The View From My Window - The Shrine Church of St. Anthony of

Introduction
On August 15, 1995, I began what would become one of the most
challenging and fulfilling chapters of my life. After serving a year as associate
pastor of Saint Thomas Aquinas Roman Catholic Church in Derry, New
Hampshire, I became pastor of that parish.
Nothing in the training of a Roman Catholic priest prepares you for the
adventure of being a pastor. The pastor is Chief Executive Officer, Chief
Financial Officer, Chief Security Officer, Personnel Director, Human Resources
Officer, Counselor, Chief Bottle Washer and Janitor. The pastor is responsible
for literally everything that happens in his parish, as well as reporting to such
major superiors as the Bishop of the Diocese and other religious superiors. A
pastor’s job encompasses such sublime things as celebrating Mass, performing
weddings and funerals, preparing sermons and homilies, visiting hospitals,
nursing homes, and homebound parishioners, to such mundane things as
unplugging stuffed toilets and rescuing people stuck between floors on the
elevator.
With the pastor of a church, the buck literally stops at his desk. This was
all compounded by the fact that Saint Thomas was the largest parish in the
Roman Catholic Diocese of Manchester, with close to ten thousand members.
Although this was not my first stint as a pastor (I served for some ten years in a
parish in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania), my former parish was like a small country
church in comparison to Saint Thomas.
`What follows is a sampling of a weekly article I wrote in the Sunday
bulletin during my nine years as pastor called The View From My Window. I say
sampling because the entire collection contained over four hundred articles, far
too many for a decent-sized book and far too detailed to sustain much interest.
What is contained in this book, however, are the teachings, memories,
and challenges, as well as the frustrated ranting and ravings of a pastor of a
mega-church journeying with his parishioners on the path to salvation.
I wish to express my thanks to all my friends who encouraged me to
compile this work: the parishioners of Saint Thomas, my loving family (hope I
didn’t embarrass you too much), my brother Franciscans, my friends, those who
helped through proofreading, scanning, collecting, editing, cutting and pasting
(both from Saint Thomas and my new parish of Saint Anthony), and all those who
prodded me on when I wanted to say “FUGGEDDABOUTIT.”
I love you all so much.
Father Joe
The View From My Window
1995
September 24, 1995
Homily for my Installation as Pastor
1. Good afternoon, and thank you all for coming. All of our parishioners know
that, when I preach, I usually like to tie in some story or anecdote, something that
demonstrates everything that we are talking about. One of my favorite things in
this world, as I think you can surmise just by looking at me, is food.
2. I have my sister Angela here to testify to that, because when I go home, it is
Angela who has to feed me. As a matter of fact, for all of us in our family, food
played a very important part in our lives. Some people look at food from a
purely scientific point of view – you eat enough food so the body can convert the
calories to energy, and your body can perform its functions. But for members of
our family, and, I would think, most ethnic families, certainly most Italian families,
food has more of a function than just calories.
3. You see, food was synonymous with family, with love and with caring.
Whenever something important happened in our lives it was celebrated at the
table. Weddings, baptisms, and even funerals were all accompanied by great
banquets.
Holidays, holy days, Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, were all
celebrated at the dinner table. In fact, the dinner table and church were very
closely linked. We went to church together to be nourished spiritually, to
celebrate the important events in our lives, and then we went home, or to the
banquet hall, to continue our celebration at the dinner table.
4. Certainly the food was very important: the pasta, the meatballs, that special
focaccia my mother used to make, the fish dinners of Christmas Eve, and the
home-made lasagna. We wouldn’t think of a Sunday without a giant meal, with
everything from antipasto to pasta, to meat, to fruit and pastries. I am happy to
report that my sister continues this tradition.
5. But there was something more important than eating that went on. Our meals
weren’t a matter of stuffing our faces and running home. We dined in the finest
sense of the word. We savored every morsel and tasted the wonderful spices.
But even more than that, we shared ourselves.
6. Our meals were always a source of love, coming together, talking, sharing,
hugging and kissing, watching the little children grow up, singing songs together,
remembering grandma and grandpa, and today, remembering mom. Laughing,
smiling, and yes, crying and mourning, remembering those who were no longer
with us at the table, and anticipating future generations of children and
grandchildren who would join us.
7. The food was important, but not as important as being together and sharing
our lives with one another. We didn’t want to leave; we didn’t want to get up
from the table, because we would have such a wonderful time.
8. Our coming together at Mass, for church, to celebrate as a parish community,
is very much like a meal. As a matter of fact, Jesus reminds us that it is a meal.
But what kind of meal is it for us?
9. We know that today, people are too busy to sit down and dine together. Sure,
occasionally, we go to a fancy restaurant and have a leisurely meal. But most of
the time, we are gulping down our food running from one place to another.
10. I have often thought of the two extremes, the wonderful banquet that we
share as a family; the banquet I just described, and the other end of the
spectrum, the McDonald’s drive through. And I think both of these can be
compared to what we look for in church.
11. For many, church has become like the McDonald’s drive through. We come
for forty-five minutes or an hour, get what we need to fulfill church law, to do our
duty and then we’re gone.
12. We all know that church should be a banquet, where we come to celebrate
our relationship with God, with Jesus Christ, and with one another. Church
should be a place where we love to be, not a place where we are constantly
looking at our watches to see how long Mass is running. Church should be a
place where we come, not just for Sunday Mass, but at other times during the
week, to share ourselves, and to minister to one another.
13. The challenge of being church today, and the challenge to us at Saint
Thomas Aquinas Church, is to use this day as a new beginning, with new
opportunities. What we need to have here at Saint Thomas is a community of
believers, believers who wish to walk with us in faith, to challenge our community
and our world, to build the City of God here on earth.
13. For those who like McDonald’s drive through, we will always be here for you
to provide for your needs. But we challenge you to get involved in our parish
community, to share your talents and your gifts through stewardship to the
church.
14. As pastor, I promise you that I will do everything I can to be present for you
in your need, to be with you in good times and in bad, to give good ministry, and
to be here when you are in need.
15. Saint Thomas Church needs to take that next step, to be source of
spirituality for the people of Derry, to be an example of Christian living and
service. I have been told that Saint Thomas was once the most active parish in
the diocese. I hope it will be so once again. But activity cannot be the measure
of our parish community’s success. Our success will only be measured in how
well we live and preach the Gospel, how much we adhere to the will of God in
our lives, and how much we mirror during the week, what we celebrate on
Sunday.
16. For us as a parish community, our Sunday Mass together only has meaning
if we have lived our Catholic and Christian faith for the rest of the week. People
must see in us, the challenge of the Gospel, as much of a struggle as it is to live
each day.
16. Not that we are a perfect community. As human beings and as Christians,
we are also sinners. We will make mistakes. Even I will make many mistakes as
your pastor, as will your associate pastors, and our parish staff. But, the
wonderful message of Christianity is the message of the cross and forgiveness,
and that we can always rise from our failures.
17. Our gospel today challenges us to be special. It challenges us to make our
commitment to Jesus Christ and His church the centerpiece of everything we do,
not simply just another aspect of our very busy lives. Let us resolve that together
we may work to build up the Body of Christ here at Saint Thomas Aquinas
Church.
November 11, 1995
New Beginnings
As I look out the window of my office today, I find it a bit sad that summer
has passed so quickly and the leaves are falling off the trees. All of the
wonderful things I had planned to experience this summer, a fishing trip to
Canada, riding the Mount Washington steam boat on Lake Winnepausakee,
exploring the mountains of our beautiful state, and seeing a moose, will have to
wait for another time. Life is full of good intentions that never happen, and
opportunities that we let pass us by.
Someone once said that opportunity knocks once, and while we may
agree or disagree with this, we understand that today we are presented with
many opportunities for growth in our parish. We have been blessed with new
priests, several new staff members, and many, many different people who are
eager to re-dedicate themselves to building the City of God here at Saint Thomas
Aquinas Church. There are many things to do. But nothing can be done without
you, the people of Saint Thomas.
No parish, no matter how good its pastor, its associate pastors, or its
parish staff, can hope to be true to its commitment without dedicated lay people
to take on positions of service in the parish community. No parish can ever truly
reach out to others unless a good number of its people are involved in its
activities.
In the next few months, we will be talking about building up the parish
community of Saint Thomas by sharing our resources, our talents and our time,
for the glory of God and for building the kingdom on earth. All our parishioners
and friends will be asked to assess how much of a return they can make to a
God who has given them so much, and how much of their talents can they return
to God through His holy church. Perhaps you can begin thinking of how this call
to renewed stewardship will manifest itself in your life, and in the life of your
family. And hopefully, we will all respond with some measure of the generosity
that God has bestowed on us. Only then can we ever hope to make eternal the
springtime that shines forth from the view from my window.
November 26, 1995
Francis, Rebuild My Church
When I was in the seminary, the view from my window looked out on a
beautiful statue of Saint Francis. He was kneeling before a Byzantine-style
crucifix in the abandoned chapel of Saint Damian, on the outskirts of Assisi, in
Italy. Suddenly, Jesus, appearing on the crucifix spoke to Francis saying,
"Francis, rebuild my church, for it is falling into disrepair."
As I look out to our church building, I almost expect to hear Jesus saying
the same thing. A quick look at the shingles of our church, especially in the front,
shows the need for repair our church is experiencing. On any given rainy day,
about six or seven leaks can be seen. One of the problems with any parish is that
we depend on donations for our income. We have no ordinary source of income
other than the generosity of our people. Saint Thomas Church is a complex
institution. Besides our ordinary expenses, we must give assistance to our school
and our catechetical programs. These are not options for us, they are demanded
of us by virtue of justice. Add to that the many people we assist with charity, the
many hungry people of Derry who cannot meet their own ordinary expenses. You
may ask why do we help these people when we are in need ourselves? The
answer to that is simple; what would Jesus do if He were here? And the corollary
to that is even simpler; Jesus IS here, in us. As Christians, much more is
demanded of us than ordinary people. As Roman Catholics, even more is
expected. We do not have the option of ignoring the poor, or our children, or the
needy. We do not have the option of turning away those who seek faith, or the
sacraments, or counseling. We cannot ignore the needs that we see before us. If
we did, we would neither be Catholic nor church. If you read church bulletins, as
I like to do, you will see how low our patterns of giving are at Saint Thomas.
Many much smaller churches in the area have offertory collections that are
much, much larger than ours, and yet have populations that are much smaller.
Many of these churches have instituted tithing programs, or stewardship
programs. We, at Saint Thomas, need to do this also. We cannot continue to put
band-aids on our gaping wounds. Rather, we need to find a long-term solution for
long-term problems.
1996
January 7, 1996
Family Life
The view from my window was a little different this past week. I had the
opportunity to go home to my family in Staten Island, New York. It was wonderful
seeing dad, my sister, and the kids (now all grown up but they'll always be 'the
kids’. Family is such an important part of our lives. Today, families don't look like
they used to. The days of mom, dad, and the children have been replaced in a lot
of instances with mom and the kids, dad and the kids, and an unbelievable
amount of combinations. Come to think of it, the whole notion of a mom, dad, and
kids is a modern-day myth, at least for us poorer folk. Even when I was growing
up, we really didn't have the typical family. We had what we would call and
"extended family,” grandma, grandpa, aunts and uncles all living under the same
roof. There was great comfort in all these people together, and a lot of love and
caring. While the holidays are now coming to an end, we need to be reminded
that all the good feelings Christmas brings of giving, and loving, and caring for
one another, must remain. What our family looks like or how it is composed
should not be an issue.
Even in the friary, we share family life. How much love we give to one
another and especially to the children growing up in our midst, should definitely
be the issue. As I look around it seems that family life is disintegrating in many
ways. We don't have time for each other. We no longer gather for meals; most of
the eating is done quickly and haphazardly (McDonald's drive through again).
This means that we don't have time to sit with each other to talk, to share, to
laugh, or to cry. It is unbelievable how many important things go unsaid in
families, because we don't communicate or we don't want to take the trouble to
listen. As our families grow older, this becomes even more of a problem; our
seniors feel more and more isolated, alone and abandoned, and our young ones
grow up without the benefit of their wisdom and their unique outlook on life. A
long time ago I came to the conclusion that life on this planet is very fragile, and
we need to be good to each other and good to ourselves. I hope that, whatever
resolutions you have made for this New Year, one that definitely begs to be
included, will be to be more loving, and kinder to others.
January 21, 1996
Respect for Life
When I was a child, during the summers the view from my window was a
glorious one. I had the wonderful experience of spending my youthful summers in
upstate New York. Members of our family owned a summer cottage a stone's
throw from a lake, near the city of Port Jervis, New York. As soon as school was
over, we would all trek north to the three homes my aunts and uncles owned.
There I frolicked and played with my many cousins who would spend the whole
summer there with us. Being close to Lake Hawthorne, we would spend many
hours each day there, swimming, fishing, catching turtles and lizards, and
playing. I remember the deep respect my family taught me concerning these little
creatures. When a robin fell from its nest, it was always carefully returned so its
mother could care for it. One time I lifted up a tin can in the lake to find a nest of
tiny catfish, millions of them, it seemed at the time. I carefully put them back,
hoping I did not cause too much of a disturbance. When we would fish, the little
ones we caught were always carefully returned to the lake. We ushered turtles
across the road, so they would not be run over by passing cars. I remember once
we went blueberry picking in the mountains, when we encountered a bear cub
and its mother. We were careful not to disturb them, and were very respectful of
them. Even the little baby fawns that would nibble at the bushes behind our
house were treated with reverence and respect, and often we would leave a
special ''treat'' for them. Surrounded by nature, life was so important to us, from
the smallest wildflower to the large sunflowers, to the biggest tree.
This week we are marking ''Respect for Life" by recalling the Supreme
Court's Roe v. Wade decision. Why don't we treat our own the way we treat the
other creatures of the earth. We would never think of disturbing a pregnant
animal. Law protects even spawning fish. Why do our thoughts and actions
change when it comes to the "inconvenience" of a pregnancy, or abusing our
children, or our sick and elderly? Certainly, there are many emotions that come
into play with all of this, but if we, as humans, are so precious in the eyes of God,
shouldn't the fruit of our own bodies be treated with the utmost dignity, respect,
and reverence? In the view from my window, respect for life means first and
foremost respect for ourselves, and for the weakest among us.
February 18, 1996
Baptisms
The baptism of an infant is always a happy occasion. It signifies new birth,
new life into a family, and much joy for families and friends alike. Baptism
incorporates this child into the new life of grace, and thus, the baby enters into a
special relationship with God. Baptism, unfortunately, is also one of the most
misunderstood of the sacraments. Some think baptism is some magical ritual,
some water rite. Even the common use of the word "Christening" presumes
some kind of blessing, rather than entering into a relationship. And, like any
relationship, baptism is a two way street.
In the Christian tradition, we baptize infants based on the faith of their
parents, and in a similar way, their godparents. The parents and godparents
assure the church that they will raise their child as a Catholic by the good
example which they give that child. This is why the church often emphasizes the
importance of this sacrament to the parents; because it is the parents and
godparents who are making the commitment in this sacrament. This opens up
the question, what happens when the parents and godparents are not practicing
Catholics, that is; they do not go to church and do not participate in the
sacraments? This poses a huge problem for those of us who minister to them.
Some parents are very resistant to the prospect of getting up on Sunday and
going to Mass. Yet, that is what is required of them. Sure, they will tell us that we
are denying baptism to their child; it is their child's right to be baptized. But look
at all the things they are denying their child, the Christian witness and example of
their own lives. If there is one thing we do not need it is empty rituals that
promise everything and mean nothing. Baptism can indeed be an empty ritual if
the child never sees the inside of the church until First Communion, or if the
parents and godparents do not use the baptism as an opportunity to get their
own spiritual lives in order.
On the subject of godparents, the church (and we do too) expects
godparents to be MODEL CATHOLICS. They are not to be just "nice guys," or
good humanitarians. They are to be chosen not because they had a special part
in one's wedding, or because of the relationship they have with the family; they
are chosen because they are model, practicing Catholics. A Godparent enters
into a spiritual relationship with the child, and therefore, the qualifications need to
be spiritual. Here at Saint Thomas we are in the process of tightening up our
policies in regard to infant baptism and godparents. Our intention is not to deny
anyone baptism, or to give parents and godparents a hard time, but to challenge
people in their faith.
If you went to a doctor and you were overweight or had high blood
pressure, and the doctor never said anything to you about this, you would think
he wasn't a very good doctor. You might even sue him for malpractice if the
condition results in serious illness. We, as your priests, have an even stronger
obligation to challenge our parishioners in the practices of the faith. And if the
parents and godparents don't want to do it for themselves, then at least do it for
this new child, who deserves the gift of faith, and the witness, and example that
only his or her parents and godparents can give.
February 25, 1996
The Practice of Lent
In the view from my window, when I was growing up in Brooklyn, New
York, Ash Wednesday was a special day. Since I went to Catholic grade school,
we were brought over by class to the church to receive ashes on our foreheads.
Our goal as youngsters was to keep the ashes on our foreheads for as long a
time as possible. When nightfall would come, my mother would always insist (like
any good mother) that I would wash up before I went to bed. This, for her,
included the ashes, and I would make every effort to keep the ashes until the
next day. Of course, mom always won. She would tell me that the ashes weren't
as important as doing something penitential for Lent, like giving up candy or the
movies; giving my allowance to the poor, or some other act of self-denial. That
aspect of Lent hasn't changed.
Lent confronts us with the battle between the external and the internal.
Very often we, like the scribes and Pharisees, become good at performing the
external trappings of our faith, but in turn have difficulties with the internal
realities. Witness how many people we see at Mass on Ash Wednesday, a
weekday, no less. I often wonder how many of these people understand why we
are receiving ashes. Or how about the crowd that comes only on Christmas or
Palm Sunday, or Easter. People in church circles refer to them as "CAPE"
Catholics. (Christmas, Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday, and Easter). How can we
reach out to these CAPE Catholics to let them know that we are here on the
other fifty Sundays of the year? How can we make them believe that faith and
religion can be a positive influence in their lives and the lives of their children and
families? How can we impress on them that faith and religion mean entering into
a personal relationship with God, a relationship based on love?
I read an article in the newspaper today that says doctors have concluded
that prayer and religion help a sick person get better. The article also said that a
doctor's prescription should include "going to church every week." Could science
and medicine be reaching the same conclusions that we as Christians and
Catholics have believed for centuries? While they wouldn't go so far as saying it
was God's intervention that was doing the healing, they did admit that religion
has a positive and healthy influence on human lives. In these days of dieting,
quitting smoking, working out at the gym, lowering cholesterol, cutting fat, could
"Sunday Mass" and ''prayer'' be another prescription for good health? I would
think so. And who knows, it might make all of us (and our CAPE friends)
healthier. And, in the view from my window, it would give us a wonderful fringe
benefit for when our health finally fails us – ETERNAL LIFE! What could be better
than that? Happy Lent.
March 7, 1996
March Madness
It is said that March "comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb." Here
in New Hampshire, we have sometimes expected it to come in like a lion and go
out like a brontosaurus! March does, however, herald the coming of spring and
the end of winter. But for me, March heralds spring training and baseball
season.
I think a lot of you know that I am a baseball fan (New York Yankees), and
a football fan (Pittsburgh Steelers). I’d like to tell you a little bit about my own
“sports” history, as such. I grew up in Brooklyn, New York, and from the earliest
time I can remember my family rooting for the Brooklyn Dodgers. I remember my
dad taking me to Ebbets Field to see the Dodgers play, seeing Duke Snyder, Roy
Campanella, Gil Hodges, Pee Wee Reese, Sandy Koufax, Carl Furillo, Sandy
Amaros. One day I came home from school and found my mother crying
because the Dodgers beat the Yankees in the World Series. One Brooklyn
Newspaper later named the three most evil men in history, Hitler, Stalin, and
Walter O’Malley, owner of the Dodgers, who moved them to Los Angeles in 1957
after renewing his lease on Ebbets Field for another three years.
I became a Yankee fan after that, not because I mourned the passing of
the Dodgers, but because they were the only show in town. My heroes were
Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford. My friends and I would go
almost two or three times a week on the D train to Yankee stadium (15 cents),
pay $1.10 for a grandstand seat (sit anywhere you want in the upper deck). We
always sat behind home plate, watched batting practice, and cheered on our
heroes. And we dreamed of playing for the Yankees one day.
When I as in the fifth grade, I began playing league baseball, and played
organized baseball up through college. For many years I played in an
organization called the All American Amateur Baseball Association. This
organization encompassed teams from bantam level- 10 years old, all the way up
to minor leagues. I started out as a first baseman, went to the outfield, and ended
up a catcher, a position I loved because it put me in the middle of every pitch. I
was an excellent hitter, and hit the farthest home run ever hit during my high
school days, measuring over 350 feet. It would have been a home run in any
major league park. During my days in the Parade Grounds league, I had the
privilege of hitting a game winning double off of a kid named Johnny Candelaria,
who would go on to be the ace pitcher for the Pittsburgh Pirates, and attended a
batting/catching clinic given by a young player from our league named Joe Torre.
I always tell the story of a meeting we had with Joe, who at the time was
on the brink of being called up to the majors (Milwaukee Braves) in 1961. Joe
had a group of us together and asked us who wanted to be big leaguers. Of
course, all our hands went up. And he gave us a lesson about sacrifice. He
said:
“How many of you like to go to the movies?”
We all raised our hands. He said, “ If you want to be a big league player,
don’t go to the movies - instead, practice.
How many of you like to go to Coney Island?
How many of you have girlfriends?”
The answer was always the same. If you want to be a big league baseball
player, you had to give up some of those things and practice.
This baseball league was not a neighborhood little league. It was
composed of teams all across New York City (mostly Brooklyn), and we played at
a giant complex in the middle of Brooklyn called the Parade Grounds of Prospect
Park. When I played, there were about thirty ball fields. There were also two
pretty big stadiums, reserved for the minor league players. By the way, about
fifty-five alumni of the Parade Grounds league went to the major leagues. Just to
name a few of the more famous: John Franco, Sandy Koufax, Willie Randolph,
Lee Mazzilli and, hold your breath Red Sox fans, Manny Ramirez.
I also played some football in high school, but baseball was always my
first love. When I grew up, I liked football, but didn’t really become a big fan of the
NFL or college ball until I went to Pittsburgh. I landed in Pittsburgh in the middle
of their Super Bowl Run, when they won four titles in six years, and got caught up
in Steeler fever. I had some great benefactors who took me to the games, and
eventually, got my own season tickets about three years before I got transferred.
I always like to tell the story of the 1980 Superbowl. I had a good friend
who took me to all the games, sitting in his company box. He promised that, if the
Steelers went to the Super Bowl, he would take me to Pasadena for the game.
So guess what? The Steelers went all the way to the Super Bowl and beat the
Los Angeles Rams. And guess who went to the game? No, not me!
A few months before hand, my beloved Aunt Tessie Junior and Uncle
Happy told me that they were planning to celebrate their fiftieth wedding
anniversary with a big Mass and dinner. At the time it didn’t compute, but the
anniversary was on Super Bowl Sunday. As the time got closer, I began to
realize that there was a major conflict here. But there was never any discussion
about my choice. After all, family came first. My only request was a TV set up
someplace at the banquet hall. It was the funniest thing to see all the women
dancing by themselves while the men were all cramped into the small cloakroom
watching the Super Bowl. Every once in a while, one of the aunts would come in
and yell, “Come on, they’re serving the pasta.”
And we’d all rush into the banquet hall, gulp down the pasta, and run back
to see if we missed anything during the football game. This was repeated
several times until the game was over.
The Pittsburgh Steelers had some of the greatest football teams ever in
those years. Terry Bradshaw, Franco Harris, Mean Joe Green, Jack Lambert,
Lynn Swann, John Stallworth, the famous Steel Curtain, were just among a few.
The Steelers were owned by Art Rooney, the patriarch of the Rooney family, who
still own the Steelers. Art was a kind old man and his brother was a Franciscan
priest named Father Silas Rooney. I would see Art Rooney every once in a while
at a funeral or some civic affair. Even though he was probably one of the most
famous men in town, he would approach me when he would see my Franciscan
habit and say, very humbly, “You know, Father, my brother is a Franciscan, too.”
As if I didn’t know.
When I lived in Pittsburgh I got to be pretty good friends with the Mayor,
Dick Caliguiri. I got to know him when he was on the city council, and when he
became mayor he would occasionally come to visit at the friary. A couple of times
Mayor Caliguiri invited me to attend Steelers games and I would sit in the
Mayor’s Box with him. It was so cool.
In college football, there was a great rivalry in that area between the
University of Pittsburgh and Penn State. They were like the Yankees and Mets.
You loved one and hated the other. At the time, there was a young kid who was
the quarterback for Central Catholic High School. I met him a few times at
sporting banquets. His name was Danny Marino and he went to Pitt and later
played for the Dolphins. I never understood why the Steelers didn’t draft him.
Anyway, one of the kids from our neighborhood was his center, Jimmy Sweeney.
He went on to play for the Jets and the Steelers. When the Steelers played the
Jets, he’d get us tickets at Giant Stadium, and afterwards Jimmy and some of the
other Jets would come over my sister’s house for Sunday dinner. It was a lot of
fun.
March 14, 1996
Carrying our Cross
I came across an interesting survey the other day. The survey had to do
with corporate logos, and how easily identifiable they were. Seven thousand
people in six different countries were asked to identify various symbols and
logos. The most frequently identified logo was the five-ring logo of the Olympic
games; at ninety-two percent, it was the most widely recognized. The logo for
McDonald's and Shell Oil were the next highest at eighty-eight percent.
Interesting in this survey was that only fifty-four percent correctly identified the
cross as representing Christianity. I was very surprised by all of this. I knew that
people would recognize McDonald's golden arches, but only a little more than
half recognized the cross?
We as Christians understand the true meaning of the cross. As an
instrument of death and torture, the resurrection of Jesus Christ on Easter
morning has made this the ultimate sign of victory. The cross is so important to
us as Christians and as Catholics, that we display it in our homes and wear it
around our necks. We treat the cross with great reverence and respect. We sign
ourselves with the cross many times, and begin and end our prayer with this
reverent act. But have we been diligent enough in letting others know of the
importance of the cross, and its impact, not only on our lives, but also on the lives
of all people throughout the world? We know that Jesus came to save all people,
but have we been too selfish with the gift of our own faith? We recognize the fact
that, as Christians, we are called to bring all people to come to know the power of
the cross, but do our lives really reflect that belief?
How many times in our own day-to-day schedules do we let opportunities
pass by that can identity us as people of faith, and could challenge others to live
the gospel more closely? How often do we let idle talk, vicious gossip, destructive
actions, and outright maliciousness go by, because we don't want to be
considered odd or look like "holy rollers?" To wear the cross around our neck is
a commendable thing, but if it only remains a piece of jewelry, it amounts to
nothing. The cross must be worn, not so much around our necks, but in our lives,
in the way we conduct ourselves, and in the way we challenge others. In the view
from my window, the cross is the most powerful force in this world. However, its
true power lies, not in its recognition as a symbol, but in how those that profess
its power make it known.
April 21, 1996
Hate is a four-letter word
Last week, an interesting article appeared in the magazine U.S. News and
World Report. A poll was taken of parents about the effects of television on their
children. Many of the parents polled, in fact, a vast majority, expressed concern
about the nature of television programs, the values portrayed on these shows,
and the influence these shows were having on their children. Most of those who
responded felt that television was not a positive influence on their children. Many
cited the rampant violence, immorality, lack of good values, and increased
hostility toward religion as part of the problem. All of this was confirmed the other
night. I was exercising my index finger on our cable box remote control (part of
my weekly work-out program, as most men are prone to do), when I came across
the comedian George Carlin. Now, I have to admit that George Carlin was never
a favorite of mine. During my college days, he was pretty popular among the
college crowd, and I had found him somewhat amusing. This time, however, I
was completely turned off by what he felt was humor. He attacked just about
everything in the world, and a special target was religion. If you listened to him,
religion was about the worst thing that could have happened to humanity. Now, I
am not one who believes in censuring the media and entertainment world, but
there is a line where "entertainment" ceases to be simply "bad taste" and crosses
over into being "abusive." I found this man's comedy offensive and abusive. I
wondered if it were possible that the hundreds of people sitting there in the
audience at his show, all found this brand of humor so funny? Were there no
Christians at all in that audience who would protest what he was saying about
religion? Did anyone walk out on this vicious attack on religious values? I think
that it is true that some pretty nasty things have been done to people through the
years in the name of religion; but, in fact, these things had little to do with religion
in reality, and a lot to do with culture, politics, power, etc.
We all know that if people were truly living their faith, especially their faith
in Jesus Christ, a lot of what we hold as "religion" would not be done. True
religion does not teach us to hate. I am amused by the bumper stickers I have
seen around proclaiming, "Hate is not a family value." True religion does not
have us discriminate, or look down on people. True religion teaches us respect,
love, and care.
My own faith in Jesus Christ teaches me to be tolerant of other religions. I
grew up in a highly Jewish neighborhood. My faith taught me to respect that
religion, to respect their customs, and to honor those who practiced their faith.
My mother taught me to be as respectful to the rabbis who lived in our
neighborhood as we were to our own priests. I believe this should be extended to
all religions, even those we are not familiar with.
As a kid one of my favorite hangouts was Leo's Candy Store on
Fourteenth Avenue. Leo and his wife Sarah was a devout Jewish couple who
served up a mean chocolate ice cream soda. When I decided to enter the
seminary, Leo sent word that he wanted to see me. When I came into his store,
he shook my hand with reverence, telling me how proud he was that I had
decided to dedicate my life to God. He then gave me, for free, the biggest
chocolate ice cream soda I ever had! Here was a man who did not share our
faith, but understood, in his own simple way, the power of religion in our lives, the
power for good.
Certainly, there is nothing wrong with television; it can be a wonderful tool
for evangelization. Saint Clare of Assisi, the companion of our own Saint Francis
of Assisi, is the patron saint of television. And there is nothing wrong with good
comedy. But there is nothing good about entertainment that takes aim at the
good influences on the lives of children or the things that make us better people.
I hope, in the view from my window, that we as Christians will always be
respectful and reverent, not only of one another, but also of all people of faith in
the world: other Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, and that we will never use
religion as a source of destruction.
April 28, 1996
Vocations
This weekend, the Fourth Sunday of Easter, is commonly known as "Good
Shepherd Sunday," from our gospel. It is also traditionally the World Day of
Prayer for Vocations. The word vocation comes from the Latin word "voca,"
meaning, voice or call. It is an acknowledgement that God calls His people to a
commitment that becomes for us, a way of life. On this Day of Prayer for
Vocations, we zero in on a particular facet of the commitment to the Christian life,
the call to ministry through priesthood and religious life.
The topic of vocations is a special one to me, since for five years, from
1989 to 1994, prior to my coming to Derry, I was Provincial Director of Vocations
for my Franciscan province. As Director of Vocations, my duty was to journey
with men who were seeking entrance into the Franciscan way of life. During my
five years, almost forty men made the commitment to that journey, and many of
these are still in our formation program today. As a matter of fact, this summer,
three of these men will be professing their Solemn Vows in the Order of Friars
Minor. These will be the first of many who came into our formation program
during my term. One of the things that happens when you journey with these
men, from the very beginnings of a thought about possibly being a Franciscan, is
that you need to confront your own vocation.
My own vocation as a Franciscan and as a priest was nurtured in grade
school. At the tender age of thirteen, I entered our minor seminary in Andover,
Massachusetts. That age may seem quite young, and, in retrospect, although our
order no longer accepts anyone that young, it was a wonderful experience. All
my education and training from high school on, was directed toward one goal:
service to the church. Through my years in the seminary, up until my ordination
to the priesthood in 1976, I realized that the seeds of my vocation were not in my
seminary training, but in my early childhood and the influence of my family. I was
encouraged every part of the way. Family and friends fostered my devotion and
dedication to the church and to the order. Never once was I told that I was
wasting my life, or I was running away from society. In fact, the exact opposite
happened. However, my commitment forced me to confront the issues of my life
and plunged me into the problems of society.
As Vocation Director, I in turn challenged the young men who came to me
to deal with life and deal with their problems. ‘Issues that are buried are buried
alive,’ was my favorite phrase. And in their journey with me, many had to confront
the realization that they were not being called to priesthood or religious life. The
whole nature of vocations is still a mystery to me; why some flourish in religious
life, and others cannot make a go of it...and why God calls one and not the other.
On my ordination day, I was the only one who stood before the bishop for
Holy Orders, even though some fifty or more men had at one time or another
joined me as members of my class. Why I was the only one, I do not know.
Certainly, I wasn’t the smartest of the group, and I was far from being the holiest.
If you were to take a poll at the beginning of our seminary experience on who
would most likely succeed, I never would have chosen myself. I remember one
seminary professor telling us back in 1963, that of the twenty or so in our
freshman class, only three would be ordained. I remember looking around; there
was Jim, the holiest guy in our class; he would definitely be one of them. There
was Brian, certainly the most intelligent; he would certainly be a bishop some
day. There was Charles, the best personality of us all; his personality would
make him pope. Why they eventually dropped out and I was left standing there,
only our God in heaven knows. Whenever I pray the "Magnificat," Mary's
wonderful prayer, I am reminded that God chooses the weak to make them
strong.
Vocations are not the job of Vocation Directors alone, but rather we are all
called to foster vocations. You who are parents are the prime "Vocation
Directors" of the church today. Through your influence, a vocation to priesthood
or religious life will be fostered, or discouraged. I know my mother and father
considered my vocation to the Franciscan life and the priesthood to be one of the
crowning moments of their lives. This of course, is not to take anything away
from my sister, or their grandchildren, but I remember that day in May of 1976,
Mother's Day, when I celebrated my first Mass, with my family in the front row of
the church beaming with pride.
Let me tell you that it is a wonderful experience for a family to have a
priest, a religious brother or sister dedicated to God. Although the road is long
and difficult, and the sacrifices are many, the rewards are tremendous. Wouldn't
it be great if, out of all the young men and women in our parish today, in Saint
Thomas School, our CCD program, or in our high school program, one of them
might eventually respond positively to that special call from God to follow Him as
a religious or a priest? In the view from my window, let us dedicate ourselves to
always fostering vocations in our families, among our friends, in our church, and
in our world.
May 19, 1996
We are the Church
We are the church; we are the people of God; we are God's family. How
many times have we heard those words pronounced in church, sung in our
hymns, and preached from our pulpits? We are the church; we are God's holy
people. Very often, when we hear the word church, different images come to
mind. For some, church means a building, a structure. We may specifically think
of our own church, Saint Thomas Church, sitting there in its magnificence on
Crystal Avenue. We may think of other churches we see very often in our travels.
Many Catholics have adopted the time-honored custom of making the sign of the
cross every time they pass a church, a sign of reverence for the One who dwells
physically within. For others, the word church makes them think of the hierarchy:
the Pope, the bishops, the Vatican. We may think of the Roman Catholic Church
as a large institution, bearing great similarity to large corporations.
Nowhere do we see the true essence of church than when we take a look
in the mirror, and see ourselves. We are the church; we are God's holy people.
We see this most evident in several events that recently happened, and which
touched us as a community. The first of these events happened several weeks
ago, when Bishop Leo O'Neil visited our church on April 30th and confirmed
some fifty-five candidates, sealing them with the Holy Spirit. Here we saw the
church in action. Our shepherd, our leader, our bishop, came to Saint Thomas to
be with us and to confer the Sacrament of Confirmation on these candidates.
Before the ceremony, the Bishop traditionally comes to have dinner with the
parish priests. This year, I invited not only our parish staff, but also the
confirmation teachers who prepared these students in a special way to receive
this sacrament. Even there, in Aquinas House, sitting at table, eating delicious
ravioli and meatballs and sausage, we saw the church; a church gathered, a
church celebrating, a church joined in fellowship with its Bishop.
Our confirmation liturgy was truly beautiful to behold, and there again, we
saw the church gathered to pray, to worship, to call down the Holy Spirit, and
celebrating its unique place in the history of the world. These past two Saturdays
saw another example of the church gathered in prayer, our celebration of First
Holy Communion. First Holy Communion is not simply the first time these
children are receiving the Eucharist. It is also another step in their initiation as
Christians. The Church recognizes three sacraments of initiation: Baptism,
Eucharist, and Confirmation. These second-graders took that second step toward
their full reception into the church. First communions are always precious, with
little children dressed in white, looking so innocent, and receiving Christ for the
first time in the body and blood. Here we saw beaming parents and
grandparents, loving family and friends, all excited over this new step in their
relationship with God. Here is again the body of Christ, the people of God, joined
together as church, celebrating, singing, worshipping, and praying.
This past Tuesday saw another example of the church gathered together.
Monsignor Francis Christian, chancellor of the Diocese of Manchester and a
native of New Hampshire, was ordained a bishop, to serve as auxiliary bishop of
our diocese. There was the church gathered, the Papal Nuncio, Cardinals,
Archbishops, Bishops, Priests, Deacons, religious men and women, church
leaders, the laity, all gathered at Saint Joseph's Cathedral to witness one of their
own elevated to leadership as shepherd.
We are the church; our confirmation class, now filled with the Holy Spirit,
is the church. Our first communion class, now filled with the body and blood of
Christ, is the church. And you too are the church.
May 26, 1996
Miss You, Mom on Mother’s Day
In the view from my window, around this time of year I always start
thinking a lot about my mother. Not that I don't think about her all the time during
the rest of the year. It's just that, with the months of May and June coming, so
many events remind me of her: the anniversary of my ordination, Mother's Day,
and with June, the anniversary of her death.
I remember the day of her death so well. My mother had a severe heart
attack, and after a few weeks, the doctors decided to perform bypass surgery.
The surgery was successful, but my mother never regained consciousness. She
lingered in a coma for a few weeks in New York Hospital in Manhattan. It was
difficult even going to see her in the hospital because she didn't look like anyone
we recognized. Finally, I had to get back to my parish. Confirmation was corning
up and there were pressing needs. I told my family I would come back as soon
as I could. On the morning of my mother's death (June 5th), I had a funeral at the
church. It was a beautiful spring day with the sun shining bright. The funeral
entourage was late in arriving, so I stepped outside the church and stood on the
front steps. I remember looking up to heaven. I had been praying to God, to
Jesus, to the Blessed Mother for these few weeks, but now I decided to take a
different approach; I prayed to Saint Francis, founder of our order. I remember
looking up to the skies and saying, "Saint Francis, you know I am your son.
Please intercede for me and for my family. If morn is not to recover, then please
have God take her to Himself."
When I returned home from the funeral, I learned that my sister had called
to tell me that mom had died that morning. I felt my prayers had been answered.
Later on, after the funeral, I wondered whether I was being selfish in making such
a prayer. I realized that it was a prayer of faith, faith in knowing that I would see
my mother again, and a more beautiful life was waiting for her in heaven. Sure, I
would have loved to have seen her recover and come back home. I knew how
much she loved her family, her husband, her children, and her grandchildren. We
were all her life, and she was our life. But I knew in my heart that her condition
was irreversible, and that she would only linger in this comatose state if she were
to live.
My mother would always say how proud she was of my sister and me. My
sister, married to a policeman, had three beautiful sons, and all of them
showered their grandmother with love and affection. And she would always talk
about her son, the priest. My sister would always tell me how, wherever they
went, whomever they met; my mother would always tell people, ‘My son is a
priest.’
When on vacation or visiting, and going to a strange church, she had to
see the priest after Mass, only to tell him about her son the priest. People tell you
that you never get over the loss of your mother, and I think that's true. I still wish
she were here to hold me on days when I'm not feeling well. When something
exciting happens, I long to pick up the phone to tell her what's going on. And I
know that even though she's not here physically with me, she's always there for
me, looking over me and, hopefully, smiling. In the view from my window, the
promise of eternity is the hope that I will see her again, as all of us will see those
we love and be with them forever.
June 2, 1996
Back in the Valley
Did you ever feel a special tie to a certain geographical area? Many
people are born and raised, live and die in the same area, but for a lot of others,
various factors cause them to move to other parts of the country. Due to my
involvement with the Franciscans, I have lived in a lot of places.
I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, one of the boroughs of New
York City. My studies have taken me to Catskill and Troy, New York. I lived for a
summer in Toronto, Canada, and studied and lived in Boston for almost ten
years. And the first thirteen years of my priesthood were spent in Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania. But, for some reason, I always seem to find myself back in the
Merrimack Valley.
My first experience with the Franciscans took place when I entered our
minor seminary, called at that time Saint Francis Seraphic Seminary, on River
Road in Andover, Massachusetts. Our seminary, located between Lawrence and
Lowell, stood on property that bordered the Merrimack River. I spent my high
school years there and the river was an important part of my life. The
seminarians would walk on its frozen surface in the winter, and walk down to the
river in the spring and the fall to renew themselves in prayer and refreshment.
After I graduated from Saint Francis, I went to our other houses of studies, but
found myself once more, in 1972, living at the Andover seminary while I pursued
theological studies at Saint John's Seminary in Boston. This was a time of great
spiritual growth as I was involved in the many programs at the newly built
Franciscan Center on the same property (called the Christian Formation Center
at that time). Through my involvement in the TEC program, in prayer groups, in
the Charismatic Renewal Program and the Life in the Spirit Seminar, I was
learning to implement what I was studying at the seminary.
After that, I moved to Boston, where we had opened a student house right
across from the seminary in Brighton. It was much more convenient; I didn't relish
the rush hour traffic to and from Boston every day. (By the way, for those of you
who do that trek each day, it was my one and only experience of daily travel in
the rush hour. I sympathize with you). A few years later, I was back in the
Merrimack Valley when the seminary assigned me to Saint Rita's Church in
Haverhill as a deacon intern. Again, our church was only a street or two up from
the river, and I wondered if I would ever get Merrimack water out of my system.
Well, you can guess the rest. Being now in Derry confirms these ties to the
Merrimack River area. Last Monday, Memorial Day, I took a ride with some
friends to the Andover seminary. On the property we have our friar’s cemetery. It
was nostalgic as I visited the graves of so many friars who had such an influence
on my life. There were some of my high school teachers: Fr. Pacificus, Fr.
Ambrose, and friars that I lived with, Fr. Luke, Fr. Daniel, and Fr. Lawrence.
There were friars that were my friends, Roger and Alphonse. There was the friar
who ordained me a priest in 1976 at Saint Anthony’s Church in Manhattan,
Bishop Lawrence Graziano. I reflected on the lives of these men.
I left home when I was thirteen to enter the seminary, and so, many of
these men were, in effect, my new parents. They were like my father, or mother,
or older brother. They watched over me and took care of me; instructed me in the
ways of faith, and taught me the lessons I needed to know for service in the
church. They instilled in me a deep faith and a love for God.
In a few weeks our Province vocation office, which I directed from 1989 to
1994, will be moving to the Andover facility with three friars in the office. It will be
fitting that once again, the place where so many friars complete their journey will
also be the place where that journey begins. Hopefully, for many in the future,
through the work of the Franciscan vocation office, they will find the seeds of
their vocations as Franciscans. In the view from my window, it made me happy
that I am stationed in the Merrimack Valley area, that I can visit the graves of
these friars who meant so much to me, and that I can visit this place that was,
and still is, so much a part of my life.
