lara are Fr. Kevin O'Brien, SDB, and Fr. John Puntino, SDB.

Homily for 31st Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
31st Sunday of Ordinary TimeOct. 31, 2010
2 Thess 1: 11—2:2
Scouters taking Woodbadge Course, Camp Alpine, N.J.

“We pray that our God may make you worthy of his calling” (2 Thess 1: 11).

Paul was the 1st to preach the Good News in Thessalonica. But it wasn’t he who called the Thessalonians to accept God’s mercy and change their way of living. The call came from God: “May our God make you worthy of his calling.” Paul is just God’s instrument.

We too may serve as God’s instruments for his calling others, for reinforcing that call, for helping others to discern the call and answer it. Scout leaders are God’s instruments in helping young men find their way in life. That search for their way includes their search, usually unawares, for life’s meaning—for God’s purposes in their lives, for their proper relationships with him and with the rest of his children. We help young men understand reverence, and practice it.

Conversion of St. Paul: painting in the basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls, Rome


Paul is uttering a prayer in this passage of his letter. The prayer is that God will make the Thessalonian Christians worthy of his call. God doesn’t call people because they are worthy. We see that clearly in today’s gospel story (Luke 19:1-10), as well as in many others, notably Jesus’ calling of the apostles and very notably in Paul’s own call (Acts 9:1-19; cf. Gal 1:11-24). You may have seen the evangelical slogan—on a bumper sticker or going round the e-mail circuit: “God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called.” He makes us worthy of his calling. We Catholics offer a prayer at every Mass just before Communion that God will make us worthy of himself: “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” The healing action, the spiritual cleansing, the sanctification, is always God’s.

St. Augustine says the same thing in a sermon that we find in the Office of Readings: “We have been saved by his grace, says the Apostle, and not by our works…. It is not as if a good life of some sort came first, and that thereupon God showed his love and esteem for it from on high, saying: ‘Let us come to the aid of these men and assist them quickly because they are living a good life.’ No, our life was displeasing to him; whatever we did by ourselves was displeasing to him; but what he did in us was not displeasing to him. He will, therefore, condemn what we have done, but he will save what he himself has done in us.”*

St. Augustine painting: basilica of Mary Help of Christians, Turin

God didn’t call any of us on account of our goodness, our intelligence, our charm, our good looks, our artistic talents, etc. He called us to be his at Baptism, which means he called most of us when we were infants, totally helpless. About the only thing we could do by ourselves was give our parents a mess to clean up! God didn’t call us to be his children because we were worthy of such love, any more than our parents co-created us with God because we were worthy of love. Both God and our parents called us into existence as an act of love on their part, and freely offered that love to us—thereby making us lovable, making us worthy, and in God’s case, making us holy.

Paul’s prayer continues: “May our God powerfully bring to fulfillment every good purpose and every effort of faith” (1:11). In some rituals of religious profession, when a sister or a brother makes vows, we find a similar prayer from the presider: “May God, who has begun this good work in you, bring it to perfection” or “to completion.” May God finish the job he’s started in us! Our pursuit of Christ as disciples, as believers, is a lifelong pursuit, a lifelong journey, a lifelong pilgrimage. (You know what Yogi says!) In the 17th century, John Bunyan reminded Puritan readers of that with The Pilgrim’s Progress. But it’s an age-old Christian image, as old as Luke’s gospel in which Jesus sets out on a long journey toward Jerusalem, leading the disciples with him. Like the apostles, who said things like, “Let us also go to die with him” (John 11:16) and “Lord, I am prepared to go to prison and to die with you” (Luke 22:33), but fled like cockroaches when the light goes on, we need divine help to stay with Jesus when temptation comes, when our faith is challenged by adversity: “May our God powerfully bring to fulfillment every good purpose and every effort of faith.”

Our perseverance in faith, in living out our faith and not just mouthing it, glorifies the name of our Lord Jesus, Paul says. We’re linked to Jesus by our Baptism. We belong to him, and he belongs to us. When God’s grace works in us, producing good, it gives glory to Jesus in whom we live, in whose name we act (at least implicitly)—just as our evil deeds are a scandal, reflecting poorly on the name of Christian. But the good we do is a partaking of the goodness of Jesus, reflects his goodness (we’re mirrors of Jesus, so to say), and so offers praise to the Father.

The 2d paragraph of our reading today takes up the rather different subject of “the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and our assembling with him” (2:1). That “assembly” will be the ultimate “fulfillment” of our journey with Christ toward the heavenly Jerusalem. The latest “end of the world” fad in our time seems to come from the Mayan calendar, which, so it’s said, ends with 2012. I think there was a movie about that a few months ago, which I didn’t see. But these fads of “the end is near” come repeatedly, and the fads fade, of course. Paul was dealing with one ca. 50 A.D., when, Scripture scholars generally believe, the Christian community expected Jesus’ imminent 2d coming.