As a matter of fact, in a few weeks our parish staff here at Saint Thomas
will be spending a day of reflection at Andover, to renew ourselves after an
exciting and wonderful year, and also to plan for future endeavors. It will be a
great experience to share with our staff members the memories I have, not only
of this special place, but my own experience of the Merrimack Valley.
June 30, 1996
Yes, it’s Real Presence
Last Thursday I went to see Neil Diamond in concert at the Fleet Center in
Boston. Neil Diamond has always been one of my favorite performers. A friend of
mine brought me to my first Neil Diamond concert back in 1976, and I've been
hooked ever since. Once again, he put on a great performance. He had the Fleet
Center rocking. Twenty thousand fans were dancing, singing, cheering, and
clapping during the almost two and one half hours that he performed. There is
something magical about attending a concert like this. Today, with modern
technology, you can pop a compact disk into a stereo and get wonderful sound,
perhaps even better and more perfect sound than you would hear in a live
performance. You don't have to drive all the way down to Boston, fight the terrible
traffic that is always a problem in the North End and around the Fleet Center, pay
enormous fees for parking, wait on line for anything you want to do, be crammed
with thousands of other people, and generally be uncomfortable. You can sit in
your favorite armchair, relax in the comfort of your own home, and listen to the
same sounds and hear the same voices. But it is not the same.
There is something exhilarating about being with other people, hearing the
live voices, seeing the interaction between entertainer and audience, and the
excitement of the concert. This is why people leave their homes to go to
concerts, movies, sporting events, and theater. It has something to do with being
with others - socialization.
We know that as human beings we are social creatures. We do not like to
be alone, and we like to do things with others. We seek others for support, for
encouragement, and for interaction. We like to talk, to discuss, to share, to laugh,
and to cry together. There are very few things we like to do alone. Even when it
is immensely more convenient to do something by ourselves, or to stay at home,
we prefer the company of others.
God understood this aspect of our lives when he sent Jesus to establish
His church. The very nature and essence of church brings into play people
coming together to worship, to pray, to honor our God. There are some religions
of the world, particularly Eastern religions that are primarily made up of private
and personal relationships with their divine being. There is no coming together
for worship in a church. Religion is seen as something very private and intimate,
something solely between the person and their god. It is not like that with us.
Jesus has told us, "Where two or three are gathered in My name, I am with
them.”
Jesus asked his followers to come together and ‘do this in My memory.’
He asks us to come together on Sundays in worship and praise, to celebrate the
Eucharist as a community, as family and as church. In doing so, we are not only
true to our common social call as human beings; we are also traveling together
for our common salvation. Jesus does not wish us to get to heaven by ourselves.
He wants us to do this together, to bring others with us through our love for one
another and the spread of the gospel. Thus, for us as Catholics, there is nothing
that can take the place of our coming together to worship our God. Nothing can
ever take the place of Sunday Mass.
By the way, getting back to Neil Diamond, I am always encouraged at the
end of concerts, and I was once more encouraged at the end of the Neil
Diamond concert. While many of us are always in wonder at the people who
scamper to the exits of the church before Mass is over, I believe that this is not a
great problem in our church. I have seen much worse in other parishes. I was
amused, however, at the many people who run out this concert before it ended.
By the way, true Neil Diamond fans know he will always do several lengthy
encores at the end. I guess its part of our nature to want to beat the crowd. So I
guess I can’t get too worked up about people running out of Mass (or falling
asleep during my homilies). We miss so much, rushing out at breakneck speed,
without taking time to savor our closure and mingle with the crowds. God love
you and bless you always.
July 7, 1996
Our Parish Staff Sets Some Goals
This past Thursday, the ministry staff of Saint Thomas Church went to the
Franciscan Center in Andover, Massachusetts, for a day of refection and
renewal. It was a wonderful day, filled with prayer, activities, quiet time, and
planning for the coming year's programs. Several of the activities were geared
toward our goals and priorities as a parish. I thought it would be nice to share
these goals and priorities with you, to give you a glimpse of future plans here at
Saint Thomas. When I became Pastor of Saint Thomas back in August, and met
initially with the staff of the parish, I outlined for them my plans for the immediate
future. I envisioned the first eight or nine months as a time of "presence," being
here, observing, getting to know the parish and our parishioners, and basically
being present at the various events and activities of the church. Phase two,
which is beginning now, would be to set some goals for the future, prioritize them
(marking out the most important ones), and then implementing them. During our
staff day, we as a parish staff were asked to make a "wish list," to list all the
things we would like to see implemented or acquired for Saint Thomas Church,
no matter how practical or impractical, no matter what the cost. These are some
of the items on our wish list: church painted, air condition church, repair steeple
and bell, elevator, rest rooms on church level, gathering area in the back of the
church, parish center/gym, pipe organ, piano for church, introduce each other
before Mass, increased stewardship, tithing, coffee and donuts after Sunday
Masses, more active youth group, senior group, communal connectedness, food
pantry staff, more desire to participate in parish activities, Bible study class, adult
ed programs, guest speakers, greater attendance at Mass, changes to Baptismal
catechesis, and changes to RCIA. Obviously, some of these are very practical;
some would have to be called "long range plans," and others, "very long range."
I asked the staff then to prioritize; that is, to mark out those items on our
wish list which would be the most important to them. Of these, the following were
listed: repair steeple and bell, elevator for church, piano for church, communal
connectedness, and, three voted for tithing program. Then, we made another list
- those things that were practical to implement during this next year, (1996-1997).
They were as follows: gathering area in the back of the church (this would involve
removing some pews in the back of the church so that we could gather,
especially for weddings and funerals), piano for the church, coffee and donuts
after Sunday Masses, more active youth group (already being done), senior
group, food pantry staff (so that our secretaries won't have to do this), Bible study
class, adult ed programs, guest speakers, changes to Baptismal catechesis
(already being done), changes to RCIA (already being done), and tithing program
(already being planned).
My own priority, as pastor, was a tithing program, which is a stewardship
program based on spiritual values rather than financial values. I believe this is
the most important, because without an increase in the parish income and the
involvement of more people in the day-to-day activities of our parish, none of
these other priorities can be a reality. The diocesan finance office has told us
over and over again that our parish offertory collection is well below the average
of the diocese, and well below what our parish is capable of. This past week, our
new parish finance committee met for the first time. We reviewed the priorities
and the committee agreed with my assessment of our financial situation.
Plans have already begun for a tithing/stewardship program to begin in the
fall. Many of the other items will bring us together as a community. One of the
items mentioned, communal connectedness, has to do with our parishioners
feeling a part of the parish. More activities involving our parishioners is one way
in which this is accomplished, What I ask of our parishioners at this point, is to
pray for the future of our parish. In September, we'll be initiating a pastoral
council, and implementing some of the items listed above. If you would like to
assist us in planning and implementing these, please drop me a note. It is my
hope to get more and more people involved in the workings of the parish during
the next year. Remember that summer is short, and next month we will already
begin planning as a staff for the implementation of some of these ideas. I know
that many of our parishioners, as always, will respond with extreme generosity.
God bless you all; hope you are enjoying our summer.
July 28, 1996
The Last Thursday
The Franciscan Order, known officially as the Order of Friars Minor, today
engages in many ministries throughout the world. The common ministries where
we see the Franciscans at work are the typical ones which religious orders
engage in: staffing parishes (like Saint Thomas), teaching school, missionary
work, preaching, and street ministry. What most people don't know is that the
original ministry of the Franciscans was none of these, but rather working with
lepers.
We have heard enough in the gospels about lepers and the terrible
disease of leprosy to know that, before science was able to control it, this
disease had terrible consequences. Besides the fact that its victims simply rotted
away until they died, the severe contagiousness of the disease caused them to
be ostracized by the community. They were no longer permitted to live among
their family and friends, but were banished to the countryside. Many had to carry
bells, to warn the healthy people of their approach. Many believe that the fear of
the general populace went way beyond reason, and that the worry of the
disease's contagion was greatly exaggerated.
Saint Francis of Assisi, the founder of our order, worked with lepers and
showed no fear of touching them and ministering to them. This was a major work
of the early friars. Saint Francis wanted his friars always to consider as their
special work ministry to those most outcast – especially those looked down upon
by society. Through the centuries, the Franciscans have continually tried to
identify who were the most rejected of society, and dedicated at least some
portion of their work to these.
Today's modern day lepers would have to be people with HIV/AIDS. They
experience the same sort of ostracizing that the lepers of another era did.
Although society is becoming more and more educated as to how this disease is
transmitted, some people still express horror when it comes to being in the
presence of someone with HIV/AIDS. Although I think all of us would recognize
that this is not the Christian thing to do, sometimes our own fears and anxieties
take over. We all know what Jesus would have done. He would have been right
there in their midst, loving them, caring for them, embracing them in every way
possible. Unfortunately, we fall far short of Jesus in our lives as Christians.
You may have seen last month an article on our Last Thursday dinners
here at Saint Thomas. These dinners, modeled after similar dinners being held
monthly at the Jesuit Urban Center in Boston, have been going on for about six
months. Because of the difficulties people with HIV/AIDS have in socializing,
each last Thursday of the month, we have a special dinner for them, their
families, and their friends. Many of them are involved in a "buddy" program,
which links them with friends who can assist them.
These dinners have been a special blessing for me and for the staff. We
have had some outside groups help us with these dinners, and some of our
parishioners have come forward to assist us in cooking, setting up, serving,
cleaning up, etc. One would wonder who was getting the most out of these
dinners, those being served or those serving. These dinners provide a wonderful
atmosphere of relaxation and enjoyment for all those involved. It also puts people
with HIV/AIDS in contact with others, not only other individuals but with
representatives of various agencies who attend our dinners. This affords people
to establish connections that can be beneficial in helping them, especially in
areas of health care, social work, finances, etc. It connects them with a wonderful
organization called the Ecumenical AIDS Taskforce, which provides many
services and opportunities for people with HIV/AIDS, their families and their
friends.
During these dinners, we have had some interesting guests. Bishop Odore
Gendron has been a frequent guest at our table, and Bishop Leo O'Neil has
promised to be with us on a future last Thursday. The Last Thursday suppers are
part of our out-reach ministry at Saint Thomas. Part of our call as Christians is to
look beyond our own church community and the borders of our parish. This also
tends to help us focus our lives and our values on the real important things in life.
HIV and AIDS are not things that affect only the infected. They affect us all. In the
view from my window, I think that Saint Francis of Assisi would be proud that his
sons and daughters are continuing this special ministry to those most in need.
And I know that he smiles when he looks down on us here in Derry.
August 11, 1996
My First Anniversary as Pastor
This Thursday, August 15th, the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed
Virgin Mary, marks the first anniversary since I became your pastor. Although the
official installation did not take place until September, August 15th was the day
the position of pastor transferred over from Father Gilbert to me. I have to admit
that this was not something I expected.
When I came to Saint Thomas a year earlier as associate pastor, the
original intention was for me to work in the parish for a year before becoming
pastor. Since that happened, however, another opportunity presented itself, for
me to be pastor of a church in Boston; and I jumped at that opportunity. One of
the things we learn as friars is that the Spirit blows where it will, and very often,
the best laid plans for the future are turned around because God has His own
plans in mind.
That is what happened when I received a phone call at the end of July
from our newly elected Provincial Minister, Fr. Robert Campagna, O.F.M. Fr.
Robert had just been elected our Provincial, which is our friar equivalent to our
bishop, and he is in charge. Fr. Robert also happens to be my college classmate,
and we have been good friends for a very long time. I thought he was calling me
to tell me to begin packing for my new assignment, but, instead, he told me he
was coming up to Derry to talk to me personally. When he came up to visit me
the next day, he was very blunt. "I want you to stay in Derry," he told me.
He and our provincial board, which advises him on personnel changes, felt
that, given the size and complexity of Saint Thomas, I was the man for the job. Of
course, I had been a pastor already for ten years in Pittsburgh, and I had a lot of
pastoral experience. I told him I needed time to pray over it, but I knew at once
that God was already letting me in on His will; I wasn't going anywhere.
I also found out that many of the prayer groups in the parish were praying that I
would become the new pastor. Of course, I was praying for the exact opposite,
so you can see who has the more powerful prayers.
The rest is history. On August 15th, Fr. Gilbert and I signed over the
papers, went to the bank to transfer signatures, and suddenly, the ministry of
Saint Thomas Church was in my hands. As I look back on my first year as pastor,
I have good feelings. I am immensely happy with my fellow friar-priests, who I
feel give wonderful service to the people of Saint Thomas Church. I love the fact
that we are so different, and I think our diversity adds to the color of Saint
Thomas' ministry. I am also tremendously happy with the competent staff I have
both here at the parish and at the school. When we got together for our first staff
meeting last September, I told them that this first year would be one of presence,
watching, waiting, being present, getting the people to know us, getting to know
the people. I think by and large we have accomplished this. When we met to
evaluate our year a month ago, I think all of us on the staff were very pleased
with what we had accomplished. But we also realize that there is much work to
do.
This will be the focus of the coming year – making Saint Thomas a place
to come for other things besides Mass. Social activities, religious adult programs,
and involvement of more people in the day-to-day operations of our parish are
major goals that I have already shared with you.
This is also an opportunity for me to personally thank all of you for your
tremendous affirmation. I can truly say that you, as parishioners, have let me and
the other friars know that you appreciate what we are doing, and that is important
to us.
This is not to say that occasionally we friars are not the victims of some
“sniping” on the part of a small minority of our parishioners, and this is not out of
the ordinary. This happens everywhere. Parish priests are, in some ways,
celebrities in their own parishes or towns, in that everyone knows them and sees
what they are doing. I know that I cannot go to a movie theater, a restaurant, or a
store in this area without being recognized.
One day I was in Shaw's and I bumped into a priest I know from Salem. I
asked him why he came all the way to Derry to shop, and he said he couldn’t
shop in Salem, because everyone recognizes him there. It's the same all over.
But the tremendous outpouring of appreciation I have received from you has
been gratifying. I thank you.
It is my hope that what we have begun will flourish and grow. I stated as
my goal when I became pastor that I hoped Saint Thomas would once more be
known as the best parish in the Diocese of Manchester. I think we have taken
some steps in that direction, and hopefully we will be continuing to do so. Saint
Francis of Assisi, when his friars would accomplish something great, would tell
them, "Let us begin anew, for up to now we have done nothing."
I wouldn't say we have done nothing, but I think what we can do in the
future is without limit. God love you and bless you always.
August 18, 1996
Franciscan Brotherhood
My article a few weeks ago explaining some of the details of our
Franciscan life seems to have stimulated a lot of interest in what Franciscans are
all about, and how our lives differ from other priests. These matters are also very
clearly in my mind these days, because on Saturday, August 17th, four men from
our Franciscan community will be professing their final or solemn vows as
Franciscans. This celebration will be held in Boston, and I am leading a group of
musicians from our province that will be providing the music for this celebration.
This event will be very special for me because three of these men entered our
community when I served as Vocation Director for our Franciscan province. For
these three, I was their first official contact with our Franciscan order, and I
worked at length with these men as they sought to learn more about the
Franciscans and our founder, Saint Francis of Assisi.
As Franciscans, we are members of a religious order that dates to the
early 1200's. The Franciscans are called "friars," which really means "brothers."
At the time of our founding, most male religious fell into the category of monks.
We are not monks. Monks, such as the Benedictines at Saint Anselm's, live more
of a contemplative life than we do. Monks are usually associated with large
monasteries and they are attached to those monasteries in most cases for their
whole lives. Saint Francis founded an order that blended the active ministerial life
of diocesan priests with the contemplative, community, and prayer life of the
monks. Thus friars are a hybrid, a blend of both. We participate in ordinary
ministry which takes us to places far and wide; missionary activity, parish
ministry, teaching in schools, chaplaincies in hospitals, while at the same time,
like monks, live in a community, share our prayer, our meals, and our lives with
other friars.
At Saint Thomas, an important part of our lives together are the things we
do in common, shared prayer, common meals, participating in various events
scheduled by our province, such as retreats, regional gatherings, fraternal
convocations, and chapters, which are meetings called together for the purpose
of province and order-wide government.
Another area where there is sometimes confusion is the relationship of
being a friar to being a priest. We have to first understand that there is no such
thing as a Franciscan priest, although we use that term rather freely at times. We
are, rather, Franciscan Friars who also happen to be Roman Catholic Priests.
You see, when Saint Francis founded his order, he did not want to establish an
order based on a single ministry. There are today, in the church, various orders
founded for specific apostolic work. We have the Christian Brothers, established
for teaching in schools. Some orders were founded for the purpose of ministering
to the poor, others for working in hospitals as nurses, and others for missionary
activities, such as the Maryknoll order. Saint Francis founded the Franciscans as
an "evangelical order," that is, an order whose primary function was to live the
Gospel. The work of the friars was secondary. Therefore, friars could do anything
they wanted for work. Because the Franciscan Order was part of the official
structure of the Roman Catholic Church, it was natural for the order to respond
positively to the needs of the church when priests were in demand. Thus, many
friars, most of them, as a matter of fact, chose to do their work or their ministry
within the framework of the church as Roman Catholic priests. This is completely
understandable since many of the things that attract a person to the Franciscan
Order also attract them to ministry in the church. Thus, historically, although
Francis formed an order of brothers (the initials we use at the end of our name
O.F.M. stand for Order of Friars Minor, which means, Order of Lesser Brothers),
a vast majority of these brothers are also priests. Thus, as Franciscans, besides
blending the active ministry and the contemplative vocation, many of us also
blend being a brother (friar) with being a Catholic priest.
Within the structures of our order, priests and brothers are, in most cases,
equal. I say in most cases because there are currently some limitations when it
comes to our Provincial and our General Superior in Rome. Church law requires
ordained ministers to function in these roles, because of the legal ramifications of
jurisdiction (that is the topic for a future view). The way we live our day-to-day
lives, however, we are all brothers, striving to live the gospel of Jesus Christ in
our own way and in community each day.
August 25, 1996
My Wish List
A few weeks ago, I shared with you the results of a session of prioritizing
by our parish staff at our recent retreat at the Franciscan Center in Andover.
Since then I've been thinking of the practical aspects of these priorities, as well
as how we can meet the needs of the many different parishioners of Saint
Thomas. Some of the things on my "wish list" are already coming to fruition: our
Finance Council is in full operation, studying plans for a stewardship program for
our parish, as well as ways in which we might be able to make some necessary
repairs on our church building. Practically, a fall program of stewardship seems
to be premature, so we've been talking about a program for Lent. The
deterioration of the shingles on the church, plus the gaping holes in our bell
tower, present some real problems for our church building. Perhaps they are
symbolic of other holes that need patching – spiritual holes, social holes, and
fellowship holes. I thought I would share with you some of the feedback I've been
getting from our parishioners, and also invite you to give me more feedback. You
can drop a note in the collection. Send me a letter, or an e-mail (our church email is [email protected]) or you can e-mail me personally at
[email protected]. I'd like to know what Saint Thomas Church needs in the way
of programs, events, happenings, etc. Here are some things already on my mind,
or, what I would call: MY WISH LIST…
Fellowship after all Sunday Masses (including coffee and doughnuts)
Adult Bible Study and discussion groups
More social events (dances, etc)
More people in the choir and folk group
A Welcoming Committee to welcome new members to the parish
A Volunteer Committee to coordinate volunteers
A food fair or parish festival
Wedding coordinators to assist with wedding rehearsals and weddings at the
church
Adult servers and readers for daily Masses and funerals
People to staff the food pantry
A Charismatic Prayer Group
Healing Masses
A Parish Mission or Revival
A complete parish census
What do you think; do you have any additions to our list? If so, let me
know. Perhaps an indoor swimming pool for the friary, (only kidding, folks, just
wanted to see if you were paying attention!!!)
September 26, 1996
McDonald’s Drive-thru Frustration
When I was ordained a priest in 1976, I was sent to a parish in Pittsburgh
named Saint Pamphilus. Saint Pamphilus sounds like a strange name; he was a
bishop and martyr of the early church. The church was named Saint Pamphilus
after the founder of our Franciscan Province, Father Pamphilus da Magliano,
who founded the Immaculate Conception Province, as well as Saint
Bonaventure's University in Olean, New York. Saint Pamphilus parish was
located in the city proper of Pittsburgh, but it was not an inner city parish. It
consisted mostly of one-family homes and a few apartment complexes. This
parish was small in comparison to Saint Thomas, between six hundred and
seven hundred families in comparison with the three thousand we have here. In
1979 I became pastor of Saint Pamphilus, and remained there until 1989, when I
moved back to Boston to become Director of Vocations for our Franciscan
province. I learned a lot about people and a lot about parish work in my thirteen
years at Saint Pamphilus. Even though the parish was relatively small, it was a
very active place. There were times when I did not have a free evening in my
appointment book for months. They had an active parish council, activities
committee, youth group, and senior group. Whenever I requested help or
volunteers, people from the parish came out of the woodwork to help. We had
parish dances that were packed (our social hall held three hundred fifty people),
and fund raisers that were greatly supported.
I have been told many times that when going from one parish to another, a
new pastor should not make comparisons. That is easier said than done. I knew,
in coming to Saint Thomas, there would be differences. There are marked
differences between Pittsburgh people (who are more like mid-westerners than
easterners), and people from New England, and New York. Perhaps my
expectations are too high for Saint Thomas. Perhaps our parishioners like the
MacDonald's Drive-thru concept of a parish, come to church for Mass and the
sacraments, and forget about everything else. Unfortunately, for a parish, the
“everything else” is also important.
What am I getting at? Two weekends ago, I thought it would be nice to
give our parish a shot in the arm by starting to build up committees and
programs. We stuffed over one thousand bulletins with volunteer sheets, and
asked our parishioners to sign up for various programs and committees. To date
we have received twelve back. Yes, that's twelve, ten plus two. We have, on the
books, ten thousand registered parishioners…twelve? Maybe people are
discerning what they would like to do. Perhaps this coming weekend we will get
hundreds of these in the mail. But this isn't the only area where we get little or no
response. I asked a few weeks ago for special prayers for the Holy Father in the
form of a spiritual bouquet for the occasion of his fiftieth anniversary of ordination
to the priesthood. Again, over one thousand requests went out. How many did
we get back? ZERO! None, nada, niente, nulla! Okay, maybe our parishioners
don't want to pray for the pope. Fr. Tom is putting together a fifties dance at the
end of the month. The response has been spotty at best. We have been having
fund raisers at Papa Gino's for our youth program. Last week's response - zero
again. We at Saint Thomas can only do what you, our parishioners, let us do and
want us to do. We cannot force anyone to join a program or a committee. We
cannot force you to respond to a need…no matter how great that need. We will
only hope that the words of the Gospel will continue to motivate us to grow into a
strong parish community. We cannot do it here alone at the parish office. A
parish is not the priests or the staff, but rather, the entire people working together
as a community. I know that people are busy, people are saturated, and there
are a lot of things going on, people don't have time, people are tired, and people
are exhausted. But there must be other people who need to reconnect with their
parish and community, who have the ability to share their gifts and their talents
with others, and who are willing and able to get involved in their parish. Please
understand that, in all these things, we are looking for a minimal commitment, not
forty hours a week or twenty-four hours a day. So, look through your cabinets,
clear off your desks, get our volunteer sign-up form, fill it in, and join us in making
Saint Thomas a great parish.
October 20, 1996
Please Don’t Sue Me!
Recently there was an interesting item reported by the news media. A sixyear-old boy from Lexington, North Carolina, was charged with sexual
harassment because he kissed a girl in his class; a girl the same age. I found
myself puzzled by this incident, that such a seemingly innocent gesture would
become the object of attention, from not only school officials and parents, but
also the media. This incident is a reflection of our times and how things have
changed. Certainly, we have become more sensitive to individual rights
especially in the area of sexuality, but a lot of this has obviously gone too far. As
a nation and a society we are looking for opportunities to sue one another for an
awkward glance, or to become millionaires by virtue of the slightest
inconvenience. It seems that everyone is poised to sue everyone else. You may
recall the multi-million dollar lawsuit over hot coffee spilled in someone's lap at a
McDonald's restaurant. These lawsuits make us more cautious and less likely to
get involved. One has to think twice about rescuing someone who is in danger,
because, if the rescue fails, the rescuer might get sued. So, in order not to risk a
lawsuit, we stand by and let things happen, not wishing to get involved.
Lawsuits have deeply affected the Catholic Church. Many people know
the church has money; maybe not so much on the local level, such as in a
parish, but certainly on higher levels. Things that we have taken for granted as
part of our ministry years ago, we can no longer afford to do today. Like many
businesses and corporations, our church lawyers force us into extreme
cautiousness over certain issues. Here are some I thought you'd be interested in
knowing about.
We have all heard about cases involving priests. Because of this, priests
are very cautious in their dealings with others, especially children. When visiting
the school, a priest is reluctant to even pat a child on the head; it could be taken
the wrong way. Teachers deal with this too, meeting privately with a child or a
student behind closed doors is an invitation to trouble. Father so and so taking
the kids away for a camping trip has to be done with extreme caution, and only
with the presence of many other adult chaperones. As priests, we are no longer
encouraged to do any kind of pastoral counseling. We have been told that,
unless we are licensed counselors, we can be subject to lawsuits for what we say
to people in counseling sessions, or what they might do afterwards. For this
reason, I myself will not do any kind of pastoral counseling. I will meet with
someone to discuss some difficulties, or even do some spiritual direction, but I
will not participate in any kind of continual counseling relationship. Priests must
also avoid bringing their ministry to a person who does not want to be ministered
to. Sometimes people call us and ask us to intervene in a situation for someone,
or to go to someone's home. There have been cases of priests being sued for
intervening where they are not wanted. Even visiting someone at home becomes
a difficulty, because someone could bring accusations against a priest. In the
Sacrament of Penance, a priest is bound by the seal of confession, so that, if an
accusation is made, the priest cannot even defend himself if the Sacrament of
Penance has been involved.
While it is important for us to be aware of personal boundaries, it is also
unfortunate that even while doing the work of the church, we have to be very
careful about the desire of others to bring frivolous lawsuits against the church. It
diminishes our ability to minister, and also lessens the ability of the church to
bring true consolation and hope to those who are hurting. It is very sad that we
have come to this in our society. As priests and friars, we are also more aware
than ever of the implications of our words and behavior. As priests we are not
expected to wake up feeling tired, being grumpy, answering someone in a curt
fashion, or just being fed up with things. We are not permitted the ordinary
reactions that people would have with each other. We are expected to stand
there smiling when someone is tearing us to shreds, rather than telling someone
to take a hike, which sometimes we'd like to do. But I guess that's the price we
pay for the life we've chosen. So, if I'm grumpy, tell me you don't appreciate it,
but please, don't sue me...
October 27, 1996
My trip to Israel, Part 1
A lot of you have been asking about my trip to the Holy Land, so I thought
in the next few "views," I would give you a sketch of my trip. The first thing you
need to know is that I was on a pilgrimage. A pilgrimage is different from a tour,
because the purpose of a pilgrimage is primarily spiritual, rather than just touring
places of interest. The pilgrimage I took was with the Franciscan Pilgrimage
Program out of Milwaukee. I had been to Assisi and Italy twice with this
pilgrimage, which is sponsored by our own Franciscan Order. On this pilgrimage
were other Franciscan Friars, a priest from Africa, religious women, and some lay
women. It was an exciting time for all of us and a deeply spiritual experience. I
left on Saturday, October 5th from Logan Airport and took a Swissair flight to
Zurich, where I met the group. The group was coming from other parts of the US,
and one woman even came from Australia. There were twenty of us in all. We
flew to Tel Aviv, Israel, and were met by one of our friar-guides, Father Camillus,
O.F.M., who is, by the way, originally from Manchester. We took a bus to our first
destination, the resort town of Tiberius, which sits on the Sea of Galilee. Our
hotel was the Jordan River Hotel, and it was beautiful and much plusher than I
had imagined. It had everything any stateside hotel would have. A dinner was
waiting for us in the dining room, and there I learned that this hotel was a strict
observer of "kosher" laws. In fact, there was a rabbi on staff to check the meals.
Basically it meant I would have to do without a cheeseburger for a while,
because Jews are forbidden to eat dairy products and meat at the same meal.
The next morning (Monday) I woke up to a beautiful view from my balcony
of the Sea of Galilee, the site of so many of Jesus' miracles. Our first day was
spent in Nazareth, the town where Jesus grew up. There are two main places in
Nazareth, the Basilica of the Annunciation, which marks the spot where the
Blessed Virgin received the message from the Archangel Gabriel that she was to
be the mother of God. The beautiful church was built over the cave that was
Mary's home. I learned that it was typical in Galilee, because of all the hills, for
the people to build their homes by digging out the rocks of the hillside. By the
way, our own Franciscan Order staffs this church as it does most of the sacred
places in the Holy Land. The Franciscan Friars went to the Holy Land centuries
ago to preserve the holy places from being destroyed, so, if you go to the Holy
Land, you will see a lot of my brothers working in an international province called
the "Custody of the Holy Land." There are about three hundred friars working in
Israel alone. We went for lunch at an Israeli kibbutz; they obviously don't observe
the kosher laws because we had ham for lunch; who would think it? Our
afternoon was spent at the second holy site in Nazareth, the church of Saint
Joseph, which is the traditional spot of the home of Joseph, Mary, and Jesus.
There is a chapel that sits on the site of Saint Joseph's carpentry shop. Nazareth
is a pretty large town, and we took a walk through the center of town, to witness
some young boys getting out of school doing the Macarena! How much we have
in common! As a matter of fact, seeing places like Gulf Oil, Office Depot, and
Kodak in Nazareth made me feel like I was back in Brooklyn.
That afternoon we went to Kafer Kanna or Cana in Galilee, where Jesus
turned water into wine at a marriage feast. Again, the Franciscans staff a church
there. We bought some "Cana" wine, and I prayed there for the married couples
of our parish. That night, much to my surprise, I caught an NFL football game on
TV. The next day was a tremendous one, with a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee.
We went onto the lake (that's really all it is, even thought it is called a sea) and
the motor of the boat was turned off as we prayed and spent time in silence,
listening to the wind and the water hitting the boat. It was wonderful. On the other
side of the lake we visited Kaffer Naum, or Capernaum, the hometown of Jesus
during his ministry. Again, the Franciscans are in charge here. We saw Saint
Peter's House and had mass in the chapel above the house. We visited the
church of the Primacy of Peter, where Jesus conferred that special ministry to
Saint Peter, and the church of the multiplication of loaves and fishes. We had a
dinner of Saint Peter's Fish (tilapia), the primary fish caught in the Sea of Galilee
(heads, tails, and all, by the way). That night I caught my beloved Steelers
beating the Kansas City Chiefs on television. The next day we went to the Jordan
River, a beautiful place to re-enact the baptism of Jesus, and remind ourselves of
our own baptism. We visited some of the other areas of importance to the
ministry of Jesus. That night at dinner, I ran into Father Tim Thiebault, pastor of
neighboring Saint Jude's. We knew that we would both be in Israel at the same
time, but didn't think we'd meet. We stayed that night at the same hotel. I filled
him in on the entire goings on of the Derry-Londonderry area. It was a wonderful
evening. Thanks for all your prayers on my trip, by the way, as I prayed for our
parish often. Next week: Up to Jerusalem.
November 3, 1996
My Trip to Israel, Part 2
The hotel in Jerusalem (the King Solomon) was even plusher than in
Tiberius. Our beds were turned down every night with candy left on our pillows.
I'm more of a Motel Six type of guy myself, but it was nice. Our first day in
Jerusalem brought us to Ein Karem, which is the home of Saint Elizabeth and
Saint John, the Baptist. Here at a beautiful Mass, I remembered all mothers and
expectant mothers. The other pilgrims pressed me into singing "Ave Maria" at the
Mass. The surrounding area, called the "hill country of Judea" was truly beautiful.
That afternoon we went to the western wall or "wailing wall" and prayed for the
peace of Jerusalem. Saturday brought us to Bethlehem, another highlight of the
trip. Because Bethlehem is in the West Bank, it is in Palestinian control. The
Palestinians love the Franciscans, however, because the friars do a lot of
ministry and have schools for the Palestinians. Because of this, there was no
problem getting to the Basilica of the Nativity. But it was an interesting trip.
When we arrived at the border between Israel and the Palestinian Authority, we
were greeted with a line of buses, about twenty or thirty lined up on the side of
the road. We were told that there had been some violence, and the Palestinians
had closed the border to all tourists. Our tour director told the bus driver to pass
all the buses and drive to the border. As we approached, we could see the
Palestinian soldiers getting nervous. We stopped some yards before the border,
and our director told all the friars to get off and stand in front of the bus. When
the Palestinian soldiers saw us in our Franciscan habits, they waved us through.
We were the only bus allowed to go to Bethlehem that day. Our Franciscan
habits sent a loud message…“We are friends.”
We had Mass at Shepherd's Field, another Franciscan church where the
angels appeared to shepherds, and then onto the Basilica and to Saint
Catherine's Church, staffed by the friars. That afternoon we visited the Mount of
Olives overlooking Jerusalem, the Garden of Gethsemane, the church of All
Nations, and to the Church of "Dominus Flevit," where Jesus wept over
Jerusalem. We walked down the path Jesus followed on Palm Sunday. On
Sunday we visited the Church of the Dormition, staffed this time by Benedictines.
This is the place where Mary was assumed into heaven. We visited the Cenacle
or upper room, where the Last Supper was held. This is now a mosque and no
religious services are permitted there. The friars also staff the church next to the
Cenacle. That afternoon we went to Bethany, where Lazarus and his sisters
Martha and Mary lived. Later in the day we went to Qumran on the Dead Sea,
where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered. We dipped our feet in the Dead
Sea; so salty it is devoid of any life. Two remembrances of the Dead Sea – a
beautiful rainbow shining above the sea and finding an ice cream stand with
delicious home made flavors. You could tell I was beginning to miss home; I was
getting very hungry. The Dead Sea was dead in many ways, a lot of garbage on
the beach, very dirty looking. It was a disappointment. The next day was a very
exciting day. First of all, I saw on CNN that the Yankees clinched the A.L.
pennant, and the Steelers had won, so I was happy. We started our day at Saint
Ann's Church, which is the traditional birthplace of the Blessed Mother. We went
to the Pool of Bethesda, where Jesus cured the sick man. This was a special
place for me because, about four years ago, a friar who I was very close to,
Father Frank Pezzulo, died on that spot. He was on a pilgrimage also, and I was
supposed to be with him. I got my down payment in too late, and the pilgrimage
filled up fast. Our group said a special prayer for Frank on that spot. We then did
the way of the cross through the streets of the old section of Jerusalem, marking
the different events that happened to Jesus. I imagined it was similar to what
actually happened to Jesus. We walked through the immense Arab market where
buying and selling, wheeling and dealing was taking place. It was very distracting
to all of us, and yet, we imagined, very real. The way of the cross ended at the
Church of the Holy Sepulcher. In this church, which is watched over by the
Franciscans, the Greek Orthodox, the Coptics, and the Armenians, are both
Calvary, where Jesus died on the cross, and the tomb of Jesus. This was a very
busy, noisy church with thousands of tourists pouring in and out at all hours. It
was difficult to pray here. It was thrilling and disappointing; thrilling to be at this
wonderful place, disappointing because of all the irreverence on the part of so
many tourists who were there, not because of their faith, but just to look and take
pictures. We also visited two important Muslim places, the Al Aqsa mosque and
the Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount. These, in contrast to the Holy
Sepulcher, were very prayerful and reverent places. We had to remove our
shoes before entering. The floors were covered with oriental carpets, and there
was a spirit of reverence and silence. I think we could learn a good lesson from
the Muslims.
That afternoon, I shopped in the Arab "suq," or market. I had a wonderful
time. I was told to be sure to wear my Franciscan habit, as the Arabs have great
devotion to the friars. I had tea and orange juice with the shopkeepers, bought
incense for Father Bruce, and bargained and got great prices for what was to
become my Halloween outfit, an Arabian robe and headdress. The old Muslim
men saluted me as I passed by, calling me "Abouna," meaning "Good Father." I
found much more respect for our faith among the Palestinians than I did among
the Israelis. The Muslims, by the way, look at Jesus as a great prophet, and there
is a great kinship, as I said before, with the Franciscans. I had a few hours to kill
before the rest of the troop was coming back to the church, so I decided to stay
at the Holy Sepulcher. I got to practice my Italian on some Italian pilgrims, prayed
the rosary with them, lit candles for special intention at the tomb, and chatted
with an Armenian monk. I spent some time talking with Wajeeh Nuseibeh, the
Custodian and Gate Keeper of the Holy Sepulcher, a Muslim who had inherited
this position, which has been held for seven generations in his family. It was very
interesting to hear his stories about the Basilica, and how pilgrims have now
given way to tourists. He told me in particular how, after the fall of communism,
the Russians came in droves to the Basilica, filled with religious fervor and awe
after being denied the right to travel on pilgrimage for so many years.
I gave a little talk to a troop of Israeli soldiers who were visiting the site,
and then joined in procession with the Franciscans as they prayed at all the
altars. I rejoined the pilgrimage group that evening for Mass in the crusader
chapel at the tomb. This day we also saw the tunnel that caused riots a few
weeks ago among Palestinians and Israelis. It was, indeed, a very fulfilling visit.
November 11, 1996
Some Reflections on Israel
I would like to conclude my narrative of my trip to Israel with a comment
about a major source of pride for me on the pilgrimage: the presence of the
Franciscans in the Holy Land. The Franciscans have been for centuries the
custodians of the Holy Places in the Holy Land. Even during the life of Saint
Francis of Assisi, there was already a Franciscan presence in the Holy Land.
Today, the Franciscan Custody of the Holy Land brings a special presence to the
Holy Places. During his life, Saint Francis himself went to visit these sacred
places, and had the occasion to meet the Sultan. Since then, the Franciscans
have had a special place there. After the holy places fell into Muslim hands, it
was the Franciscans who were permitted to go to the Holy Land as guardians of
the sacred Christian sites. If it were not for the Franciscans, many of these
places would have been destroyed. Just about every place I visited was under
the care, sometimes shared with other faiths, but most of the time exclusively, of
the Franciscans. As a matter of fact, there are seventy-four sanctuaries under the
care of the friars. These include Capernaum, Cana, Magdala, Nazareth, Ein
Karem, and Bethlehem, the place of Jesus' baptism in the Jordan, Emmaus,
Bethphage, and most of the holy places in Jerusalem. The friars even have
shrines out of Israel itself, such as Mount Nebo, the place where Moses died,
and in Damascus, the place of the conversion of Saint Paul. I was very proud to
see their constant care and upkeep of these places, as well as the reverence
they instilled in all the pilgrims who visited the Holy Land.
My pilgrimage gave me a different point of view of the modern day
conflicts in that area. Our country is closely allied with Israel, and thus our public
opinion has been molded to be very pro-Israeli. This is compounded by recent
squabbles we have had with Muslim nations such as Iran and Iraq. Our friars in
Israel, however, do much of their work with Palestinians, both Muslims and
Christians. The Palestinians were very respectful of us on our trip, and they love
the Franciscans. The Muslims especially felt a special kinship because they
believe Jesus to be a great prophet. They do not recognize Him as the Son of
God as we do. However, my own experience in speaking with Palestinian
Muslims was that they are a people of deep faith. While the Israelis proclaim
Israel for the Israelis, the Palestinians ask that we recognize the fact that Israel is
the homeland of many peoples, not just the Jews. Jerusalem itself is the holy city
for Jews, Muslims, and Christians, and the divisions of that city and the fighting
that goes on between the religions are a scandal for all people who believe in
God. While as Americans the Israelis love our support of their government and
our money, and the Palestinians hold Americans in suspicion because of their
support of Israel, the Palestinians have far more respect for people of faith than
the Israelis do. My impression was that the Israelis as a whole really aren't that
devout or religious, they are kind of secular in their thinking and welcome our
tourist dollars but aren't too fond of us as Christians and as pilgrims.
The other stark contrast is one of economics. The Israeli sections of the
country, as well as Jerusalem are clean, modern, beautiful, and well financed.
The Palestinian areas of Jerusalem, the West Bank, and areas occupied by the
Palestinians are ravaged with poverty. They are not given equal rights in this
nation; they aren't even given treatment as second-class citizens, but are
considered to be foreigners, even though Palestinians can lay claim to this land
just as long, if not longer than the Jews. Palestine, as a matter of fact, is a
corruption of the biblical name "Philistines" that we remember from our Bible
stories. The Palestinian people have been in Israel long before many Native
American tribes even set foot in this land.
I guess I should echo the psalm when I say, "Pray for the peace of
Jerusalem, may those who love you prosper."
This is a difficult land; a land of great contrasts; a land that is green and
vibrant, and a land that is barren and dry. There are beautiful rolling hills and
stark deserts. There are modern, beautiful cities and there are ancient Bedouin
tribes roaming the countryside. There are beautiful Christian shrines. There are
Jewish holy places, and there are the reverent and beautiful mosques, all
standing side by side. The three religions profess the same God, while honoring
Him in different ways. But there is no peace. The abundance of soldiers, of
machine guns, and the tension belies the title of this city of peace. Whether we
say shalom, or salaam or peace be with you, we are all the same. So, let us pray
for the peace of this beautiful place.
December 8, 1996
Do People Really Eat Bacala?
Wouldn't you agree that there is something about Christmas that brings
out the child in all of us? As I look around our church property, the signs of it are
everywhere. Father Bruce has quietly decorated his bedroom with lights and
stars. Father Tom is frantic about getting a million lights for his garden. Even I am
not immune. I recently purchased something that I haven't had for a long
time…my own Santa suit. It will be getting its inauguration this Sunday at a
gathering of our friars in Boston. You can bet that, even as all the friars feel they
are mature, their eyes will be as wide as saucers when they see Santa come
walking into the friary with a bag full of gifts.
There are certain things that have special meaning for different people.
For some, it is the singing of the Christmas carols, for others, the smell of pine
coming from the Christmas tree and permeating the house. Speaking of smells,
for me a familiar smell of Christmas was that of "fish." Fish, you say? Well, let me
explain. A tradition among southern Italians, especially for those in seacoast
regions, was to have a banquet of seven fishes on Christmas Eve. You may
remember in the old days when the day before a holy day was a day of
abstinence from meat, just like Fridays. So, in the old law of the church, you
couldn't eat meat on Christmas Eve. For our family, Christmas Eve was the
biggest of the celebrations. We'd have linguini with lobster sauce, bacala (a dried
codfish), u bup (octopus), calamari (squid), scungilli (conch), eel, and shrimp.
After dinner we'd wash up (we didn't want to fill our small church with fish smells,
although that's probably why they used so much incense), and then we'd head to
Saint Rocco's Church on Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn for midnight Mass. My
mother sang in the choir where there were five ladies singing these complicated
Latin High Masses written in four parts! We'd all sit in the choir loft with Mom, and
my mother would get angry because my friends and I would laugh when the choir
sounded "screechy," which was almost all the time. At the end of the Mass,
which was celebrated in Latin, with the sermon in Italian, the priest would carry
the baby Jesus through the church while everyone sang "Tu Scende Dalle
Stelle," a famous Italian Christmas hymn. Everyone would cry when the priest
arrived at the manger scene, and placed the infant Jesus in the crib. We'd all go
home and have some pastries before going to bed. I remember my Dad always
leaving a shot of whiskey on the table for Santa, and then, in the morning I would
be amazed to find the shot glass empty. We learned growing up that the two
most important things to us were our faith and our family, and they were
intertwined.
Through the years times have changed. It becomes more difficult today to
prepare the delicious banquets of years ago. Families drift apart and religion
becomes less important to us and our children. At Christmas we will see many,
many people we don't see usually on Sunday; our church will be packed and
many families coming together that we ordinarily don't see together. Perhaps this
is good that Christmas draws us together. During the years, a lot has changed for
me also. Many years, I am not able to get home for Christmas day, but I always
try to make it back home some time during the Christmas season. And faith, well
faith is even more important to me now than then. For me, as important as it is to
get together with family, Christmas Mass is still the greatest part of Christmas for
me. Like the dinners of old, getting up early for Santa, and the memories of the
past fade when I think of the importance of celebrating Christmas with our parish
community. And family…family is important, but family isn't a matter of blood.
Family is a matter of love. Some people would want to strictly define family today
as husband, wife, and children. We know in reality that family goes way beyond
that. Good friends can be wonderful family, and I don’t know what Christmas in
Derry would be like without Bob and Teresa Tekin, and their sons Matthew,
Peter, Aaron, Adam, and Jason. Besides, blood relatives can sometimes try our
souls.
Family for me wasn't just Mom, Dad, and my sister. It was grandpa, Aunt
Tess, Aunt Tessie Jr. and Uncle Happy, Aunt Rose and Uncle Nick, Uncle Joe
and Aunt Marie, Uncle Vin and Aunt Lou, Frank and Mary and their kids, and the
Lorenzos, De Palos, Trombettas, Petillos, the Munsons, and the hordes of
cousins and friends who were a part of our lives. Later on it was the D’Amodios
(my sister’s in-laws), Dom, her husband, Michael, Joseph, and Robert, and, of
course, Joyce (my sister’s secret twin) and Charlie, her husband, their kids
Jeanine, Deana, and Chucky, and all those who, though aren’t related to us by
blood, are just as much brothers and sisters and cousins to us. As we make
haste toward the Christmas season, we should always be focused on the real
values of this season: love, generosity, faith, sharing ourselves with one another,
and being there for each other. Let's not make Christmas just another day on our
calendar, and let's make sure that no one around us will be alone and forgotten
on that day. After all, we know the true reason for our celebration, Emmanuel God is with us.
December 22, 1996
Christmas, and Cards
I always feel sorry for the mail deliverers this time of year. I know that if
everyone else is getting anywhere near the mail we get at the church, it has to be
tough carrying all those Christmas cards. Each year it seems I send out more
and more Christmas cards, as I meet new people and form relationships.
Besides the cards I get from family and friends back home in New York, and from
my fellow friars throughout the East Coast, I have a host of cards I receive from
my Pittsburgh friends from my old parish. Then I have my Boston friends from my
five years as vocation director in Brighton. And now I have all my new Derry
friends to add to that list. Most of the cards I receive are religious cards. This is
good. There are so many "secular" aspects to Christmas these days, that we are
quickly forgetting the fact that Christmas is the celebration of the birth of the
Savior. Then I have friends who feel that so much of my life is surrounded by
religion, that I need a good break, and so I get some "funny" Christmas cards. So
I have Santa getting stuck in the chimney, Santa falling on ice, and even a teddy
bear. Most of the cards, however, are beautiful Christmas scenes with depictions
of angels, shepherds, Mary, Joseph and the infant Jesus. Some of the cards are
very elaborate and expensive looking. Others are simple. I guess Christmas
cards in a lot of ways reflect the people that are sending them. My sister has a
habit of underlining the words on the card, as if to say that she concurs with
every sentiment expressed. Some people like to send "priest" cards, or "pastor"
cards.
What has touched me deeply this year is the amount of cards I have
received from members of Saint Thomas, expressing not only wonderful
Christmas wishes, but also appreciation for our ministry and work here at Saint
Thomas. No matter what anyone says, it feels good to be affirmed, and, judging
not only from these cards, but from the many notes, letters, phone calls, and
personal words from so many of you. I feel that many of our parishioners like
what is happening here at Saint Thomas.
As we approach Christmas, I also want to convey to you my personal love
for you and for the Saint Thomas Church community. I have conveyed to family
and friends how happy I am to be here in Derry with you, and how exciting and
fulfilling this ministry has been for me. I have been blessed with a fine group of
friars to assist me. I have a fantastic staff, as well as wonderful people that help
behind the scenes. We have literally hundreds of people volunteering in so many
ways to help us in our ministry, as CCD teachers, liturgical ministers, youth
leaders, social ministers. And of course, we have terrific parishioners. It seems
that everything we've done this year has been so successful because of the
constant support and presence of the great people of Saint Thomas Church.
Christmas is a time, not only for good wishes, but also for putting those
wishes into practice. Sometime during the Christmas season, choose a few of
your Christmas cards and read what they say. And then see if you can implement
that card in some way into your life that day. I know that Father Tom, Father
Bruce, and our entire parish staff join me in wishing all of you the joy, peace, and
happiness that only Jesus can bring. As Jesus entered into our human space two
thousand years ago, so may Jesus continue to enter into our hearts and lives
each day, not only on Christmas, but all the days of our lives.
1997
January 19, 1997
Love, Family Life, and Values
My nephew Joe and his wife MariLou are expecting their first child this
April. This is happy news for our family. Their child will be the first of the next
generation in our family, and my sister will be a grandmother for the first time. I
already know I am going to needle her about being a grandmother, but I know
she is overjoyed at the fact. My sister just adores babies; in shopping malls,
grocery stores, at church, anyplace she sees a baby, she can't control herself. I
know having her own grandchild is going to bring her immense joy, and Joe and
MariLou will never have a problem finding a baby sitter. The parents-to-be don't
want to know if it is a boy or a girl, but they've already picked names. And Uncle
Joe has already been told to look for a free weekend in May for the baptism. In
contrast, a good friend and his wife were not able to have children. It took them
years of red tape, money, and dealing with vast amounts of paperwork to finally
adopt a boy, and then a girl. They were determined to have children. Even after
the adoptions were final, legal complications threatened to have one of the birth
parents take their little girl from them. They went through great anxiety through all
this. Other friends just came back from Lithuania, trying to adopt a child there,
since all avenues in the US seem to have fallen through.
All of this reverence for life makes abortion such a very difficult thing for
me to understand. While millions of couples cannot have children, others don't
want them, and will do virtually anything not to have them. Life issues are always
filled with emotions. Today, debate has gone from abortion to assisted suicide.
Again, as with most of these issues, once they have become legal a new frontier
is created. After abortion, partial birth abortions came, where the child is partially
removed from his or her mother's womb and then killed. After assisted suicide
will definitely come the state or families making a decision to euthanize someone.
Perhaps ail of this is a result of what I talked about last week, a lack of reverence
and respect for others, especially for life. And all of it is based simply on the
attitude of those with power and authority over helpless victims.
When I was growing up, my grandfather suddenly could not walk any
longer. After tests from doctors, it was determined that he simply was too weak to
walk any longer. He spent five years like this before he died at the age of ninetytwo. My mother and my two aunts took care of him every day, changing him,
washing him, shaving him, sitting him up in a wheelchair, making sure all of us
kids went to his room to visit him, putting on his favorite radio station (the New
York Italian station), and getting him to take his meals with us. It was very difficult
for them; they had no social life apart from grandpa. But their great love and
devotion to him gave them the strength to do this. When I went home for
Christmas, I saw the love and reverence given my niece MariLou; the concern
over her pregnancy and her own safety and the safety of her unborn child. There
was much chatter over upcoming details; health issues, what if it's a boy or a girl,
possible birth dates, and the thrill of having a newborn child in the family. While
this was going on in our house, I am sure there were other people talking about
abortion clinics and procedures, or how to get rid of this burden. To even think of
a human life, whether unborn, aged, ill, or helpless, as a burden to be rid of, is a
terrible tragedy in our society.
What has happened to us as a people? What has made us so cynical or
so bent on convenience that even life itself has to get out of the way? How can
we talk about saving whales, not wearing furs, saving the snail darter or the
spotted owl, when we have so little respect for our own; and where will it all end?
Will our children and grandchildren live in a society where the state determines
who is born and how long you can live? Will we be judged as human beings only
by our productiveness, and, once we are perceived as "burdens" on others, are
removed? All I know is this – the issues facing our children will be made much
more difficult by our decisions today.
February 2, 1997
Welcome to Our Church
One of the problems with having a church the size of Saint Thomas is the
fact that things tend to get a bit "impersonal." The sheer size of Saint Thomas
does not exactly give us the feel of a small country parish. This was one of the
problems I recognized when I came to Derry. My former parish was a city parish,
but a small one in comparison to Saint Thomas. With only six hundred families
(compared to our three thousand), I was able to get to know most of the people
in the church. One of the most intimidating processes has to be joining our parish
for the first time, especially for those interested in getting involved in the life of
the church. Filling out a form and returning it to the parish office simply did not
help. Because of this, we recently formed a "Welcome Committee."
This committee will not function as "greeters" in church, but rather will
bring people through the process of joining our parish in a more personal way.
The committee has just begun operations and is very enthusiastic about the
prospect of bringing people into the life of the church. Here's how our "Welcome
Committee" works. When someone is interested in joining the parish, they are
given a green application card. We ask them to fill in the information (name,
address, and phone number) and return it via the collection, the mail, or in
person. This card is given to the "Welcome Committee." One of the committee
members then visits the new parishioners, filling in the registration form with
them, and giving them a new parishioner kit.
The committee will be there to answer any questions, make proper
introductions, and even invite our new parishioners to become active members of
Saint Thomas. Hopefully friendships will be born from this relationship, and
people will feel more welcome. They will have a point of contact at the church
that can help plug them into whatever church program or service they need. It will
put a "human" face on our church and on the process of registration. Also, we
are planning on having periodic "Welcome Masses," using one of our Sunday
liturgies on occasion to recognize our new parishioners and to welcome them
with a social afterward. Again, if we welcome new parishioners to our
congregation, we must also make it comfortable for them to get to know us, our
church community, and to be of service to them. I hope you share my own
enthusiasm for this new committee and will not only support them with your
encouragement, but also remember them in your prayers.
Some of the items presently in our new parishioner kit are as follows: A
welcome letter from the friars, a parish directory of services, a listing of Welcome
Committee members and phone numbers, information on our religious education
and sacramental formation programs, a volunteer sign-up, a guide for parents on
the responsibilities of sponsors for baptism, information on the Secular
Franciscan Order and the Knights of Columbus.
This is a very important ministry in the church, and if you feel you would
like to join the Welcome Committee in bringing new parishioners to our parish,
please let me know. I want to personally thank these people for their generous
response to this need in our parish, and pledge to them my personal support in
any way possible. In addition, if you know any of your neighbors who may be
Catholic and living in our parish but not members, encourage them to join by
bringing home a Parishioner Registration Form found at the doors of the church
and giving it to them. Do your part in making Saint Thomas Church truly a family
community.
March 30, 1997
God Must Be A Yankee Fan
I don't know if you've noticed or not, but it seems that the major
magazines of our country have gotten on the "God" bandwagon. This past week,
major articles were written about God, religion, heaven, and prayer in such
periodicals as Time and Newsweek. Even TV Guide got into the act this past
week by featuring "God and Television" on its cover. Sociologists tell us that
religion is on the rebound in our country, even though our nation as a whole
gives little evidence of an increase in virtue. As a matter of fact, although more
and more people pray and claim to believe in God, and even say they believe
that God has an impact and an influence in their lives, our country seems to grow
more and more atheistic each day. While the founders of this country sought to
avoid the establishment of religion that was seen in their native England, where
the Church of England was not only the official state church, supported by
taxpayers and endorsed by the government (the king or queen of England, in
fact, was the head of the Church), it was not in their thinking to have the mindless
separation of church and state that so many people today believe to be
embodied in our constitution. There is no way we can equate the establishment
of religion with the separation of state and church.
This attitude seems to have permeated our every day lives. Many in our
country act as though separation of state and church also means separation of
church and LIFE. We go around believing in God and praying, but the values that
we hold in our lives very often are not very God-like. The way we act often does
not distinguish us as Christians. We remember that in the early Church,
Christians were recognized by the way they loved one another. Can this be said
of us today? One of the articles on prayer brought out another problem, and that
is with the "pop" religion that has developed among Christians. It subscribes to
the belief that God is involved in every single thing that happens to us in our
lives. When the Green Bay Packers won the Super Bowl this year, one of the
Packers, Reggie White, a Christian minister, gathered teammates around to
thank God for making the Packers win. Do we really believe that God is
interested in who wins the Super Bowl? If we do believe that the Packers won
because God was on their side, what does that say about the Patriots? Was God
against the Patriots? Does God dislike Drew Bledsoe? I think that God wants us
to follow Jesus in a very special way. I think God wants us to be fair and honest
in everything we do in life (including sports). But does God have an interest in the
final score? Plus, I believe if He really was rooting for a team, it would have to be
the Steelers, and they obviously weren't in the Super Bowl; or if not the Steelers,
then at least the Saints or the Cardinals.
I guess for me, what's important is not the lip service that we give to God
as much as how we conduct our lives. It doesn't mean anything for us to
proclaim, "I am a Christian," or "I am a Catholic," without that having an impact
on our decision-making and our values. And for all Christians from day one, it
has meant belonging to a Christian community - a church, and worshipping God
in word and sacrament each Sunday together. I wish all of you a very happy and
blessed Easter. It is the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is not a
spring festival, filled with bunny rabbits and colored eggs; it is the celebration of
the most important event in the history of this world, and it is a feast that is
uniquely our own. Jesus has risen from the dead. May He also be raised in our
hearts.
April 13, 1997
What Is a Tithe?
Well, I guess it's not a secret that we have just undertaken a major
stewardship program. If you were at Mass last weekend, you heard my quite
lengthy remarks on the financial situation here at Saint Thomas and our need to
do something positive about it. This weekend, one of the members of the
Finance Council is speaking. Next weekend, you will be hearing from a couple
from another parish that has been tithing for a long time. The program we are
using has met with great success in many parishes throughout our country and
diocese. It is called "Sharing Time, Talent, and Treasure." Just last year, Saint
Jude’s Parish in Londonderry initiated this program and it has been a great
success there.
For a long time, parishes have been using a sort of band-aid approach to
financial problems: have a fund-raiser, a pledge program, and a special
collection. These very often proved to be only temporary solutions to the
problem. What does work much better, however, is a sustained increase in the
offertory collection. This is done primarily through the program we have just
initiated. I have asked at this point primarily for prayer from our parishioners that
the Lord opens our hearts in generosity to give back to God some portion of what
He has given us. A big complaint I hear often from parishioners is the frequency
of second collections. Hopefully, with this program, we will stop all second
collections. We would ask our parishioners to think about what portion of their
income they would be willing to give back to God, through a tithe.
In the Old Testament, a tithe (which means ten percent) was given back to
God through His community, through the temple, the local synagogue, or through
donations to the poor and the needy. In our case, we would ask for five percent
for the church and five percent for other charities. Some of these other charities
could be church-related charities such as Catholic charities, mission appeals, etc.
We, in turn, as a parish would also tithe; we would give to the poor, to the needy,
and to charities ten percent of our total parish income. In this way, we, as a
parish community, will be expressing our own thanks to God by giving back to
His people a portion of what He has given us. Father Bruce, Father Tom, and I
also tithe. Our tithe, however, is not ten percent. We give thirty percent of our
income right to our Franciscan province, in support of our missions, our provincial
charities, our student friars, and our order's outreach programs. In actuality,
some months we tithe over fifty percent of our income because we do not keep
anything more than we really need to sustain ourselves. And we have never
lacked for anything we truly need.
Members of Saint Thomas who tithe tell me over and over again that since
they began tithing, they have never been without anything they needed. That
even though their commitment to tithing took a great leap of faith, and money
problems continue to worry all of us, they have never regretted it and at no time
did they ever have to worry again about such matters. All of this boils down to
having a profound trust in God and in His generosity to us, and that God will
never let us down. Here at Saint Thomas we are growing more and more into a
healthy, holy faith community. The signs are all around us. I am pleased to tell
you that, by what I have heard from you, our parishioners and friends that we are
heading on the right track. Think of all the things we could do if our parish
community was financially secure? Perhaps we have not become used to
thinking of Saint Thomas as a growing community, and yet we have been
growing in so many ways that we are bursting at the seams. Wouldn't it be great
if we had some better facilities for our parish community? Wouldn't it be
wonderful if we could fulfill Sister Jackie's dream of having a gymnasium for our
school, and additional space for our parish as well to have more classes,
programs, meetings, etc?
Let's work together to build up Saint Thomas Parish Community, so that it
can continue to grow into a holy, happy, and God-centered parish family.
April 30, 1997
Closed Due To Lack Of Priests
The Fourth Sunday of Easter is always designated by the church as World Day
of Prayers for Vocations. The gospel on this Sunday deals with Jesus as the
Good Shepherd – a reminder of ministry and shepherding. But we know that
vocations are more than just being a priest or a deacon; it also entails religious
life and the call to perfection. I think you know that vocations to religious life and
priesthood have always been of great interest to me, especially since for five
years I was Vocation Director for my Franciscan province. Recently, the Diocese
of Manchester sent out some statistics on vocations published by CARA (Center
for Applied Research on the Apostolate). CARA does studies on the numbers of
priests, on vocations, ordinations, the number of seminary students, etc. The
statistics show a steady decline in areas of priesthood and religious life for the
last few decades. For example, the number of diocesan priests has declined from
over thirty six thousand, down to over thirty two thousand in the last twenty years.
Religious order priests (such as the Franciscans here at Saint Thomas) declined
from twenty three thousand, down to over sixteen thousand. The total number of
priests declined in the last twenty years by ten thousand. Religious sisters have
declined from one hundred fifty thousand in 1965 to ninety-two thousand in 1995.
Here are some really alarming numbers: there are currently over two
thousand parishes without a resident priest; the average age of diocesan priests
is fifty-five, of men religious it is sixty-one, and of women religious it is sixty-five.
These are scary numbers because the population of our priests is aging very
rapidly. What does all of this mean for us? We have to recognize that dramatic
changes have taken place in society and in the church in the last thirty years,
many of which work against the fostering of vocations, such as increased
consumerism and decreased family size. People do not respect or trust
institutions and authority as much as they once did. The family system has been
weakened, and success is by and large defined in terms of earning power. Few
seem to invite young men and women to consider these vocations.
This weekend, our Franciscan Province celebrated the ordination of Friar
Rick Martignetti, O.F.M. Rick was one of my first vocations, and he is the first of
the group I brought into our province that is being ordained a priest. To see
Rick's vocation grow, from someone just looking, inquiring, asking, to being
brought into our Franciscan Formation program, to becoming a Franciscan, to
taking his first vows, taking his final vows, becoming a transitional deacon, and
now seeing him as a priest, has not only brought back wonderful memories of my
own journey to the priesthood, but also made me very proud of this young man.
Rick was just an ordinary kid from the North End of Boston who had a special
relationship with the Lord, and answered the Lord's call with great generosity. I
am sure that there will be others who, like Rick, will respond positively and
generously to God's call to service and love. There may be even some right here
at Saint Thomas who will one day serve God's people as priests or religious men
or women.
May 11, 1997
It’s May, It’s May!
Isn't May a wonderful month? Spring is in full bloom; yes, even here in
cold New Hampshire. I think that by the time May comes, we should all get a
sense of the change of seasons, the warmth of the coming summer, and the
rebirth of nature all around us. Flowers are in bloom, the trees have blossomed in
greenery, and the world seems wonderful.
This weekend, we celebrate Mother's Day, and what an appropriate time
for us to honor our mothers than in the month of May. When I was ordained back
in 1976, it was the day before Mother's Day, and so my first mass at my home
parish in Brooklyn happened to fall on Mother's Day. I thought my mother was
going to faint that day. All of the emotions of having an ordination of her son, the
beauty of the ordination Mass, the gathering of family and friends, as well as a
multitude of priests and friars gathered around the bishop for the ordination of her
son, were certainly overwhelming for her. The next day, May 9th, Mother's Day, I
gave her a dozen roses during the sign of peace. I can remember the pride and
joy on her face on those days, especially since I was so young when I left home.
I am sure the sacrifices she and my dad made in those early days all seemed
worthwhile on those special occasions.
May is also the month of Mary, the Mother of God, the Mother of Jesus,
and our Mother. My memory is filled with the thoughts of my childhood - May
crownings, living rosaries, parades in honor of Mary through the streets, and
processions, the singing of those special Marian hymns: "Bring Flowers of the
Rarest," "Mother Dear O Pray for Me," and "On this Day O Beautiful Mother."
Today we don't encourage the emotionalism of those days in our liturgies and
prayers, but they certainly made things very beautiful and unforgettable. Very
often, we speak of Mary as the sinless virgin, Mary who is the Immaculate
Conception (Immaculate Conception is the dogma that Mary was conceived
without original sin in the womb of her mother, Saint Anne, not to be confused
with the virgin birth of Jesus). But there is another aspect of Mary I like to think
of, and this was brought home to me even more when I visited Nazareth, the
home of Mary, in Israel this past fall. I thought of Mary, the young Jewish girl in
her home receiving the wonderful message of the Archangel Gabriel, telling her
she had been chosen among all people to be the Mother of God. I wonder what
thoughts went through her head, what, if any confusion there was as to this
announcement. And I know that Mary immediately accepted the will of God in her
life, because there was no other way she could respond. This was because
Mary's life was always in conformity with the will of her God. It would be the last
thought in her life ever to do anything that was not completely God's will. Mary,
we could say, was always, from the first moment of her life, in perfect harmony
and in perfect relationship with God. This is what the Immaculate Conception is
all about. What a wonderful model for all of us, not only on Mother's Day, or
during the month of May, but for all days and for all our lives. Mary is a model
because we should be constantly striving to be like her, constantly striving to be
open, seeking unity in our relationship with our God. Mary was prepared for this
from the first moment of her conception. It’s a little more difficult for us since we
have to constantly wrestle with our sinfulness. The themes of May, Mary, spring,
and motherhood, also remind us of our respect for the unborn. What a precious
thing life is – a wonderful gift from God. We should cherish all life, but most
importantly human life.
May 18, 1997
A New Addition to the Family
Many of you have told me from time to time that you enjoy the stories I tell
about my family, whether it is in the view or in my homilies. Well, a few weeks
ago, another chapter was written in our family history when Gabriella Maria
D'Amodio was born on April 30th. Gabriella came in at seven pounds, three
ounces, and she is the first of a new generation in our family. Gabriella's dad,
Joseph, is my sister Angela's son, and this is the first child born to my nephew
and his wife, MariLou. My sister had been blessed with three children, all boys,
and although she lovingly accepted these children from God, she always wanted
to have a girl. Well, now she has her first grandchild, and it is a granddaughter, to
boot. MariLou was way overdue in giving birth, and finally on April 30th, she was
brought to the hospital at six thirty a.m. I spoke to my sister around five o’clock
that afternoon and still nothing had happened. By this time there were eight
members of our family in the waiting room, pacing up and down. One of the
brood described it well; "They were turning a day of joy into a day of misery; gall
bladder attacks, migraine headaches, swollen feet... “
You know, we Italians don't do anything simply or quietly. Why do you
think the Italians perfected the Grand Opera?
Finally, the announcement came when the new dad told everyone he had
a beautiful daughter. The screaming was so loud that security guards from two
floors down ran up to the waiting room, thinking they had a super-emergency on
hand. They haven't had too many dealings with my family! My sister immediately
called to tell me the good news, but it was so garbled by her crying that I could
only figure out that it was good news. It was good news for me, too. If it had been
a boy, his name was to be Joseph, and I already figure between my nephew,
myself, my dad, and a million Uncle Joes floating around, we had enough
Josephs in the family...for now, at least. And the name Gabriella Maria was super
significant. Gabriella from the name of the angel who announced to Mary (Maria),
the good news…that she was to bear the Son of God.
Sociologists tell us that there comes a point in our lives when we stop
living for ourselves and start living for future generations, for what we can bring
our children and grandchildren, and what we can pass down to our ancestors.
This is also part of our Christian and Catholic heritage that we pass down our
faith to others by what we say and do, by how we live the gospel, and how we
bring our faith in Jesus Christ to others. In a few weeks, I will be traveling down
to Staten Island to baptize my new grandniece. Since I was not ordained when
my nephews were born, this will be a first for me. And it will be my duty to remind
my own family of their obligation and our communal obligation to pass on the
faith in Jesus Christ that we have to the next generation. No, old Aunt Tess isn't
around anymore to teach Gabriella how to make the sign of the cross, how to say
the Our Father and the Hail Mary, how to pray the rosary, but that wonderful duty
will fall on Joe, MariLou, my sister, and all those who love Gabriella and want
their own faith in Jesus to be part of her life. Mother's Day this year took on
special significance for my sister and for MariLou. What a wonderful feeling it
must have been for both of them. New life is a wonderful thing in any family, and
we continually thank God for bestowing new life on His people.
June 16, 1997
A Day of Remembrance
June 5th was a day of remembrance for my family and me. It was the
tenth anniversary of the death of my mother. It really doesn't seem that long
since I last saw her face. And although the final month of her life was spent in a
hospital, on all kinds of machinery to keep her alive, my vivid memories of mom
are not of her in a hospital bed. Rather, the place I remember mom the most is in
the kitchen. It seems mom was always in the kitchen, and the kitchen was my
favorite room in the house. It was not just the place where food was prepared. It
was a place of nurturing, of warmth. In our house in Brooklyn we didn't have a
dining room, so we always ate in the kitchen. I can see the scenes from my
childhood: Aunt Tess at the stove, Mom hovering over the table, and me, Dad,
my sister, and my grandfather at the table. Mom was never happy with leftovers;
she always had a pot in her hand ready to replace whatever we had eaten. We
always had to have a full complement of food in our plates until everything was
gone. Aunt Tess, who was my mother's oldest sister and lived with us, was like a
second mother to us. So, when Mom wasn't around, working or whatever, we
always had Aunt Tess to take care of us.
This weekend is Father's Day, and any thoughts that I might have about
mom have to focus also on dad. I remember what a joyful day it was when I
celebrated Mass for them on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They were so
much in love, just as much in love fifty years later as on their wedding day. I did
an interview on video the night before. I asked them how they met, what attracted
them to each other, details about their courtship, and their marriage together. It's
a tape my sister and I still cherish.
Father's Day (and Mother's Day) should not be celebrated once a year.
They should be every day. The importance of family, and the stability it should
bring, is so important to us. We carry life-long memories of our childhood, and we
all know that bad experiences in our youth can affect us for many years to come.
Father's Day and Mother's Day are also days when those who are fathers and
mothers should reflect on the wonderful gift that has been given to them by God,
their children, and the stewardship they are entrusted with. And also, many of our
early experiences with our fathers and mothers have a lot to do with our spiritual
lives and our relationship with God. For a lot of us, the attributes of God were first
learned through our interaction with our parents. We learn of the power of God,
His knowledge, His love, and His nurturing care for us, through those same
attributes in our parents. Sometimes, when people have a bad experience in their
childhood, this can make their relationship with God difficult. For example, if a
person has a lot of anger and hostility built up over their relationship with their
father, it may be difficult to relate to God as Father because of those feelings. My
mother used to say that we have to take an examination to get a driver's license,
so we should also have examinations and licenses for parenting. Of course, she
wasn't fully serious, but the message was there. In a society where we take so
many political things so seriously, how much more serious should parenting be.
There are a lot of influences in today's world, which work against parents.
Parents contend against society, the media, and many other things that compete
with them for influence. Sometimes, parents pull their hair out when the children
start to rebel, when they don't want to go to church anymore, and find Mass
boring. But the values that we give our children through example, and the way
we live our lives is so important.
Last weekend, I baptized my new grandniece Gabriella. (Having a
grandniece sounds sooooooo old!) I repeated to the new parents, my nephew
Joe and his wife MariLou, what I have been telling couples for years; we can eat,
sleep, drink, and talk Jesus to our children every day, but unless we LIVE Jesus,
it all goes for naught. I hope on this Father's Day each and every father, from the
oldest to the newest, will imitate that great Father, who is God and Lord of us all.
August 3, 1997
Why do you come to church?
Did you ever stop and think why you come to church? People usually give
all kinds of reasons why they come to church on Sunday. For some, it is to
worship God. For others, the community that gathers in the name of Jesus is
important. For still others, it is our celebration of the Eucharist that brings us
together. Basically, we come to church because Jesus has asked us to come. In
giving us His body and blood, and offering the supreme sacrifice on the cross,
Jesus invites us to come together and be the body of Christ.
On another level, however, recent surveys indicate other reasons why
people come to church and, more importantly, why people participate in the life of
a parish. We know that each diocese is divided up into parishes. These parishes
are divided along geographic boundaries, for the most part. I say for the most
part because there are such things called "ethnic or national parishes." These
would be parishes formed along ethnic lines, such as a Polish parish, Italian,
French, etc. These national parishes usually have no geographic boundaries, but
are created to embrace people of the same ethnic background. A lot of these
parishes were established during the waves of immigration to our country, and
many of these still exist today. However, when you have geographic or territorial
parishes, as our parish is, strictly speaking, any Catholic living in those
boundaries designated for the parish is eligible to belong to that parish.
Today we know that a lot of people "shop" for parishes. Here at Saint
Thomas we have many members of our church from areas outside our parish
geography, such as Londonderry, Chester, Manchester, Hampstead, as well as
people who live in the territory of Holy Cross in East Derry. Our original focus
asks the deeper question; why do people decide to join a certain parish over
another parish? The answers may surprise you. A large part of the attractiveness
of a parish is what we call small faith communities within the parish. These may
take the form of parish organizations, prayer groups, Bible classes, and any
place where people can share their faith in a smaller and more intimate setting
than at Sunday Mass. As a matter of fact, people who are most fulfilled by their
faith and most involved in the life of the church are those who are involved in
small group faith communities. In our own parish, we have quite a few
opportunities for this, and it is growing rapidly.
Second on the list, after small faith communities, believe it or not, is
"adequate parking facilities." This may seem like going from the sublime to the
ridiculous, but in our mobile and automobile oriented society, having a place to
park is important. The third reason people choose a particular parish is what is
called "art and environment," or, the quality of worship. Do our Sunday liturgies
foster prayer in our hearts? Does the environment of the church facility inspire us
in our relationship with God and with the church? Another issue is hospitality. Is
the parish a welcoming community? Does the parish foster family activities and
programs for the children? Does the parish foster discipleship? Are there
structures for helping people in the parish such as a food pantry, pastoral
counseling, and help groups? Is the parish ready to help in crisis intervention? Is
the parish an evangelizing parish that is, reaching out to the larger community?
Just as in any of these criteria, the opposite or the lack of these things would
foster people not to come to that particular church; I was surprised by one of the
other answers as to why people do not go to a particular church. Too many
people! According to this survey, people are not comfortable if the church is more
than seventy-five percent full! I am amazed at this because I love a packed
church. And yet, people want some room, some space, and some
privacy…interesting. In all of this, here at Saint Thomas, we are striving to help
our church grow into a community of disciples of the Lord. While more and more
programs may help us reach out to those who haven't found a small faith
community here at Saint Thomas, we would also like to avoid watering down our
worship and praise here by what is called "Chinese Food Spirituality." This is
spirituality that is so watered down that, like Chinese food, it fills you up, but in an
hour you're hungry again.
September 7, 1997
Hail Our Youth
This past Sunday I happened to stop into Saint Leonard’s Church in the
North End of Boston during their annual Saint Anthony Feast. I picked up the last
copy of The Pilot, newspaper of the Boston Archdiocese. There, on page three,
was a lengthy article on World Youth Day celebrated in Andover, MA. The
Franciscan Center there (where I spent five years of my life) hosted this event to
coincide with the World Youth Day taking place in Paris with the Holy Father.
Although this event, called "Paris in Andover," was hosted by the Archdiocese of
Boston and our own Diocese of Manchester, a good portion of the work was
done by our own Saint Thomas Youth Group. As a matter of fact, many of the
people at the Andover Youth Day thanked me for the participation of our youth
group. Not only did we have the biggest parish representation at Youth Day, our
kids excelled in every area. Many told me that if it weren't for our youth group,
this event would never have happened. I can't tell you how proud I was of these
kids. They won an award for best banner, and every part of the Youth Day that
they planned went extremely well. At the closing ceremonies, Jason Cipriano of
our youth group did a fantastic narrative of the history of salvation right out of his
head. Also, I had the privilege of playing Moses in their closing presentation.
Felix Pineau, who is the adult leader of this group, did a great job in coordinating
everything, as well as many others who participated. It was especially satisfying
for me since this event took place at our Franciscan Center, so the friars there
were able to see what a wonderful bunch of people we have in our youth
program.
Speaking of youth, our own diocesan newspaper, Tidings, featured an
article this month on Denise Alizio, who has been involved not only with our
youth group but also with the 10:00 Youth Liturgy and STATEC and many other
things happening here in our parish. Denise has been very involved here at Saint
Thomas and her enthusiasm and vigor are certainly an inspiration. Denise has
left Derry for Louisiana, where she is involved in the Jesuit Lay Missionary
Program. She will be teaching young children while dedicating a year of her life
to this missionary activity. We wish her well. Anyone who has given up on the
youth of our society hasn't met the young people of our parish. I was in the
seminary at their age, and I don't remember myself being so filled with
enthusiasm for the Church. Their love for God is manifest not only in their
activities as a youth group and in their work, but in their every day lives. They
manifest the love of God in everything that they do; in the way they treat one
another, in their love, their care, and their support. Our Catholic faith is an
integral part of their lives and I know they are having an influence in the world
around them. I personally owe them a debt of gratitude for their challenge to me
in my own life and ministry. Thanks, young people, and God bless you all.
September 18, 1997
HIV/AIDS Ministry in Derry
For those who might wonder why an archbishop would attend the tenth
annual National Catholic HIV/AIDS Ministry Conference, "the real question would
be, 'why not?'" said Archbishop Francis E. George of Chicago. "This is a way of
being present to people who are performing a very important ministry in the
church, accompanying suffering people, and that's where the church belongs, so
that's where the bishop should be," he said as he welcomed more than two
hundred participants to the conference at Loyola University in Chicago.
Recently, two people died who did admirable work in this area, Diana the
Princess of Wales, and Mother Theresa of Calcutta. Certainly, we do not equate
these two people, but they both demonstrated the concern of the world (and the
church) for this disease. One of Father Bruce's legacies here at Saint Thomas is
the Last Thursday Suppers. Saint Francis of Assisi wanted his friars to work with
outcasts and those who are abandoned by the institutions of society. Almost two
years ago, at Fr. Bruce's suggestion, our staff decided to establish these suppers
for those "infected and affected" by HIV/AIDS. Since then, on the last Thursday
of each month, the "Aquinas Last Thursday Suppers" have brought to this parish
people from all over New Hampshire to have an elegant dinner together. These
dinners were established because people with HIV/AIDS have so few outlets just
to be together and enjoy life. Our suppers have also made us aware of people in
our midst who have been affected by this disease: those who lost family
members, friends, and children. The dinners have been sponsored by a variety of
groups and churches; several Catholic churches in the Diocese as well as
students from Saint Anselm’s College, and other Christian churches here in
Derry. Even our young Franciscan students from Brighton have sponsored this
dinner. We have been graced with the presence of many people from various
HIV/AIDS service organizations who come to make contact with those who need
them, as well as Bishop Odore Gendron, and many priests and religious of the
diocese. This ministry has also given a face of hospitality, caring, warmth, and
concern to our own parish. It has helped us come into contact with people living
with HIV/AIDS, and has helped us do our part in the ministry of the church.
Dr. Jane Dwyer, our Director of Religious Education, and I are on the
Diocese of Manchester's HIV/AIDS Committee, and we host the Ecumenical
AIDS Taskforce out of our facilities at Aquinas House.
You may have spotted some of our young people with a cloth bracelet on
their wrists with the initials "WWJD" on it. This stands for "what would Jesus do,”
an important question we must ask ourselves in any situation. I myself know very
clearly what Jesus would do, He would be right there with us serving and caring.
I know what Saint Francis would do, and I know what Mother Theresa did
throughout her life. In the back of Saint Thomas Church there is an icon of the
Blessed Mother. It was originally done by Fr. William McNichols, a Jesuit (who,
by the way, has also been a guest at our Aquinas suppers), and it is commonly
called the "AIDS Madonna." It is a constant reminder to me and, hopefully, to all
of us, of the importance of this ministry.
As Christians, we aren’t supposed to minister to ourselves. We are, in fact,
called to reach out to others, to bring the message and compassion of Jesus
Christ to other people, especially those most in need. Sometimes, the work we
do cannot be measured, but we know deep down inside that we are reaching
people and something is happening. For many at our Aquinas suppers, their only
contact with church is this parish. Many feel that the church has abandoned
them, and many of these feel, through our efforts, that the church has not
abandoned them, but is there for them.
Recently, a sad part of this ministry has been to officiate at the funerals of
several people who have been frequent guests at our Aquinas supper table, and
have died from this disease. But this was also a happy part of this ministry; that
family and friends connected with the church through our dinners, and rekindled
their faith in those of us who are called Christians. I can tell you I am very proud
of this outreach of our parish. If any of our parishioners would like to get involved
in any way in this ministry, please let me know. Occasionally, we host the dinner
ourselves, and it means setting up, cooking, serving, and being ministers of
hospitality to our guests. Every group that has sponsored our suppers insists on
coming back again and again, so great has been the reward they have felt. I
hope we can share that reward with all of you.
October 12, 1997
Trip to Assisi
I think a lot of you know that several weeks ago, some members of our
parish went on a pilgrimage to Italy with Father Bruce and me. This pilgrimage
took us to Rome, where we had a general audience with the Pope, visited the
Vatican, the great Roman Basilicas, and the historical points of interest. Our trip
then took us to Assisi. For me, this was the most important part of our journey,
which also took us to Florence. There are things I like about Rome and Florence,
but there is nothing like Assisi. Assisi is the city of Saint Francis, who was the
founder of the Franciscans, the Order that I belong to. Saint Francis also founded
the Second Order of Poor Clares, along with Saint Clare of Assisi, and the Third
Order, encompassing religious men and women and the Secular Franciscan
Order, who are also here at Saint Thomas. I teasingly refer to Assisi as
Franciscan Disneyland; it is a medieval town frozen in time. It is a city of peace.
In Assisi there are four major shrines: The Basilica of Saint Francis, which
borders the main town. It is here that Saint Francis of Assisi is buried, along with
several of his companions. On the other side of town is the Basilica of Saint
Clare, which houses the tomb of Saint Clare of Assisi. Down in the valley is the
Basilica of Saint Mary of the Angels. This Basilica encloses Saint Francis'
headquarters, the Portiuncola, which means "Little Portion," a chapel that Saint
Francis restored, and the place where Saint Francis died. The fourth main shrine
is San Damiano, a friary on the outskirts of the town which has the original
chapel that Saint Francis restored. You will remember that Jesus spoke to
Francis from a crucifix in that chapel and told him, "Francis, rebuild my church."
Saint Francis took this command literally and rebuilt these wayside
chapels, before realizing that Jesus was talking about a spiritual rebuilding.
I am sure you heard that there was a major earthquake in Assisi. We left
Assisi the Sunday before the earthquake took place, and as it matter of fact, in
my original planning, I was going to go back to Assisi for another weekend, but
events here at the parish cut the trip short. I guess who knows the will of God,
since I would have been smack in the middle of an earthquake that took ten lives
(including a friar and a postulant) and injured and left homeless many more.
Since the earthquake I have been starving for information on the conditions in
Assisi, and we have the following report:
The Basilica of Saint Francis sustained some considerable damage, and
is closed to pilgrims, as are all the shrines. Parts of the ceiling in the upper
church fell, but the tomb of Saint Francis was not damaged. Saint Clare’s
suffered heavy damage to its load-bearing structures. The convent shows signs
of serious subsidence in its foundations. The Poor Clare sisters have been
moved to other monasteries, although five Poor Clare nuns are sleeping in a tent
at the Basilica to guard the body of Saint Clare. Not even the Second World War
succeeded in making the Poor Clares leave the monastery. Saint Mary of the
Angels is closed on account of heavy damage to the vault, the naves, and the
cupola. The Portiuncola chapel is intact. The friary suffered major damage and
the friars have been evacuated. Many of them are living in tents. San Damiano,
only recently restored after years of renovation, has suffered serious damage to
the load-bearing walls of the friary. The novice friars, who number fifteen, have
been moved to another friary. In the town of Assisi many of the friars are
assisting the people with relief efforts and in the camps, which have been set up
for people who have been evacuated. This earthquake is a great blow to us as
Franciscans, because these places are so holy to us. I consider myself very
fortunate to have been at the shrines and our group was probably one of the last
to see them intact. Now, evaluation must go on for the rebuilding of these
shrines. Franciscan officials have been offered much help from around the world,
and it is hoped that the shrines can be reopened for the millennium celebration in
a few years.
When we began our tithing program, I promised not to have any second
collections, but I would like to send a donation from our parish to Assisi through
our order to assist with the rebuilding of these beautiful shrines. I will, therefore,
make a donation in the name of our parish through our tithing money, which we
have put aside for the purpose of charity. I would invite any of our parishioners
who may wish to send an additional amount to Assisi to drop a check or cash in
the collection in an envelope marked "Assisi Fund," with your name and
envelope number on it if appropriate. We will be taking funds for this for the next
few weeks. And I ask all our parishioners to join together in prayer for all those
killed, injured, or left homeless through this tragedy.
November 9, 1997
Yes, We’ve Accomplished Much
They say, as you get older, time goes by much faster. I have to admit that,
for me, time is going so fast that sometimes I don't know what day it is. I know
that in actuality nothing has changed. There are still sixty seconds to a minute,
sixty minutes to an hour, and twenty-four hours in a day. Yet, I know my own
perspective on this is changing and it seems to be going faster. For example, I
can't believe that I am in my third year as pastor of Saint Thomas. I still feel like I
am just beginning, although a lot has happened in the last two and one half
years, and I know a lot is yet to come. Technically, as friars, our terms of office
last only three years, from provincial chapter to provincial chapter. Our next
chapter (which is a general meeting of the friars of our province) will be this June,
and at that point we will elect a new board to assist our current provincial and be
part of his administration. At the chapter, all appointments cease, and we must all
be either reappointed or given a new assignment at that point. Our own
provincial, Fr. Robert Campagna, did his official "visitation" last week.
A visitation is an official visit by the provincial. He interviews all the friars,
inspects our books and records, makes sure we are all doing what we are
supposed to be doing, and gives us fraternal advice and, if need be, correction.