Paul’s advice to the Thessalonians is, “Don’t be shaken out of your minds suddenly or be alarmed” (2:2)—“Don’t worry about it.” Not in our reading today is his bottom-line advice later in this chapter: “Therefore, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the tradition that you were taught” (2:15). Then, as Jesus says, we’ll be awake and watchful and won’t be caught off guard whenever he does return (cf. Matt 24:43-44).

The Last Judgment, by Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel

I draw your attention to one word in Paul’s reference to the Lord’s coming: “our assembling with him.” In his Greek, that’s επισυναγωγής (episunagoges), in Latin congregationis: synagog, congregation. When we assemble as a “synagog” or congregation each Sunday, we’re “assembling with our Lord Jesus Christ,” doing a dry run, as it were, for his 2d coming. We who meet with him regularly, faithfully, we who are familiar with him, will have nothing to cause us to fear his glorious return on the Last Day. Indeed, we look for his coming again in power, to “bring to fulfillment powerfully every good purpose and every effort of our faith” that we’ve been striving at on our long pilgrimage with him toward Jerusalem.

* Sermon 23A; Liturgy of the Hours, 4:188.

Lo! I-malay! from Soddo, Ethiopia

Lo! I-malay! from Soddo, EthiopiaBy Stephen Lilly

Mr. Lilly, a 2008 graduate of the University of Illinois from Berwyn, Ill., was commissioned as an SLM last August and shortly after left for his assignment at Don Bosco Catholic School in Soddo, Ethiopia. He sent this e-mail on Oct. 9 to Adam Rudin, the SLM program director.

Lo! I-malay! (Hi, how are you!)

I hope that this letter finds you well. These happen to be greetings in the language of Wallaytigna. While the national language of Ethiopia is Amharic, here in the region of Wolaita the mother tongue of most of the population is the one that has been spoken in the area for many centuries. Certainly people here have an identity of being Ethiopian; however, the Wolaita language, culture, and heritage are still living, even in the midst of the influx of national and global influences. So while I expected that most people would speak Amharic fluently, I am discovering to my surprise that the students at Don Bosco Catholic School here in Soddo are struggling to learn it just as I am.

It is difficult to believe, but school has been in session for a nearly a month already. If children were apprehensive or anxious during the first days of the semester, those feelings have long past.

Students are now fully immersed in the year’s curriculum of English, Amharic, Wallaytigna, science, mathematics, ethics, computer skills, music, and physical education. Every school day begins with an assembly in the central courtyard in which all 290 students line up according to grade and height. With each student sporting a new uniform consisting of a yellow shirt, brown vest, and brown pants or capris, for boys and girls respectively, they practice a small marching exercise to wake up and stretch their legs. Then, after singing the national anthem and listening to the day’s announcements the students march into the classroom to participate in another full day of learning and recreation.

Don Bosco Catholic School in Soddo (right), with the youth center at the left. In the foreground is the soccer field. (Photo by Stephen Lilly)

The days are full for me as well. While I only teach two periods of Spoken English each day, all the staff is with the children during thirty minutes of recess in the morning and the hour for lunch as well. For a school managed in the spirit of Don Bosco that means plenty of running and playing with the children. They are very fun, and they always have tons of energy to play soccer, volleyball, jump rope, or other games. In addition to teaching and being present with the children, I have been working continuously on the school’s library, which is now taking shape. All the books have been categorized, assigned call numbers, and organized on the shelves. Now remains the still daunting task of imputing all the books’ information into an electronic card catalog. Days will soon become even more packed when the youth center opens in a few weeks.

We do have time though to step away and relax a bit here and there.

In the evenings Abba Jose, Brother Kidane, and I will often sit out on the front steps and talk while watching the lightning flash in the distance or scanning the sky to look for the plane from Nairobi that passes overhead around 8 pm. On Sundays or holidays we have also been climbing a small ridge across the road from us. After passing a waterfall, crossing the small stream, and hiking a few minutes to the summit, we’ll find comfortable rocks from which to soak in the sun and to view the valley below. Many metal roofs reflect the light, but an equal amount of homes and structures made from mud and sticks adorn the landscape. Crops pattern the terrain and livestock roams. If you strain your eyes you can even see a sliver of Lake Abaya in the hazy distance.