Since Fr. Robert is one of my best friends, it was also a fun and fraternal time
together. Fr. Robert came down from visiting our friars in Maine, and brought
lobsters for us. Brother Courtland made us a delicious linguini with shrimp sauce
to go with the lobsters, and we had a great meal together. During my visitation, I
had the opportunity to review what has happened during my pastorate. I pulled
out of the files a "wish list" the parish staff had come up with some time ago, and
it gave me a chance to evaluate what was happening, and what we still needed
to do. Among the items on our wish list were a bible study class (done), adult Ed
programs (done), guest speakers (done), change in the baptismal catechesis
program (done), finance council (done), a tithing program (done), food pantry
staff (done), more active youth group (done), an RCIA team (done), and repair to
the church bell (done). Some of the other items, such as restoring our church
exterior, painting the interior, and a gym, are still in the distant future. One area
where I admit I have been delinquent is in the establishment of a pastoral
council. I have been talking about this for almost two years, but it still hasn't been
done, and I promise to get working on this as soon as possible. This is an
element of parish life that I feel is missing and I admit, that I have been
procrastinating on this. I have to say that I looked on all of this with a feeling of
accomplishment, and with a knowledge that none of these things would have
been possible without a wonderful parish staff, a great support team, a fantastic
finance council, and the greatest parishioners any pastor could ask for. In this
time of giving thanks, I truly thank God for leading me to Derry.
November 16, 1997
Lay Ministry
This weekend at the four thirty p.m. Mass we are honoring all the people
of Saint Thomas Aquinas Church who volunteer their time in any way. We all
know that, without volunteers, our church would be in a very sorry state. Most
non-profit organizations depend heavily on volunteered time, and churches are
no exception. As a matter of fact, most of the programs we have here at Saint
Thomas would be non-existent if it weren't for our devoted parishioners giving
their time and their talent. I know that I would soon get into trouble trying to name
all the different activities and groups associated with our parish where people
volunteer their time. One obvious place is in our CCD program, where we have
about two hundred people serving as teachers, aides, proctors, assistants, and
doing all kinds of things. Our Sunday Liturgy depends on our choir, lectors, altar
servers, Eucharistic ministers, ushers, and many others who serve in ministry to
our parish and people. As a matter of fact, I believe that it is in the area of
ministry that we see most clearly the workings of Vatican Council II. I remember
when I was growing up in Brooklyn, New York. I attended my parish school, Saint
Catharine of Alexandria on Fort Hamilton Parkway. This parish had a pastor and
five assistant pastors, in addition to a full complement of religious sisters staffing
the school and teaching religious education. Except perhaps for altar boys (there
were no altar girls in those days) and the ushers, there was little need for lay
people to do anything. The priests literally did everything. Sure there were
secretaries and housekeepers, but as far as ministry was concerned, this was
the realm of the priests and the sisters. Today we live in a different church.
The decline in vocations to the priesthood and religious life has hit deeply.
But, fortunately, many wonderful faith-filled parishioners fill in those gaps once
supplied by priests and nuns. Today, in our own parish, people are involved in a
variety of ministries: visiting the sick, bringing communion to those who are
housebound, in nursing homes, or in the hospital; teaching religious education;
liturgical ministries; teaching in our parish school. Many other activities are
examples of Jesus reaching out to those in need. This is by far a different church
than I grew up in. This special volunteers Mass and dinner is our way of saying
thank-you. I am sorry more of our volunteers couldn't join us, but I want you to
know how impressed I am with so many of you, who, despite your own busy
lives, working, raising families, caring for your own homes, and trying to squeeze
into your busy schedules some quality time together, still find the time to devote
some hours to your church. And I say YOUR church because that is what Saint
Thomas is...YOUR CHURCH. Thank you, again, for making Saint Thomas
Aquinas Church in Derry truly someplace special. In the view from my window, I
thank God every day for giving our parishioners such generous hearts.
November 23, 1997
My Three Moms
I grew up with what I believe is a fantastic example of love and sacrifice.
Let me give you some background. I grew up with three moms. Now, I wasn’t
living in some kind of hippie commune or in some alternative household. I
shared our house with my mom and dad, my sister, my maternal grandfather,
and my Aunt Tessie. My real mom, Anna, and Aunt Tessie were sisters. Aunt
Tessie was the matriarch of the family. She was one of the oldest of the sisters,
and she had never married and was very religious. She had wanted to be a nun
in her younger days, but, as customary in a lot of Italian households, stayed
home to assist my grandmother and take care of the family. Aunt Tessie was
everyone’s comare, or godmother. She was so holy. She taught us all how to
pray before we could walk. She would teach us to make the sign of the cross,
and say amen. I think every child in our family learned their prayers on Aunt
Tessie’s lap. She had a thousand novenas she would say each morning at her
bedside before going to work, and tons more when she came home.
I had another Aunt Tessie, who we called Aunt Tessie Junior. Aunt Tessie
Junior had the same exact name as the other Aunt Tessie- Teresa DePalo, and
she was the wife of my mother’s and Aunt Tessie’s brother, my Uncle Happy.
Yes, I know. What kind of name is Happy? His real name was Pat, or Pasquale,
which is Italian for Easter. But we all knew him as Uncle Happy. Aunt Tessie
Junior was very different than Aunt Tessie Senior. She was a wild blonde that
had gotten my uncle’s eye when he was very young. In her younger days she
was a flapper, was a lot of fun, and loved to entertain and dance. She was
always the life of the party, playing pranks and entertaining everyone. Aunt
Tessie Junior was everyone’s friend.
When I was about 5 years old, my grandfather got sick. He could no
longer walk. My mother and two Aunt Tessies decided they would take care of
him, and they did every day. They sacrificed so much in their lives. Every day I
was surrounded by these three wonderful women, and saw the great sacrifices
they made for their father and father in law. It was a life long lesson.
I could never pick a favorite among them. Mom was mom, nurturing,
caring, and when needed, the disciplinarian. I had a soft place in my heart for
Aunt Tessie, because she was alone. She was so proud of me when I was
ordained a priest. Aunt Tessie Junior was special. She was a friend. When I
cried and cried on my first day of school at Saint Catharine’s in Brooklyn,
Reverend Mother Veronica told my mother to take me home. My mother was
furious about this, as she had prepped me for months about going to school.
Every day that summer Mom would buy something for me for school. “Joseph’s
got a new lunchbox,” she’d announce.
“Joseph’s got a new pencil case.”
“Joseph’s got a new school bag.”
“Isn’t Joseph excited about going to school? And he’s not even going to
kindergarten. He’s going right into the first grade.”
By the way, my mother always called me Joseph. And she insisted that
everyone else call me Joseph, saying this was my given name, not Joe or Joey
or anything else.
Anyway, I know this embarrassed her - especially with Mother Veronica
yelling at her in front of all the other mothers. Mom bit her finger all the way
home. That’s what she’d do when she was angry…it’s an Italian thing. When
we got back, mom let me have it, in her own way. Boy was she mad.
The next day I decreed – since I already knew at the tender age of 5 that I
would one day be a pastor (I was already issuing decrees), that I would only go
back to school with Aunt Tessie Junior. This burnt mom up even more. So,
every morning for that whole year, Aunt Tessie Junior would take me to school in
the morning and pick me up in the afternoon. I loved her so much.
We know that in life, no relationship can be sustained unless there is a
willingness to sacrifice. I tell couples when I perform their weddings, that from
now on, their spouse must be the most important person in their lives, even more
important than themselves. In any relationship, be it husband and wife, parents
and children, or friends, we must be willing to give up things - to sacrifice for one
another.
The example of my three moms is one that has guided me as a priest.
We must be willing to sacrifice for each other if we really love one another.
December 7, 1997
Farewell Bishop Leo
This morning I got mail from Bishop Leo. It was a form letter, and it came
with a bunch of other things from the diocesan offices. But it was kind of strange,
since he died this past Sunday morning. We met with him the Tuesday before he
died. It was a very moving service, midday prayer celebrated with the priests of
the diocese. About two hundred priests came at the request of the bishop. We all
knew it would be the last time we would see him, and it was a very emotional
gathering. We prayed with him and for him, and he asked us to journey with him
on this his final pilgrimage. I wondered what he was thinking: what goes through
the mind of someone who has to face death so imminently? I know that all of us
some day will face death, but how is it to know that your death is only days or
weeks away?
I don't think any of us thought that Bishop Leo would go so soon. Although
he looked weak, his voice was strong, and his message was even stronger. He
thanked his priests for their service, especially service to the poor and
downtrodden. He expressed the regret that all of us in administration feel; of
being too bogged down with running dioceses and churches that we can't do the
ordinary little ministry things that we like to do. Bishop Leo said he wanted to
work in a soup kitchen or in an AIDS hospice. I have worked under several
bishops; however; Bishop Leo was by far the most compassionate and loving.
His passing has touched all of us very deeply. He has been a good shepherd of
his flock. During the prayer service Bishop Leo had with his priests, a most
moving moment occurred when all of us imposed hands over him and prayed this
prayer: "We commend you, dear brother, to almighty God, and entrust you to our
loving Creator. May you return to Him who formed you from the dust of the earth.
May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints come to meet you when you go
forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you bring you freedom and
peace. May Christ who died for you admit you into His garden of paradise. May
Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of the Shepherds of His
flock. May He forgive all your sins, and set you among those He has chosen.
May you see your Redeemer face to face, and enjoy the vision of God forever.
Amen."
Bishop Leo came to our parish twice this summer. He was here for the
anniversary of the Knights of Columbus, and celebrated Mass for us. He also
came for Fr. Tom's twenty-fifth anniversary celebration. Last year he celebrated
confirmation for our students. When I became pastor of Saint Thomas, Bishop
Leo invited me to his home for lunch. It was memorable for me because he was
so welcoming to me. He also told me what he expected of me as pastor of Saint
Thomas. These now, of course, are cherished moments. Although he should
have been with us much longer (in the span of bishops’ terms, he would have
had six more years before retirement), the bishop was able to prepare for his
death in a way that gave us courage and a wonderful example of faith. He was
able to say goodbye to his family, his friends, his priests, and his diocese in a
very intimate way. Those closest to him said he had two final things he wanted to
do: say farewell to his priests and have a last Thanksgiving with his family. He
was able to do both of these things. I know all of you join me in prayer for Bishop
Leo. We pray that God has already taken him into His loving arms, and that he
may dwell with Him forever. Bishop Leo, rest in peace.
1998
January 11, 1998
The Vocations Crisis
When Father Bruce was made a pastor back in September and the parish
was told that he would not be replaced by another priest, I told our parishioners
that we would have to make some sacrifices, with only two priests trying to meet
the needs of ten thousand parishioners. When we had to trim down our Mass
schedule, especially by eliminating the noon daily Mass, I stated that this was the
vocation crisis hitting us squarely in the face.
We often talk about the lack of vocations, but we really understand what
it's all about when we cannot do many of the things we have been used to. One
of the realities of all this is that people cannot expect to have a priest at their side
any time they want. This means, unfortunately, even at someone's deathbed. We
as Catholics have always presumed that this was a right that we have – that we
can have a priest present to give a person the last rites when the time of death
came. But for many, this will not happen because there are simply not enough
priests around any more.
It is unrealistic to think that a priest is going to sit by the phone all day
waiting for a sick call. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be a very good pastor if all I
did was stay at home all day. Many times our ministry takes us beyond the parish
boundaries. We need to visit people, to conduct business, to go to meetings, to
attend to the needs of family and friends. I happened to go home the day after
Christmas for a few days. I have personal needs to attend to, such as seeing my
family and an eighty-seven-year-old dad who would like to see his son’s face
once in a while. After all, it was Christmas time. In the meantime, someone was
trying to reach me and was hurt that I did not return their phone call. I explained
as gently as I could that we were not able, given our limitations, to be present
twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And I apologize to no one for that. I
think we have developed a "mall" mentality about church; that it is always open
and always there when we need it. This is an ideal situation, and unfortunately,
we fall far from the ideal. Christmas time only makes the situation worse.
I have told you that our phone rang close to six hundred times on
Christmas Eve. People called us that day, even with us in the middle of our
Christmas preparations, thinking that it was business as usual: scheduling a
marriage, needing to talk to a priest, wanting a Mass card, or finding out who
sells pink colored rosary beads. This is in addition to the hundreds of calls asking
our Mass schedule. We get little work done and even less preparation done for
the Masses. In the end we are frazzled, exhausted, and overworked. People
expect the same from us whether it is our first Mass or fourth Mass of the day,
and sometimes we are just too wiped out to be at our best. When people expect
too much of us priests, I ask the question I used to ask when I was vocation
director, "When was the last time you encouraged someone in your family to be a
priest or religious?"
Maybe this is the ultimate in generosity, giving your son or your daughter
the ability to say "yes" to a vocation. Maybe it interferes with your plans for
grandchildren or whatever. But think of what it will do for our faith and for the
gospel. Saint Thomas Church is a growing, vital community; we should have four
or five priests to do justice to the ministry needs here. Someday, perhaps, there
will be only one priest, and more sacrifices will need to be made. Someone
recently wrote asking me to reinstate the noon daily Mass. After all, I was told,
what better way to spend your time than to celebrate Mass? Yes, it is.
Technically, we are supposed to celebrate only one Mass a day. Sometimes we
do two and sometimes three. A few weeks ago, I celebrated the eight a.m. Mass,
two funeral Masses, a Mass at Birchwood Nursing Home, and a Mass for the
prayer group, all in the same day. Father Tom very often finds himself in a similar
situation. What can you do? Well, we can't get you to say Mass. But you can pray
for vocations, foster vocations, promote vocations, and encourage vocations. Tell
your children what an honor it is to be a priest or religious (and particularly a
Franciscan!) This is where it starts, in the home. This week we celebrate
Vocations Awareness Week. Let's begin right here.
March 18, 1998
Feed the Hungry, Help the Poor
This coming Wednesday, as part of our Lenten Adult Series, we are
having a presentation entitled "Mission and Service." This will be presented by
Ray and Lauretta Seabeck, who are from Gilford, New Hampshire. They are
members of the Missionary Servants of Pope John Paul I, a missionary society
that provides service to the poorest of the poor. They provide food, clothing, and
shelter for God's most needy people, primarily in Haiti and some Latin American
countries. They do a lot of work with Mother Theresa's missionary sisters. You
may remember Pope John Paul I. His name was Albino Luciani, and he was the
pope before our present pontiff. Pope John Paul I was only pope for a few short
weeks and yet he is remembered for his wonderful kindness and charity, as well
as his radiant smile. We can only wonder what a blessing his pontificate would
have been for the church had he lived for years after his election. But even with
such a short time in his ministry, he made a great and lasting impression on a lot
of people. The Missionary Servants of Pope John Paul I have taken up his
standard of humble service to bring the message of God's word to the poor. Their
work reminds me very much of the founder of my order, Saint Francis of Assisi,
in his desire to work with those most neglected by the world and society. When I
became vocation director of the Franciscans back in 1989, it didn't take me long
to realize that, although I loved the work I was doing, I was, at heart, a parish
priest. I missed the interaction with the congregation, celebrating Sunday Mass,
doing baptisms, and helping people with a variety of needs. I was living in
Brighton, Massachusetts in an ordinary house on an ordinary block that was our
friary. It wasn't a parish rectory or school friary, and it wasn't attached to any
particular outside ministry. I began to look for ways to get involved in a parish, at
least on a part time basis. Providence led me to a parish one day as I was
making contact with a lot of my old Boston classmates from the seminary, since I
had been gone from Boston for over thirteen years. I was speaking to a friend of
mine who was taking a leave of absence from a parish in Needham. He said that
he didn't think that the Archdiocese of Boston was going to replace him, and so
his pastor was looking for some weekend help. It happened that his pastor was
one of my old seminary professors, so the opportunity presented itself well. I
contacted Father Haddad at Saint Joseph’s Church, and soon I was doing
weekend Masses at his parish. It was wonderful to be back in parish ministry,
even if it was on a limited basis. It was a very busy and active parish in a pretty
affluent suburb of Boston, and every weekend there were a lot of things going on.
One weekend I arrived at Saint Joe’s to a flurry of activity. Ray and Lauretta
Seabeck were there, making a presentation at all the Masses. I was very
impressed by what they had to say, and about their powerful ministry. We saw
photos of all the work they were doing, and the parishioners there responded
with great generosity and kindness. It was so great to see everyone, from the
oldest to the youngest, helping out, making sacrifices, and caring so much to
help others. During that weekend the youth group was collecting food and
clothing to ship to Haiti, and everyone was excited. A year later, while on the
Provincial Board, I had a substantial donation from our provincial mission funds
given to the Missionary Servants to build a bakery in Haiti. I hope they are
making some nice Italian pastries.
Ever since coming to Saint Thomas, I have remembered that weekend. I
firmly believe that outreach to the poor and the needy have to be part of any
parish community. I know what Saint Francis wanted from his followers, and I
certainly don't need to remind you of what Jesus has asked us to do. Here at
Saint Thomas, we have had a history of great generosity. I think many people
realize that the sheer size of our parish (at almost ten thousand people) makes
the potential for outreach in our parish enormous. Many agencies in the area
depend on help and volunteers from our parishioners. Our food pantry, our work
with the town, and our help to many of the poor in Derry and the surrounding
area, are demonstrations of our faith, our love for each other, and our generosity.
Since we began our tithing program last Easter, we, too, have been tithing as a
parish, that is, designating ten percent of our parish income to help the poor, the
needy, and other organizations and agencies around us in their own outreach.
However, we must recognize that we are part of a universal church, and people
who live in Haiti, or in Africa or Asia, or wherever are just as much our brothers
and sisters as those who live in our town and in our neighborhoods. It has long
been my dream that we as a parish adopt some foreign mission to help. I think
this is the true mark of a Christian, that we give without seeing the reward, and
sometimes even without knowing the result.
Now, perhaps we as a parish would like to get more deeply involved with
the Missionary Servants of Pope John Paul I. This is an organization that is
based right here in our own state, and yet does wonderful and remarkable work
for those who truly need our care, our love, and our support. Or perhaps there is
another group we would like to help. Can I ask you, if possible, to join us on
Wednesday, and hear what this couple has to say about the Missionary Servants
of Pope John Paul I? The presentation will be at seven p.m. in the hall
underneath the church. Perhaps God is asking us at Saint Thomas to get
involved in a new endeavor, one that reaches beyond the borders of our town,
our state, and our nation, and touch some people who are desperately in need of
God's love.
March 17, 1998
Irish or Italian?
As I am writing this "view," it is Saint Patrick’s Day. We just finished having
Mass with the students of Saint Thomas School, and I am filled with memories of
the past, in particular, of my own days in grade school. Saint Patrick’s Day was a
big deal in our parish. Although when I was growing up there were a lot of Italians
in our parish, it was originally established by the Irish, and so, was considered to
be an "Irish" parish. The names of our pastors and parish priests bore witness to
that: Monsignor Mullaney, Monsignor O'Brien, Father Sutherland, Father
McGloin, and Father Murphy. We were thrilled when an Italian priest was finally
sent to our church, as if it were some affirmation of our existence as an ethnic
group. I remember our nuns, the Religious of the Sacred Heart of Mary, was
originally a French order, but they sent most of their Irish sisters to our parish.
Our sisters were called "Madames," kind of odd, I guess, and they all spoke with
a thick Irish brogue. I guess we all have stereotypes of those nuns that we had in
grade school, which have been exaggerated by comedians, and shows such as
"Nunsense," but I have wonderful memories of these sisters. The priests and
sisters at my parish were a great influence on me in my own vocation, and they
were my heroes when I was growing up.
Anyway, we always marched as a school for Saint Patrick’s Day in the
parade in Brooklyn. This wasn't, of course, the big parade, which was in
Manhattan, the famous New York Saint Patrick’s Day Parade, presided over by
the Cardinal (Cardinal Spellman in those days). This was a smaller version which
marched through the streets of downtown Brooklyn. We were told to wear our
green, and us Italian boys, being troublemakers (as the sisters would always
say), wore red or orange. The orange would infuriate our Irish friends, but it was
all done in fun. A few days later, on Saint Joseph’s Day, we Italians took our turn
at being ribbed by our Irish friends. They would wear green or blue, while we
wore our red colors, in honor of Saint Joseph. The Saint Joseph’s feast was
always special for us Italians. I once asked someone why they thought Saint
Joseph was so special to the Italians, and this person told me that Saint Joseph
WAS Italian; he migrated to Galilee from Sicily! We would eat the famous zeppoli
di San Giuseppe, wonderful pastries made for this feast which can still be
purchased in the North End of Boston. I guess we always looked for an excuse to
eat something special, like pastries, in particular during Lent. These feasts of
Saint Patrick and Saint Joseph were always important days to us.
As a church community, these feasts were important to various ethnic
groups, but they are also a celebration of our diversity. We are a church of
people from all around the world. We may have our own customs, and our own
ways of worshipping, but as a church, we celebrated our "catholicity." A lot of
times, when we proclaim "one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church," we think we
are proclaiming catholic with a big "C." But the "catholic" we pronounce in the
Nicene and Apostles’ Creeds are with a small "c," meaning, worldwide, diverse,
encompassing all people. And that's the wonderful part of being Catholic. We can
celebrate our differences no matter what our ethnic background, race, color, way
of life, or origin. We are united in our faith in Jesus Christ; all this points to the
fact that prejudice should not be part of our lives as Christians. This was also the
model Jesus gives us. Jesus loved everyone, even the greatest sinner, and even
those marked by society as outcasts: Samaritans, tax collectors, and prostitutes.
If, during this Lenten season we seek to ask "WWJD," (What Would Jesus Do),
we have our answer right in the gospel. Love one another, as I have loved you.
April 5, 1998
Washing Feet
This Thursday, which is Holy Thursday, at the Solemn Liturgy of the Lord's
Supper, we will be reading a very special gospel. The gospel, taken from Saint
John’s Gospel, narrates how Jesus, on the night before He died for us, took an
apron, wrapped it around himself, and washed the feet of His disciples. This was
the act of a servant who would wash the feet of his master and the master's
guests after they came in the house from the desert outside. It was a menial task,
one seemingly not worthy of the King of Kings. And yet Jesus reminds us that if
we are to be His disciples, we must be willing to wash one another's feet. When
you think about it, washing someone's feet cannot be considered a very pleasant
task. I am reminded of this every time I do this ritual on Holy Thursday. This will
be the first Holy Thursday I am doing this, but in my former parish, I did do this
many times before. Getting down on your knees in front of someone else,
touching their feet, washing them, drying them with a towel, kissing those feet, is
certainly not an enjoyable task. And yet, it is a beautiful gesture when done with
the service and the love that Jesus asks of us.
As a pastor, this has special significance for me. Understand that I do not
consider myself unworthy of this task. In fact, the exact opposite is true. To be
able to do this for my brothers and sisters, in imitation of Jesus, is both an honor
and a privilege. Let's face it. A lot of people do much more difficult things for
others because of love and service, or even because it's their job. Is washing
someone's feet degrading for me? Certainly not. It is a sign of true service, that if
we are to follow Christ we must be willing to go much further than washing one
another's feet.
One year when was in Pittsburgh, I was teaching the CCD Confirmation
Class. When Holy Week came, all the Confirmation students were required to
attend the services. I asked the students in my class if they wanted to participate
in the washing of feet. They were emphatic in their willingness to do this. I think
some of them thought it would be fun to have Father Joe wash their feet. There
were the typical jokes, about coming to church with dirty, smelly feet, and I took
them in stride. I usually came back by saying, "That's okay. I'll wash them and
they won't smell anymore."
This particular year, I wasn't prepared for what happened. I had a
rehearsal with the students, six boys and six girls, after school, and we went
through a dry run of the ritual that would take place that night. The six girls all
went together to one of their homes, and decided they were going to play a trick
on me. That night, when I got down on my knees to wash their feet, each of the
girls painted a special message for me on their toenails. They were all different
colors, and were adorned with smiley faces. Their messages read, ‘Thanks,
Father Joe,’ and ‘How does it smell down there?’ It was so funny I couldn't stop
laughing for the rest of the Mass. Another time, when I was in the seminary, we
were entertained when a woman in the congregation, who was asked to have her
feet washed at the last minute by the celebrant, tried to be discrete in removing
her panty hose while sitting in her pew during the homily. Since I was on the altar
serving, I and the other servers were entertained through the whole homily and
again, did a lot of laughing. But this whole ritual action, although it can have its
funny moments, is a beautiful re-enactment of what Jesus did for His disciples,
and a reminder to all of us the true meaning of Eucharist, that is, love for one
another. Jesus gives us the supreme example: He gave His very life for us that
we might live. The least we can do is wash one another's feet. I hope everyone in
our parish will take advantage of the beautiful services of Holy Thursday, Good
Friday, the Easter Vigil, and Easter Sunday. Although Holy Thursday and Good
Friday are not days of obligation as such, they should be. These feasts are more
important to our Christian and Catholic heritage and our faith than any other feast
days. I hope that our reception of palms on Palm Sunday will be a sign of our
willingness to walk with Christ during this Holy Week.
April 19, 1998
Thanks for the Music
When I was a freshman in our minor seminary in Andover, one day one of
the seniors came around asking if anyone wanted to take organ lessons. I
volunteered, having had some experience playing the accordion. I started taking
lessons from a teacher from Lowell, and did very well. By the end of my first year,
I was already playing Bach fugues (which none of the other organists were able
to do). After my summer vacation, I returned as a sophomore. The first day at the
seminary, I was upstairs in the dormitory getting ready to go to bed, when one of
the seniors approached me and told me that one of the priests, the choir director,
wanted to see me. The choir director told me that I had to play the organ for the
Solemn High Mass the next day that marked the opening of the school year. I
said, "No, there must be some mistake. I'm only a sophomore. There are other
organists who are ahead of me in seniority."
I was informed that none of the other organists in the upper classes
returned, and that, even though I was only in my second year, I was now head
organist at the seminary. Well, I must have turned a shade of green just thinking
about it. Anyway, I did very well after that, and, when I was a novice, our
provincial asked me to study music in addition to my other studies for the
priesthood. I entered Saint Pius X School of Liturgical Music in Purchase, New
York, which was then the premier liturgical music school in the country, and had
the opportunity to study under some of the great Catholic composers of the time.
Later, I attended Boston University Graduate School to continue my music
studies. If I hadn't become a priest, and the New York Yankees weren't making a
contract offer to play center field for them, I probably would have become a
church musician. This, of course, makes it difficult for any musician who works
for me because I am extremely particular and fussy about the caliber of music at
liturgy. I am fussy not only as to the style of music, but also because I hear every
possible mistake. And that is why, when I had to hire a music director for Saint
Thomas years ago, I knew I had to hire only the best. Emery Freethey came
with wonderful music expertise and solid credentials, having played at Saint
Jude’s in Londonderry and at our own Saint Joseph’s Cathedral in Manchester.
Bishop Gendron, when he came a few weeks ago for our confirmation, was
thrilled that Emery was playing here.
This past week's Holy Week Service only confirms the quality of our music
program. Anyone who regularly attends our eight o'clock Sunday Masses knows
the great sounds that come out of our choir (even at that early hour). That Mass
has to be one of my favorites to celebrate, because I enjoy so much hearing the
choir and cantors. Having someone to provide music at Masses and services is
not enough for me, however. I also must have someone who has a knowledge
and respect for our faith, our worship, and our liturgical practice. A musician must
be familiar with seasonal themes, with the scriptures, and with the faith that we
celebrate at Mass and I can't tell you how happy I am that we have that at Saint
Thomas. Just as the music has been outstanding all year, Holy Thursday and the
Easter Vigil were highlights befitting the solemnity of these feasts. Handel's
"Hallelujah Chorus," and Johann Sebastian Bach's "Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring"
were so beautiful at the vigil, that we couldn't stop the applause for the choir after
Mass. And I know that anyone who has a complaint about our organist or our
music needs to have their ears examined.
Our folk group, too, always does a wonderful job. The music at the ten
o’clock Mass is of a different style, but no less beautiful to hear. I hope all our
parishioners realize all the time and effort that goes into our music program.
Choir members, cantors, folk group musicians, all volunteers, practice every
week and sometimes even more in order to make our music so beautiful and our
worship so reverent. I wish each and every parishioner would take the
opportunity to thank these people personally for their devotion to our parish and
to our worship.
I think, while we're on this subject, you need to know that liturgical and
church music is not denominational by nature. By that I mean there is no such
thing as "Catholic" hymns, "Protestant" hymns, etc. Many of what we might term
"Protestant or Episcopalian" hymns were originally written for Catholic churches
in Europe, and translated into the local language. Many non-Catholic Christian
churches are using Gregorian chant, written for the Catholic Church. Recently,
Transfiguration Episcopal Church here in Derry requested a copy of the old Latin
Gregorian Creed to use there. Many of the songs we use at the ten o’clock folk
Mass are not what we would call traditional "Catholic" hymns, but more
evangelical or charismatic. To term a song Catholic, Protestant, or Episcopal
shows a great ignorance of music, hymns, and our musical tradition. Johann
Sebastian Bach wrote beautiful Latin Masses that were sung for years, yet he
was a Lutheran. Even some of our great church composers today are not
Catholic but write primarily for the Catholic Church.
Let me conclude with a little story. In my home parish in Brooklyn, our
pastor, Monsignor Mullaney, was waging his own private war on the "Protestant"
influences on Catholic music. He informed the music director of our church, Mr.
Thomas, that not only were there no instruments other than the pipe organ to be
played in church, but even no music by a non-Catholic composer. This eliminated
many of the traditional composers, including Bach himself. Monsignor was very
happy that Mr. Thomas, our music director, was so diligent in assuring that only
Catholic music graced our church. Anyone who wanted to sing in the choir must
have their "Catholic" credentials screened. When Mr. Thomas, who was music
director for some forty years died, Monsignor called his widow to make funeral
arrangements. Wasn't he shocked to learn that Mr. Thomas wasn't even a
Christian, but a professed atheist! I laughed when I heard the story. It goes to
show what fools we can all be at times.
There’s another funny story that goes with this. When I had my first Mass
at Saint Catharine’s, I knew Monsignor Mullaney’s aversion to anything but the
purest Catholic music. Although at that time he was retired, he still lived at Saint
Catharine’s as the Pastor Emeritus, and wielded a lot of power. Since I was
having a folk group for my first Mass, I deliberately kept the music program a
secret from both Monsignor Mullaney and our pastor, Monsignor O’Brien, until
they saw the guitars, banjos, drums, basses, and tambourines coming to set up
in the church. Monsignor Mullaney almost had a stroke, but never said anything
to me about it. A few months later, Monsignor Mullaney died. Five years later I
returned to Saint Catharine’s to officiate at a wedding of a friend of mine. I was
speaking to the organist and telling him that I was a native of the parish. I told
him I had my first Mass at Saint Catharine’s in 1976. He said he didn’t remember
me, but recalled a “crazy Franciscan who brought in this terrible folk group that
we believe hasted Monsignor Mullaney’s demise.” Was he embarrassed when I
convinced him that I was that crazy Franciscan!
May 10, 1998
It’s Elementary, Sherlock
Now I know a little bit about how Sherlock Holmes felt. For a long time now, our
parishioners have been lamenting the fact that we have had to lock the doors of
the church soon after the eight a.m. Mass. We all remember with nostalgia, the
days when church doors were open twenty-four hours a day, when people loved
and respected the church building (or maybe for some it was out of fear) that
they never dared to vandalize, rob, or do anything to desecrate or harm God's
house. But we know those days are over. There are some things in church
buildings that are fair game for anyone who wants to take the chance: money,
sound equipment, chalices and candlesticks. So, many of our churches
(including our own) must be locked.
For quite some time now, our church has been regularly robbed of the
money in our candle boxes. Although we have tried our best to make sure that
money is removed from these boxes, it is not always possible to monitor these
boxes all the time. Sometimes we forgot, or thought someone else took care of it.
About a year ago, someone learned that there was money to be had in the
candle boxes in the back of the church. This person would go into the church
when no one was around, pop the locks (and therefore breaking them) of the two
candle boxes, and take the money. Even those times when the boxes had been
empty, it still cost us money each time to get a locksmith to refit the boxes with
new locks, keys, etc.
We have long been on the lookout for the guy doing this, and all of us at
the friary had a description of him. Last Thursday, I was sitting in the front office
with Brother Courtland when we both noticed a man coming out of church. I
immediately became suspicious - he looked like the one we suspected. Brother
Courtland said he noticed him walking around the church and Aquinas House for
a while, and he was in the church building only for a few minutes. Brother
Courtland and I put on our "Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson" hats and the
drama began. Br. Courtland went into the church to check on the moneyboxes,
while I jumped in my van and proceeded to follow our suspect as he walked north
on Crystal Avenue. At one point I thought I lost him, but picked up his trail again
in Hood Plaza. I called the friary and Br. Courtland confirmed that the
moneyboxes were vandalized again, and that our organist had heard it happen
from the choir loft seconds before the suspect came out of the church. The
suspect went into Shaws (probably to spend the money he got from us). I waited
outside and called Br. Courtland again, asking him to join me in front of Shaws.
When Br. Courtland arrived, we decided to confront the suspect, rather than call
the police. When the suspect came out of Shaws, we approached him, and told
him we saw him in the church and that we had been robbed. Of course, he
denied it, saying he only went in to say a prayer. For a moment, I was almost
convinced, but decided to call the police anyway. Well, three police cruisers
arrived. We were outside of Shaws for a long time, giving testimony and signing
papers. Eventually, the suspect was arrested and taken away in handcuffs. Of
course, I had mixed feelings about the whole incident. On the one hand, anyone
who has ever been robbed knows the feeling of violation you can have when
someone breaks into your house (and even your church). This guy was making a
habit of it, every two or three weeks, and was putting us all on edge. Understand
even more important than the money (money should never be the issue for us,
especially for Franciscans) was the trust issue; that we didn't know who was
doing this, that we had to lock up the church, and look with suspicion on anyone
who came in, even just to pray. So this guy, through the last year, did a lot of
damage. On the other hand, I wondered what drove this guy to such desperation
that he would have this need to rob a church? Certainly, if he came to us in need,
we never would have turned him away. We probably would have given him more
than he could have stolen in all these months. And yet he chose this act of
robbery as his only course.
Unfortunately, it is incidents like this that make us so suspicious in so
many different ways. When people come to the church for help, we know that
very often people come to churches because we are easy targets. The majority
of people who come to us have honest needs, and we are happy to assist them
in any way. But there are some who come only to cheat and steal, and will make
up the most fantastic stories in order to do so. There are some who have little
regard for the church, or the people who staff a church. They may come with
their own problems: addictions, extreme poverty, or simply looking for an easy
way to make some money off of someone they feel may be gullible or naive. This
is sad because each time this happens; it closes us up and makes us more and
more reluctant to be of help. So, if you saw me and Brother Courtland up at
Shaws surrounded by police last Thursday, please be assured it wasn't US who
were being arrested!
June 7, 1998
Building with Living Stones
When I became pastor of Saint Thomas Church almost three years ago,
one of the greatest sources of anxiety for me was the financial situation. It was
apparent that the dismally low amounts received in the Sunday collection were
taking its toll on the parish. The buildings were badly in need of repair, and there
was deterioration all around. I began asking different parishioners why they
thought our collections, which at that time were mostly in the three thousand
dollar range, were so bad, given the size of our parish. I thought that, since we
had three thousand families (almost ten thousand parishioners), and were the
largest Catholic church in the state of New Hampshire, our collections should be
much higher. I was told that it was because we were living in New Hampshire,
where New England frugality is at its best, or worst, given your perspective;
because we were an old congregation, or because the population of Derry is so
poor. When I looked through our parish listing and did some demographic
searches on the computer, I saw a different story. It didn't tell much about our
being frugal, but it did say that we were not that old and certainly not that poor.
When I looked at the age range of our parish population, I saw a vast majority of
young people and families. We had four thousand members under twenty-one,
and the largest age groups were in their twenties and thirties. When I saw the
occupations listed, there was a majority of professionals and very few people
who were unemployed. I wasn't happy with the answers I had been receiving,
until our Finance Council started in operation. They had an answer that I was
more willing to believe: we never have been told about the financial situation of
the parish, and no one has ever asked us for larger contributions.
Well, last year, right after Easter, we initiated our "Time, Talent, and
Treasure" program. We asked parishioners to tithe to the church and to charities,
at least some portion of what God has given them. And, our parishioners may
consider themselves frugal New Englanders, but all of you have outdone
yourselves in generosity. I am sure you know the statistics. We are averaging
over eight thousand dollars a week in our Sunday collection, and this year, even
though our Catholic Charities campaign just ended, we have already this year's
pledge goal, broken last year's record, and set a new record for contributions in
our parish to New Hampshire Catholic Charities. Your generosity has allowed us
to do so much, and I am eternally grateful to all of you. Our parish now has one
of the highest incomes in the diocese, so much for poor old Derry! And your
generosity has allowed us to do so much toward getting our buildings back into
shape. Hopefully, this coming year we can tackle the outside of the church, and
get it to look like something we can be proud of again. Our elevator/handicap lift
is now in full operation, and I hope that those of you in need will use it often. No
one has an excuse anymore for not coming to church on Sunday. And along with
our new bathroom on the church level, no one should find our parish insensitive
to the needs of those who might find it difficult to get around. I hope that these
new features will be a large, bright WELCOME sign to all people.
Early this week, all our parishioners will be receiving a letter from me and
the Finance Council It will be an opportunity for us to renew the pledges we
made last year in our "Time, Talent, and Treasure" program, and to invite those
who are not participating to join us in making Saint Thomas a truly viable
community of believers. Again, we are asking you to return the pledge cards to
the parish office through the Sunday collection or the mail. We remind you that
no one is obligated to this pledge, beyond our obligation as Christians under
God. I hope you are all pleased with what has happened. And I know that our
love for God, our faith in Jesus Christ, and the Spirit that makes us one will
continue each day to sustain and support us in love,
June 14, 1998
The Franciscans
A few weeks ago the friars from our parish attended our Provincial
Chapter of the Province of the Immaculate Conception. The entire Franciscan
Order throughout the world is divided into "provinces." For the most part, these
are geographical provinces, although in the United States, our provinces very
often overlap because they were founded on ethnic rather than geographical
lines. The Franciscans were in the new world very early on; as a matter of fact,
our friars were on Christopher Columbus' second voyage. The friars established
missions in what is now southern USA, in California and Texas, in Mexico,
Central and South America. The history of the Franciscans in the east really
starts with the waves of immigration in the 1800's. Although there were isolated
friars in the area before that, large groups of friars came over from Italy, Ireland,
Poland, and Germany as they followed the people from their homelands as they
migrated to the United States.
Our own Franciscan Province of the Immaculate Conception is based out
of New York City, but was founded in Western New York State, when Bishop
Timon of Buffalo invited some English-speaking Italian friars teaching at the Irish
College of Saint Isidore in Rome, to come to his diocese to minister to the Irish
immigrants who were building the Erie Canal. From there the friars established
Saint Bonaventure University, a seminary, and began ministry in the large
eastern cities of New York, Boston, and Pittsburgh.
From the very beginning, it has been the tradition of the friars to meet
every three years in "chapter," which is basically a spiritual, fraternal, and
business gathering of the friars. At our chapters, the friars conduct business,
evaluate the last three years, make plans for the future, and elect our leadership
for the next three years. The meetings usually last a week, although I have been
at chapters that have lasted two weeks. Every six years the entire order has a
chapter, usually held either in Assisi or in Rome. At this meeting, our worldwide
leadership is elected. These "General Chapters" as they are called, can last as
long as a month. Friars come from all over the world for the General Chapter. Of
course, not all the friars come, only the leaders of the provinces (called Provincial
Ministers), and sometimes elected representatives of the friars. This year's
provincial chapter was held at the Friar Tuck Inn in Catskill, New York. We
usually have our provincial chapters at one of our larger friaries (the last one was
held at the Franciscan Center in Andover). Since there were almost one hundred
friars at the chapter, it is difficult to find a facility in our province large enough to
house so many, so it was decided that it would be more economical to have the
chapter at a hotel.
The Friar Tuck Inn is located in the Catskill Mountains, only a few miles
from our former novitiate friary. It was the first time that we had a chapter in such
a facility, and we enjoyed it immensely. It was kind of funny seeing one hundred
friars running around in their brown robes in such a place that is named after a
very famous friar of Robin Hood fame. There are a lot of things in this resort that
reminded us of our heritage as friars, and I am sure that the resort owners were
thrilled at the publicity of having all these friars meeting there. Besides the
business that we conduct at chapters, there are also opportunities to get together
with other friars from our province who are indeed our brothers.
There was also time for relaxation and fun. We had wonderful
"gaudeamuses" each day (from the Latin "let us rejoice"), a religious "happy
hour" so to speak. And there were three swimming pools, a sauna, a gym, bocce
courts, a game room, and all the amenities we like to have. Part of the chapter is
decision making on the future and that always means the transfer of the friars
from one assignment to another. It can be difficult for both friars and for the
people we serve when someone is transferred, but that is part of our life. We
have a vow of obedience and must leave sometimes on a moment's notice to go
to a new assignment. Transfers are sometimes like dying; some friars like to just
move on quickly, without fanfare, without tears and long goodbyes. Other friars
like big parties and a lot of emotional farewells. We have learned to respect the
wishes of the friars in this regard. But I can tell you this. Friars are not transferred
for trivial reasons and not without full dialogue with the friars involved. The days
when we received a letter in the mail telling us we had two days to report to our
new assignment are over. Unless there are special circumstances, friars usually
know months in advance of an impending move. I want to thank at this time
Father Roger Croteau of Holy Cross Community here in Derry, for covering the
parish for us while we were gone, and to Fr. Tom Bresnahan, for filling in for a
funeral for us. One of the days we were gone, Sr. Jackie held a communion
service instead of Mass. This is probably something we are going to see more
and more in the future, as the demands on the priests' grow because of lack of
numbers. So remember, please pray for vocations.
Speaking of Sister Jackie, one of our parishioners was so excited about
her communion service, that she reported to me, “Sister Jackie said a great
Mass.” And she was serious!
September 21, 1998
Let the Tent Say “Amen”
Okay…this will be the last time (this year at least) that I will talk about the
tent revival. It was such a rousing success. I was overwhelmed by the response.
I think each night people were touched in a special way. So, I will attempt to
address some random thoughts in this "view" as they are circling around my
head. First of all, no one can really appreciate what a tremendous undertaking
this tent revival was unless you were involved in the committees. Even though
we all saw "part" of the picture, there was a bigger scene going on all around us.
Our committees, consisting of members of our parish and Holy Cross, were
absolutely wonderful. They had every aspect of the revival under control, from
getting priests to hear confessions, to assisting with the parking of cars. I had to
do very little worrying about the details of the tent revival. It was a tremendous
feeling to say to people during the revival coming to me for answers, "I don't have
any idea; you have to ask the people in that committee."
What every renewal and sabbatical program teaches priests today is that
we have to set limits and boundaries on our work, and that it is impossible to be
in charge of everything and to control every aspect of parish life. I must also trust
those lay people in the parish who come forth with special gifts and abilities.
Because I was ordained and because I am pastor does not make me the expert
in every field. Fortunately, I learned this a long time ago. A lot of times, we don't
understand how stress has a way of wearing us down, although many people
come to me saying, ‘Put it in the hands of God,’
I realized how little faith I have at times and how difficult it was to put
everything in the hands of God. Each night I went to bed exhausted, and often
woke up exhausted, but tremendously happy over the rich spiritual experience
we had. One particular day of stress was Monday, opening day, so to speak. The
Derry Fire Department threatened for a while to withhold our occupancy permit
for the tent. My Italian rage was boiling over, and I was willing to go to jail, call
channel nine, have a sit-in, and fight on the grounds of religious freedom for our
right to have this tent revival. After all, we were only coming together to pray, not
to raise money or anything like that. I felt sorry for the fireman who was caught in
between rules and regulations and God's praise, and in the end, God was
praised. I couldn't let this column go without giving a plug to Frank Howard and
Lazarus, the contemporary music group from Saint Marie’s. Complemented by
some of our own folk group members, they added so much to our tent revival.