Occasionally we will travel into town. The streets are always alive, but especially around dusk many families and friends will walk to say ‘hello’ to their neighbors or to hear the latest news. People greet each other with a small bow, or if they know each other well they will join right hands and lean together so that their right shoulders meet. Women will also greet each other with numerous kisses on the cheek.

Soddo was especially busy during the days leading up to Meskel, the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross. Meskel is the biggest holiday of the year in the Wolaita region, and at night large fires blazed along all the roads as families celebrated.

I am attaching a photograph of the Don Bosco compound to this e-mail. On the left-hand side is the youth center, and the buildings on the right comprise the school. In the foreground is the large soccer field, and the green mountain in the distance is named Da Mota, which is the title of a king. An Ethiopian Orthodox church sits on top and pilgrims will climb to the summit over a period of a few days to visit it and pray.

There is always much more to write; however, I must leave it at this.

Thank you again for your thoughts and prayers. I appreciate them very much. Also, I am sorry that I have not been very good at returning correspondences. I have limited access to the internet.

Ah muh suh ge na lo! (I give thanks)

Stephen

P.S. My parents have informed me that there might be some people interested in donating to the school. If you are, send me an e-mail, and I will speak with Abba Jose and provide a list of small things that would be helpful for the school and youth center. Thanks!

Top photo by Fr. Mike Mendl. Bottom Photo by Adam Rudin.

All the Things I Didn't Say...

All the Things I Didn’t Say…
By Margaret Stortz

Miss Stortz was commissioned as an SLM in August 2009 and served as a at an orphanage in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, for one year beginning in September 2009. Shortly after her return to her home in Denver, she wrote this reflection, which is posted at the Salesian Lay Missioners Web site (http://salesianlaymissioners.org/home/?cat=8)

Margaret and her mom on the day of her SLM commissioning

“…I stood awed and bemused between two realities and two dreams.” So says Charles Ryder, a character in Evelyn Waugh’s novel, Brideshead Revisited, as he is startled down memory lane by an unexpected visit to a familiar place. So has been the experience of the last few weeks in Bolivia and my first few days in America: I have crossed the divide and what was held the dream has become the reality and the year-long reality has become a far away dream.

I knew I had been there for close to a year as I noticed the season repeating itself: the wind blew ferociously all the time, stirring up the sand that paves the streets so that I would walk around half-blind, rubbing my eyes and blinking wildly all of the time and feeling like a living sand castle. Half of the trees were barren and the sky had a strange orange glow due to the seasonal burning of the fields. The girls had started to steal salt and get their flip-flops stuck in the trees due to their insatiable desire to eat green mangoes that end up making them sick (they throw their flip-flops into the trees to make the mangoes fall). And as my time came to its close, I thought about all the things I had never written about: how the girls would reach out their hands out like baby birds, chirping “a mi, a mi”, when I gave out medications at night, regardless of whether or not they had any ailments. And there was the update partially composed in my head entitled “Chicken Soup for the Bolivian Soul” describing in detail the soup that the girls eat made with entire chicken feet, and what it’s like to watch them suck on the chicken toes, skin and all, and then spit out the little bones, leaving a small pile of pebble sized debris as the only evidence that they just ate the feet of an animal that spends most of it’s life walking through the dirty, feces infested streets of Bolivia. Which then reminded me about the update I was going to write called “On The Streets of Santa Cruz” characterizing the landscape of the city and its outskirts which portray a strange mix of poverty and progress, much like the country itself. Going down the same paved street in front of the hogar [home, i.e., the orphanage] at any given moment are a horse and carriage with the driver selling his wares announced by megaphone, a brand-new 4Runner with the driver on a cell phone, a ”rancher” with his cows grazing on the weeds and the torn-up bags of trash in the road, indigenous women with their baby tied to their back, loose chickens, stray dogs, drunk men and the hogar girls on their way to school. I could have written everyday about the adventures with Talia, who at moments brought tears of joy to my eyes to see how much she had improved and at other moments brought tears of stinging pain to my eyes after receiving one of her strong, unexpected, unprovoked slaps across the face.

Photo at right: Fr. Tom Dunne presents a missionary cross to Margaret at the SLM commissing Mass, Don Bosco Retreat Center, Haverstraw, N.Y., August 2009

The depth of my experience in Bolivia, however, apart from the crazy adventures of everyday life in a developing country and a poorly organized hogar, was the interior struggle to find my mission and to live it out each day. I didn’t come to the hogar expecting to accomplish great things. And I found that I did not go to Bolivia to be the missionary, but I was rather, the mission field. The girls evangelized me, enlightened me to myself and the love of God simply by living their lives while I was privileged to live amongst them. Through their constant rebellion, resistance and disobedience, I discovered those same sentiments buried deep in my heart directed towards life in general and God especially. Through their constant, oftentimes overwhelming affection of wet kisses, powerful hugs, overly inquisitive questions, and simply their daily presence, I discovered what it means to love unconditionally. Good moods or bad, they loved on me beyond my comfortable limits and reminded me that love is the true driving force behind all of our actions and we seek it out in whoever we can in whatever way we find possible. Through their constant joy, laughter and energy to play and have fun, in spite of their histories and their sufferings, they taught me what it means to forgive, to let go of the past and to let our wounds heal simply by living life fully, always moving forward and not looking back.