They do have an album that we are selling here at the friary, and if you want to
relive each day their beautiful music, buy one for yourself.
It's impossible for me to thank everyone, but special mention needs to go
to our speakers: Fr. Marc Montminy, Pastor of St. Marie’s in Manchester, and Fr.
Jim Goode, my novitiate classmate. Fr. Jim certainly roused the tent and
recalled for us the best of “Old Tyme Tent Revivals.” Many thanks to our
witnesses, Matt, Aaron, Peter, Adam and Jason Tekin, Susan Stone, and the
youth group from Holy Cross; and finally, the One who deserves all the credit for
the success of our Tent Revival, Almighty God. If one single person turned to
God during this revival, it was a tremendous success. If one single person turned
back to Him, it was a tremendous success. And if one single person from this
revival seeks to grow closer to the Lord, it was a tremendous success. So, once
more, in the words of Fr. Jim Goode: Let the tent say “AMEN.” Amen.
September 28, 1998
God’s Presence in our Lives
Did you happen to see last Friday's Union Leader? On the front page it
reported that a sixteen-year-old girl posed nude for a photo for her boyfriend for
Valentine's Day. Certainly, the parents were outraged when they found out about
it. On the front page of last Friday's Derry News, there was a feature story of
boys holding up signs to passing motorists reading ‘Honk if you hate Clinton.’ I
was doubly disturbed that this was newsworthy in our town while our Tent
Revival (which had one thousand three hundred people attend) was not. I
wondered what are we teaching our children. No matter what one's politics may
be, or what we think of the president, is it right to hate? And adults were honking
and encouraging this. Maybe I'm getting old...but before we write off the younger
generation, there's good news.
In that same Union Leader it said that for the first time this decade, more
than half of America's high school students were saying no to sex. It said that
more and more high school teens do not see themselves as social outcasts in
high school because they are virgins. If you attended our tent revival, you saw so
much good news. You saw all the kids, especially the teens from our youth group
and Holy Cross working hard and praying during our tent revival. I can't tell you
how inspiring it was to see all of these young men and women so enthusiastic
about God in their lives. I hope you had a chance to see Matthew, Aaron, Peter,
Adam, and Jason Tekin witness to the presence of God in their lives, and how
accepted they are by their friends and classmates because of the witness they
give. They are representative of so many in our parish who are not giving in to
peer pressure and the crowd, but rather, are showing others that it's cool to be
Christian. I hope you saw the mime group from Holy Cross. These teens gave a
wonderful, silent witness to the revival by their mime and demonstrated before all
of us their faith in Christ.
I have to admit that, before coming to Saint Thomas, I have never seen so
many dedicated, loving, caring, and holy teens in all my life. I think that, even
though I was in the seminary during my teens, I did not see in the seminary the
degree of commitment to the faith, and to Jesus that I see in these young men
and women. So many people at the revival were deeply touched by the witness
of these young people and their teen friends, watching and cheering them on. I
told the Tekin boys that they didn't even have to speak, all they had to do was
stand as five brothers before the congregation at the tent revival, and that in itself
would have been uplifting; to see the fruits of our own faith carried on to the next
generation. I think that if any of us get to know these young people, we are
deeply encouraged about the future of our faith and the church. As Fr. Marc said
in his talk on ‘The Holy Spirit and Hope,’ “We shouldn't be pessimists about the
future, but optimists."
And while a lot of people would write off the future generation and see
only dark clouds on the horizon, I see wonderful things happening.
November 15, 1998
Hurricane Mitch
In another part of this bulletin, you will see an announcement concerning
our parish's efforts to help those whose lives have been shattered by Hurricane
Mitch. This is an area particularly close to us Franciscans, since our own
Franciscan province has had, for many years, missions in the countries hardest
hit by the hurricane. Our provincial, Father Robert Campagna, recently wrote a
letter to all the friars concerning this storm. "The news from Central America, as
you know, is very sad and very disturbing. The effects of Hurricane Mitch have
devastated lives and property. Whole areas in those countries of Nicaragua,
Honduras, and Guatemala were destroyed. The scenes on television are
frightening and indescribable. The toll of death and destruction are too vivid and
close to the lives of our friars living and working in those poor countries."
The provincial asked ‘each and every friar to pray for these poor people; to
do all in your power to help by soliciting funds and whatever items may be
needed.’ Brother Courtland spoke to Father Marion, our mission director, and we
need to help these people in any way possible. It is now known that over ten
thousand people have died, and hundreds of thousands have been injured and
left homeless from this storm. Central America has been set back fifty years,
according to many of those who have observed the destruction. With another
thirteen thousand people missing in Honduras, Nicaragua, Guatemala, and El
Salvador, it is imperative that we do all we can to help these people. Last
Sunday, Pope John Paul II said, "While I pray to God for the many, many victims,
I call on everyone once again to show generosity toward the survivors who have
enormous problems to face."
As our Holy Father reminds us, we are called by virtue of our faith in Jesus
Christ, to help these, the needy. One of the things we cannot claim when faced
with needs such as this is ignorance. We see the images on our televisions each
night. We get first hand reports from news services or off the internet, we cannot
help but feeling great compassion for these people who have been struggling for
years to make a better life for themselves. We need to respond out of Christian
love and generosity, because our faith compels us to do so. And we need to
reach out to them because of our own abundance. All we need do is look at our
homes, our rooms, our basements, our attics, and see the many things that we
accumulate that are no longer needed. Maybe we are saving things for a rainy
day, or maybe we have some clothes that we have long outgrown, yet are saving
in case we may lose some weight and be able to use them again. Or maybe
some money we have been saving for Christmas will do much better for these
people than for ourselves.
What a wonderful sign of our faith we can make right now by sacrificing for
these people in need, Help us in our relief efforts. Remember, the rainy day we
were saving for has arrived; maybe it is not our rainy day, but it is definitely
someone else's.
December 20, 1998
Christmas is for Christians
Christmas is finally upon us. After months of preparations (which seem to
start earlier and earlier each year), that holy feast of the Nativity of the Lord will
be celebrated at the end of this week. Each year it seems to me that our own
celebration of Christmas grows more and more counter cultural. While we strive
as Catholics and Christians to remember the true meaning of Christmas, that is,
the religious meaning, the world around us finds more and more reasons to
celebrate this "holiday" outside the realm of religion. One telltale sign this year
was very obvious. The media reported a special event that took place on the
White House lawn, the "traditional" lighting of the White House ‘holiday’ tree.
Holiday tree? Since when? Saying holiday tree is as absurd as saying a
Hanukkah bush. Isn't it obvious that our society is becoming reluctant even to say
the word Christmas? After all, Christ is in Christmas, and, since we so firmly
believe in the separation of church and state, our country cannot say,
"Christmas" now.
All of this is very sad. The secularism of our society is slowly eradicating
any of the vestiges of religion that remain in our nation. While we profess to be
"one nation under God," and our currency may read "in God we trust," the "God"
in all of this should actually be spelled with a small "g," that is, the god that we
have made, the god called money. Christmas has become a shoppers’ festival, a
time to make money and spend money. The long lines we see in malls of people
waiting for beanie babies or furbies, or whatever the rage is at the moment
shows where our hearts truly are. Would we be surprised to see such lines at
church for Mass? I think we would be shocked. It is wonderful that so many
people do come to church for Christmas (mostly for Christmas Eve), but wouldn't
it be great to see them back each Sunday after that?
I have been saying for some time, that we, as Christians, need to reclaim
Christmas as a religious feast. Perhaps one way to do this would be to move the
date of Christmas. Let our society celebrate its "winter money festival" on
December 25th. Let's have our gift giving and parades and parties for that day.
Then, let's have our religious celebration in early January, as do our Orthodox
brothers and sisters, and make that a truly religious festival. It probably won't
happen, but I think it might be a good way to "keep Christ in Christmas." Right
now, I know the day is coming when our nation will rename December 25th,
when we will have to call it something other than Christmas. Christmas, after all,
is too religious a word for such a secular society. In the meantime, all of us,
people of faith, hopefully will continue to recognize the true meaning of this feast,
and its great importance for all of us. We celebrate a God who loves us, who for
us, who wants to be with us so much that He becomes a being like us, in the
person of Jesus Christ. We celebrate a God who takes on our human flesh, and
now experiences what it is like to be a person: to feel, to love, to laugh, to cry, to
know what it is to have a family, to experience friendship, to know sickness and
suffering and death. And this God, who has experienced what it is like to be
human, and has become human like us, shares our human experience. What
greater love can we know?
The friars here at Saint Thomas join me in wishing all of you, your family,
and friends, a very happy and blessed Christmas season.
1999
January 10, 1999
Christmas in NYC
The Christmas season always seems to evoke strong sentiments and
memories, especially memories of our childhood. I guess, as we get older we
long for the beauty and innocence of Christmas past, especially those when we
were children. When I was young, one of the traditions we had each year was to
go to Radio City Music Hall in Manhattan to see the Christmas show. Our old
Aunt Tess, who lived with us, used to take my sister and me during the week
after Christmas. I remember taking the subway (very few people in New York had
cars, including us) and riding over from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Even though they
are both part of New York City, they were worlds apart. Brooklyn, with its cozy
residential neighborhoods, was larger in population than Manhattan with its bright
lights and tall skyscrapers. There was wonder in our eyes when we exited the
subway station and found ourselves in the middle of Times Square. Our
traditional visits included Saint Patrick’s Cathedral (to say a prayer and visit the
manger scene), Rockefeller Center (especially the skating rink and the huge
Christmas tree, not Holiday tree), and the windows of the department stores on
Fifth Avenue, with their scenes of the North Pole, Toyland, and other Christmas
scenes. I remember waiting for hours in line to get into Radio City Music Hall to
see a Christmas movie and a short, but exciting, Nativity pageant. Two thrills for
me were to hear the beautiful carols being played on their gigantic pipe organ,
and the depiction of the birth of Christ. We would be freezing in line, buying hot
chestnuts from the vendors, and observing all the different types of people
around us. But what a joy it was.
The days of waiting in line at Radio City are over. The prices have gone
up and tickets can be obtained through Ticketmaster. Back in November, I
decided to buy a few tickets as gifts for family and friends and go to Radio City
for the Christmas show. After a delicious dinner at one of my favorite Italian
restaurants in Greenwich Village, we rode up to Radio City. Movies are no longer
part of the Christmas show, but it was still a spectacle to behold. We didn't have
to wait in line (so we didn't get to buy any chestnuts. I'm not sure if I would even
buy them today). We got right in and found our seats for the show.
About twenty minutes before the show started, the organ cranked up
featuring not one, but two, organ consoles, appearing on either side of the stage
playing Christmas songs and carols. The show itself was magnificent. The first
part centered on Santa Claus and his toy making, with the Rockettes making
their traditional appearance about four or five times in various costumes, always
doing their famous leg kicks that gets everyone applauding. The second part
started after a brief intermission, with more songs, this time centering on bells. At
about this time I started grumbling to myself. It had been so long since my last
visit that I didn't think that Radio City would do anything as overtly religious as the
manger scene. "Another secular Christmas show," I grumbled to myself.
I managed to lean over to my sister, Angela, and ask her if they still did
the manger scene.
"Of course," she said.
What happened next was utterly thrilling. It was one of the most beautiful
Christmas pageants, featuring the newborn Christ, Mary, Joseph, the shepherds
with real sheep (just like me on Christmas eve this year), cows, and then, the
Three Kings with their followers and servants, all with real live camels. Besides
the sheer beauty of the scene, the commentary was so religious that it was
refreshing after hearing “happy holidays” ad nauseam. The narration centered on
the gospels, and was quick to point out that it was Saint Francis of Assisi who
made the first live depiction of the manger scene for the people of Greccio, Italy.
Was I proud. After hearing the beautiful Christmas hymns, all the characters
were in place, and the narrator pronounced, “At the name of Jesus, every knee
must bend…” It was wonderful to see the cast (and camels, too) kneel down and
worship the little Christ child.
I don’t know who owns Radio City or who operates the theater, but it was
such a profound religious experience for me to see this with thousands of people
watching, that I was deeply moved. Finally, there was one element of society not
afraid to proclaim the real meaning of Christmas, the celebration of Emmanuel,
God among us. I could hear the sniffles from all around me as people were
caught up in the religious experience of the scene.
I think there is a valuable lesson here for all of us. We, as people of faith
and as believers in Jesus Christ, must not abandon our high holy days to the
secular meaning this world wants to give. I don’t deny anyone the right to
celebrate Hanukkah, or Ramadan, or whatever. But we must always be
reminders of the presence of God among us and celebrate His presence at
Christmas. We must pose a stark contrast to the “holiday season” that worships
the false god of money, while we worship the one true God. On this feast of the
Baptism of the Lord, let’s renew in our hearts our commitment to make Christ
known everywhere, so that, in those same words, “at the name of Jesus, every
knee must bend…”
February 21, 1999
Spring Cleaning in February?
Now that Lent is here, we anticipate the coming of spring. What property
owners do very often in spring is to survey their land and their buildings, see
what damage the winter weather has done, and assess how to use the warmer
weather for repairs. Anyone who has taken even a casual walk around our
church building knows how much the outside of our structure is deteriorating. The
front facade of the church, the bell tower, the stained glass windows, and even
the stairs entering into the church, are all in need of great repair. Our parish
Finance Council has been meeting and is in the process of taking bids on this
work, which we hope to do this summer. It is difficult for us to know how much
work needs to be done, since there may be damage way beyond the cedar
shingles, and, in some places, this might run pretty deep into the structure of the
building.
When discussing the physical needs of our parish community, we
understand that this will not come without a heavy financial burden. The Finance
Council believes that a capital campaign to raise funds for this purpose is now in
order, and we are currently looking at various ways to put an extensive fundraising campaign into action. This could be done in-house, or hiring a
professional fund-raiser might do it.
In our deliberations, other considerations come into view. We must now
also deal with the "building project" of Saint Thomas Aquinas School. Projections
show a seventeen to twenty percent increase in the population of the southern
tier of New Hampshire in the next ten years. The Diocese of Manchester has
even placed Bishop Frank Christian to head plans for the diocese to
accommodate the increase in population. What do we plan to do as a parish? We
know that space is becoming increasingly scarce. As a matter of fact, while in the
past people complained there wasn't anything going on at Saint Thomas, today
we have the opposite problem. We've simply run out of meeting places. Even
with utilizing the school building, Aquinas House and the church hall, we still
have to have meetings in the friary kitchen and in the sacristy of the church.
At a joint meeting of the Pastoral Council, the Finance Council, and the
School Board, it was decided that we would take over the school addition project
and construct on the site of Aquinas House a parish activities center, with
meeting rooms, a gym/multi-function center, and other facilities.
In discussing these plans with the Diocese, they have asked us to develop
a three-phase program. Phase one would take care of the outside of the church,
stained glass windows, and painting the church. This is the greatest need right
now. Phase two would consist of the construction of a parish center to be used
by the parish and the school. Phase three would be the interior of the church
(painting, new pews, etc), and reconstruction of the parish hall to include offices,
smaller meeting rooms, as well as reconstructing the entrances to the hall, the
bathroom facilities, and the kitchen.
Derry is growing very quickly. I have heard of plans to construct a minimall or a supermarket directly across the street from the church on Crystal
Avenue. Of course, the parking lot across the street from the church belongs
mostly to the church (the northern-most, one-third does not). This will surely have
an impact on the community.
In the immediate future you will be hearing more about these projects.
Right now we are looking for help, advice, etc; in most of these areas. I would
like to establish a Building Committee to help us in planning for the parish center.
People who have knowledge of the former plans for the school gym would be
most helpful, as I would like to have maximum input from them. I would like to
also be especially sensitive to the needs of the school in this regard, although
this will be a parish building. We must remember that Saint Thomas School is not
an independent, private school, but it is OUR parish school and an integral and
important part of our parish community.
If you would like to help us, either on the building committee, or with fundraising efforts, etc., I would appreciate a call. I know this will be a big project and
will require a lot of hard work and sacrifice. Our tithing program has proved to me
the love that our parishioners have for Saint Thomas Church and our common
desire not only to see our parish grow in every way, but also to meet the needs of
our ever-growing population. In the end, we put all of these things in the hands of
God, who through Jesus and the Holy Spirit, guides and directs our actions as
family, church, and community. Always remember the words of the psalmist:
"Unless the Lord builds the house, in vain we labor."
February 28, 1999
Fasting (or Feasting) on KFC
I think for a lot of us, things get more and more cluttered as we go on in
life. We tend to accumulate a lot of things, whether these are objects, or burdens,
or even relationships. I am sure one of the attractions of Lent for us is the
nostalgic feeling we get when we remember Lents gone by. As a child, Lent was
simple; you gave up candy and desserts, tried to be extra nice to mom and dad,
and went to church a bit more. As I got older, Lent became more complicated. In
the seminary, it varied between hours of long rituals that we didn't understand, to
days upon days of fasting.
When I was in theology seminary, we lived in a house of our own across
from Saint John’s Seminary in Brighton, Massachusetts. This house consisted of
fourteen Franciscan theology students and several priests who watched over us
day and night. One day our superior thought it would be a good idea to abstain
from meat during Lent. When I say abstain from meat, I mean completely; meat,
meat products, meat sauce, soups made with meat, and it also meant every
single day from Ash Wednesday until Holy Saturday. We had always been told
that the Sundays of Lent were not fast days, but not this time. We had no meat.
At first it wasn't bad. Some of us were able to lose some unwanted
pounds, and we had enough variety to substitute other things that we found
enjoyable. But as the weeks went on, our meatless diet took its toll. Some of the
brothers started snapping at one another, others got outright belligerent, and still
others began to get sick. Now, I don't want to over-dramatize this situation. We
were all healthy enough, and maybe we blamed common late-winter colds and
sniffles on the diet, but we definitely missed meat. We found ourselves taking the
long way home from school (it always brought us by the Stockyard Restaurant,
famous for its beef, where we could at least smell the roasting beef). After three
or four weeks, our house was unbearable. Everyone was snapping at each other,
and fights were breaking out left and right. We told our superior that our fast was
taking its toll, but he refused to budge.
One night I was sitting at my desk in my room on the third floor of the
friary, pouring over a very difficult concept in systematic theology (probably, now
that I think of it, written by Thomas Aquinas), when I decided I'd had it. After all,
any graces I was receiving from my Lenten fast were erased by my hostility with
the brothers. I said to myself that it was not worth it. I went downstairs, got the
keys to one of the friary cars, and drove to downtown Allston where I purchased
for myself a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. This was in the days when they
had twenty-four piece buckets. I couldn't wait to get home. On the way down
Washington Street, my right hand found itself in that mass of flesh and grease
and skin and bones, and I came up with a juicy thigh to munch on as I turned up
Foster Street.
I pulled into the driveway, quietly made my way to one of the back doors,
and skipped up the stairs (yes, I could skip up stairs in those days; I was still in
my mid-twenties), bounded down the hallway, got into my room and locked my
door. There, laid out before me, were twenty-four (no, now twenty-three)
delicious pieces of Kentucky Fried Chicken, original recipe, as greasy as you
could get. I quickly started devouring the chicken like some ravenous fox in a hen
house. Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. I'm cooked, I thought, thinking it
was Father Superior. Instead it was one of my classmates. I didn't dare open the
door, lest he learn of my fall from grace.
"What do you want?" I said through the door.
"Open that door, I smell that chicken," he said
I let him in and the two of us desperately began stuffing the chicken down
our throats. Then came another knock, and then another, and another. Before I
knew it, there were six of us in my room, getting chicken grease all over my term
papers, and having a great time. When we were done, we took great pains to get
rid of the chicken bucket, the bones, and anything that could have possibly
survived our bacchanalia.
The next morning, six of us were feeling great about Lent, and the
upcoming celebration of Easter. Unlike the other brothers, we were no longer
testy, or angry, but filled with mirth and laughter. When Father Superior joined us
for breakfast, he couldn't help but notice our smiles. Then, he asked, "Did anyone
smell Kentucky Fried Chicken in the house last night?"
I am sure our guilty faces gave us away. We did not betray ourselves that
morning at breakfast, and maybe Easter came a little bit early for us. Or maybe
even more likely, we learned a lesson about human weakness, about frail
humanity. I think KFC still plagues me here in Derry. I swear our neighbor to the
south on Crystal Avenue turns all his exhaust fans toward the friary every Friday
in Lent; because that’s the time I get an uncontrollable craving for a twenty-four
piece bucket.
March 11, 1999
Pass the Pizza Rustica
The Easter season, much like Christmas-time, has its own variety of
traditions and customs that revolve around church activity and families. One
tradition that I think is fading is that of bringing blessed palm to our relatives and
friends. On Palm Sunday it was traditional in my family to bring some of the
palms we received in church to our aunts and uncles. I remember each Palm
Sunday going with my father to visit his brothers and sisters, each of them
receiving a piece of palm. Of course, I used to love doing this, not only because
of our visit, but because each of my aunts would have some of their favorite
foods prepared. At each stop, I would have to have the special cookies, pastries,
or Easter bread prepared for that occasion.
I don't remember anything special for Holy Thursday, as far as traditions
or food was concerned, but I do remember going to church to visit the Blessed
Sacrament. Afterwards, we would have the traditional "seven church visit," in
which we would visit seven churches in the area to visit the Eucharist in repose.
Of course, this was much easier to do in a place like Brooklyn, where there were
Catholic churches on almost every street corner. The friars and I were discussing
this the other day, trying to figure seven churches that we could visit in this area
within a couple of hours. The two Londonderry churches are near, as is
Hampstead. Holy Cross will be close when they get their church built, and maybe
Saint Peter’s in Auburn. Good Friday was always a day of fasting; we ate very
little. Mom would have some fish for us for supper, but the afternoon was always
spent at church from twelve to three o’clock, and in silence. I remember my
friends trying to coax me into talking during the “grand silence," but I refused to
do so.
I don't ever remember going to the Easter vigil, but Easter Sunday Mass
was always special. New clothes were all in order, and the entire day was very
festive. There would be a big dinner at our house, with all the aunts and uncles,
cousins, etc. coming over. We'd have our typical Italian meal, topped off with a
roast leg of lamb. By the time we finished the antipasto, the pasta, the meatballs
and sausages, and a salad, it was hard to make room for anything else.
Easter always had its special foods. Mom would make her famous pies,
pizza rustica, pizza grana, which is more of a cheesecake, and my favorite, pizza
piena (or pizza chiena as it is sometimes called). My spelling on this might not be
correct, but it is a derivative (dialect) of pizza piena, which means "full pie." It
consisted of eggs, cheese, salami, prosciutto, capicollo, and enough cholesterol
for an instant heart attack. It was mixed together and baked in the oven, and it
was great hot or cold. I used to love eating it after Easter, having a cold piece for
lunch or as a snack. Also, special breads were made, such as sweet breads,
which were great for breakfast.
It may seem that a lot of my memories revolve around food, but it was at
the dinner table that we experienced the love of family and friends. Although our
food was important, and it made us long for mealtime, it was also the place
where we interacted with each other. And so, it is no wonder that so many of us
have such fond memories of family while at the dinner table.
Today we live in a society where we are constantly running around,
always busy, and unfortunately have less and less time to sit down with family
and friends. While commercials and advertisements boast of instant meals and
ready-cooked dinners, we miss much of the socialization that goes on around the
dinner table. It was wonderful seeing so many people at Mass for Easter. But we
all need to remember that we should never be too busy to partake of Jesus'
supper every Sunday, not just a few times during the year. I hope Easter was for
all of you a most blessed and happy day. And remember that Jesus Christ is truly
raised from the dead.
May 2, 1999
Comments on Columbine
I think the events of last week in Littleton, Colorado have shocked all of
us. The fact that something so tragic and unbelievably violent could happen in
one of our nation's schools is hard to believe. As we hear the stories of the
various acts of heroism on the part of faculty and students, we can only wonder
what is happening in our society today that makes our young people so violent. I
was particularly impressed with those Christian students who acted on their faith
and witnessed to their belief in the face of the threats on their lives.
Schools are supposed to be safe places; instead, more and more in this
country we are facing situations similar to that of Columbine High School. Many
sociologists believe that incidents such as this can happen in any of our schools.
I believe, however, that when we look at our society, in particular our western
and American society, we can see the root causes of such violence.
We live in a violent society. Through the media, especially movies and
television, our children have been faced with violence to such an extent that we
have grown accustomed to it. Although few of us have ever heard a gunshot, or
seen someone wounded or killed, we know what it looks like and how it sounds
through the media. Children grow up playing violent games on computers. When
I was young, we were interested in a lot of sports, and, aside from an occasional
cops and robbers, most of our play was very benign. The Internet adds to this
problem by exposing our children to violent and radical web pages.
The incident at Columbine shows an ignorance of facts. How could young
people ever see Adolph Hitler as a model in life? Little children play with guns
and movies that portray twenty-eight people being killed in every minute make
things even worse. But there are more subtle signs of our deteriorating ethical
code and behavior all around us. The impeachment process of President Clinton
brought out the worst in all sides, and in the end has made us more cynical, more
distrustful of government as a whole, and angrier. Our children learn how to act
from us adults, and we have not been very good role models for them.
Isn't it ironic that when tragedy hits, we turn to God? The President asked
us to pray during this terrible crisis, yet what is the one thing not permitted in
Columbine High School, or any public school for that matter? Prayer. Our
government and society want us to forget about God. Our god is now money, big
business, and profits. As we wage war in various parts of the world, we expect
our children to be people of peace.
There was such a stark contrast in the Columbine incident, contrasts that
mirror our own society. On the one hand, we had the "trench coat Mafia,"
misguided outcasts who laughed as they executed their fellow students and
attempted to blow up the whole school. They asked one student if she believed in
God. When she responded, "Yes," one of the killers asked, "Why," and then killed
the girl. The other contrast was the religious students on that campus who saw
the meaning of faith and their belief in God. They very much represent our
society; those who would destroy and those who seek to build.
The violence that occurred in Littleton, as well as other schools throughout
our country, should be a lesson for all people. It should show us what happens to
a nation and people who no longer trust in God. Unfortunately, if you ask me, we
will remember a short time, and then, again, go back to our old ways of doing
things. After all, we are told violence sells, guns sell, and hatred sells. The
transformation of Easter is only complete when the entire world recognizes the
importance of Jesus' greeting to the disciples, when they saw Him raised for the
first time: "Peace."
May 9, 1999
Getting Old
Anyone who has elderly parents can understand the concern we have for
our mothers and fathers as they begin to get older. When health begins to fail
and frailty takes over where there once was strength, roles begin to reverse, and
for many of us we see ourselves taking on the position of caring for our parents.
My father, who is eighty-eight years old, and still lives in his own apartment, has
caused my sister and me to worry about the future. Recently, he needed to be
hospitalized for a few days, and there was some concern about his coming
home. Fortunately, he has rebounded pretty well.
He no longer drives (thanks be to God). I used to see him on my vacations
driving around Staten Island in his little Ford escort, and I would follow him to
make sure he didn't run over anyone and not notice it. Actually, it wasn't that bad,
but we were all relieved when he decided to quit driving. Although he lives by
himself, he's only a few streets from my sister and her family, so he has his
meals with them, and, when he can't make it, the nephews get over to his
apartment to take care of him. Sometimes I feel pretty guilty about the whole
situation, though, since I have never been stationed near home and have left all
of the caretaker duties to my sister.
When my mother passed away almost twelve years ago, she was in a lot
better health, and her final sickness came very fast and took us all by surprise.
We all thought my father was much frailer than my mother, but that was not the
case. On Mother's Day, I think of mom and I know she is in heaven watching
over her family and very proudly looking down on her new great-granddaughter.
Mother’s Day (as well as Father’s Day) continues to remind me of the debt
of gratitude we owe to our parents. I know that the seeds of my vocation to the
priesthood and the Franciscan life came from the profound faith and example of
my family, who were all very close to the church. Today we tend to blame a lot of
things on our parents. People spend a lot of time with psychologists and
therapists telling them how much their mothers or fathers ruined their lives. In
actuality, all of us make a lot of mistakes in life, and most people mean well and
try their best. People have been having children for thousands, even millions of
years, and we seem to learn very slowly. Oftentimes, the mistakes our parents
made with us, we also make over again. Lessons are very hard to learn.
The Ten Commandments tell us, "Honor thy father and thy mother." And
Mother's Day is a wonderful day to use as a model for every day of the year; a
model of the way we should reverence and treat our mothers. When I think of
God, I think of my mother. I know that if my mother loved me so much, how much
more must God love me? Saint Francis said to his friars while he was still among
us, that, ‘we should treat each other like a mother treats her children.’ And Pope
John Paul I once said that, ‘Even more than a father, God is like a mother to us.’
The nourishment, the support, the encouragement, added on to the many
hours of worry, anxiety, and frustration that our mothers have felt for us growing
up and even as adults, should tell us of the immense love which God has for
each and every one of us.
May 23, 1999
A View of the View
Some people ask me how I write the View From My Window each week.
After writing this column every week for the past four years (or almost every
week), it sometimes becomes difficult to think of a topic. Sometimes the topic
comes very easily; the events of the day, things that are on my mind, some
theological teaching, or just some ramblings about the church, family, and other
familiar things. Since our bulletin is done on Tuesday mornings, I am under a
deadline to get it done. Sometimes, if I know I am going to be out of town or
unavailable, I will write the column earlier, over the weekend or on Monday night,
or even a week in advance. Sometimes I will see an article or story that I think
would be interesting to our readers, and I'll use that instead of my own article.
People e-mail me a lot of stuff online. Some of it is very good, and I save those
things that I may use in the future. Sometimes there might be a reason I cannot
write the view, an emergency situation perhaps on a Tuesday morning, and so I
will simply hand Rachel an article to print.
The actual writing of the view comes very easily for me. Once I have my
theme or idea, it takes me all of ten minutes (sometimes not even that long) to
write the View.
I have always had a talent for writing and I do everything on one draft. I
am a pretty good speller, but sometimes my fingers don't hit the right key on the
computer, so I thank the Lord for spell check. Of course, it took me a while to
learn our bulletin program. It is an MS-DOS program, and that was very foreign
to me when we first started. I also have to cope with using a PC (I am a
confirmed Macintosh man). Although we have two PCs in the church office, my
own personal computer is a Mac G3.
This morning is a good example. As of ten fifteen, I didn't have a theme for
the view. It is now ten forty-five. I was paging through the Manchester Union
Leader, when I came across the prayer that they put each day on the front page.
I made it my own today, ”Lord, in a world where there is unrest and problems to
solve, teach us how to quiet ourselves, so we can hear You speak to us.”
Low and behold on my fax Father Roger Croteau from Holy Cross sent me
a joke about three priests with bats in the belfry (literally, not psychologically). I
was going to use that, but decided to save it for a "rainier" day.
I also know that this weekend is Pentecost Sunday. I could get some great
themes from that, too. But I thought that this "view" could be a wonderful lesson
on how I could fill a column in the bulletin with nothing more than the wanderings
of my mind, and still get you to read the thing in its entirety.
By the way, I might add, that when I have Mass and I am greeting our
parishioners at the door of the church at the end of Mass, many times people tell
me how much they enjoyed the view, or they might comment on something I said
in the view. What this leads me to believe, however, is that some of you (and
hopefully, a small percentage of you) are reading our bulletin during Mass. That
means, also, that you are reading my view during the Mass. I hope it is not during
the homily. Well, I can understand how some of you might want to read the View
From My Window during Deacon Gary's homilies, but I cannot see how you could
possibly succumb to that during my homilies)...so, if you're reading this view right
now during Mass, I hope you're feeling guilty.
June 6, 1999
Boomtown Derry
I think some of you know that there are some big projects on the horizon
for Saint Thomas. We need to address some physical needs here at the parish;
needs that have surfaced due to the deterioration of our church building, and the
increased number of people who are participating in the life of our parish.
Some government agencies are predicting a considerable rise in the
population of the southern tier of New Hampshire during the next decade, so we
as a parish also have to be prepared for an increased population. While the
northern part of the diocese is looking into merging churches and closing
facilities, our problem is the opposite. Right now there are major construction
projects going on in many of our neighboring parishes. Holy Cross is well on the
way to breaking ground for their new church. Saint Anne’s in Hampstead and
Saint Mark’s in Londonderry have constructed new additions, including parish
centers. Saint Matthew’s in Windham is building a new church. And it has
become increasingly obvious that we at Saint Thomas need to accommodate the
growth in our parish and in our school.
Soon you will be hearing a lot more about this, since our campaign will be
kicking off very soon. For now, I would like to give you some brief details of our
project. A quick look around the church will make it obvious that we need to do
something about the outside of our church. We have just received the go-ahead
from the diocese to proceed, and arrangements are already in motion for the
repair of our church building. This will take care of the deteriorating bell tower,
the shingles around the church, and a lot of other details. This project will secure
our church from weather and water, and make our church building structurally
sound. When all this is done, we will repaint our church with a new color
(something light) and everything will look so beautiful.
Phase two will be the construction of the parish center on the site of
Aquinas House. It will entail the razing of Aquinas House and the building of a
new structure on that site. Plans are still ongoing on this phase.
Phase three will be concentrated on the inside of the church building. It
will consist of painting the church, remodeling the church hall, installing new
meeting rooms and offices in the hall, fixing up the hall entrances, taking care of
plumbing and sewage problems at the church. Depending on our resources, we
will also make changes to the church: the floor, pews, etc.
The Finance Council recently approved the hiring of the Martin Moran
Company from New York to direct a capital campaign in our parish for this
purpose. Although we had a stewardship campaign a few years ago, we
recognize that the amount of money needed for this vast undertaking cannot be
met by the offertory collection. I also want you to know I have every faith in our
parish that we will succeed in this endeavor. Saint Thomas has grown by leaps
and bounds over the past few years, and more people than ever see the need for
continued growth in our ministries and our programs.
At this point what are required most are our prayers for the success of this
endeavor. All that we do here at Saint Thomas is for one purpose and one
purpose alone, for the spreading of the Gospel and the greater glory of God. As
for this, we too rely on the power of God, who has saved us and called us to
holiness.
June 13, 1999
A New Parish Center
No doubt you’ve heard about our upcoming capital campaign to repair the
church and construct a parish center. I am sure this weekend you can already
see the work being done to remove the old, rotted shingles from the church. For
a few months Saint Thomas might be an eyesore, but hopefully, by the end of the
summer or early fall, it will be a beauty to behold. It was important to me to begin
this phase of the project even before any fundraising was done, since I wanted
the bulk of the work completed while school was on summer recess. The children
of our school are a wonderful asset to our parish community, and we need to
protect them in every way possible. The debris coming down from the building
would be too risky if there were three hundred or so children roaming around the
schoolyard.
There are a lot of things to think about when making decisions such as
this. For one, as pastor I am called to see the bigger picture. Here at Saint
Thomas, our parish staff has tried, with me, to bring new life to our community.
This involves many different things: our relationship with God, our life of prayer,
and worship always come first. But from all this stems our call to teach, to heal,
to be present to one another, to form community, and to build the kingdom here
on earth. A lot of what we do emphasizes all these various aspects of our lives as
church. Even things that seem to be just fun, like parish picnics and outings, are
all part of our community building efforts that bring us closer together and help us
to get to know one another.
Many times people e-mail me or send me notes, asking to have this
program or that project. Again, in trying to see the big picture, we have to make
sure that we have just the right balance of activities. Too many can be just as
detrimental as too few.
Our parish also expresses many different points of view, so I know that
everyone will not be happy all the time. There are some times when people get
frustrated and even angry at the church, or at God, or at me, for various things.
And sometimes no explanation will suffice to heal that frustration or anger.
Difficulties, however, can be community building. The project at hand for our
church and parish center will not come without a price. And a financial price will
be one of the issues we will concern ourselves with. But in the end we will be
preparing our parish community for the future. What a gift we can leave to our
children, grandchildren, and future members of our parish community: a vibrant
Catholic community well equipped to meet the needs of a growing population.
July 4, 1999
All We Are Saying is Give Peace a Chance
When I was in the college seminary I attended Siena College in
Loudonville, New York, for most of my courses. Several specialized ones, such
as our philosophy courses, were given at the seminary. The college atmosphere
was much different than the seminary. It was a wonderful experience being on a
college campus, studying in coed classes (instead of our all-male seminary), and
sharing the traditions that are so much a part of the fabric of college life. During
these years, college campuses were also hotbeds of political action. Being the
late sixties and early seventies, there was much opposition to the Vietnam War.
The R.O.T.C. candidates on campus were harassed, students battled each other
over various political viewpoints, and activism took center stage on our campus.
It was good that we had the seminary to run back to for some peace and
tranquility.
One time, being near Albany, the state capital, students from all the
colleges in the area were marching on the State House in Albany to protest the
Vietnam War. Since Siena is staffed by the Franciscans, a whole delegation of us
marched in our Franciscan habits. I remember several things from this protest.
Marching up State Street toward the Capitol, many of us were spat upon. I was
shocked because I wondered how many of these people were Catholics. Some
told us to get back to the rectory and mind our own business about the war. We
felt very strongly, however, that this was where we belonged, since Saint Francis
is the patron saint of peace.
I remember passing a construction site, with construction workers
throwing debris down on us from the building. A woman was hit on the head with
a chunk of brick and had to be carried away. There was fear in all our hearts as
we saw all the anger. Finally, when we reached the State Capitol, the peace
march turned into a rally for some imprisoned Black Panthers. The entire
meaning of the protest was turned around, and many of us felt used.
Life gives us many lessons. Some of these lessons are difficult to learn,
and others we're just not interested in hearing. But the truly wise person will take
these lessons to heart and use them in making future decisions. Idealism is a
wonderful thing, but oftentimes the reality of life wears down our idealism.
I learned that even in the midst of our idealism, we weren't seeing the
whole picture. Many of my friends went to Vietnam, and the ones who came back
had horror stories. War, in any form, is a terrible thing, but I realized that at the
basis of our democracy and our freedom is the willingness of individuals to
sacrifice, even in the face of horrible tragedy.
As Christians we know that the sacrifice of Jesus won us our freedom, and
so we have Jesus as a model for our lives. But with that freedom, comes
responsibility. As we celebrate Independence Day, we recognize the fact that no
one can be truly independent or truly free. We depend on God, and we depend
on each other for so much in our lives. And at the heart of our freedom, as
Catholics and as Americans, is our willingness to give of ourselves, to surrender,
to sacrifice, and to take up our cross. Nothing in this world comes free, at least
nothing worth having or acquiring. If something is important enough to us, then
we will sacrifice for it.
As we celebrate July 4th, let's examine not only our commitment to our
nation and to the society we live in, but also how we can challenge all of America
to strive for true freedom. There was an old song from that time period. It said,
"Freedom isn't free, freedom isn't free, you have to pay the price, you have to
sacrifice for your liberty."
Today, in our country, we believe that freedom is the ultimate value. We
want freedom to such an extent that we believe that when values or rules or laws
clash with our individual freedom, freedom must always win out. And if it doesn't
win out, we can always sue in court.
July 11, 1999
Planning for the Future
A common joke among friars and priests is all the things that you have to
do in a parish that the seminary never trained you for. Our theological training
may have been very good, but there are so many other things that you need to
know in parish ministry, especially in being a pastor, that sometimes your head is
left spinning. Since only a percentage of our work is specifically "priestly," and by
priestly I mean those things that are reserved to priests, most of our work has to
do with administration and maintenance of a parish.
I never thought I would be involved in restoration and building projects, but
you learn a lot when it comes to facilities. I am happy I have some great people
to assist me in making these types of decisions. My dad was never a do-ityourself type of guy. Most of the time, he preferred hiring someone to do the
tasks rather than doing it himself. Since I was in the seminary from age thirteen,
they didn't teach us much about the bricks and mortar of church work.
Celebrating Mass or the sacraments, preaching, visiting the sick I know a lot
about. I have had to learn about finances, building, and electricity, plumbing, and
the like. And, even now when we are in the planning stages for our parish center,
things can get very confusing.
No doubt some of you are interested in our first phase since every
Sunday you see the work being done on the church. Actually, there are several
projects going on at the same time. The first and most obvious is the re-shingling
of the church. This has been in the works for some time, and we waited
purposely for the end of the school year, so that our school children will not be
endangered by the working site. We looked into some kind of siding, but even
those who might possibly get the job discouraged us from doing that, only
because of the many nooks and crannies in our church architecture. Hmm.
Sounds like Thomas’ English Muffins. We are not removing all the shingles, just
the ones that are in bad shape. Those include the bell tower, which anyone could
see is in very bad shape; the front facade of the church, the back of the church
(on the school yard side) and under the windows right around the whole building.
The feeling is that most of the other shingles are in good condition, but any which
need to be replaced will be. When it's all completed (hopefully in early fall), the
church exterior will be completely re-painted. Over the years each paint job got
darker and darker, but this time we're going to lighten things up. We've chosen a
color called Navajo white (actually more like a tan), which will be the new color of
the church, along with white trim. We won't be able to say "the big brown church"
anymore.
Another project that is going on is building a new roof on the back over the
two sacristies. The main roof of the church is slate, and is in fine condition, but
the sacristies have flat roofs and have been a source of problems for a long time.
Building a new slanted roof will take care of that. In the middle of all this, we dug
up the sewer line to the church, which had been clogged up by debris and tree
roots, and fixed that. Other work going on is the repair and cleaning of our
stained glass windows. You may have noticed some of the small bottom windows
taken out and replaced with frosted glass. No, we're not selling off our stained
glass windows; they will be repaired and replaced. Hopefully, our windows will be
easier to open and close after that's done.
Other work in store will be some granite work to our front steps and to the
entrances to our social hall. We hope to make the entrances a little more
convenient, while taking care of some bigger problems. At this point in our
project, we are hoping to take care of the entire exterior of the church in any way
possible. I think, that by the completion of this phase one of the project, Saint
Thomas Church will sit more beautifully on that little bluff overlooking Crystal
Avenue, and we can all proudly re-affirm what a fantastic church we have.
September 12, 1999
America, Bless God
An expression I used to hear a lot when I lived in New York was "call a
spade a spade." I presume it had something to do with a card game, but it
basically meant to tell the honest-to-goodness truth. People tend to play a lot of
word games. Sometimes we play word games because we don't want to tell the
truth, or at least the whole truth. Sometimes we play word games because we
find it difficult to deal with changes in our lives. We may have people in our lives,
for example, that we consider to be very good friends, even our best friends,
though we haven't seen them in many years. Our primary source of contact might
simply be our Christmas card list, and today, with the advent of e-mail, an excited
re-connection via the Internet, and then another fade into oblivion. We may find it
difficult to admit that we have simply moved on in our relationships.
One way in which our nation refuses to "call a spade a spade," is in the
insistence on the part of many Americans that we are a religious nation. It's true
that our nation's founders saw religion as a part of this nation's destiny, but to say
that any of them were deeply religious is an exercise in mythology. We know that
some states were founded by people fleeing religious persecution in Europe, and
that some states became havens for particular religious beliefs. Maryland, for
example, had one of the earliest concentrations of Catholics in our history, with
the famous Carroll family, one of whom signed the Declaration of Independence
and another who became the first Roman Catholic Bishop of the United States,
which was then under one diocese, that of Baltimore. We know that Protestant
Congregationalism was well entrenched in the New England area, and this part
of the country which we call home was very anti-catholic for a long time.