I had an important revelation several months ago when Sor Magdalena, the Japanese nun we were sometimes sure grew “special plants” in her room, invited me to do origami with her in order to break up the monotony of life at the hogar with disobedient girls. Origami was a childhood hobby so I was delighted to learn a new creation from a true Japanese master. She led me through all the intricate steps of bending and folding and creasing and it looked like we were almost done. “Now, undo everything”, she told me. “Really?” I thought, “I just worked hard on getting the bends and the folds perfect only to un-do the whole thing?” But I followed her obediently and unfolded the whole piece of paper only to fold it in nearly the exact same way just in the opposite direction to reveal the final creation. And it occurred to me that sometimes we are asked to fold in one direction, not because that is the way we are supposed to go, simply because it makes us easily bend-able towards our true path, and sharper creases one way make for easier folds in the opposite direction. As Fulton Sheen so clearly states, “We always make the mistake of thinking that it is what we do that matters, when really what matters is what we let God do to us.”

So I am home again, after a few days of vacationing on the beach in Miami, evaluating the ways I was asked to bend in Bolivia and looking to see what direction to fold myself into next. After the constant noise and rebellion of 120 girls at my side 24 hours a day for a year, there is a tangible emptiness to my days. I feel the loss of not being poked and prodded and hugged and laughed at and kissed and loved by all my girls, girls that became like my own children, like my sisters and my true friends. My first day back in the states, I was out in the ocean fighting with the waves, feeling the powerful rhythm of the force of the water, feeling intensely the loss of leaving all their beautiful faces behind, and wondering, in the end, what it was all for. I could hear echoes of their voices whining and laughing and asking me for something and telling me their scores on their tests as they came home from school and I realized how deeply I had come to love them. And I realized that’s just the point: love is what it’s all about (how many times in our lives we have to re-learn that simple lesson!). I have nothing to show for my year abroad, nothing, that is, apart from a wrist full of mangy friendship bracelets, and a pile of beautiful cards and letters written on crumpled and wrinkled notebook paper, given to me by an hogar of girls that I will always love.

Thank you to all of you for following along on this journey with me this year and most of all for holding me in your thoughts and your prayers, it truly gave me strength to face the most difficult of days. I look forward to seeing you and filling you in on the rest of the stories.

Blessings and Prayers,
Margaret

PS – I am lice free now!

Salesian Lay Missioners Program Transformed My Life!

The Salesian Lay Missioners
Volunteer Program Transformed My Life!By Miriam Hernandez

Miss Hernandez was commissioned as an SLM in August 2009 and served for a year in Tijuana. After returning to her home in Bellflower, Calif., this summer, she wrote this reflection, which has been published in the Western Province's newsletter and shared with the Eastern Province's communications office.
Ever since I was six years old, my family and I have been a part of Saint Dominic Savio Parish. Here is where I grew up attending Mass and other activities. As I got older I entered youth ministry and “Savio,” as we call it, became my home. I got involved as much as I could in all events, retreats, workshops, and of course Camp Savio. I spent more time at Savio then I did at home. Here I made lifelong friends and learned a lot. I learned how to be a good leader, negotiate, practice good communication skills, and I had lots of responsibilities. Most important, I was having fun! My family wasn’t very functional, and the high school I attended wasn’t the best; but I was lucky to have a place like Savio. Here Don Bosco’s Preventive System made a difference in my life.
I didn’t realize at the time that I was living Don Bosco’s dream. I was just having fun with friends and taking challenges and responsibilities. J.C. [Juan Carlos Montenegro], the youth ministry director, took us on short missionary trips to Tijuana and Miami every year and promoted volunteer service. Gio [Giovanni] Garcia became an SLM volunteer the year before I did, and after hearing about his experience I felt the call. Something inside me told me that this was for me. I wanted to go and leave everything to make a difference, so I talked to J.C. He then put me in touch with Adam Rudin [at Salesian Missions in New Rochelle], and I began my SLM application.

I have to admit that when I got accepted I was nervous. Not only that—I was both excited and scared. I was excited because I felt like I was going to apply everything I had learned and knew, and I was doing God’s will. This decision also meant leaving my family, my friends, and my whole comfort zone. Not all of my friends were very supportive because I was going to take a break from school, and they just knew I wouldn’t be the same person when I got back. I was going to the unknown. Most of all, I was scared of failure. What if it was too much and I wasn’t able to handle it. All I could do was offer it all to God.

While I was in Tijuana, I didn’t feel as lonely as I thought I would. At times I did miss my family and friends, but there was so much going on that I was focused on the now. As a volunteer I wore many hats. I had to make sure the oratory stayed clean, I had to assist in making sure no one tagged, smoked, or drank. I helped prepare for Mass, etc. I taught two English classes and helped with catechism. In the mornings I helped in the office with printing or typing and took the kids out for recess. I was also the one who held all the keys and lent the playing equipment.

Being in Tijuana gave me many gifts, especially growth in my faith and a big reality check. I grew in faith by trusting in God that I wasn’t alone, that he was there with me even when times were rough.

It has been a month since I came back home. I wish I could have stayed longer. One year went by so fast, and I feel that it’s too short of a time to make a real, noticeable difference. After this year I feel that I can do anything and that I need to do more. I am back in school planning to major in psychology. My biggest plan is to be committed to Savio again and promote missionary service. J.C. and I have talked about starting a missionary group at Savio, and I am really eager to start.

Photos supplied by Miriam Hernandez.

Don Bosco Takes New York

Don Bosco
Takes New York
After tropical storm Nicole tried to drown out the youth rally centered on the relic of Don Bosco at the Marian Shrine on Thursday, Sept. 30, she (or some wet, howling sister of hers) made a similar attempt on Friday, when Don Bosco paid his respects to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Manhattan. (The rain did finally abate in late morning, although the skies remained a gloomy slate gray.)

Weather notwithstanding, uncounted thousands of Don Bosco’s friends, and thousands of visitors to St. Patrick’s who stumbled upon him by chance, paid their respects to Don Bosco. From the moment when the reliquary was rolled into the cathedral until the cathedral was closed for the evening, there was never a moment when there was no one coming to or standing at the glass and metal casket, except during Mass. Sometimes the line stretched the length of the cathedral’s long center aisle.

Your faithful blogger with camera and sopping poncho,

in front of St. Patrick's

The truck bearing the relic was due at St. Patrick’s at 9:00 a.m. Even with a police escort (and use of the parkways) all the way from Haverstraw, it arrived 50 minutes late. Don Bosco may have brought rain to Montemagno during a drought (BM 7:433-435), as noted by Catholic New York’s reporting, but on this day the rain was a hindrance, all the more when combined with the morning rush hour. That wasn’t a major issue, however, because the rite of reception was scheduled for 10:00.

While we waited, reporters from the Brooklyn Diocese—one from the Tablet and one from Channels (TV)—took in the scene and interviewed various members of the Salesian Family. Other media were present during the day and at the evening Mass. Of course, Rudy Gomez was a busy videographer for the SDBs once he arrived with Fr. Lou Molinelli from Haverstraw.

Under the supervision of New York’s Finest, the truck pulled up right in front of the cathedral’s main entrance on Fifth Avenue.

Drivers Mauro and Tino saw immediately—without even getting out of the truck—that the lower ramp provided by the cathedral for mounting the first set of steps was too narrow for the carriage supporting the reliquary. But, to be certain, they pulled out a tape and did the measurements. Then, directed by the Finest, they pulled the truck right up onto the sidewalk while Plan B was devised.


Plan B entailed backing the truck up to the bottom of the steps and then using the two slender ramps ordinarily used to winch the carriage in and out of the truck to span the gap from the truck to the first landing. Fortunately, the cathedral’s upper ramp was wide enough to accommodate the carriage. Bishop Emilio Allué, SDB (a retired auxiliary bishop from Boston), Msgr. Robert Ritchie (rector of the cathedral), and the other ministers were in place, ready for the rite of reception.

But first there was more waiting. The traffic and the weather had delayed not only Don Bosco but also Don Bosco Prep’s choir, coming from New Jersey. They finally arrived at 10:15. At that point, the truck backed across the sidewalk to the cathedral steps, to the consternation of passers-by, and the two drivers and our seminarians muscled the reliquary and carriage up the ramp and into the cathedral around 10:30.

By then Salesian HS’s band

and the Prep’s choir
were in place. Hundreds of the faithful, including the entire student body of Salesian HS, crowded the cathedral’s vestibule and the adjacent pews. Msgr. Ritchie welcomed Don Bosco to St. Patrick’s, the bishop prayed, the band played, the choir sang, and the bishop sprinkled the relic with holy water.