Sometimes I think some of these sentiments still remain.
When immigration took place in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,
many of those who came to the United States were deeply religious people. The
Irish, the Italians, the Eastern Europeans, and later on, the Latinos, all brought
their particular beliefs through the Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox
Churches. Identifying oneself as a religious person became very profitable for
those seeking to run for public office, and our nation identified itself more and
more as a nation "under God." During this time, the quasi-religious status of our
nation was manifested, and people saw the United States as a new Israel, or a
"promised land," calling people from across the ocean to freedom and justice.
Today, we continue to hear people pay lip service to a nation founded on
Christian principles and values, a nation that looks to God for its destiny and
direction.
All of this came to mind this week when I read in the paper that a federal
court in Texas had banned school football teams from praying. We know that one
of the long-standing traditions of sports in our nation is the saying of a prayer.
Once, some years ago, I had the opportunity to say the prayer for the New York
Jets in their locker room at Foxboro Stadium before they played the Patriots. I
was surprised to find out that they actually had a team chaplain, and some of the
players were deeply involved in religion.
I don't want anyone to think that people should be forced to pray.
Certainly, if someone doesn't believe in God, they should not be forced to pray.
But to have a few people tell the majority that they cannot pray, that they are not
allowed to pray under the penalty of law, is ridiculous.
This is all a demonstration of how atheistic our nation has really become.
Some people quote the constitution's "establishment of religion" clause. Any
serious student of history would know that what this law banned was the
establishment of a state religion or a national church, such as the Church of
England, where the ruling monarch of England was the head of the church. This
was quite common in Europe, where many states had an established church.
Rather, the founders of our nation wanted to give fair and preferential treatment
to all religions, including those who had no religion.
How do we challenge the society around us to be more attentive to the
needs of its citizens who are religious, who are people of faith, or who belong to
churches? The political process affords us this opportunity time and again. And
the best we can do right here, in Derry, at Saint Thomas Aquinas, is to let people
know we are Christians by our love. By our witness and example, others will see
the power of God working in us and in our nation.
December 5, 1999
No Nunsense Here
I remember them when. It was a long time ago, but somehow these
women remain forever in my heart, as well as in my mind. I know little about child
psychology, but I do know that children of grade school age can be very
impressionable, and these women were my heroes when I was growing up. My
first day of school was very traumatic. We didn't have kindergarten at Saint
Catharine of Alexandria School, on Fort Hamilton Parkway in Brooklyn, so, at the
tender young age of five, I entered first grade. My mother had prepped me over
the summer, going shopping for school supplies, getting new clothes, and telling
me how exciting it would be to go to school. And so, my first day of school ended
with me screaming and crying, so much so, that Reverend Mother Veronica, the
principal, came out of her office and told my mother to take me home.
I did go back the next day, this time with one of my aunts (she was much
more patient than mom) and thus began an eight-year journey with the Religious
Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Mary. They were a religious order of women
founded in France to instruct rich young French girls, and how they winded up in
Brooklyn teaching me, I don't know. They wore religious habits that covered their
whole bodies, except for their hands and a portion of their faces. Sometimes I
wondered if they were really women or some undiscovered gender. Their habits
came to a point on the top, almost like a rocket ship, and their veils blinded them
to seeing us laughing and clowning around behind their backs. We didn't call
them "sister," but rather, "Madame," a very strange title indeed. And their names
were ever stranger: Madame del Merci, Madame Ita, and Madame Saint John,
Madame des Anges. But I have to admit that these sisters who taught me for
eight years in grade school had such an influence on me, that when I graduated
from the eighth grade, I immediately went to the Franciscan Seminary in
Andover.
I remember Madame des Anges telling me that she felt I had a vocation,
and rejoicing on the steps of our church when I told her I was going into the
seminary. These women, like countless numbers of them through the centuries
and even to today, worked tirelessly for God, for the faith, and for the people they
ministered to. They taught in schools, nursed the sick back to health, and
comforted the dying. If anyone would read the Lord's Beatitudes, you can find
some religious order or group who has done precisely that as a ministry.
I remember them especially each year when we have our annual
collection for the Retired Religious Fund. This collection is not like many others
that come from our charity, but rather, it is an issue of justice. For decades, these
religious sisters (and religious men as well) labored in our schools, hospitals,
homes, and orphanages, not receiving any pay or job benefits, totally dependent
on the generosity of God's people. Some of them received a small stipend from
the parish, and almost universally, none of them received any retirement
benefits. When many of them aged, they found themselves without resources
and their own religious communities were hard pressed to alleviate the situation.
As a matter of fact, the only reason Catholic school education was so widely
available, why there were so many schools and so many students, was because
the sisters who staffed them received next to nothing for pay.
You may be aware of the controversy of sweatshops in Latin America and
Asia, where local workers are hired and paid mere pennies to make beautiful
designer clothing sold for big prices here in the States. You may remember the
case of Kathy Lee Gifford, Frank's wife and Regis' on-air partner, when it was
learned that some of her own clothing line was being produced in these sweat
shops. Well, there is a similar situation here.
Today we know in reality what good education costs; and I know that each
one of us has their Madame del Merci, or Madame des Anges who may have
been a hero to us.
December 12, 1999 How to Make a Pastor Happy (or Unhappy)
As a priest and pastor, you can understand that my view extends way
beyond my windows. As a matter of fact, I get a "bird’s eye view" of our
congregation every time we celebrate Eucharist together. I feel sorry for all of you
in the congregation who have only me to look at during Mass, but I have all of
you to gaze upon. And some of the things I see before, during, and after Mass,
are indeed an "eyeful."
At our recent Pastoral Council meeting, we went over some things that, I
feel, reflect what may be a lack of reverence on the part of some of our
parishioners. Now please understand that I do not expect people to be so
reverent that they cease acting like human beings. But I think some practical
things which we can all think about can help make our worship much more
reverent and prayerful. Some of my own "pet" issues:
1. Chewing gum in church. We may want to blame teens for this, but very often, it
is the parents. Has gum chewing become such an addiction that we can't
surrender it for one hour? How would we feel if someone lit up a cigarette in
church? Gum chewing not only looks horrible, but it breaks the communion fast.
2. Baseball caps. Some people seem to have baseball caps fastened with crazy
glue to their heads. Now, I have a nice collection of hats; my two favorites being
my Yankee hat and a Nashua Pride hat. But, these should not be worn in church.
Our reverence for the Eucharist and our Christian community is demonstrated by
removing our hats. It has been a long-standing custom in the Catholic Church for
men to remove their hats in church. By the way, if you've ever watched the HBO
series "The Soprano’s," you might remember that in one episode, Tony Soprano
(the Godfather, so to speak), wanted to beat the living daylights out of a young
man for wearing a hat while dining in a restaurant (you know how Italians
"reverence" food).
3. Parents letting children run wild in church. If you read the rest of the bulletin,
you'll see that we have a fire hazard taking place by kids who are wandering
around the church without any supervision.
4. Trashing the church with food. As one council member put it… trading food for
silence. If this is the price to have our children behave in church, then so be it.
But, please, pick up after the children. Every week we find crushed cheerios,
apple jacks, candy kisses, and even, on occasion, a discarded dirty diaper, in the
pews and on the floor. We get a lot of children in our church, and you know we
encourage families to bring the little children. But treat the house of God like you
would treat anyone else's house.
5. Using our hymnbooks for toys. Our hymnbooks are only two weeks old, and
already some of them are ripped and trashed, because parents let their children
play with them. These are there for our liturgical celebration, not to be used to
distract the children.
6. Using the priests at Mass as a threat to the children. There's no better way to
have children growing up afraid of God and afraid of priests than to point to us on
the altar and say something like, "If you don't keep quiet, Father will yell at you."
7. Cell phones and beepers. C'mon folks, unless you are a heart surgeon and
someone is in a life or death situation, is it really necessary to have these things
turned on during Mass? Don't these devices also have a vibrating option? This
has become more and more of a problem, especially when one cell phone rings,
and fifty people reach for their pockets.
8. Disruptions. I have learned, after twenty-three years as a priest, that most
ordinary things going on will not bother me. But sometimes there is a situation
that needs attention. People feel, for some reason, that it's none of their business
to try to take care of a situation, but often it forces the priest to say something
from the altar or pulpit, causing a lot of embarrassment on everyone's part. If you
see someone defacing the church, please stop them. If you see someone
pouring wax over the rug, please stop them. If you see people constantly talking
and acting up to the point of distracting the congregation, do something about it.
Please don't make us into villains in your eyes.
Now that I've said all that doesn't it feel better? Take care.
2000
January 2, 2000
Hey, it’s 2000 and the world didn’t end!
Since it is still in December when I am writing this bulletin (printing
schedules are usually all messed up during the Christmas season), and you are
reading this right now, I will presume that we have all survived Y2K. Since the
end of the world didn't come, we can all get around to doing God's work and
living our lives as Christians.
New Year Celebrations, much like birthdays, anniversaries, and the like,
give us an opportunity to reflect on the past, particularly on this last year, and
also to resolve to make the New Year better. The New Year often brings
resolutions: lose some unwanted pounds, get on an exercise program, learn
more about the world around us, and be more loving and caring to our families.
Resolutions are very personal and are tailored for our own needs and what we
may feel lacking in our lives - or those things that definitely need improvement.
Celebrating a new millennium offers great opportunities for the future of
our church. Again, we measure our own lives in terms of the gospel, as well as
the life of our Catholic community. Perhaps a good question to ask ourselves at
the beginning of this Holy Year is how recognizable would we be to Jesus if He
came back right now? Would He identify us as his followers and would He
identify our community as His community? This, of course, poses some great
questions to us and problems as well. As Catholics, we believe that the Holy
Spirit continues to lead us and guide us through the ages. We also know the
human factors, jealousies, politics, personal agendas, greed and lust can blind us
to the directions of the Holy Spirit. We know that the Holy Spirit has manifested
Himself in various ways to the church, as tongues of fire, a mighty, rushing wind,
or a dove. But we know that the world can drown out the sounds of the Spirit by
the clamoring cacophony of alluring sounds - the craving for money, sex and
power.
To truly be attuned to the Spirit in our lives and His message, we must
clear our minds to hear His call. Sometimes to be truly attentive to the Spirit
requires an openness that makes us very uncomfortable. As Catholics we
sometimes blindly rely on what has been done before in order to prevent us from
looking at new ways to spread the gospel and new means to minister to God's
people. We are constantly in danger of becoming law-oriented and rigid. People
who are constantly clamoring for purity and justice before charity should re-read
the Christmas story in the gospels. This should be a reminder for us not to fall
into the sins of the Pharisees. Remember our Blessed Mother, who found
herself with child through the power of the Holy Spirit. Mary was engaged to
Joseph who found himself in a peculiar position - engaged to a woman who was
not married and yet was pregnant. The Law of the day was very clear: Mary
should have been turned into the religious officials and stoned to death. Joseph,
an upright man, as the gospels tell us, decides, after receiving the message of
the angel, not to do this and take her as his wife and to take Jesus as his own.
How many of us would be raising a ruckus because a law had been broken?
Perhaps a good resolution for this New Year and the millennium is to be
more Christ-like in our attitude towards those who are different from us including those we consider being sinners. Jesus tells us that he who is without
sin cast the first stone. Jesus also constantly condemns the self-righteous and
favors the sinner. Even in the gospel where Jesus saves the woman who is to be
stoned for adultery, Jesus gives her only a mild admonition, "From now on, avoid
this sin."
I think it is unfortunate that many times we sound like the scribes and
Pharisees instead of true disciples. We are often very quick to accuse, and very
reluctant to forgive. We often speak out of two sides of our mouth, claiming to be
a good Catholic, a loyal follower of Jesus, and yet picking and choosing what
things we believe are in conformity with our own brand of Christianity, and
rejecting others. For example, we may be quick to quote a particular document
of the church in regard to the church's pro-life stance, but when it comes to the
church's opposition to the death penalty, or ministry to those living with
HIV/AIDS, we tend to reject these because they tend to not fit in with our own
political worldview. We want to vote for one candidate or another to lead our
country because of one issue, but reject the bishop's advice that we not be one
issue people.
Some of this might come out of nostalgia for the good old days. But I
think, in reality, the good old days weren't that good. Many more people were
going to church, we all know, but did they really understand what was
happening? Do we really want our churches filled with people who are fearful
rather than having smaller congregations filled with people who are truly
committed to God's Word? Personally, I would rather celebrate the sacraments
with a handful of good, faith-filled, devoted Catholics than a cathedral filled with
people who see the church as only ritual and not action. People like these are
looking for entertainment, not faith.
This new millennium offers us the opportunity to re-fashion our lives in
Christ's own image. It allows us to show our children and grandchildren the true
values which Jesus gives us in the gospels, and not some kind of pop religion
that has been fashioned by human hands. It provides us with every opportunity
to be a welcoming community, a community that heals, reconciles, and brings
peace, rather than a community that divides. The challenge is not just mine - it
belongs to all of us. And the challenge starts right here at Saint Thomas Aquinas
Church.
February 13, 2000
The Death Penalty
No doubt many of you have read in the newspapers, particularly the
Catholic press, about the Church’s opposition to the death penalty. Here in New
Hampshire, the Catholic Diocese has greatly increased efforts against the death
penalty, not only in our state but in the nation as well. Creating a Community of
Conscience, issued from the Public Policy Office of the Diocese, seeks to explain
the church’s position.
No one can doubt that the church takes clear and firm stands on life
issues. However, there have been times when mixed signals were given, as far
as the death penalty. Anyone who ever saw the movie Dead Man Walking will
remember Sister Helen Prejean’s (played by Susan Sarandon) difficult time
dealing not only with the whole issue of capital punishment, but also the rage of
the victim’s family.
Bishop Joseph Fiorenza, who is President of the National Conference of
Catholic Bishops, put it very clearly in a statement entitled, What Every Catholic
Should Know About Capital Punishment. Bishop Fiorenza states, “the death
penalty serves only to contribute to the culture of violence. We cannot teach that
killing is wrong by killing. It is not only what the death penalty does to the
offender, but what it does to us: it undermines our respect for life.”
The late Cardinal Joseph Bernardin of Chicago spoke of life issues being
a seamless garment, an interwoven respect for life that covers a host of issues
that are deeply related and, in fact, intermingled. Whether the issue is the death
penalty, or abortion, or euthanasia, or treatment of seniors, or peace and justice
issues, or concern for the environment (integrity of creation), we, as Catholics,
must strive to be consistently pro-life in all these issues. To be against abortion
but for the death penalties weakens our argument, and demonstrates that we
may be anti-choice but not really pro-life. Life is life, whether it is the greatest or
the least.
There are some facts about the death penalty that are helpful in this
discussion:
Murder rates are lower in the states that have abolished the death penalty.
Innocent people are sometimes executed.
Many families of murder victims don’t want the death penalty.
The death penalty is arbitrary and capricious.
Only one out of one hundred convicted murderers is sentenced to death.
Ninety percent of those on death row cannot afford a lawyer to represent
them at trial.
Every western democracy except the United States has abolished the
death penalty.
There are only six nations in the whole world that permit the execution of a
minor: Iraq, Iran, Nigeria, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, and the USA. Good
company, right?
Some other facts: the death penalty costs more than life imprisonment.
The death penalty costs millions of dollars in litigation, trial, and appeals
costs, all paid for by the taxpayers. Right now in Concord there is a bill making its
way through the House, which will abolish the death penalty in the state of New
Hampshire. Let’s truly be pro-life in the real sense of the word, not anti-choice
which happens when we focus on one issue alone.
March 12, 2000
Fasting from Technology
Each Lent we look at one of the precepts of the church, to fast and abstain
on the days appointed. Fasting is an important part of our Christian practice.
Last week, I read an interesting article in Saint Anthony Messenger, a Franciscan
periodical from Ohio. The writer of this article proposed that we broaden our view
of fasting beyond food and drink; in other words, fasting in those areas that might
demand more sacrifice and self-control on our part.
We live in a world where media is important. Sociologists are calling our
present times the age of communication. With so many avenues opening up to
us because of technology, we have the ability to experience things from all over
the world that were once unavailable to us because of time and space. The
article proposed a radical fast, a fasting from technology. Where many people
might be able to substitute fish for meat, or go without a meal, how many of us,
when asked, would willingly give up our radios, stereos, DVDs, CDs, or even our
computers?
One of the principles of spirituality and prayer is that we leave room for
God to speak to us. This means being tranquil and peaceful, and it also can
mean being silent. Our society today is uncomfortable with silence. If we are
watching television and there is a pause in, say, the news report, we
automatically think that something is wrong, that there has been a miscue, or
someone lost their place. Drive around town with a friend and try to remain silent
for a long period of time. People are, by and large, uncomfortable with silence. I
know that as a husband and wife grow into their marriage, they may reach a
point in their relationship where just being with each other without words or
without sound, can be very gratifying.
As a society, we are so uncomfortable with silence that we fill our days
with noise: muzak coming from speakers in lobbies or elevator music in our
restaurants, on trains and buses, on airplane flights. Our radios or televisions
are constantly on, sometimes many of them at the same time. We have
Walkmans, portable CD players, and even portable DVD players. Music, sound,
and noise seem to be constant and everywhere.
Did you ever notice in church, after the readings, or after communion,
when our period of silence gets a bit long, how people begin to stir? Is it that we
are uncomfortable with our own thoughts or don’t know what to do about silence?
How about the use of our computers? I confess that I would have a very difficult
time fasting from my computer during Lent. I would probably be very difficult to
live with, since the computer has become such an important tool of my work. But
how about fasting from the computer for a day, or a couple days a week? These
are all possibilities.
I think if we really examine our dependency on radios, televisions, video
games, and computers, we may come to the conclusion that we have become
enslaved, even addicted to those things. And isn’t that one of the purposes of
Lent to help us rid ourselves of those things which oppress us, and enslave us?
How many or us can live in silence for a time, or even, heaven forbid, be forced
to really talk to our spouses, our children, or our parents, because there are no
radios blaring or television shows to keep us busy? How many of us would really
dare to see if we haven’t become so dependent on these electronics, that we find
we cannot, under any circumstances, live without them?
Lent challenges us to make a choice: do we want to continue on with our lives as
they are, or really draw closer to the God who saved us? If we choose God, this
can only be achieved through the cross, sacrifice, and the willingness to
surrender.
May 14, 2000
Happy Mother’s Day, You Devil!
Years ago I used to raise tropical fish. It was a great hobby at the time,
since my parish was a bit smaller and I wasn’t as busy as I am now in Derry. One
time I had two fish in a seventy-gallon tank. These fish were called red devils.
The name was appropriate - not only were they a reddish color, they were very
belligerent fish. I wasn’t sure what gender they were, but they were interesting to
watch. I had them situated in a room where I did a lot of counseling, especially
marriage counseling, and sometimes, if we weren’t dealing with issues that were
too heavy, my eyes would wander to the fish tank, purposely situated behind the
couple I was counseling.
I remember one evening becoming distracted for a moment - it looked like
a cloud in the tank was moving around. Since I didn’t want the couple I was
speaking to think I was distracted, I ignored the cloud, but as soon as they left, I
immediately went to the tank to see what it was. Lo and behold, there were
hundreds of tiny little red devil fry, swimming around. I hadn’t even realized that
the red devils were a couple, no less laid any eggs. And I was thrilled with the
newfound brood. The next morning when I went to see the baby fish, they were
all gone, or at least I thought they were. I was certain that mom and dad had a
nice meal of their young. I know that other fish, such as guppies, do it all the
time. But I soon learned a lot more about these fish. I learned that they are
wonderful parents. They belong to a group of fish called mouthbreeders, that is,
they take care of their young by taking them in their mouths. Each night they
would build a nest out of the gravel at the bottom of the tank and, taking several
of the babies into their mouths, they would carefully spit them into the hole they
dug, and cover them up with more gravel. Each morning, they carefully
uncovered the babies again, and took care of them all day. I wondered at the
beauty of nature, and how good these parents were and how careful they were
with their little babies. For a month I watched these babies grow up under the
careful watch of mom and dad.
I guess on Mother’s Day, we can take a good lesson from nature in
parenting. Surely, not all animals are good parents, but we know from nature
how protective some animal mothers can be of their young. We also know how
dear our own mothers can be, or have been, and what a debt of gratitude we
owe to them.
Of course, one lesson we should not imitate from my red devils: once the
month was over and the red devils laid fresh eggs, they immediately looked on
their month-old fry as possible predators and protected their new eggs by eating
their young.
A great thought for Mother’s Day, right?
July 2, 2000
Fishing in Our Lady’s Peace Garden
You may have noticed a flurry of activity on the grounds this spring. This is
our program to spruce up our lawns and do some landscaping after the
construction project of this past year. We have planted new grass in those areas
torn up by the construction, have moved some trees, and will continue to beautify
the area during the summer.
One of the projects we had to attend to was our pond. The pond was
installed several years ago and has become a little oasis for our parishioners and
citizens of our town. People love to come and sit in the garden, watch the birds
feeding, and the children love seeing the goldfish swimming in our pond. The
delightful sound of the water trickling down the waterfall has had a calming effect
on many people, and “Our Lady’s Peace Garden” has become a place of prayer
and rest. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), we have had several leaks in the
liner of our pond. This has come by and large from people (mostly children)
throwing rocks into the water. Although throwing rocks in water seems to be a
major recreational activity in most parts of the world, it does not work on artificial
ponds. When we need to have someone go into the pond to clean it or remove
debris, stepping on the rocks has caused a tear in the liner and thus a leak.
This year we were able to get a strong liner, and hopefully we can
convince people to refrain from throwing rocks in the water. This liner will be the
third one we have had- and it is also the largest. It has allowed us to expand the
pond greatly and, no doubt, a visit to the pond this weekend will demonstrate just
how beautiful it is.
Unfortunately (and this time, really unfortunately) our wildlife didn’t survive
the move. We had five beautiful goldfish that made it through the winter (yes,
they do live through the winter under the ice), but they could not survive our
transplanting them. Thus, we are in need of repopulating the pond.
We thought some of our parishioners would care to be part of our pond
project by donating some fish to our pond. Pond fish can be a bit pricey,
especially the more exotic versions, such as Japanese Koi. So, if you’d like to
leave your mark on the new pond, we invite you to make a contribution of
goldfish or Koi to our pond. They do last through the winter and can grow to
some pretty good sizes. Maybe you have a goldfish sitting in a bowl at home all
by itself that would love the freedom to frolic with other fish, to play in that
enormous pond, bask under the lily pads, or rest under the beautiful waterfall.
Maybe you’ve been to a pet store or an outdoor shop, or garden center, and
have had the urge to release the beautiful fish there cooped up in bowls and
tanks. What a wonderful place for a fish to find refuge than a pond at a church,
and a Franciscan church, no less.
So, bring your fish. We do ask that you limit the contributions to the gold
fish or Koi variety. We think that other fish native to the area, such as bluegill or
perch, might be a bit too aggressive for the other inhabitants of our pond.
Another contribution possible would be some small turtles, maybe painted
turtles. We’ll put some rocks on one end so they can get out of the water and
bask. So, come, enjoy the pond. Find in our garden some rest and solitude.
September 10, 2000
Ordination Jitters
I guess, much like a wedding day, an ordination day is something you
never forget. I was ordained on May 8, 1976 in the church of Saint Anthony of
Padua on West Houston Street in New York City. Bishop Lawrence Graziano,
O.F.M. one of our friars, was the bishop who ordained me. Bishop Lawrence was
a favorite of mine. He was a big, jolly friar who spent many years laboring in
Central America as a friar priest and bishop. Many who may be familiar with
Archbishop Oscar Romero, the famous bishop who was assassinated while
saying Mass, would be interested to know that Oscar Romero was once Bishop
Lawrence’s secretary.
I slept over my parents’ house in Brooklyn that day, and woke up early in
the morning to head over to the church in Manhattan. I had to park a few streets
away from the church, and, while walking up the street, I noticed a priest from the
Brooklyn Diocese who was a good friend of mine walking ahead of me. He was
approached by a man dressed an outfit made of popsicle sticks. Yes, you see
everything in New York. We had a good laugh about it as we walked up the steps
of the church.
The ordination was spectacular. I had a wonderful folk group called the P
J Folk Singers (P J stood for Saints Phillip and James, their parish in Long
Island), and they were unbelievable. They had sixty voices and twenty musical
instruments of every kind. The church rocked and our friars still talk about the
music that day. Two priests from Saint Rita’s in Haverhill, where I was deacon,
Father Jim Radochia and Fr. Bill Fay, vested me in the priestly vestments. There
was some confusion since they forgot that we friars have a hood on our habit that
has to be raised first. Fr. Jim died a few years ago (the Madonna and Child in the
back of the church was brought to the United States by him), and Fr. Fay is now
Monsignor Fay, head of the National Conference of Catholic. My memories are a
bit foggy of that day, but I remember giving my first blessing to my mother and
father, and my Aunt Tess, who was so holy. I thought she would faint from the
excitement of the day. I remember my sister and her husband and their boys,
especially Michael and Joseph, would serve my first Mass the next day.
The following day, I had my first Mass at my home parish of Saint
Catharine of Alexandria in Brooklyn. Monsignor Mullaney, who had been the
pastor there for thirty years almost had a stroke when he saw my music group
come in. This was a pastor who did not want the organist to play Bach and fired a
music director for bringing in a trumpet for Confirmation. When he saw the
guitars, drums, trumpets, bass, bongos, and every kind of percussion instrument
you can think of - well, you can imagine his face.
I remember that I lost my voice for my first Mass. It was a tradition, as it is
in some parts today, to have another priest preach at your first Mass. I was
enjoying preaching so much I decided to preach myself. I did muster up some
words, more like a whisper, if you can imagine that from me, but everyone was
pleased. After the Mass, I got to visit with many of my old Brooklyn buddies that I
hadn’t seen for years. It was quite a reunion. This week, as Deacon Tom
Washburn, Deacon Michael MacInnis, and Deacon Edwin Paniagua prepare for
their ordination to the priesthood next Saturday, I am sure I will be reliving these
events in my own life, and remembering them fondly. And I will be praying for
them - as we all will be - that the Holy Spirit may truly make them new in His
image and likeness
2001
January 7, 2001
Who ever heard of a skinny Santa?
One of the disappointing parts of Christmas is that many times I'm too
busy to appreciate all that is going on. When the season is ending up, however, I
like to sit back and think about Christmas and remember the experiences that I
had during the holidays. One tradition that I've had for a while is to review my
Christmas cards after the holidays. I do this so I can leisurely read the notes and
words conveyed to me by family and friends (and also make sure I didn't leave a
stray check inside a card). This year's batch was much like other years: cards
from family in New York, old parishioners from Pittsburgh, friends from all over,
and parishioners here at Saint Thomas. Many of our parishioners sent beautiful
greetings. It’s always nice to hear that your ministry is appreciated. Some sent
gifts and goodies: cookies and pastries. Many times pastors hear from those who
are upset or unhappy, so it's nice to know that our work is appreciated. I also love
family photo cards, many times consisting of Christmas photos of the kids. This
year several cute and clever ones were received. There's nothing cuter than little
kids dressed in Christmas outfits. Sometimes cards are accompanied by letters
and I like to take the time to read these, to see what's going on in others’ lives.
I've been out of the parish in Pittsburgh for over eleven years now, so it's great to
see how the kids have grown up, and how lives have changed. It's sad to see
some of our most active parishioners have gotten older and are no longer able to
function in the same capacity, but new generations always come forward to take
their place. I received a bunch of cards and letters from the children of our parish
school, and these are always fun to read. Not only do the kids take a lot of time
to work on these and make them special, but also there is a familiarity that you
don't find in those from adults. They sign their letters "your friend," and they say
things like "you're a really good priest,"
"I think you give excellent Masses," and
"Thank you for being you."
‘Out of the mouths of babes,’ as they say; their honesty is always
disarming. One third-grader wrote: "Dear Father Joe, Thank you for the candy
canes. I don't really like them, but my brother does, so I gave it to him."
This year I played Santa again; one of the things I love to do around
Christmas. I visited the kindergarten one day, and Sister Julianne, one of the
kindergarten teachers, kept calling Santa Claus "Father." I can't imagine why.
Anyway, it’s so great to see the sense of wonder in the eyes of the children, but
there's always someone ready to bring you back to reality. The kids scrutinize
you to no end, looking for the slightest indication that you may be a fraud. Some
of the kids look closely and notice the shoes are not proper Santa Claus issued
boots, or there's a touch of dark hair around the eyebrows. One little boy
whispered to me, “you're the real Santa, right?"
All the kids agreed that I was “the real thing.” Some confessed they had
witnessed my reindeer and sled on their roofs early one Christmas morning.
When asked if I really ate the cookies and milk they leave for Santa on Christmas
night, I tell them that I'm on a diet, and they should leave carrot sticks instead. In
the midst of my delight, a little girl proclaims loudly, "That's really Father Joe."
Another little boy tells me "the Santa in the mall is a lot skinnier than you.”
I thought Santa was supposed to be fat.
Well, maybe I should be eating more of those carrot sticks. Anyway, with
all the religious and family sentiments of the season, Christmas warms the heart.
Let's try to hold onto the spirit of Christmas as long as we can.
February 11, 2001
Make Your Own Kind of Music
One thing I've learned in my twenty-five years as a priest is that each
person's sense of what or what is not "reverent" differs from one person to
another. What one might consider profane, another might think very reverent and
holy.
Several times I have been to Colorado, the Rocky Mountains. The
peacefulness of the mountain heights helped me understand why so many of the
ancient peoples saw the mountains as the residence of their gods. When it
comes to our Catholic Liturgy, again we see this difference. Some people like the
old Liturgy although I admit, I am a fan of the changes of Vatican II. As a
seminarian, I attended the old Latin Mass every morning, and did not understand
one word that was being said. Even when I learned Latin, it was difficult for me to
pray in a foreign language. For my own prayer, I prefer English. I have spoken to
many priests who celebrated the old Latin mass and even they confess to little
understanding of what they were saying at times.
It seems that music is always a big source of discussion as to reverence.
For some, anything short of Gregorian chant and the old Latin songs should not
be included in the liturgy. For others, there is a preference to the old German
chorale hymns, many of which are Protestant in origin, and were added to the
Liturgy during the initial changes because we Catholics did not have our own
repertoire of English church music.
Today, we have a wealth of musical styles, and this is evident here at
Saint Thomas. Our four thirty Saturday afternoon Mass is pretty traditional, with
your usual Catholic church hymns, led by the organist and cantor. At our Sunday
morning Mass, definitely one of my favorites, you can listen to the inspiringly
beautiful sounds of our parish choir. Yes, West Virginia definitely has a match
here on the definition of "almost heaven." Our ten o’clock Mass, with the folk or
contemporary group, stirs the heart and emotions, and fits in well with the
younger family-oriented crowd, especially with the many children in attendance.
We have had a change since Christmas in our seven o’clock Sunday evening
Mass.
In our desire to attract more young people, teens and young adults to this
Mass, we have added a second contemporary group, this time led by Frank
Howard, famous for his leadership of Lazarus, the group out of Saint Marie’s in
Manchester. They have two albums, they played at the first Tent Revival we had,
and I usually join them with my keyboard for that glorious Vigil of Pentecost Mass
held every year at Saint Marie’s. This is also a great sounding group, and all of
our music groups can always use another voice or two, and certainly our folk
groups are always in search of new musicians and guitarists.
Some people have said that there isn't enough reverence in some of this
music. Personally, I grew up in the rock and roll era, and in looking around at
these Masses, there aren't a lot of people left whose steady diet of sounds has
been Glenn Miller and the like. Being a musician myself, I like a variety of music,
from classical, to opera, to country, to rock and roll. Yes, like Donny and Marie; I
guess I'm a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll. When I grew up, rock was
already in force, and I was a great fan of the Beatles. My point in all this is that,
sensibilities aside, there is nothing in my knowledge of Liturgy or music that
makes any instrument or style of music "irreverent."
One day I was accosted by a gentleman on his way out of our
contemporary Mass. He was irate at the music, and thought he would let me
have it, telling me how “irreverent” it was. I took a deep breath and said in my
most intimidating voice: “Buster, listen to me. I have studied at St. Pius X
School of Liturgical Music. I studied Gregorian Chant under the Solemnes
Monks. I have been involved in liturgical music since 1963. Don’t you dare
lecture me on what is or is not irreverent.” I never saw the man again.
If we have a "me and Jesus" attitude toward church; that I want to kneel in
silence, not be disturbed, not give the sign of peace, not respond, then there is a
deeper problem; a problem based in our faith in the church and her Liturgy.
Three thousand years ago, David danced before the Lord in a tribute of
joy. Certainly, three thousand years later, I am sure the Lord delights in the
sounds of drums and the strumming of guitars.
February 25, 2001
Welcome Home: Hospitality
Experts tell us that the number one reason why people leave churches is
due to a lack of hospitality. People often feel unwelcome in parish churches,
especially when they do not regularly attend church. For this reason, we have
initiated here in the parish various programs to make our new parishioners feel
more welcome. One obvious way of welcoming new parishioners is having a
"Welcome Committee," through which people are introduced to the life of our
parish by registering at our welcome night each month, held on the first
Wednesday. Another more recent innovation is our "greeters," who stand at the
doors of the church, extending hospitality, and making people feel welcome. This
Wednesday, we have another opportunity to show our hospitality as a parish
community, as well as our Christian belief that, just as Jesus welcomed all into
his midst, so too, we should welcome others to our church.
Ash Wednesday, like several other special celebrations of the church,
often poses a problem for us. It is one of the days when our "CAPE Catholics"
come back. CAPE, of course, stands for "Christmas, Ash Wednesday, Palm
Sunday, and Easter.” While we may joke about the crowds of people we get on
these days, we also need to take stock of our own position as a welcoming
parish on these days.
This year, our Lenten theme will be "Welcome Home." We are seeking,
through our Ash Wednesday evening Mass, and our Wednesday sessions
throughout Lent, to welcome those who are alienated from the church because of
a multitude of reasons. Our purpose is not to be judgmental, nor will we seek to
quote scripture and dogma. Rather, we want to reconcile and bring peace to
those who may feel that the church has turned its back on them and be good
listeners. What better way to begin this season than by welcoming our brother
and sister Catholics to church on Ash Wednesday? How great would it be that,
instead of grumbling that there's no place to park, that we didn't get our regular
pew, or that they don't know when to sit and stand, we were truly welcoming
hosts for those who come to our church on that day? How about a big smile for
them, a welcoming hand, and even giving up our seat so that they may have a
place to sit during our services?
How about extending true Christian love, kindness, fellowship, and
hospitality to all those who come to the church this Wednesday, not looking at
them as "strangers in our midst," but rather, as "prodigal sons and daughters"
who have come home to our loving God? For those of you familiar with this
parable of Jesus (The Prodigal Son), wouldn't we rather be identified as the
loving Father who welcomed his son home with open arms, rather than the
obstinate and jealous brother, who resented his brother’s return? Lent poses
many challenges to us; one of the greatest being the transformation of heart that
comes from being a loving community. This year, perhaps some of our prodigal
brothers and sisters will be more willing to come back for the Sundays of Lent,
and Easter, and beyond, because we made them feel at home, welcomed, and
an important part of our community.
March 4, 2001
Welcome Home: Divorce and Remarriage
As we have been announcing, this coming Wednesday begins our
"Welcome Home" series at Aquinas House. We initiated this series this past
week at our seven p.m. Mass on Ash Wednesday, by introducing the theme for
this Lenten series. Lent is a time of reconciliation, and there is no greater image
that comes to mind than that of the Prodigal Son, who comes home to the
welcoming arms of his loving father. This parable of Jesus presents for us, during
Lent, a challenge of how welcoming we are to those who are alienated from the
church.
Sometimes Catholics get smug in their beliefs. We may say, "Well, we are
right in doing this, or in thinking that," and become insensitive to those who feel
hurt by the actions of the church community.
Sometimes, in our efforts to preserve "orthodoxy" or "tradition," we may
not take into account others' needs or feelings. It is not enough for us to simply
quote chapter and verse, pull out the scriptures or the canon law books, and say,
‘this is the way it is, love it or leave it.’ Thus, the purpose of our series is
reconciliation and healing. The primary posture of reconciliation and healing has
to be listening on the part of the church and her leadership.
Very often, people feel alienated from the church because of a hurt, a
harsh word, or the impression that they are not welcomed. This week's topic,
divorce and remarriage, can be very informational for people who find
themselves in this situation. There are times when people have been through a
very difficult marriage, where there is much pain, hurt, and even abuse. Very
often, after much suffering, people reach the difficult decision that they can no
longer remain in such a relationship without serious harm: psychologically,
spiritually, and even sometimes physically; so they seek the route of divorce.
They are then confronted, not only with the church's stand against divorce, but
also with the words of Jesus Himself in the Gospels. People may ask the
question, “Can I ever marry again?” Or some have remarried and find
themselves alienated from the church. In cases such as these, there is always a
remedy. There is always a means of healing and reconciling; and this, of course,
begins with listening.
We at Saint Thomas are not so naive to think that we will solve every
problem, that we will succeed in reconciling everyone who has been hurt, or who,
justified or not, feels alienated from the church. However, we can begin the path
to healing and inner peace through this program by starting a dialogue with those
who are hurt.
Obviously, our "Welcome Home" series in itself will not accomplish
reconciliation and healing. Each person who feels hurt must follow his or her own
path to that. It may take a long time, and we will encourage, at each session,
private dialogue and discussion with priests and church personnel, where
appropriate. In the end, what we seek to do is exactly what our Holy Father Pope
John Paul II has asked us to do, what our own Bishop John McCormack is
seeking In our own diocese, and what Jesus would do also, and that is, bring
healing and peace to all God's people.
March 11, 2001
Welcome Home: Always Our Children
Last spring, Bishop John McCormack, Bishop of the Diocese of
Manchester, published a Pastoral Letter on Reconciliation. The Bishop, in
keeping with the leadership of Pope John Paul II for the Holy Year of Jubilee,
addressed the subject of reconciliation within the church. He expressed the need
that we have as a church community to be the first to reach out to those who feel
alienated from the church. He wrote, “As in any family, there can be tensions
within the Church.” One of the things we at Saint Thomas have been
emphasizing is this very point that the Church is all about relationships, and that
it is relationships, rather than rules and regulations and obedience to laws, that
should guide the way we live our lives.
Bishop McCormack specifically mentioned certain groups who may
experience tension in their lives as members of the church, groups such as
women in general, men and women involved in procuring an abortion, those who
have been divorced and remarried, parents and the persons themselves who are
gay or lesbian, and adults who sense they are treated like second class citizens.
Some of these areas can be difficult for us to address. Bishop McCormack, in a
talk given to the priests of the diocese on this very subject back in October,
stated that there needed to be consistency in our actions. Someone may say why
should the church seek reconciliation? Why should the church seek forgiveness,
or apologize for its actions? We do so, not because the church is the body of
Christ, but because it is composed of human beings, who are weak and frail and
sinful.
Yes, we are a sinful church. Our sinfulness does not come from God, but
from our own personal weaknesses and ambitions. This is what "original sin" is
all about: our inclination as humans to do our will, and not God's will. Sometimes
people also disguise their own will as the will of God. The scriptures remind us
that God's ways are not our ways. Yes, we have been inconsistent, and even
today we are inconsistent in our message. We know that in the church there are
conservatives, liberals, traditionalists, reactionaries, and radicals. Perhaps this is
what being "catholic" is all about – all encompassing. Yet, very often these
groups, and even those in church leadership, put their own "spin" on the
message. This week, our "Welcome Home" Program, which we have modeled
after the pastoral letter of Bishop McCormack and the call of the entire church to
seek reconciliation and healing, centers on a very controversial topic: "Gays and
lesbians in the Church."
This is an area where many Catholics and Christians fall far short of
Christian charity. I notice myself in our own church, that when this topic may be
brought up, no matter how broadly, in a homily or announcement, how many
people immediately tense up, cross their arms, and turn a deaf ear. It's almost as
if they are saying, "I don't want to hear this topic, I don't want it talked about, and
I certainly don't want the church to talk about it."
You’d be surprised (or maybe not) to hear the comments we get here at
Saint Thomas about our AIDS ministry from people who would, I am sure,
identify themselves as good Catholics. They say, “those people..." as if they were
some aliens from another planet. No matter how much we say we are Christians
and Catholics, I believe we will be judged by how we treat those on the fringe of
church and society. And we have been inconsistent in our message to them as a
church. We may say, you are “Always Our Children," as the US Bishops did a
few years ago, but out of the other side of our mouths we still say, "yes, but
you're still a sinner and you’re going straight to hell."
We love to quote the scriptures, even though most scriptures on
homosexuality have little to do with the subject. For example, we pick and
choose which Old Testament laws we want to quote, while ignoring ninety
percent of them. And even we as priests overlook couples that are living
together, when preparing them for marriage, and may bend over backwards to
reconcile those who are divorced, while remaining silent on the treatment of
homosexuals.
We are all mature enough to admit that the church has not had a pretty
history in the past; that people have been persecuted in the name of Jesus, and
that the church for centuries not only condoned slavery, but even owned slaves.
We also should be wise enough to know that we don't have all the information on
homosexuality, that it's a lot more complicated than we can imagine.
I've also noticed in my twenty-five years as a priest that people often have
a different way of looking at things when this issue strikes home. Talk to
someone with a gay or lesbian son, daughter, brother, sister, friend. Or talk to
those who have had to hide this part of their lives for years, in fear of being
“discovered." Put a human face on the issue, and it's a whole different ball game,
right? We conclude with Bishop McCormack's remarks: "As a diocesan church, it
is my hope that we will join with parish ministers and leaders in helping
parishioners described in the above groupings to be connected and actively
involved in the life and worship of the parish."
And that's why we need to say, "Welcome Home,"
March 18, 2001
Welcome Home: Women in the Church
As members of a church that is almost two thousand years old, it is
difficult for us at this point to distinguish what about our church comes from God,
and what is simply of human origin. Many of the things that we do as Catholics
are human in origin, but we believe that the Holy Spirit guides the Church toward
the truth. As I stated in last week's View, not everything in the church has been
for the good, and the church has done things through the years that were not
from God. This is because of our weakness, our sinfulness, and our frailty. When
decisions are made, there are many different things that come into play:
emotions, power struggles, politics, beliefs, hurt, etc. And, just as we would find it
difficult or impossible to divide our lives into neat little categories, so too with the
church.
This week's "Welcome Home" program deals with "women's issues." This
is another aspect in which our Holy Father, the Bishops and leaders of the
church, have acknowledged sinfulness on the part of church members and
leadership. Many of the attitudes of the church toward women have come from a
Middle Eastern culture, since our roots are in Judaism, and certainly, in our own
time and day, there are few cultures that Catholics have found themselves in that
have not looked at women differently than men.
One of the things that we cannot do is judge yesterday's generations by
today's standards. We do believe that as people, we are continually becoming
more and more enlightened about our life here on this earth, what makes us
similar, and what makes us different. We hope that, someday, the things that
once divided us, gender, color, national origin, race, sexual orientation, will not
be causes of hatred and prejudice among us. But we know this will be a long
time coming, given our past experience.