Led by Salesian HS senior James Picone playing the bagpipes (“a great touch,” according to many witnesses), everyone processed up the center aisle, and the relic was centered in front of the sanctuary. The liturgy of reception continued with Scripture readings and a homily.


Once the rite had concluded, people came steadily all day long to venerate Don Bosco’s relic and pray. Unfortunately, no one thought to try to count the visitors (so I was told late in the day); they came from all over the world, of course. But someone on the cathedral staff did tell Fr. Pat Angelucci, coordinator of the day of pilgrimage there, that they estimated 1,000 people an hour had passed by the casket.

I looked at five pages of the visitor’s log in the back of the cathedral, covering roughly three afternoon hours, and noted that tourists and/or pilgrims who had “signed in” had come from 18 states, 6 Canadian provinces, Puerto Rico, and 17 countries in Latin America, Europe, and Asia. Those of course were only the ones who registered their visit. At two points during the long day, I spoke with visitors from New Orleans, representing a 19th state, and Montreal, representing a 7th province.

School kids came from all over the metro area—Annunciation and St. Paul in Manhattan, St. Jerome in the Bronx, among others—and even from Rochester (St. John Bosco Middle School, not affiliated with the Salesians). So did various groups of sisters. Especially prominent at both Haverstraw and St. Patrick’s were the Sisters of Life and the Missionaries of Charity—the latter, Mother Teresa’s sisters, are devoted to our Founder because in Calcutta the SDBs have been their chaplains, I understand, since the beginning of Mother’s work. The Salesian Sisters were present in force at St. Patrick’s. There were many Franciscan Friars of the Renewal, too, at both the Marian Shrine and the cathedral, and at the latter also a numerous delegation of their female counterparts. Salesian sisters and novices, Missionaries of Charity, and other sisters at the evening Mass

Don Bosco’s charism resonates across “party lines.” So-called “traditional Catholics” (followers of Abp. Lefevre) came to both the Shrine and the cathedral to pray to the patron of youth. I guess they’re “cafeteria Salesians,” akin to “cafeteria Catholics,” however, when it comes to Don Bosco’s teachings about the Papacy.

There were also Protestants. These, I’m sure, hadn’t come to the cathedral for Don Bosco; certainly, one Presbyterian couple whom I spoke with hadn’t. But they had come up to the relic out of curiosity about this strange Catholic fascination. They seemed to have an “aha moment” when I explained the idea of pilgrimage to the tombs of the saints, referencing The Canterbury Tales (who hasn’t read parts of them in high school?), and pointed to this as a reverse pilgrimage, the saint coming to the faithful who can’t travel to his tomb. (Fr. Dennis Donovan spoke eloquently of that in his homily in St. Pete, published in E-Service on Oct. 14, p. 3: http://www.salesians.org/e-service/documents/E-ServiceOct142010.doc)

All day, all the men in SDB initial formation—candidates, prenovices, novices, and young professed brothers—were present, greeting people, answering questions, and passing out literature. This made a great impression on people, including the vicar general of the archdiocese, Bishop Dennis Sullivan, who mentioned it to Fr. Pat two weeks later.

Knights of Columbus formed a guard of honor all day (in shifts) by the reliquary. This is a relatively quiet moment toward 2:00 p.m.

The only time the veneration was shut down was during the three midday and the 5:30 p.m. Masses. The cathedral staff presided at these but had asked for Salesians to preach, which Frs. Jim Heuser, Steve Leake, Pat Angelucci, and Tom Dunne did. It was a trick to give a five-minute homily on such a momentous occasion, and Fr. Jim did so very neatly, managing to link the saint of the day, Therese of Lisieux, to Don Bosco. Fr. Steve also linked the two saints. I missed the other two homilies while having lunch and supper in the burger and sandwich restaurant across 51st Street.

During the afternoon Fr. Dominic Tran approached and asked me whether I knew that Don Bosco is portrayed in a stained glass window in the cathedral. Of course I knew about the bas-relief in bronze on the back wall, placed in 1998 when our province celebrated its centennial. But if I’d ever heard about the window, I’d long forgotten it. Fr. Dom pointed it out, hoping that I might be able to photograph it. I could, and did, with some difficulty on account of its elevation. As you stand in the nave facing the sanctuary, it’s in the top rank of windows on the left, third set forward from the back. Each of those top windows is a sort of triptych, none of the images very large, at least when viewed from the floor.