Where Saint Paul tells us in his letter to the Galatians, "there is neither
Gentile nor Jew, servant or freeman, woman or man; all are one in Christ," the
church certainly did succumb, to many of the attitudes of the world around it
when it came to women. Jesus' concern and ministry for women, such as Mary
Magdalene and the woman of Samaria, have been an example of His going
against the customs of the time prohibiting single men and single women from
conversing with each other. Jesus extends His love to everyone.
Few people would have guessed thirty years ago the changes which have
happened in the church. The thought of lay participation and such things as
women lectors, altar servers, and Eucharistic ministers would certainly have
been thought impossible in a day when women were not allowed in the
sanctuary, and whose duties were limited to cleaning the altar area and linens.
Today women are found in almost every area of leadership in the church, from
parish administrators, to diocesan chancellors, to heads of various departments.
And one might readily admit that the church would be in a lot of trouble if women
did not contribute so much of their time, talent, and treasure to the church. As the
church confronts her own attitudes, let's pray that someday the words of Saint
Paul will be a reality for all of us.
March 25, 2001
Welcome Home: Open Session
The final "formal" session of our Welcome Home Lenten Program this
coming Wednesday will be an open session. At this session we will be available
to answer anyone's questions about the church, why we do certain things, as well
as seek to heal any divisions that were caused by any of the policies or actions of
church members or leaders. In my almost twenty-five years as a priest, I have
heard a lot of reasons why people have left the church.
Some of these we have already talked about: a lack of hospitality, and a
problem with the church's teaching on a certain issue. Rarely have I found people
who have left the church because of a theological difference with church
teaching.
Sure, there are those who simply cannot believe what Catholics believe,
and yet feel attached to the church in some way…culturally perhaps. And there
are some whose belief system have gone beyond the Catholic perspective and
feel they can no longer consider themselves to be members of this Church. But
for many, the individual hurts have come from personal encounters with the
church, be it church members or clergy, and have found themselves hurting over
the situation.
We have all heard our horror stories of priests who have been difficult with
people. I am sure some people have horror stories about me. Some people by
nature are demanding, and think that by intimidating a church secretary or even a
priest, they are going to get them something they should not have or get us to
break the rules. Sometimes, it is a lack of understanding of what the church is all
about. Many times, it is a human situation that causes the hurt: a priest going
through his own issues, poor timing, or a lack of consideration on both parts. In
dealing with healing, I always have to look at the things that set me off: people
who treat the church and its priests as though we were a business rather than a
religious community; those who seek to use the church only for what they need,
and never bother to ask how they can be of help to the church. Maybe we can
borrow a line from John F. Kennedy's inaugural address, "Ask not what your
church can do for you, ask what you can do for your church."
So, what "little" things tick off Father Joe? How about the phone ringing at
six a.m. on a Saturday, so that someone can find out what time the morning
Mass is? Yes, even though we have voice mail, the phone does ring in each and
every room. Or how about, "Father, I know it's your day off, but..." Living on
campus does pose problems. How about someone insisting that they ‘have been
a member of this church all their lives and have been good, practicing Catholics,
all at the same time not knowing who the hoot I am, thinking I may be the janitor?
How about the bride who balks at church fees for her wedding while having a
wonderful reception at an expensive country club? Or the gossip that continually
makes the rounds in both our church and school, constantly blowing out of
proportion the smallest problem or littlest decision. Or those who like to agitate
and spread gossip behind your back, while at the same time being a most
wonderful "supporter" in front of you. Yes, sometimes priests are to blame for
people's hurts.
There are too many priests who have not honed well their people skills, or
maybe never had them. There are some who come from an age of authority and
discipline, and don't know how to be charitable and kind. But there are just as
many people who come to the church office looking for a fight, or even expecting
one. Healing is indeed a two way street. Jesus reminds us, “If you forgive the
faults of others, your heavenly Father will forgive you yours."
This is a great challenge to us, if you want to be forgiven, you must be
willing to forgive.
May 13, 2001
First Communion Day 1957
It's funny how, no matter how old you get or how long it's been, you
remember certain things from your childhood. Don't ask me what I had for
breakfast yesterday, but I can tell you in great detail the events of my First
Communion Day, May 11, 1957.
I've been thinking about First Communion Day since we're celebrating our
three First Communion Masses on this weekend. The first tug-of-war of the day
came with my mother over what I would wear for my first communion. Since I
was one of the bigger boys in the class, wearing a white suit with short pants was
out of the question. I was grateful for that and even more grateful when it proved
to be a raw and rainy day. For me, it was picture perfect: my nice blue suit, my
favorite white shirt, my First Communion tie (white, of course), a white bow on my
arm, and a white carnation on my suit lapel. Mom had other ideas. She wanted
me to wear a "buster brown collar." A what? When I saw it, I was not a happy
camper. I inherited my father's dislike of high and tight collars around my neck,
and, if you know anything about a buster brown collar, it is high and tight, with a
lot of starch and a giant bow. We fought to a compromise. I would wear the
buster brown collar to the Mass, but could immediately transfer to my favorite
white shirt for the second event of the day, the wedding of my cousins Frank and
Mary DePalo at another church.
Saint Catharine’s Church was packed. There were about one hundred
twenty kids in our First Communion Class, and with families and friends, the
church was smothering. There was nervousness in my stomach. Remember,
those were the days when you had to fast from midnight on, and I wasn't used to
it. As the Mass went on, all in Latin, I started feeling a little sick. Maybe the host
would sooth my hunger, certainly my spiritual hunger, but maybe not my physical
hunger. As communion time approached, I remembered the words of our
second-grade teacher, Madame Antonio, “Don’t chew the host. Don't touch it with
your teeth. Take it on your tongue, and swallow it. Don't leave the altar rail before
you've swallowed the host."
I was sure I had it all down. At communion time, Monsignor Mullaney, our
pastor, made the rounds, along with the three other priests of our parish. Up and
down they went along the altar rail, as the First Communicants took their places
to receive the Body of Christ. Finally, my turn came. I put out my tongue, and
closed my eyes. The taste was strange and new. Almost immediately, the little
white host stuck to the roof of my mouth. I couldn't get it off, no matter how I tried
to pry it with my tongue. Madame Antonio approached me and told me to go
back to my seat.
"I can't swallow it," I croaked in fear.
"That's okay," she said. “Go back to your seat.”
I went back to my seat, alarmed that I might never get the host swallowed.
I tried everything that I could. I even started gagging. Finally, I did the
unthinkable. I quietly reached in my mouth with my finger, pried the Sacred Host
from the roof of my mouth, and swallowed. Of course, I was plagued by my
conscience. I had touched the Sacred Body of Christ with my fingers. The next
Monday in school, I told some of my classmates. They were shocked and urged
me to confession immediately. I decided to ask my mother. She was more
understanding.
"Only priests are allowed to touch the host," she said. "Maybe this is a
sign God wants you to be a priest. Don't worry about it."
I didn't. I thought of this twenty-five years ago when I returned to Saint
Catharine’s to celebrate my First Mass on Sunday, May 9, 1976. How things had
changed; and how some things never change.
May 20, 2001
My Early Vocation Story
Some of you may know that I celebrated the twenty-fifth anniversary of my
ordination to the priesthood on May 8th. I will be officially marking that Silver
Anniversary on June 10th, with Mass at ten a.m. here at the church. Many of my
family members and old friends will be in attendance, as well as many friars and
priests. I consider myself fortunate, not only being the pastor here at Saint
Thomas, but also having accompanied two deacons for our parish to the
priesthood. It was a great thrill having the ordination to the priesthood of Fr. Tom
Washburn and his two classmates, Fr. Michael MacInnis and Fr. Edwin
Paniagua, here at our parish last September.
All of these events have caused me to reminisce about my own path to the
priesthood. One of the most common questions I get asked is this: when did you
know you wanted to be a priest? This is not an easy question to answer, because
there are different degrees of "knowing." I do know that I was very young when I
began entertaining the thought of being a priest. In those days, the late fifties and
early sixties, it was quite common to have young men going into seminaries,
even, like I did, after grade school. In my own graduating class at Saint Catharine
School, six of us went to seminaries, five to the diocesan school, called
Cathedral Prep. I was the only one in the class who went to a religious order. The
year after I graduated, another student at my school joined the Franciscans. Of
all these, I believe I am the only one to actually be ordained.
I wanted to be a lot of things in those days, and priesthood was one of my
options. I wanted to play baseball for the New York Yankees. I played Little
League for many years, but was primarily a first baseman, a right fielder, and
then later on, a catcher. I wanted to be a bus driver, too. But I was so impressed
with the priests of my parish that my deepest desire was to be a priest. From
the earliest time, it went without saying that, "Joseph is going to be a priest."
When eighth grade hit, my desire to enter a seminary became very solid,
but I was afraid to tell my parents, thinking that they wouldn't let me leave home
for the seminary at such an early age. Remember, I am from an Italian family,
where moving to the next street was a traumatic experience. When family
members moved to another borough, Staten Island, for example, or, God forbid,
New Jersey, another state, it was like the end of the world. Can you imagine how
my parents felt, in particular my mother, when I would move to Andover,
Massachusetts at the tender age of thirteen? So, I did what most kids do at that
age…I didn't tell my parents. I wrote to several vocation directors, and then, one
day, while playing stickball with my friends on 38th street, my father came by and
told me I had better go home.
"Dad, I'm up at bat. I can't leave now."
"There's some priest sitting in our living room, looking to sign you up for
the seminary," he said solemnly.
I'd better go, I thought to myself. When I arrived at home, there was the
vocation director for the Franciscan Friars of the Province of the Immaculate
Conception, Father Bede Ferrara, sitting on the couch in our living room. My
mother and father and Aunt Tess had puzzled looks on their faces.
Mom was direct, "Did you write a letter to Father Bede asking him to let
you go to the seminary?"
I had to admit it. But I didn't expect a priest to appear at my door the very
next day. We all talked, and mom and dad got the idea that I was serious about
this. Obviously, we weren't making a commitment on the spot; we had a lot more
talking to do. But, to make a long story short, that September, Mom and Dad,
along with my Aunt Rose and Uncle Nick (they were our family members who
owned a car) traveled the five-hour trek to Andover, Massachusetts, to bring me
to the seminary. There, with eighteen other thirteen-year olds, I entered Saint
Francis Seraphic Seminary, where I would begin thirteen years of preparation for
the priesthood.
May 27, 2001
High School Seminary
That first night was a restless one. I remember in particular the clocks in
Andover. They didn't have a second hand, so at each minute there was a loud
"click" as the minute hand marched on to the next number. I heard hundreds of
those clicks that night. The next morning, we had a Solemn Mass of the Holy
Spirit to begin the school year. Then, we had a few hours with our families, and
then we were on our own. I remember the feeling of reality hitting home. Mom
and Dad were leaving, and I would be staying. I remember how my mother cried
when she left. I know she was happy I was entering the seminary, but she had
other feelings to wrestle with; that of a mother leaving her son behind with
strangers. I know she was consoled by some of the priests and my own joy at
living together with so many others.
Later on I found out how much my mother grieved over this, and, when I
grew older and saw other boys at thirteen, I knew why. Being a thirteen-year-old
boy, however, I was in a different place. The classes were challenging, some of
the priests were grumpy and intimidating, but living with eighty guys your own
age, was in itself, a thrill. There were sports; baseball, softball, football, we had a
bowling alley, there were tons of things to do, and we were living out in the
woods, with trips down to the Merrimack River, and walks into Lowell. There
were great friends, Ricky, Steve, Lenny, and Bruno. It was a blast. The teachers
were strict: Fr. Pacificus, who looked like he was eight feet tall and weighed five
hundred pounds, taught Latin. Fr. Damian, getting older and forgetful, gave us a
lot of laughs. Fr. Roland, Fr. Francis, and Fr. Primo, are all among my favorites.
The life was strict and very disciplined, but I loved it. The only
"questionable" time I had was at the end of my Christmas break. Being home for
two weeks made me realize what I was missing, but I went back to the seminary
reluctantly. But I never looked back after that. In those four years I developed into
manhood.
I loved my studies, became head organist, a member of the student
council, vice president of my senior class, and, looked forward to graduation, and
novitiate. Novitiate is a special year of training in the life of being a friar. It was
the year when we would make the transition from being, seminarians to friars.
I graduated in June of 1967, and, after six weeks at home, traveled with
my New York classmates to Catskill, New York, for the beginning of the novitiate.
After a retreat, our families joined us in Catskill on August 15, 1967 when I
received the brown robe, hood, white cord, and sandals that marked the
Franciscan Friars. It was a wonderful day. Novitiate lasts one year and one day,
to fulfill the canonical requirements of being exactly one year. Our new novice
master, Fr. Paul, had been our English teacher at the seminary in Andover for
four years, so he was no stranger to us. It was a deeply spiritual year for me, and
also a year when I learned how to type and how to swim.
We weren't allowed to go home that year, but our families could visit us
once a month, and the Lorenzo's brought all the foods that I liked: mom’s gravy
with pasta, meatballs, eggplant parmigiana, and the works. Maybe you can't
believe it now but I weighed about one hundred sixty-five pounds in those days. I
did a lot of working out with our weight set, and we had a full tennis court. We
also would go for "illegal" swims in the Hudson River, and occasionally sneak out
of the friary and go to the bustling metropolis of Catskill for a movie. There wasn't
a lot to do, but there were classes in Franciscan history and spirituality, teaching
CCD at the local parish, playing the organ for the novitiate and Saint Patrick’s
Church, and walking the long circle around the grounds.
The novitiate year ended with our class taking our first vows on August 16,
1968. After a couple weeks at home, we went off to Troy, New York, for the
beginning of our college studies at the Seminary College of the Immaculate
Conception.
June 3, 2001
Seminary Studies
After I took my first vows (which, as Father Tom always reminds everyone,
was BEFORE HE WAS BORN), I was sent to our college seminary in Troy, New
York. This level of our formation would lead to receiving a BA degree with a
major in philosophy. We attended classes at the seminary and at Siena College,
a Catholic College staffed by our order. During my first year in Troy, our
formation director was a former marine and missionary, and ran the program like
a boot camp: strict discipline, short hair, and no frills. It was something we
weren't used to, and there was a lot of frustration. In my second year, he was
replaced with a more liberal team, and literally it was like night and day. We went
from harsh military-like discipline to absolute freedom, and for many of us,
attending school at a college campus was just the influence we didn't need.
It took another two years for the program to settle down someplace in the
middle. For me, it was an eye-opener to modern-day life. Long hair, love beads,
singing "Kum-bay-yah," and protesting the Vietnam War at the capitol building in
Albany, were all par for the course. Social action and peace and justice were
issues at the forefront. I also had the opportunity to go to study sacred music at
Saint Pius X School of Liturgical Music in Purchase, New York.
In the middle of each summer, I was living on campus as free as a bird,
and I enjoyed it. There were many other men and women religious there
attending the school, but the atmosphere was loose and laid back, and I enjoyed
studying sacred music and continuing my organ lessons. My four years of college
were a time of great growth for me, and prepared me well for moving on to
theology school in Boston. In my first year of theology, I studied at Saint John’s
Seminary in Brighton, but commuted from our seminary in Andover. While it was
a different experience being back on River Road (now living in the faculty wing,
instead of the student section where one of the students was a young junior in
high school named Courtland Campbell), but the commute, done during rush
hour, was horrendous.
Eventually, trying to balance field work, studies, research, all with the lack
of library access, we moved to our new friary, called "Bonaventure House,” in
Brighton across the street from the seminary. There, fourteen of us along with
our directors, worked at attaining our theology degrees while attending Saint
John’s and the seven other member schools of the Boston Theological Institute.
During this time, I had some very good fieldwork assignments working
with college students in the Brighton area, and in the social services department
of the Greenery Nursing Home and Rehab center. Finally, the end of the tunnel
was near, and ordination to the diaconate would mean being assigned to a
parish. At that time it was the custom of our Franciscan province to have
deacons assigned to the parishes of the Archdiocese of Boston, and so, right
before my own ordination, I received my assignment: Saint Rita’s Church in
Haverhill, Massachusetts. It would be my first experience of living out of a friary
since I was a teen, and I was a little nervous about functioning in a parish and in
a diocesan situation.
What a tremendous year it was. After spending the summer putting the
finishing touches on my music studies (I had graduated from Pius X and gone on
to do graduate work at Boston University), I arrived in the beginning of
September at Saint Rita’s to meet the two priests I would be working with: Fr. Jim
Radochia, the pastor of Saint Rita’s, and Fr. Bill Fay, who was just ordained a
year before. It was a great combination. Fr. Bill was a new priest, and with a new
deacon, we had an opportunity to learn how to be priests from a great priest. Fr.
Jim had deacons assigned to him for many years, and he was an excellent
teacher for us. He was kind and loving to his parishioners, and we were like sons
to him.
During that deacon year I had a very impressive experience of community.
Since Fr. Jim's days off were Monday and Tuesday, and I was at the seminary on
Wednesday and Thursday taking final courses for the priesthood, I spent a lot of
time with Fr. Fay (who is now Monsignor William Fay, the Executive Director of
the National Conference of Catholic Bishops.) How's that for friends in high
places? Anyway, Fr. Fay and I would pray evening prayer together, and, with Fr.
Jim, would recreate together at night. The people of Saint Rita’s parish were
absolutely fantastic, also, and I still have deep friendships among them today,
twenty-five years later.
Finally, on May 8. 1976. I was ordained a priest at Saint Anthony of Padua
Church in New York City by Bishop Lawrence Graziano, O.F.M., and a fellow
friar from my province. The next day, May 9th, which was Mother's Day. I
celebrated my first Mass at Saint Catharine of Alexandria Parish in Brooklyn,
where I had grown up and had gone to grade school. I was surrounded by family,
friends, my parents, my sister and her family, aunts and uncles, and fellow friars
and priests. I made it. Praise God.
June 10, 2001
A Baby Priest
What goes through someone's head as ordination day approaches? I
remember a whole plethora of emotions and feelings, as well as excitement,
doubt, anticipation, and wonder. I guess one of the over-riding thoughts I had as
my ordination to the priesthood came closer was whether I was worthy of this. I
guess every newly ordained priest wrestles with this, and most of us realize that
worthiness is not the issue. Sure, we are never worthy of this great ministry to
which God has called us. We rely on the power of God, and pray that His grace
will supply so much that is lacking in our lives. What people very often fail to
realize is that we are ordinary human beings, with all humanity's frailty and
weakness.
Like anyone else, we can easily be enamored by the glamour of the office,
the authority, the control it gives us, but we constantly struggle to be servants
and ministers. I remember for the month preceding my ordination, I was
physically ill, not seriously, but the typical ailments that accompany nerves. I
think I even lost some pounds! In sharing this with my classmates at Saint
John’s, it was definitely a common experience and our water supplies had not
been contaminated in any way. I remember the excitement of the preparations,
the details of the ordination day and First Mass, invitations, booklets, music
programs, and the like. This tended to cloud over the deeper issues: what kind of
a priest will I be? Where will I be stationed? How will I celebrate Mass and the
sacraments?
Immediately following my ordination Mass, Fr. John Marie, our provincial,
asked me to come to his office. I think that if he had asked me to go to China, I
would have gone, so filled with the Holy Spirit and the fervor of the ordination I
was. He didn't ask anything glamorous of me; to go to Troy, New York, to a
downtown parish where I would experience a unique style of ministry, the inner
city shopper's church. At the time it was an exciting venture, since I knew it would
be temporary. I had been asked to be part of the team ministry at our parish in
Pittsburgh, and I knew that, by September, I would be moving to that parish. The
Troy parish brought any ideas of the glamour of the priesthood back to reality. It
was a church that was busy during the day; Masses, confessions, counseling,
etc., but there was a very tiny congregation on the weekends. Most of the people
were itinerants, much like the McDonald's drive through that I tease about here at
Saint Thomas. They were members of other parishes in their own
neighborhoods, and came to downtown Troy only for work or classes at one of
the large colleges there. There was little community in the parish and virtually no
community with the friars. I was twenty-six years old and the next oldest priest
was seventy.
Talk about a generation gap! The friars were in bed by seven thirty each
night and I spent most of the evenings in front of the television. I soon found out
about a group of Sisters of Saint Joseph who lived around the corner from the
church in an apartment, and they became my salvation. One of the friars
stationed at Saint Anthony’s was Father Larry. He was ancient when I just
entered into the seminary, and he was probably in his nineties when I lived there.
Every night, Fr. Larry would come home with a sausage pizza from Volcano's,
my favorite pizzeria in Troy. He would usually hide it somewhere in the kitchen
and then forget where it was. Our pastor, Fr. Denis, would find old, stale pizzas
all over the house. I quickly discovered his secret hiding place and found some
consolation for watching television by myself, a fresh pizza each night. It was
funny to watch Fr. Larry look all over the house the next morning, trying to
remember where he put his pizza, little knowing that it was long gone.
In August of that summer, I received the good news that I was being sent
to Pittsburgh; the assignment I had dreamed of. My mother and father came up
to Troy to take me home to New York, where, after a few weeks vacation, I
began what would be thirteen wonderful years of ministry.
June 17, 2001
My Twenty-Fifth Anniversary
I know a lot of you have been enjoying my reminiscences of the past
thirty-eight years, thirteen of them in preparation for ordination, and now twentyfive years as a priest. I would like to comment in this view about my anniversary
celebration last week here at the parish. Family and friends began arriving early
Saturday: my sister and nephews and their families, relatives, cousins, friends
from New York, and some of my old friends from Pittsburgh. We had reserved
fifteen rooms at a local hotel for them, and, of course, by mid-afternoon Saturday,
most of them were gathered at the friary. It was a great reunion; not only for our
family but also for many friends of mine who hadn't seen each other in such a
long time. Some former classmates and friars also were in attendance. Br.
Courtland made sure that every detail of hospitality was taken care of, and
everyone had enough to eat and drink. His famous meatballs were a great hit,
given they are made by a non-Italian.
Everything about my anniversary Mass was unbelievable, from the friars
and priests in attendance, to the fantastic music given by our choir, to the
surprise presence of Bishop Odore Gendron. Fr. Tom organized our great
Masters of Ceremonies to serve, and I was both edified and grateful for the
several standing ovations given to me at the Mass. I guess you don't always
realize the impact you have on people's lives until there is given an opportunity to
demonstrate it. The kind words of Bishop Gendron, who expressed his
appreciation to the Franciscans for staffing Saint Thomas (we were invited to
Saint Thomas and to this diocese by Bishop Gendron when he was the diocesan
bishop) were touching, as well as the words of my good friend, Father Bob
Campagna, our Provincial. Fr. Bob and I joked on the altar about what he could
have said about me, since we've known each other for about thirty-six years.
I guess one of the high points of the day was my renewal of priestly vows.
It was done at Fr. Tom's suggestion, and it was a peak moment to be able to
promise once again to live the priestly life in front of my family and friends, as
well as parishioners. I did tease Fr. Provincial about the part that says that I
would be willing to surrender my personal joys and pleasures; we all need some
joys and pleasures in this life, and wondered if we could skip that part. I also
appreciated the presentation from Holy Cross parish. I guess a lot has been done
to bring the two parishes closer together in the past years, and Fr. Roger
Croteau, their pastor, and an artist as well, did a beautiful rendition of the Trinity.
A dinner was held for family and friends at the Yard restaurant, and the meal was
out of this world. I ordered an Italian buffet; I am always leery of Italian food at a
non-Italian restaurant, but everyone was pleased.
All in all, it was a wonderful weekend, and I woke up Monday elated and
exhausted, ready to get back to the grind and continue my work here at Saint
Thomas. Thanks so much to the many parishioners and friends, who wished me
well, gave me gifts and prayers, and most of all for your support and
encouragement of all of us at Saint Thomas in our ministry. God bless you and
please continue to pray for me.
June 24, 2001
Living in Steeler Country
There's an old saying among priests that you never forget your first
assignment. My first official assignment as a priest was a member of the team
ministry at Saint Pamphilus Church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. What can I say
about the thirteen years I spent in this parish community? Yes, I’ll never forget it.
I was twenty-six-years-old, a baby, now as I look back, and this parish with its
wonderful friars and parishioners, taught me how to be a priest, a friar, and even
human being. After thirteen years in the seminary, it was the best situation I
could have ever found.
I arrived at Saint Pamphilus in August of 1976, a priest for a few months,
ready and eager to convert the world. Saint Pamphilus was established in 1960
by then Bishop (later Cardinal) John Wright. He named the parish after Saint
Pamphilus, a bishop from Sulmona, Italy. Saint Pamphilus was the patron saint
of the founder of our Franciscan province in the US, Father Panfilo de Magliano.
From the very beginning, Saint Pamphilus was in the hands of good pastors and
priests; friars who were great at guiding this parish of six hundred families, and
who brought this parish through the changes of the Vatican Council with great
ease. By the time I got there everything I learned in the seminary was in place:
councils, education programs, a fantastic liturgy, and a great music program.
It was a thrill to be in such a parish. I was almost transferred after my first
year. The province director of our formation program (which trains new friars)
asked me to move to New York and be assistant director of our postulancy
program. At first I accepted, although I really did not want to leave parish work.
Eventually, I decided not to go. I felt I didn't have enough experience in the
real world to go back into formation, after spending thirteen years in the formation
program. This decision was one I would never regret. I wound up spending
thirteen years at this parish. It's funny how my life was traveling in cycles of
thirteen: thirteen years at home in Brooklyn, thirteen years in the seminary, and
then thirteen years Pittsburgh. What made my years there so great were the
people. Pittsburgh folk are different than easterners. They are more mid-western,
yet Pittsburgh is very much an eastern-type city, with a small town feel to it. Its
people are warm, friendly, and trusting, and this was a big difference from my
experiences as a New Yorker and living in New England.
My parents, on visiting, were amazed that people would actually talk to
them in line at the supermarket, or how friendly everyone was. The parishioners
of Saint Pamphilus were very special to me and I made many, many friends, and
these friendships continue to be important to me. At my twenty-fifth anniversary
celebration, it was a tremendous honor for me to have some of my Pittsburgh
friends present. The parishioners were always open to the friars, always inviting
us to whatever was going on, and I spent a lot of time ministering in the oddest of
places: baseball fields, gyms, and on the street. Pittsburgh was a great
experience for me. Because of its unusual topography, many of the
neighborhoods are cut off from each other, giving a true hometown feeling. Our
little neighborhood called Beechview was unlike anyplace I‘d ever seen before.
In 1989, at our Provincial Chapter, I was elected to the Provincial Board,
and then asked to be Vocation Director of our Province, with residence in Boston.
I was thrilled to take on this new endeavor, but I can't tell you how I cried over the
thought of leaving my parishioners and friends in Pittsburgh! Even worse, the
Steeler season tickets that took me ten years to get would have to be turned over
to some other lucky fan. That alone plunged me into deep mourning.
It has always been my wish that all new priests could have such an
experience in their lives. I will truly, as the saying goes, always remember Saint
Pamphilus Church in Pittsburgh, my first parish.
July 1, 2001
Sowing the Seeds of Love
During our Provincial Chapter of 1989, I was elected to the Provincial
Board and, at the post-chapter meetings, was named Director of the Franciscan
Vocation Office. With another friar, Fr. Mario, I served as full-time vocation
director. When Mario and I moved to Saint Bonaventure Friary in Brighton,
Massachusetts, to begin our ministry, we inherited a pretty sad situation. Not
only had we no vocations in quite a few years, we also had no literature, no files,
not an office, not even a desk. We worked out of our bedrooms, literally
assembling literature and packets on our beds, making phone calls to prospects,
and trying to kick start this new ministry. Since there was no literature, Mario and
I had to literally make up posters and advertisements. I wrote a whole packet of
information called, Sowing the Seeds of Love. I was also named superior of the
friary, and in that capacity I was nothing more than a glorified janitor. At that time
we also had our pre-novitiate formation program there, and I had to worry if there
was enough food for everyone, that we had things in place that would help us to
live our Franciscan life. I have to say, despite the responsibilities, it was fun at
times.
There was great freedom in being vocation director. Since much of the
vocation director's work is on the road, I spent a lot of time in my van. I would put
on almost forty thousand miles a year, and that was only for the road trips. I had
enough frequent flyer miles on USAir take a free trip to England and Ireland,
business class, no less. Yes, there were a lot of perks. I also got to go to
meetings in Italy, California, Arizona, Canada, as well. You might ask what a
vocation director does? I would often compare the vocation director to the
recruiting aspect of a college football coach's job. I used to say I was the "Joe
Paterno" of the Franciscans. Joe Paterno, for those of you who may not know, is
the famous Brooklyn born and raised Italian football coach of Penn State, a
collegiate powerhouse.
My job as a vocation director would be to bring men into our order. The
first part of the vocation director's job is to recruit. We had to get our name out
there so that, if people were discerning a vocation they would consider the
Franciscans as an option. This meant advertising in national vocation journals, in
Catholic magazines and diocesan newspapers, on the Internet. It meant getting
posters, flyers, and literature out to parishes and schools. It meant talking at high
schools and colleges.
There were a lot of group activities, as well as one-on-one meetings.
When a name would come across my desk, my next job was to make sure that
person was informed about who we are, what we do, and what is a Franciscan. If
someone expressed a desire to be a Franciscan, the next part would be journey
with that man, to walk with him on his vocational journey This could mean helping
him to "focus;" do I want to be a priest, brother, a diocesan priest, a Franciscan,
a Jesuit, a permanent deacon? All this was done through talking, meeting,
retreats, and vocation weekends. Another aspect of this job was to evaluate
someone's candidacy for our life, to make a judgment whether or not that person
was suited for our type of community life, or as a minister in the church. I would
try to get to know the candidate, especially through live-in experiences at our
friary. Through this, one could see, sometimes with some difficulty, whether that
person was suited for our life. When a man decided he wanted to be a
Franciscan Friar in the Province of the Immaculate Conception (the particular
group that I belong to), the next step became more difficult: evaluation and
discernment. Sometimes it was clear that such a person should not or even could
not, become a friar.
Often, the friars of our province would ask me, "How many men are
coming in this year?"
My answer was invariably, "More important than who I am bringing in this
year, is who I am keeping out."
There are many people who want to be friars and priests for the wrong
reasons. Finally, when all the discernment was in order, a candidate would begin
the application process. This would entail such evaluations as medical, dental,
school transcripts, letters of recommendation, faith history, etc. When ready, a
candidate would be brought to the Admissions Board. My job was to bring the
candidate through this whole process, and it wasn't over until that young man
entered our formation program as a postulant in September. In all, it was a very
satisfying experience, especially now that I am able to see the fruits of my work.
All in all, a lot was accomplished in these five years. Almost forty men were
received into our formation program, and many have stayed on to profession of
vows and ordination. I am very proud of these years and what was
accomplished.
July 8, 2001
Moving On: Derry, New Hampshire
Sometimes people want to know how the friars are transferred from one
place to another. A good answer would be my experience in 1994, at the end of
my term as Vocation Director of our province. In the spring of 1994 I was
informed that our vocation office would be moving from Brighton Massachusetts
to our provincial offices in New York City. Even though I am a native New Yorker,
I really have not been inclined to move back there or live there. I know my family
would be thrilled, after thirteen years of formation and twenty-five years as a
priest, to have me living in New York, but the life of the big city isn't for me.
I quickly decided that I would like to move on to another assignment,
preferably back to a parish. I met with our provincial in May of 1994 to speak of
possible opportunities. In our province, most assignments are made every three
years, following our provincial chapters. We elect our new board members and,
immediately after the chapter, they make the new assignments. Since there was
still one year to go before our next chapter, there were few assignments available
at the time. The provincial told me to take the summer to wind down the office,
take some time off, and then we'd talk in August about a serious assignment.
And hopefully something would be available by then.
I spent that summer taking a sabbatical and doing an extended retreat and
traveling to California for my twenty-fifth anniversary trip. The Province allows an
extended trip on the occasion of your twenty-fifth anniversary of profession of
vows. I spent a month touring California and staying with my nephew, Michael at
his home in Malibu, and it was great. When I returned to Boston, the provincial
came up to meet with me. We discussed several opportunities, one of them
being Saint Thomas. This intrigued me, since he offered me the possibility of
becoming pastor after spending a year working with Fr. Gilbert. Knowing the size
and great potential of this parish, and wanting to stay in the Greater Boston area,
I agreed to an assignment in Derry.
I arrived on September 1, 1994 and began my year as associate pastor,
working with Fr. Gilbert as pastor, Fr. Bonaventure, and Br. Laszlo as Religious
Education Director. When spring of 1995 arrived, we had our provincial chapter
and elected a new provincial, Fr. Robert Campagna. Fr. Robert and I had been
friends since high school. As a matter of fact, he took my place in Haverhill as
deacon at Saint Rita’s when I was ordained a priest.
The first thing Fr. Robert asked me was where I wanted to be assigned. I
had decided I would like to go back to Boston, and asked to be pastor of Saint
Leonard’s Church in the North End (the famous Italian neighborhood) of Boston.
The prospect of having over two hundred restaurants in my parish seemed like
heaven. The Holy Spirit had other plans, however. During the post-chapter
meetings, Fr. Robert called and said he was coming to Derry to see me. I knew
something was up and I had a feeling that I wasn't going to be pastor in the North
End.
When Fr. Robert came to meet me, he asked me to stay in Derry as
pastor. He was concerned about the parish and about the immense size of the
congregation. Of course, he flattered me by telling me I was the only one who
could tackle the job. I did not consent immediately. I can't say I was thrilled about
it. But, as the idea began to sink in, I realized that God was calling me to this
ministry, and that God's will is always done. I called Fr. Robert a few days later
and told him okay. He told me he had already made the assignment, knowing
that I would say “yes.” I remember telling my dear friend Brenda Reagan, after
Mass that I was staying and becoming pastor. I had inadvertently left my
microphone on so the entire church heard me loud and clear, at least those who
were left. I learned that there was a lot of prayer for me to stay, and that many of
the prayer groups had made this their special intention.
It's now six years after I became pastor on August 15, 1995, and I can
honestly say "thank you" to God, the Holy Spirit, (and to Father Provincial) for
this wonderful gift to me: the pastorate of Saint Thomas Aquinas Church in Derry.
July 15, 2001
Some Lessons After 25 Years
I guess all of us have said, at one time or another, "If I only knew then
what I know now."
It's something I have said, too, and as I look back on twenty-five years of
priestly ministry, I realize that many lessons have been learned; and many more
will be learned. What lessons have I learned over these years?
I have learned that spirituality is the key to parish life. You can have all the
programs, services, and outreach you'd like. You can have a tremendous amount
of money coming in through the collections. You can have the church pews
packed to capacity each Sunday. If the roots of the parish are not based on
spiritual life, and centered on the Eucharist and prayer, it's all an empty facade. I
have learned that, although it’s a minority, the people you can depend on the
most are faith-based Catholics - those who are full participants in the life of the
church.
Faith-based Catholics are Catholics because they truly believe; they are
truly convinced that the Lord works in the Church through the power of the Holy
Spirit, and that they must have a communal and personal relationship with Jesus.
These are the people whose lives not only have been touched deeply by God,
but who invite the Lord to be part of their every day lives.
Many Catholics are what I would call culture-based Catholics. They are
Catholics because of the culture in which they were raised. Sometimes this has
to do with ethnicity; they are Catholic because it's part of their culture as Italians,
or Irish, or French. They see the church and the sacraments as minor parts of
their lives, and their participation in the life of the church is mostly sacramental:
Mass on occasion (Christmas and Easter), baptisms, First Eucharist, weddings,
funerals. I have learned that Sunday Mass is the absolute minimum that is
expected of a true Catholic. So many Catholics think that they are good Catholics
because they attend Sunday Mass and drop an envelope in the collection basket.
So much more is required of us.
I have learned that, whatever you do, there will always be those who will
support you one hundred percent and always be those who will criticize you to no
end. This is a hard-learned lesson, because very often it is accompanied by
much soul-searching and anxiety. The parish priest is very much a public person.
Our every move is scrutinized, and there are always those who will purposely
embellish whatever happens to suit their own purposes, or for the sake of gossip.
This is one of the most destructive parts of parish life, and I am sure that
many a priest has suffered greatly from the wagging tongues of parishioners. I
have learned that anything a pastor does in any kind of interaction with
parishioners will be grossly exaggerated. When two people in life have a
disagreement, this is a disagreement between two people. In parishes, people
very often write to the bishop, the chancellor, and make their complaints to other
parishioners loud and clear. In doing so, they place the priest at a great
disadvantage. Many times the priest can't defend himself and the actual details of
the incident remain grossly one-sided and exaggerated. I have learned that you
can't please everyone in a parish, but you must do the right thing, even when the
right thing may seem to be the wrong thing at the time.
A pastor's role is not only priestly, but also prophetic, and this means
challenging the people and the parish to better Christian lives. This may mean
doing things in the parish that, in the short-term, may seem unreasonable, but
are done with the larger picture in view. As a pastor, I do not wake up in the
morning with a new idea or a new program. Anything that is implemented in the
parish is the result of careful prayer, consideration, and deliberation on the part of
the friary and parish staff. It is done with an eye to the trends in the church, the
documentation that comes from Rome and the directions given to us from the
Diocese of Manchester. Most of the time, our parishioners know very little of
those other considerations.
The end result of all of this is that, just as people, parents, children,
husband and wives grow in their relationships, so too, priests and pastors grow
into their relationships with their parishioners.
August 26, 2001
La Famiglia - The Family
I know it must be special for a family to have its own priest, so I can't
blame my relatives when they put me to work when I go home for a visit. Usually,
this work is pleasant: baptisms, weddings, anniversary celebrations, and house
blessings. Sometimes, it's not pleasant: funerals, and hospital visits. Many times I
find myself doing things at home that I do here at Saint Thomas, giving advice,
counseling, answering question about the faith, the Bible. And most of the times,
it means doing a lot of listening.
My recent trip home had all these elements: talking to my nephew, Rob
about his upcoming wedding; attending a reunion of cousins on my mother's side
of the family; and conferring with my sister and my father over his future. Dad is
approaching ninety-one and is getting weaker and more fragile, and my sister
and I needed to talk with him seriously about providing care for him in the future.
I guess this is an issue many of our generation face. My father has a great mind
however, and doesn't seem to have lost any of his mental capacity. For all his life
he worked for the newspapers in New York driving a truck. He never went to high
school, yet he devoured newspapers from cover to cover, and learned a lot about
life.
The other day I was telling him about my visit to San Simeon, in California,
to the famous Hearst Castle. I wanted to know if William Randolph Hearst owned
any of the papers he worked for. I was surprised when my father began to tell me
about all the newspapers in New York in the fifties and the sixties: The Daily
News, The Times, The Post, The Journal (the one Hearst Paper), The World,
The Telegram, The Sun, and Herald, The Tribune, The American. He knew a lot
about each paper, and then began to rattle off some of the goings-on at the
Hearst Castle, including the actors and actresses who frequented the place. For
all his frailty, dad certain knows what's going on in the world around him, which in
a sense makes things even more difficult for us.
Visiting the family in Staten Island always includes my sister, Angela, and
her husband Dom, and Joyce and Charlie D’Amodio. Charlie is my brother-inlaw Dom’s brother and his wife, Joyce has always been like another sister to me.
I’ve done countless weddings and baptisms for their side of the family, and
Joyce’s son, Chucky, was the first baby I baptized. This took place the day after
my ordination as a deacon, in May of 1975. A lot of times priests don’t know who
was the first baby they baptized, or the first couple they married, but in both
cases, I do know them. And Chucky always reminds me of how old I am getting
when he tells me his age.
This past week the circle of life was evident, however. Seeing all the
cousins at the reunion (and also being reminded that the cousins my own age
are now, for the most part, grandparents), I felt both old and reinvigorated. Yes,
the family is alive and well. Our elders may pass on (as must we all), but life goes
on. What is most important is that we cherish life as a gift from God; life that
begins at conception, and ends with our natural death, but continues in God
through all ages.
September 11, 2001
Terrorists Attack Our Country
Note: This View was written minutes after the attacks of September 11th.
They reflect my initial thoughts on this tragic event.
As I am writing this View, I am filled with very deep emotions, as I am sure
all Americans are. Here at the friary we have all been following the terrible
terrorist bombings that have taken place: the World Trade Center, the Pentagon,
and airplanes being deliberately crashed. It is difficult to comprehend the level of
destruction.
I am sure that, by the time you read this View on Sunday; details will be a
little clearer. The images on the television have been frightening and horrible.
Just in June, I was there on the top of the World Trade Center, a favorite place of
mine when showing off the city. I had been trying all morning to reach my family
in New York. As far as I can tell at this point, everyone is safe. Of concern for me
was my nephew Rob, who is a New York City policeman, and who will be getting
married this coming week.
It is easy for us to pull out our hair and say, "What is happening in this
world?"
And yet, we know that destruction and death are with us every day. What
lessons will come out of this are hard to imagine at this time. Yet, the greatest
lesson is our failure as human beings to love, and the terrible hatred that exists in
our world. Sin is something that affects all of us, the innocent and guilty alike.
And it is something that is communal in nature. It is also important that we not
blame God for this. God does not cause death and destruction. These are part of
our human weakness and frailty, and they are all the result of sin. God seeks
only happiness for us. What has been done is indeed diabolical in nature, given
the scope of suffering and grief that is taking place. All of this should help us
resolve to work even more diligently to put the values of the Gospel to work in
our lives.
September 23, 2001
The Tragedy of September 11
I think a lot of us are still trying to recover from the news of last week; the terrible
terrorist attacks on our nation. A common feeling of many people is that they
would like to help, but don't know what to do. Certainly, there are a lot of things
people have done (and already are doing). Blood drives, clothing collections,
sending money and food, and even people from various service agencies
actually going to New York or Washington to be of assistance, are all of great
help. For those of us unable to do these things, there are others: signs of
patriotism, such as displaying the American flag; praying; writing a letter or email; consoling someone who suffered a loss.
Our Derry Catholic Tent Revival can be a great means of beginning the
process of healing. We must realize that only by turning back to God will our
country find true peace. Sending troops overseas, bombing and war will not
accomplish what a change of heart will accomplish; and if we have failed as
Christians, it is in changing our own hearts and leading others to a change of
heart. There is a saying that ‘you cannot legislate morality;’ and there is truth in
this. No group of laws is going to affect the way we as human beings live. We
may be obedient to laws, but there will always be those who will be disobedient.
But a change of heart, that is what we need to bring about in our world. How do
we do this? We begin with ourselves. Our own actions have something to do with
the climate of hatred and terror we see in the world, because hate is cumulative,
that is, a little hate builds up into a lot of hate. Witness in our own country the
attacks on the mosques of Islamic Americans. This will lead to attacks on people
with darker hair and skin, or beards, and before you know it, the very climate that
spawned the attacks on our country will grow rampant in our own.
It is unbelievable the things I hear in my room in the summer with the
windows open; things that go on right on Crystal Avenue. Drivers will say
unspeakable things to each other in a near-accident (and right in front of a
church); people giving obscene gestures; and awful language (and actions) done
by people on the street and in neighboring parking lots during the night. The way
we treat one another is so important.