For the 7:00 p.m. Mass honoring St. John Bosco, we had “only” three bishops (in contrast to D.C.’s five): Abp. Dolan, Bp. Emilio, and Bp. Jude Arogundade of Ondo, Nigeria, who is extremely happy to have SDBs in his diocese. I think he just happened to be in NYC, where he’d served as a parish priest before his appointment as bishop, and wanted to celebrate with us.

Bp. Jude also asked to meet Bro. Bruno when I told him we had a brother present who’d worked in Nigeria, and they had a nice meeting after Mass.


I didn’t count the concelebrating priests, but I’d put them at about 40, mostly SDBs. On account of traffic several others arrived after Mass had begun and, observing sound liturgical principles, didn’t vest and duck into the sanctuary.


All the seminarians from St. Joseph’s Seminary in Yonkers were present, arranged on both sides of the sanctuary in cassock and surplice.

The cathedral, which seats 2,200, was nearly full—a few empty seats in the back, but also a good number of people standing on the sides and in the back. So we had about 2,000 in the congregation. The congregation fills the center sections of the nave during the homily at the evening Mass

The Mass was televised live by EWTN.

The Latino choir of Holy Rosary Church in Port Chester provided the music, lively and enthusiastic. I think my favorite visual from the entire celebration came at the very end, as the choir sang, the musicians played, and those in the congregation who were able sang “Su Concerto Han Entonado” (to the melody of “St. John Bosco, O Loving Father”): that visual was Abp. Dolan standing at the altar, waiting for the other ministers to clear the sanctuary and beating time with his crosier.

It's a photo and not a video, so you can't tell that Abp. Dolan is beating time with his crosier. Too bad EWTN missed that while focused on the departing concelebrants.
Abp. Dolan clearly was having the time of his life, smiling, applauding, and shouting, “Viva Don Bosco!” throughout the celebration. (Actually, he seems to enjoy his job immensely most of the time.) He was thrilled with a gift of a relic of Don Bosco in a small monstrance, presented to him by Fr. Tom at the end of Mass.

Like a kid on Christmas morning! Abp. Dolan shows off the small relic of St. John Bosco that Fr. Provincial has just given him.

There was also a small gift for Sr. Mary Bosco Daly, the archbishop’s retired second grade teacher, presented by Fr. Tom and Sr. Phyllis Neves: a medallion of her patron saint.



The archbishop’s homily resembled his remarks at the Marian Shrine the previous day but weren’t identical. He explained that relics of the saints are important for helping us to pray and come closer to God.

He offered three lessons from the example of St. John Bosco:
(1) Dare to dream; never stop dreaming, hoping, daring. Don Bosco was like both the patriarch Joseph and St. Joseph. Yesterday, he said, “the dream prevailed” for 2,000 young people amid the rain and the mud. Today’s world can be discouraging; Don Bosco tells us to keep dreaming. (2) The Church needs to be wherever people are hurting and struggling, like the young boys of Turin in the 19th century, because Jesus would be there. “Where does the Church need to be today?” he asked. “With the unborn, the immigrants, the sick, elders, atheists, secularists,” he answered.
(3) The center of Don Bosco’s life was Jesus, who is particularly alive and present in three ways: in the arms of his Mother—stay close to Mary; in the Blessed Sacrament and at Mass; in the person of the Holy Father.
The staff of St. Patrick’s—Msgr. Ritchie, Fr. Joe Tyrrell, and everyone else—were wonderfully, wonderfully cooperative in every way (just as the staff of the National Shrine in D.C. had been)—in the planning, in the execution, and of immediate interest to Rudy Gomez and me, giving us free rein to go just about anywhere to take pictures. (I don’t think either of us asked to get upstairs, which we were invited to do in the National Shrine and did.) I got to tease Fr. Joe a bit about that, because back in April, when I was concelebrating at the annual Scout Mass, he “busted on” me for taking some surreptitious photos from my place in the sanctuary. As soon as the concelebrants cleared the center aisle, there was a mad rush to get up to the relic. The line stretch the length of the cathedral--and was just as packed approaching from either transept, as well.

At the solemn Mass in the evening, the ushers were students from Salesian HS and Don Bosco Prep, who made an positive impact on visitors and cathedral staff. And, Fr. Pat noted, the staff at the cathedral does not readily give up their ushering responsibility!

During the long hours of veneration, many SDBs were on hand to answer questions, offer advice, and hear confessions. Here's Fr. Steve Ryan at the altar rail, near the relic, during the post-Mass crush

Around 9:00 p.m. the Vietnamese friends of St. John Bosco, under the leadership of Fr. Dominic, offered a prayer service. That service featured young people dressed in traditional garb doing a touching and quite elegant liturgical dance with candles and incense. The Vietnamese were followed by a mariachi band that Fr. Rich Alejunas brought from Port Chester; they played and led singing until 10:45. Veneration of the relic concluded at 11:00 p.m., well past the cathedral’s usual hours.


Veneration resumed on Saturday morning, briefly, before Bp. Emilio presided over the closing of Don Bosco’s pilgrimage to New York. The SDBs who were present for the closing gathered around Don Bosco’s casket and renewed their religious profession.

The New York celebrations of “Don Bosco Among Us” also included a program at the Italian consulate. On the afternoon of Oct. 1 an educational symposium was held there, sponsored by the consulate in conjunction with Fordham University. Professors from different universities spoke about the educational methods of Don Bosco, Maria Montessori, and other Italian educators. Fr. Lou Molinelli presented a paper on Don Bosco. The entire program, which the consulate plans to publish, culminated in a showing of Leandro Castellani’s 1987 film Don Bosco, which starred Ben Gazzara. Mr. Gazzara himself was present to talk about his experience portraying Don Bosco.

In addition, the Westchester (County) Italian Cultural Center ran a week-long program on Don Bosco and other outstanding Italians, including the “first run” of Fr. Lou’s paper on Sept. 28 and a showing of Goffredo Alessandri’s 1936 Don Bosco with introduction and commentary by Fr. Javier Aracil on Oct. 5.

Homily for 29th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
29th Sunday of Ordinary TimeOct. 17, 2010
2 Tim 3: 14—4:2
Provincial House, New Rochelle

“Remain faithful to what you have learned and believed, because you know from whom you learned it” (2 Tim 3: 14).

Paul’s letters to Timothy are sustained pastoral instructions, addressed to a disciple who’s been given care of one of Paul’s churches, specifically the Christian community at Ephesus. Paul writes from prison, as one who has “competed well, finished the race, kept the faith” (4:7). Now Timothy is in the contest. It’s his task to carry on what Paul has begun: “teaching, refutation, correction, training in righteousness” (3:16).

Paul reminds Timothy of the 2 sources from which he is to work, carrying out his pastoral responsibility: Paul himself and the sacred Scriptures. Paul, of course, couldn’t realize that part of his own writings would soon be recognized as sacred Scripture (cf. 2 Pet 3:15). What he taught was the Gospel that he had received from Jesus, and what he wrote in his letters was commentary on that Gospel in various forms of explanation, exhortation, and correction.

Paul’s words to his disciple remind me of what the Congregation has been saying to us for the last several years: return to Don Bosco—“Remain faithful to what you have learned and believed, because you know from whom you learned it.”

And like St. Paul, Don Bosco points us toward the ultimate source of his teaching: Jesus Christ and the Scriptures. So the Congregation has been telling us not only to return to Don Bosco but thru him to return to Christ, in order that thru him we might lead the young to Christ.

It’s the Scriptures that give us “wisdom for salvation thru faith in Christ Jesus” (3:15). To find Jesus, to meet Jesus, to know Jesus, we have 2 sources: the sacred liturgy and the sacred Scriptures. To lead others to Jesus—whether the young or the no longer young—we have those same 2 sources.

We know, of course, how much Don Bosco insisted on the sacraments, on Eucharistic piety, on Marian feast days. We may not realize how thoroughly grounded he was in the Scriptures, even if he didn’t have the benefit of modern studies. We have to imitate him by reading the Scriptures, studying the Scriptures, seeking Christ in the Scriptures, praying with the Scriptures. St. Jerome advises us that “ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ.”* Or, to put it positively, knowledge of the Scriptures is knowledge of Christ.

Paul charges Timothy of proclaim the word—what he has learned from his reliable teacher and from the Scriptures. After the most important matter of our own salvation, our own souls—“wisdom for salvation thru faith in Christ Jesus”—our urgent task, as we know, our God-given mission, is evangelization: the preaching of that same Gospel which Paul handed over to Timothy, faith in Jesus Christ. Don Bosco’s work exists for no other reason—not for arts and trades, not for academic excellence, not for football championships—but for “the salvation of souls and the glory of God,” a phrase that was on our Founder’s lips or flowing from his pen even more than Da mihi animas.

Since nemo dat quod non habet [no one gives what he doesn't have], it’s absolutely necessary for us to have Jesus in our hearts, to be filled with him—and thus to encounter him daily in the Eucharist and regularly in Reconciliation; to take the Scriptures daily in hand, as our Rule urges us (C 87), in order to listen to him. Conversion begins in our meeting Jesus—and the 1st soul to be converted is always our own.

* Commentary on Isaiah, 1:2 (LOH 4:1448).