Last Friday, the very day the president called on us to mark with prayer,
and our own parish day of Fasting and Prayer, a woman chose to vent all her
frustrations and anger out on me, our parish secretary, and our principal. The
abuse we received, not just in person at the friary, but along with the harassment
that took place on the phone to both friary and school, was a true violation of all
the principles of peace, all over nothing. Although we have all been on edge in
recent days, this display of hostility is not only inexcusable, but also adds to the
climate of disrespect that seems to be so pervasive in our country. We cannot
expect foreigners who don’t understand our culture to respect us, if we don’t
respect one another. Some of the rhetoric coming out of the so-called Christian
right doesn’t help either.
Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell have blamed groups in our country, such
as feminists, gays, and the ACLU for creating the climate for this terrorism, and
by claiming that it is the result of God’s wrath against our country. It seems that
we Christians have our own version of the Taliban. We all know the song that
says, “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.” Well, this song
rings so true these days. Peace, respect, consolation, and love all must begin
with you and me. Our Tent Revival this year will afford all of us a time to come
together, to worship God, and to pray and most of all to seek a change of heart in
our own lives, and the lives of others.
Only when we learn to treat each other with dignity and respect can we
hope to be treated with dignity and respect by others. God bless our country.
God save our country.
September 30, 2001
Hometown Heroes
When I was growing up in Brooklyn, like most children, I had my heroes. I
loved Elvis Presley, and later, the Beatles. But my number one hero was Mickey
Mantle, star center field for the New York Yankees. I remember trying to walk like
him, bat like him, and even talk like him.
My mother would say to me, impatiently, "Why are you talking like that?”
You see, Mickey was from Oklahoma.
So the accent was a little out place in Brooklyn. My dream was to be just
like him, to play center field for the Yankees. Later I learned that Mickey had a
problem with alcohol, and played some games intoxicated. He even hit home
runs in that state. I wasn't sure if learning this lessened or increased my
admiration for Mickey but I continued to admire him, even with his flaws.
Today, heroes continue to come from the entertainment and sports fields.
Football players, television celebrities, and actors very often score high on the list
of heroes. Pope John Paul has made it to the top ten of celebrity heroes, which is
a good sign. During and after the terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and World
Trade Center, the true heroes of our society became quite evident. Heroes aren't
celebrities or sports stars. Think of it, there is nothing heroic about what they do.
Rather, our true heroes were covered with ash, soot, blood, and we can only
imagine the horrors they saw in the rubble of destroyed skyscrapers and
buildings: unspeakable death was all around them. They witnessed first hand
man's inhumanity to man. They are our police, fire, emergency personnel,
nurses, doctors, military people, national guard, social workers, construction
workers and ordinary citizens who descended to ground zero to be of help. As
people were running out the buildings in panic, they were running in to save
others, and in many cases, to give of their lives. These are the real heroes of
society. They are also Christians and Catholics who realized first hand what it
means to love, and to be of service, even unto death, and what Christ's cross
truly means. They are priests and religious who ran to the scene to be of help, to
anoint, administering the sacraments, console, and even, like Franciscan Father
Mike Judge, to die in the rubble of the World Trade Center. Fr. Mike could have
easily remained in his friary; yet, as a Franciscan and priest and chaplain for the
New York City Fire Department, he knew where he belonged and gave his life in
the process.
Although those who survived will someday go back to their ordinary lives,
in fire stations, police precinct houses, hospitals, military installations, offices,
and churches, they will continue to be heroes, and they know that, at a moment's
notice, they may once again be called to do the heroic in order to help others.
There are many others who may have not gone to Washington or New York, but
who, every day, place themselves in harm's way for our sake; even our own
Derry fire and police personnel. We should be extremely grateful to God for
them, as well as our military, for the protection they give us. So the next time we
get stopped by a state trooper for speeding down Route 93, or wait in long lines
at an airport for security, or undergo a fire inspection of our building, let's try to
remember these heroes, how difficult their jobs could be, and the great sacrifices
they make for our safety.
October 28, 2006
Red Sox Fans Rooting For the Yankees?
A lot of things have changed since September 11th. Our attitudes and
values have been sorely tested, and I think a lot of people are now looking at the
true values in our lives: God, family, friends, and relationships. Many people are
showing their support for the fire and police personnel by wearing FDNY and
NYPD hats. I noticed some for sale at Osco the other day. I can understand a lot
of people having sympathy for New York and New Yorkers; and as a native New
Yorker myself, I can say it's deeply appreciated. Although there has been a
rivalry of sorts between Boston and New York for many years, I think we all
realize that many of these rivalries are done in fun, and that, when it comes down
to it, we are all Americans and human beings.
One scary aspect of all of this, however, is the unbelievable phenomenon
of New Englanders plugging for the Yankees in the World Series. Like, talk about
weird? Sure there are some Red Sox fans that could never get themselves to
root for the Yankees, but it is humorous to hear on the sports radio stations in
Boston calls for a Yankee victory. As a Yankee fan living for a long time in New
England, I am used to the abuse. I also know, from going to Fenway Park, that
there are a lot of Yankee fans living up here.
The other day, I found another Yankee fan in our midst: a sportswriter
from the Manchester Union Leader. Like me, he was born in New York, although
living in New England a long time, remained a Yankee fan. He mentioned in last
Sunday's paper that he, too, found this sudden burst of Yankee mania in New
England strange. I wrote him an e-mail this past week. I told him that, believe it or
not, I have occasionally rooted for the Red Sox. I know a lot of you don't believe
this, but I have rooted for them when Pedro was having one of his outstanding
pitching games, or Nomar was looking great. I have never rooted for them while
playing against the Yankees, however. I did root for the Sox when they played
the Mets in the World Series, because if there's anything that mixes together like
oil and water, it's Yankee fans and Met fans. Yes, we come from the same city,
even live in the same home, but as far as sports, never the twain shall meet. My
own relatives are by and large Met fans, since we were from Brooklyn, and the
Brooklyn Dodgers were in the National League. I can’t tell you how much I
gloated last year when the Yankees beat the Mets in the World Series. It was
worth a lifetime of boasting.
I can’t underestimate the animosity that exists in New York between Met
fans and Yankee fans. It runs so deep that, in my own family, the subject of
baseball cannot be brought up at the dinner table without causing a lot of “agita.”
It is so deep seated that I will often say, “My two favorite teams are the Yankees
and whoever is playing the Mets.” And you can be sure the feelings are likewise
on the part of Met fans.
Sometimes people ask me why I am not a Met fan, since I grew up in
Brooklyn, which was a National League town. When I was growing up, the
Brooklyn Dodgers had already moved to Los Angeles. As a matter of fact, I only
remember vaguely my Brooklyn Dodger roots: going to Ebbets Field with my dad
(and rooting for the Dodgers, of course), and my mother crying when the
Dodgers beat the Yankees in the World Series. I was only five years old at that
time and far too young to get emotional about it at that point. The Dodgers
moved out when I was seven, so for many years, the Yankees were the only
team in town. Thus, I became a Yankee fan.
Anyway, my point in all of this is that I would expect all of you to root for
the Yankees in this year's World Series. Let's face it, where is Arizona anyway?
And thanks for the support.
December 30, 2001
Funerals, Italian Style
If you’ve ever seen the movie Fatso starring Anne Bancroft and
Dom Deluise, you might get the impression that, for Italians, even funerals can
be a source of humor. And although most people would regard death as a pretty
serious thing (and so do I), every priest has his stories of humorous things that
happen at a funeral.
In my years as a priest, there have been a few events that add to my
repertoire of humorous stories, like the wake service I had for a man whose wife
and mistress had a face-to-face encounter in the middle of my prayers. After
much swearing, hair pulling, and yelling, with the mistress being ushered quickly
out of the funeral home, the unruffled wife sat down, looked at me straight in the
eye and said, “You can continue now, Father.”
Or perhaps there is the other story of the bereaved grandmother throwing
herself on the casket at the cemetery, declaring her desire to be buried with her
deceased grandson, only to fall into the grave and frantically cry out to be
rescued.
My nephews and I would do a routine based on a middle of the night
phone call to our family, announcing the death of one of our relatives. Picture
this:
The phone rings in the middle of the night.
Mom and Aunt Tess quickly jump out of bed. When the phone rings after
nine p.m., it spells trouble.
Aunt Tess gets to the phone first (her room was
closer).
“Who is it? “ she asks in a plaintiff voice.
“What’s going on?” Mom echoes from the hallway.
“It’s Comare Nunziata. She’s dead,” comes Aunt Tess’ reply. Comare, by
the way, is Italian for “godmother.”
“What happened?”
“Heart attack. It was sudden.”
“Oh my God. She was just doing the tarantella last week at Tommy’s
wedding.”
“She was ninety years old. What do you expect? She shouldn’t be doing
the tarantella at ninety.”
“Where’s she being waked?”
“Gambardella’s.”
“Gambardella’s?
They always went to Falconi Brothers.
What
happened?”
“They didn’t like the way Zio Pepe turned out the last time. They’re
switching to Gambardella’s.”
“Are they taking a-busta?”
“No a-busta. We’ll have to get a Mass card from the church.”
Perhaps some explanation is in order. Italians have deep relationships
with their funeral directors and each funeral home has its own loyal clientele. In
the old days, some funeral homes would cater to a particular Italian region or
town. Neopolitans would go to one funeral home, for example, and Sicilians
would go to another. It was very rare when someone would switch funeral
homes.
A-busta (or simply busta) means an envelope. This would mean, in this
case, an envelope with money, to help a family with the costs of a funeral.
Another term common among Italians was a similar one, “posta”. This means a
seat, and in some families, you had to give money to have a seat in the funeral
home (or else, I guess, you’d have to stand in the back). Usually, someone in
the family was designated to collect the money from the guests. This, as usual,
was done very quietly and discreetly. A book was also used to record how much
each person or family gave for the funeral. This book came in handy when
someone else died. You could look up and see what they gave to your family at
the last funeral and respond in kind.
Italians are taught from the earliest time never to go someplace empty
handed, including a funeral. If you were visiting relatives and friends, you always
brought something appropriate: an Ebbingers crumb cake, cookies from the
local Italian bakery, or a bottle of wine. In the same way, people going to a wake
would bring food for the family, or a Mass card or flowers.
Flowers are very popular at Italian wakes. Families actually compete with
each other as to who sent the largest bouquet with the most expensive flowers.
These, of course, would be proudly displayed closest to the casket, while the less
expensive ones were relegated to other parts of the funeral home.
Italians like to engage in a morbid form of mourning that manifests itself in
a variety of ways. One way is to comment on the physical condition of the dead
person.
“He looks wonderful, ten years younger.”
“She looks like she’s sleeping. You’d never know she was dead.”
“He looks terrible. He lost a lot of weight.”
“They did a good job with his chin. He always had an ugly chin.”
“It doesn’t look like her. Something’s wrong here.”
Another way this is done by wailing about the cooking abilities of the
deceased. If someone was famous for their meatballs, people would lament
loudly “Who’s gonna make the meatballs?”
In the same way, “Who’s gonna make the eggplant parmigiana?”
When my mother died, all I heard was, “Who’s gonna make the focaccia?”
Okay, we’re never going to have focaccia again, right?
Yes, funerals are a sad time for all, but have their light moments. And
many times, it’s these light moments that we remember for years to come.
2002
February 10, 2002
Statement on the Priesthood
I am sure that everyone has heard about the things going on in the Boston
Archdiocese concerning priests and sexual abuse issues. It is difficult being a
Catholic these days and it is even more difficult being a priest. This is a hard
thing to talk about, but if we are truly a family, we must talk about these issues, in
a loving, yet honest way. Certainly, we know that pedophilia isn’t something new
in our society, nor is it new in the church. Child abuse today has become a public
health issue, and has increased in epidemic proportions in our country. It
happens everywhere. It is done by teachers, scout leaders, lawyers, parents,
coaches, ministers of all religions and, yes, Catholic priests. In all these areas,
they are a great minority.
This past weekend’s papers reported three cases in our area of a teacher,
a babysitter, and a school janitor. This is not something unique to the priesthood,
or to the Catholic Church, yet because we are people of faith and represent God,
our sins are emphasized even more. There are certain issues here that we must
be aware of. For the media, this is a hot button issue. The media is not objective.
They are reporting very complicated issues in a very condensed format. The
media is also not unbiased. The Boston newspapers like the Globe are notorious
religion bashers, and this is often linked to other issues, which the church
opposes. Some in the media take delight in all of this, since it diffuses the
church’s other social stands, such as its opposition to abortion. We continue to
need to remind them that abortion is the ultimate child abuse.
If you read the papers, you will see that most of these cases happened in
the sixties and seventies. They were not reported to the police at that time. In
fact, no one was reporting sex abuse cases at that time either, not schools,
corporations, and not even the government. The common thinking at that time
was that it was more detrimental to the children to make them part of a police
probe and see themselves as victims of a crime. Please also understand that,
because of the church’s hierarchical structure, the Roman Catholic Church is one
of the few churches where the church itself can be sued because of the acts of
an individual. Other churches, by their very structure, protect the church and their
leaders. This does not excuse anyone. Very sick people in trust positions and in
authority have done terrible things, and terrible mistakes have been made in
dealing with them. We have to remember, too, that the church looks at these
issues in terms of being wounded, of sinfulness, and the need for healing and
forgiveness.
Our society looks at this in terms of protecting our children, of a crime
being committed and of punishing those responsible. After all, we live in a society
where our children are loved and cherished, and where the abuse of children will
not, and should not, be tolerated in any form. As a priest, I am personally
embarrassed and humiliated by what has happened. I can’t remember a time
when I have been so ashamed of my collar, and of being a priest. After all, this is
my priesthood that has been dragged through the mud because of all of this.
Yes, mistakes have been made all the way up the line. Poor advice has
been given, and heeded; priests have continued to be assigned; and, because of
the paternal relationship between a bishop and his priests, sick men have been
protected. At the same time I am also encouraged by the thousands of priests
who are faithful to their ministry, and who have good, wholesome, and loving
relationships with their people and with children. The latest statistics show that
about three tenths of one percent of priests has this problem. And it must be
remembered that pedophiles become priests; priests do not become pedophiles.
We cannot blame celibacy, or priestly formation. However, there is no excuse for
what has happened, and no easy answers. The church needs to be ever vigilant.
In our own Diocese of Manchester, two thousand five hundred priests,
deacons, religious, church employees and teachers have been attending
extensive training on this issue this year. Next year, over ten thousand volunteers
will also be trained. The Diocese of Manchester has developed a zero tolerance
for anyone who has a problem with children. They will not be permitted to do
ministry or to work in the church. I also want you to know that, here at Saint
Thomas, where youth ministry is so important to us, where our children are such
an asset, and the most precious part of our community, we will do everything that
we can to assure their safety and protection.
I, for my part as Pastor of Saint Thomas Aquinas Church and as a Roman
Catholic priest, would like to apologize to all those hurt in any way for the actions
of priests or of the church and for its detrimental effects on not only the victims
but on all the faithful.
So, brothers and sisters, let’s pray for each other. Let’s pray for the
church, for the priesthood, and for all of us who suffer from the sins of this
minority. Let us pray for all those who have been hurt by priests and by the
church in any way. We must be willing to talk about this, and I am personally
willing to talk about it with anyone. In the meantime, we need to continue to be
supportive, and love one another.
March 30, 2002
Thanks, Eagle Tribune
Okay. Maybe they got to sell a few extra of their cheap, fifty-cent rag
because of the headline. But journalism took a new low when the Eagle Tribune
ran the boxed headline, above the fold, on Friday, March 22nd. It read Teen girls
met suspect at coffee shop run by priest. We first got wind of this story Thursday,
when Fr. Tom got a call from Jeffrey Klineman, the reporter. It seems a police
investigator mentioned several places in Derry where the three teen-aged girls
who were having sex with a thirty-one-year-old Derry man may have been
hanging out. The list included a coffee shop, three stores, and our own
Crossroads Café. I am sure Klineman must have salivated on seeing a church,
affiliated café, especially one established by a Catholic priest included in the list.
This way, he could get his story top billing, a prized place “above the fold,” simply
by including the word “priest” in the headline.
We know how much attention any news about priests can garner these
days, especially negative attention. The story continued on page two with an
even bigger headline: Coffee Priest Troubled by Allegations. Well, this priest is
very troubled by all of this. Fr. Tom very forcefully told Mr. Klineman that the man
under investigation never stepped foot in the cafe. After seeing his photo, the
staff is certain of this even more. Derry Police Chief Ed Garone himself called the
paper to state that there was no evidence that any meeting had taken place in
our cafe. So, on Thursday night, we were convinced that this “non-story” would
remain just that. It all changed on Friday when we viewed the newspaper. How
the Crossroads Cafe became part of this story is a puzzle, but the reason for the
story getting such a headline and top billing is clear… to sell papers. After all, we
shouldn’t fool ourselves behind any rhetoric about the duty and rights of free
speech, freedom of the press, the right to inform the public, the search for
information. And please, please don’t mention in the midst of all of this “truth.”
Selling papers has little to do with truth.
The ultimate purpose of the Eagle Tribune, as well as other papers, is to
make money. And so, Klineman and the NH editor knew very well that any
headline mentioning a priest would certainly sell some papers. Perhaps the
Eagle Tribune made a few extra bucks on this story but at what moral price? If
you read the story, you get the idea very quickly that Mr. Klineman’s headline is
totally refuted. Even though he says, “Teen girls met suspect in coffee shop run
by priest,” there is no indication in the article that this in fact, ever happened. Mr.
Klineman should win a Pulitzer Prize for his ability to twist, turn, and convolute
things in such a way that his own need for a headline is met. While nothing in the
article is untrue, the words of Fr. Tom and Chief Garone are manipulated in such
a way, turned around, with key statements omitted, that leaves the truth of the
article open to question. And while these girls may have met the suspect outside
the cafe, since when did Crystal Avenue become the Crossroads Cafe. But that’s
not all. Mr. Klineman throws sarcastic digs at the cafe throughout his article,
saying it is, “billed as a safe place for youth,” as if his reporting has revealed that
it is anything but, and reporting that the cafe is next door to a tattoo parlor. Well,
the tattoo parlor is near the church, too. Does that mean that we are tainted in
some way?
In this article, Mr. Klineman does achieve his purpose; to once again build
on the media feeding frenzy that is taking place in the light of revelations of
sexual misconduct by priests. And again, I want to state unequivocally that the
facts concerning sexual abuse by priests are horrendous, terrible, embarrassing,
and humiliating and that they are bad enough all by themselves, without a
newspaper taking advantage of them and adding flames to the fire. The fact is
that the media is doing all it can to discredit the vast majority of good bishops,
priests, church leaders, and ministers, and putting us all under a cloud of
suspicion, as if any ministry especially those concerning youth, is something
sinister and evil.
This story has the potential to do great harm to a wonderful ministry in our
parish and town, and the very hard work of a dedicated, good priest, and I, for
one, will not stand silent and let this happen. The Crossroads Cafe is a venture of
a lot of people besides Fr. Tom, and this article has hurt all of us, including our
parish.
Hopefully, people will see through the yellow journalism expressed in this
article, and ignore it. Hopefully, parents will see that the Crossroads Cafe IS a
safe place for our young people and not just “billed” as such. I, for my part, am
going to see to it that our church has no more dealings with such a newspaper,
either through our subscription, which I have cancelled, or through advertising.
The irony of all of it is that Mr. Klineman offered to do an article on the cafe after
all of this was over. Yes, fat chance for this. In the meantime, thanks for reading
my raving View, and don’t let me forget to wish you a Happy Easter.
May 26, 2002
Priestly “Vows”
There has been a lot of talk about the church in the newspapers these
days, the vast majority of it negative. It’s kind of interesting how the media covers
the Catholic Church, not only in times of scandal, but as a whole. Sometimes I
wonder how educated writers, who seek such detailed information on a variety of
matters, can make so many mistakes when it comes to the church. One word
that is used very often is “vows.”
The concept of priestly “vows” really is something that is misunderstood,
and needs to be examined. First of all, we all need to understand that there are
different kinds of priests in the Catholic Church. The majority of priests that most
people are familiar with are called “diocesan priests.” These are your ordinary
parish priests that most people encounter in the vast majority of parishes and
ministries in a set diocese. These priests are attached to a geographical diocese
such as our own Diocese of Manchester. They are under the Bishop of that
Diocese. Here at Saint Thomas, we have a different situation, since we are
“religious order priests.” This means that Father Tom and I are members of a
religious order, called the Franciscans, founded by Saint Francis of Assisi, who
lived from 1181 to 1226. Although the Franciscans were founded as an order of
brothers, it quickly became “clericalized,” that is, many of its members became
priests, in response to the need for more priests in those days.
Today, we live as communities of priests and brothers, striving to live the
Gospel the best way possible. Religious orders staff parishes, such as Saint
Thomas, through contracts made between our religious superiors and the local
bishop of a diocese. In the Diocese of Manchester, our Franciscan superior
(called our Provincial) contracted with the Diocese to staff Saint Thomas
Aquinas. In a few weeks, we will also be staffing Blessed Sacrament Parish in
Manchester, which has been for some years staffed by another religious order,
the Capuchin Franciscan Friars. This contract can be for a set term, such as a
number of years, or open-ended. Most of these contracts are open ended that is,
they last until the Diocese and the religious order agree to terminate the contract.
To the subject of vows, religious order members, priests, brothers, and sisters,
take vows. These vows are usually three: poverty, chastity, and obedience. As
religious order priests in this parish, Father Tom and I have taken these vows.
I took my first vows in 1968, after I completed my year of special training,
called “novitiate.” I took my final, solemn vows as a Franciscan in 1974 at the
Franciscan Center in Andover. Vows commit us to special life in community, to
live without property of our own, in obedience to our superiors, and in chastity.
The point here is that diocesan priests do not take vows.
The practice of celibacy, which is to not marry, is a discipline imposed by
the church, much like a business may impose a discipline on its workers as a
condition for working there. There is some discussion as the reasons for priestly
celibacy. Celibacy, as well as chastity, had been values in the church from the
beginning, but we know that for many centuries priests did marry. Even the
apostles were married. However, very gradually, celibacy became the practice of
the western church. Today, both Orthodox and Eastern Rite Catholics continue to
have a married priesthood. We are also seeing more and more married priests in
the Roman Church as former Episcopal priests are ordained in the Catholic
priesthood, and men ordained who may have once been married and now have
children or grandchildren.
And we know that permanent deacons, such as our own Deacon Gary
Long, are becoming very common. These men are married also. The practice of
celibacy in the clergy is a discipline that can be changed by the church. It does
not have roots in scripture, only in church law and practice. Of course, the law of
celibacy would not change for religious order priests, who take an actual vow of
chastity. For a religious order priest to marry, he would have to first be
dispensed from his vows as a member of that religious order, leave the religious
order, and join a diocese.
It is also important to know that vows are taken by all Christians at
baptism, and by men and women in the Sacrament of Matrimony. Certainly just
as priests should not take the discipline of celibacy lightly, religious order men
and women should not break their vows, so too all of us, by our baptism and
through marriage, should see the seriousness of our own vows.
June 30, 2002
Our Listening Session
A few weeks ago, we held a listening session here at the church, as an
opportunity for people to vocalize and share their concerns for the church in the
midst of our current scandal. One of the obvious things from this meeting was the
general frustration of our people with the leadership of the church, especially the
Cardinals and Bishops. I think out of Dallas has come a hope that things will get
better, and that the church will be more attentive to the protection of children and
the conduct of its leaders. There are those who feel they must exert their anger
and frustration in a more concrete way. If you drive down to Brighton, you will
invariably see picketers, trying to get their message out to Cardinal Law. There is
even one gentleman who is there almost every day, who wants help in making a
‘citizen’s arrest’ of the Cardinal. There are others who beckon you to honk your
horn if you want the Cardinal to resign. Others feel that writing letters to the editor
of local papers will do the trick. For others, it is not going to Mass, or not giving in
the collection.
One of the frustrating examples for me of all this is people writing
anonymous letters. There are some that I get on a regular basis. Some people
send me clippings of articles that appear in the paper. I say this is frustrating
because I really am puzzled as to what the authors of these letters hope to
accomplish. I will tell you frankly that there is nothing that gets the attention of my
garbage can in my office quicker than an anonymous letter. I have learned to
pick them out. They are usually typewritten; one page, and they may have a
clipping inserted. There is obviously no return address on the envelope, which
makes me suspicious even before I open it. When I open a letter, I usually look to
see who wrote it. If I see it unsigned, or signed by “A Concerned Parishioner,” I
don’t read it at all. In the garbage it goes after I rip it up so that no one will get
their hands on this trash. Yes, it is trash. It falls into the same category as gossip.
It seeks to be anonymous because those who write these letters do not have the
courage to stand by their convictions.
For myself, I have been writing this column in the bulletin for seven years.
Many people, who don’t have the opportunity to talk to me face to face, know me
very well by the View From My Window, and I know it is widely read. People also
see first hand my feelings and opinions on a variety of topics. I am mature
enough to realize that not everyone is going to agree with me, and some will
have severe differences with what I say. But through these Views you definitely
know where I stand on issues. My feelings on things are, in fact, very public.
And that is good. We are all different, with different opinions. The problem
sometimes is that people are misinformed, or do not know the whole story, or just
go along with the general current of opinion. Recently, the Union Leader, which I
have never held in high regard as a newspaper, wrote a very trashy editorial
about the need to defrock gay priests. I resisted my inclination to write a letter to
the editor, but it was, in my estimation, so filled with misconceptions, half-truths,
and general garbage that it merited that special place reserved for my
anonymous letters, the garbage can. To use a so-called “gay priests chat room”
as the basis for an editorial when it cannot be proved that those in the chat room
were either gay or priests is totally absurd. What people need to do is educate
themselves on various topics before waving flags and marching down Main
Street.
In the meantime, if you want my attention, send an email or a letter, but
please, have the courage to sign your name.
July 7, 2002
Welcome Brother Blue
Maybe you’ve heard about the new addition to our friary community. His
name is Blue. No, not Friar Blue, O.F.M., although there is a process by which
people can be affiliated with the Franciscan Order. But I guess not dogs. There
was a famous story of the wolf of Gubbio that Saint Francis tamed after it had
been terrorizing the town of Gubbio, in Italy. And we all know that Saint Francis is
associated with animals. So what would a friary be like without at least one
animal (friars not included)? Blue, (officially Midnight Blue), is a two-month-old
black, Labrador retriever puppy. He came to us as a gift from some wonderful
parishioners, my dear friends Mike and Chris Remington, who breed labs. And
he is a gem. Why the name? The puppies were color coded when they were
born, and Blue was, well, he got the blue ribbon, which is a good sign. We had a
contest at Saint Thomas School to name him, and the winner was “Midnight,”
chosen by the first graders. They won a pizza party, compliments of the friars.
Thus, “Midnight Blue” came to Saint Thomas friary a few weeks ago, and has
been settling in nicely.
The first few days, I am sure, were difficult for Blue. After all, he came
from a litter of nine, and had never been separated from his mom. He cried a lot
the first few nights. We tried all the tricks of the trade, but he was inconsolable.
But I am happy to report that he has adapted nicely to friary life. Of course, it
remains to be seen how he takes to poverty, chastity, and obedience. In some
ways, Blue is like most friars. He likes to do what he wants to do. He has taken to
chewing, so he hears “NO” a lot of times during the day. I think he’s still trying to
figure out what “NO” means. Poverty won’t be an issue. He lives a simple life.
Some dog chow, a bowl of water, and a lot of affection keeps him very content.
Running around chasing the kids of the parish is also something that gets him
excited. Being the parish dog, he’s going to have to learn to deal with a lot of
people. And he’ll have to learn not to bite, even when he feels like biting. Sounds
familiar, right?
Blue doesn’t ask for much. just to belong, to be part of the community, and
to get out and run a little, chase a stick, or chew on a toy. His toys are a lot less
elaborate than the friars’ toys, and also a lot less expensive. I think Blue thinks I
am his mother. He follows me all over the place, sits below my chair (I hope it
doesn’t break, or Blue will be headed to that other “blue”) that is heaven. He cries
if he’s separated from me. But he’s getting more and more independent each
day. Housebreaking won’t be a problem. We are crating Blue, and he holds
himself all night. Sure, he’s had a few slips, but I have to say most of the time he
gives me some indication that he has to go out. He’s a lot easier than the basset
hounds I had in Pittsburgh. They never learned that the house wasn’t their
private bathroom. They are a great breed of dog, but they are very different than
labs. They are, for the most part, extremely lazy and stubborn. They’re the
cutest, funniest looking dogs around, but try training them. You wonder why I
have no hair.
So, I hope all of you will have a chance to meet Blue. He should be a
resident of Saint Thomas for a long time, and I know he will give you a hop, a
jump, and a wag of the tail when he sees you.
September 16, 2002
September 11 and Justice
At last week’s September 11th Mass of Remembrance, I gave a personal
reflection on the tragic events of that day last year. Some who attended that
Mass asked to have it in writing. I thought I would share with you my personal
reflections of that day.
I guess the real tragedy of September 11th didn’t hit home until a few
weeks later, when I went back to New York to officiate at the wedding of my
nephew, Rob. Rob is a New York City policeman. His father and his father’s
brother are both retired cops. When I first heard of the tragedies of that day, Rob
was first on my mind. I didn’t know where he was, although I knew he was
stationed in Brooklyn, and I was happy to hear from my sister that he was okay.
Given our family history with the New York City police force, it was obvious that
some friends were lost. When I drove home, I purposely went to Manhattan. I
couldn’t get closer to ground zero than Canal Street, so I went over to the New
Jersey side of the Hudson, to a place I knew would give me a good glimpse of
the site. It was very sad to see the emptiness, the smoldering fires still burning,
and the white-gray ash laying heavily on everything. The scene was colorless,
almost like a black-and-white photo.
That night, I went to Our Lady Star of the Sea Church in Staten Island for
the wedding rehearsal. That parish had lost eighteen members in the tragedy.
The personal dimension of the tragedy hit home when, posted on the glass doors
of the church, were many signs and posters from the families of people lost in the
World Trade Center. “Our dad Bill Smith worked on the 55th floor of WTC One.
Did anyone see him on September 11th? Any news will be appreciated.”
There were photos of the lost ones with family, with children. A few days
later, on Canal Street, I saw hundreds of such posters and flyers.
The tragedy of September 11th was not about buildings, or airplanes. Nor
was it about politics, or religion, or ideologies. It was about people: fathers,
mothers, sons, daughters, and grandparents. It reminds us that people are
fragile, and that no matter what statement we wish to make, about whatever
injustices we may perceive to exist, the sacrifice of human lives adds to the
tragedy and the injustice. Many people lost relatives and friends on that day.
Many people died tragically. Many died heroically. We owe a debt of appreciation
to those who gave their lives to save others, to those who defied every instinct in
their bodies, which told them to run away, and instead ran into those burning
towers. One such person, a fellow Franciscan Friar, Fr. Mychal Judge, O.F.M., a
chaplain of the NYC Fire Department, was such a hero. There were many more.
Pope John Paul has said, “If you want peace, work for justice.”
Only when injustices are remedied can we hope that such tragedies will
never happen again.
October 27, 2002
The Kum Bay Ya Generation
There’s an old saying that to be a good preacher you must be part
theologian, part ham. Yes, it is the actor (or rather the frustrated thespian) in
priests that make us sometimes go overboard with a too long, too dramatic, and
sometimes, rambling homily. For myself, I must have some comedian blood in
my family, since I like to go for the laughs, when appropriate. Mind you, and you
know this, folks, I am not adverse to the occasional “fire and brimstone,” but,
given the right mood, I would prefer to get my point across by entertainment and
laughter.
So it was two weeks ago, when preaching on our seven-week theme of
the Eucharist. I was explaining why we are doing this special teaching on the
Eucharist. We have, by and large, I stated, an un-catechized population. What do
I mean by this? To put it bluntly, Catholics don’t know their catechism. And
Catholics especially don’t know what the Eucharist is all about. The church
teaches us that the primary teachers of children in the faith are parents. But what
if parents know less than their children? See here’s the problem, as I see it.
Years ago (and I am a product of this), we indoctrinated our children with the
memorized answers to questions listed in the so-called penny catechism. I’m
happy to report it was a dime when I was in school.
You remember the questions: Who made us? Who is God? Why did God
make us? You might even remember some of the answers. For many Catholics,
these answers took them well into adulthood and beyond. The problem with this
was the faith remained child-like and for many, never matured into an adult faith.
Thus, came my feeble attempt at a laugh.
After the Vatican Council II, we thought another method would work. Yes,
we priests, nuns, religious educators and the like threw out the penny catechism
(by then it was twenty-five cents). And what did we do? We grew our hair long,
got rid of our collars and habits, learned the guitar, and sang, “Kum-ba-ya” in our
CCD classes and Catholic schools. And this was what we boiled our religion
down to.
I remember teaching confirmation class in my old parish. We taught about
“love” so much, that the kids knew little else. Finally I had to ban the use of the
word “love” in my class as an answer to any question. I would say, “Who is
God?”
The answer, according to my students, is “Love.” Yes, technically, God is
love. But is there more to that? Why did God make us? “Love,” I was again told.
Yes, He did make us because of His great love for us. “Why did God come to this
world in the person of Jesus Christ?”
“Love,” again.
Okay! I’ve had it. This generation has now grown up to become our modern day
adults and parents, still thinking, “Love is all you need.” Well, maybe we need to
thank Lennon and McCartney for that, but we need a little “meat,” don’t we?
Anyway, I banned the use of the word love in my Confirmation class. Of course,
this prompted the parents of these children to tell people in the parish, “Father
Joe hates love!”
I guess sometimes you can’t win.
So, that leaves us three generations (at least) of un-catechized Catholics.
The first are our children, trying to learn what Jesus is all about. Their parents are
trying to teach them about, “Love, Love, Love.” (Sorry, the Gospel according to
John, Paul, George, and Ringo is still ingrained in me.) And then there’s the
“older” generation (Ahem, ahem), who probably can still recite from memory
(despite the occasional senior moment when they forget where they left their
dentures), the old standby definitions of the penny catechism (now the twentyfive dollars and ninety-nine cents catechism.) So, we need to teach again, and
since Sunday Mass is the time and place where the congregation gathers, what
better venue?
November 17, 2002
Leave the Gun, Take the Cannolis
Some months ago I printed in this column a humorous piece that was sent
to me entitled, How Can You Tell if You Are Really Italian. A lot of people, Italians
and non-Italians, thought it was very funny, and many Italian parishioners could
identify with various parts of it. People told me after Mass that they actually sent
copies of it to friends and relatives. One of the interesting points said, “You know
you’re really Italian if you identify with the HBO series The Sopranos.”
I laughed at that because The Sopranos is actually one of my favorite TV
programs. It has ruined my Sunday nights, in the sense that I have to park myself
in front of the television. And yes, it is filled with violence and sex, but well...so,
recently, five friars, including Brother Courtland and myself, went on a longplanned trip to Sicily. This trip was to celebrate our 25th anniversary of ordination
or first vows. Our provincial, Fr. Robert, also came. We actually spent one week
in Sicily, three days in Sorrento, and the rest of the time at our formation house in
Rome. It was a great trip, but a little rough on the body. I really think that two
weeks is a little too long for Europe. I mean, let’s face it, it’s not like sipping pina
coladas at the pool all day. There’s a lot of walking, walking, and walking; and, of
course, a lot of eating, eating, and eating.
Anyway, on our trip, we thought it would be nice to visit the town of
Corleone, just about an hour from Palermo, where we stayed for a few days. We
were told that Corleone was a pretty large town, but one we should stay away
from. We were warned that it really is a Mafia town. So, we didn’t go. Corleone,
by the way, is the home of Vito Corleone, also known as the Godfather. The
Godfather has always been one of my favorite movies. As a matter of fact, one of
our friars, now deceased, Father Carmelo Medaglia, OFM, had a small role in the
first two movies. In Godfather I, he baptizes the young godson of Michael
Corleone. The actual filming of the interior scenes was done at Old Saint
Patrick’s Cathedral, on Mott Street in New York City. The external scenes were
done at Mt. Loreto Home in Staten Island. Fr. Carmelo thought he was filming a
catechetical movie on baptism for the diocese when he went down to the church.
He thought something was suspicious when they started shaving his sideburns
and giving him a haircut. In Godfather II, Fr. Carmelo was flown to Lake Tahoe to
appear in the First Communion scene at the beginning of the movie. The funny
part about our attempt to visit Corleone is that I found out later that none of the
scenes from Corleone in the movie were actually filmed in Corleone. It was
deemed that the town was too developed, so they chose another small town near
Taormina, on the Sicily coast, to film these scenes. What is even more
interesting is that we spent three days in Taormina, just a few miles from the
actual places that we were going to travel over an hour to see near Palermo.
When we did our trip some years ago with Fr. Bruce, one week after our visit to
Assisi, that town was hit with a large earthquake that devastated the town. On
this trip, two days after we visited Mt. Etna, it blew its lid, and the day we were
leaving Italy, central Italy was hit with an earthquake.
So, if you are brave, sign up for our trip this coming July to Ireland. The
Blarney Stone will probably crack in half after I kiss it.
2003
January 12, 2003
New Religious Ed. Offices
You may have noticed some construction going on in our hall basement.
The stage of our hall has been closed off, and three rooms created. These rooms
will be the new home of our Religious Education Office. It will contain a reception
area, a library, and office for Coral Ropple, the Coordinator of Religious
Education. In the next few weeks, the office will be moving out of Aquinas House.
This is all being done in anticipation of the eventual razing of Aquinas House, as
we begin final preparations for the construction of our new parish center. We
have also purchased the green house (Mrs. Laney’s) behind the school for this
purpose. If everything goes as planned, construction on the new parish center
will begin in the early spring. While final plans are now in development, the new
building will consist of a high school size gymnasium, which will serve our school
and also serve the parish as a multi-purpose function hall, with a kitchen, and
other rooms, which will also serve as the school cafeteria. This will be
constructed on the site of the present Aquinas House adjacent to the school
building, and will be a wonderful addition to our ever-growing parish. When
completed, hopefully by Thanksgiving or Christmas, it will serve our parish in a
variety of ways. The building will host athletic events for the school, as well as
gym classes and plays, and be used for such parish events, such as dances,
meetings, and parish sporting events. It will also be the new venue of overflow
parish Masses at Christmas and Easter.
In order to complete this project, we are going to need to borrow a
considerable sum from the diocese, which will have to be paid over a period of
years. When we had our original restoration campaign, many families in our
parish did not participate in fund-raising, for a variety of reasons. Some stated
that they did not believe the building would ever be built. Some, like the original
doubting Thomas, needed to see the shovel marks in the ground. In the next few
months, you will be hearing more about this from me from the pulpit, and through
The View. Now is the time for the rest of our parishioners to step forward and be
involved in the future of parish. Much of what we have now here at Saint Thomas
is the product of the great sacrifices of past generations.
There are few parishioners around who remember the construction of our
school, and hardly anyone who was around when our church needed to be
rebuilt after the destruction of the original church by fire. We can only imagine the
great sacrifices made by those generations of parishioners, witnessed by their
beautiful parish church and school, which serve us today. What will be our legacy
to future generations of Saint Thomas Aquinas parishioners? Certainly, we've
accomplished a lot of things: the exterior renovation and painting of our church,
installing our elevator/lift, handicapped rest room, and many of the beautiful
changes we've made. But this is the big one folks, and it will be our gift to those
who come after us, just as we today benefit from the gift of former parishioners.
In the next few months, there will be renewed efforts to reach those who
have not contributed to our restoration. We hope you will respond generously to
this need, so that, like the church and school, our new parish center will be truly
"ours."
May 11, 2003
Happy Birthday Blue
Perhaps you saw the signs. They read "Happy Birthday Blue." Of course,
we had one on our church signboard, but the great part was Brook's Pharmacy
had it on their sign. I'm sure that a lot of people were scratching their heads and
asking, "Who on earth is Blue?" Maybe you are, too. Blue is the friary black lab.
He was given to the friars last year, and this April celebrated his first birthday.
What started all this was a photo I took this past winter, after one of our big
snowstorms. Blue likes to frolic around the back yard at the friary, and I noticed
that he started to stand up on our back deck, his front paws perched up on the
rail looking over our fence and watching the goings on at Brooks Pharmacy. He
will stand there for some time, his head cocking to and fro; (Blue also loves
looking out the windows, seeing people passing by). Blue is the ultimate people
watcher. Anyway, I took this picture of Blue looking at the big signboard at
Brooks, and I sent it to them, saying it seems like he's waiting for the milk bones
to go on sale. So, Brooks put this great message to Blue on their signboard and
I got another great picture of Blue. I was thinking of sending it to some
newspapers. When Blue gets tired of watching Brooks, he goes to other end of
the deck and watches Sal's Pizza. I think he’s saying, "Hey, bring some pizza
over here." So for his birthday, I bought him a pizza. I only gave him two pieces
though; didn’t want him to get sick. Blue is always preoccupied with food. He
knows where I keep the "goodies" in my desk drawer, so he'll come and down
next to my desk and give me one of those looks. When I say to him, "want a
cookie" he nudges the drawer with his nose and opens it up.
Blue also likes to keep our kitchen clean. He scours the floor with his
tongue, especially after one of us cooks. He knows we're sure to leave
something good on the floor. Another one of Blue's favorite activities is to go
down to dog park here in Derry. There he meets his friends, runs until he's
exhausted, and then sleeps the rest of the day. If you want to see a great picture
of Blue, check out our church bulletin boards this weekend.
May 18, 2003
Goodbye Sister Muriel
Offering the Rite of Christian Burial is always a difficult thing for priests.
Even in those cases when we do not know the deceased, or family, it is difficult
to try to convey some sense of the hope that the resurrection of Jesus Christ
offers to those who grieve. Celebrating funerals for those we know, and
sometimes love, can be even more difficult, but also, in a sense, rewarding,
especially when the deceased was a person of faith.
Last week I had the privilege of celebrating the funeral of Sister Muriel
Dery. Sr. Muriel had been teaching music in our school when she was stricken
with cancer. Her final illness was difficult, but yet a moment of grace for all of us.
Muriel died, as she lived, with a smile on her face. At the communion rite of the
Funeral Mass, I was struck by the tears of the school children coming up to
receive communion. Truly Sister Muriel was greatly loved by the children, and we
know she adored them in return.
On the night before the funeral Mass, we gathered at the Holy Cross
Center in Manchester for a prayer vigil. We listened to many people who
witnessed to their own love for Muriel; telling us stories, anecdotes, and
memories of her life. From the young to old, present and former students, fellow
Sisters of the Holy Cross, and family members, told the wonderful stories of
Sister Muriel's life, and we were never surprised at her love and generosity. Many
of us had tears in our eyes, and some even flowing profusely as we went through
the gamut of emotions, laughter, sadness, missing Muriel, and hope: emotions
that many people share when someone they love dies.
Sister Muriel was one of those rare people who touch everyone they meet
in a positive way. Her small stature masked her very strong and determined
desire to serve God and His people. I can only imagine what it would have been
like had Muriel served in our parish school for many years. Sister Muriel loved
teaching. But her greatest lesson plan was not to be found in music books, or in
quarter notes and G clefs. It was not found in Bach, Beethoven, or Mozart. It
was not found in symphonies or hymns, nor was found in recorder classes or
children’s choirs. Rather, Muriel’s classroom went way beyond the music class.
Hundreds of people who never had Muriel in class were her students. Her
lesson was in discipleship, because, In the long run, Muriel was a great disciple
of the Lord. Her life was a reminder of God’s goodness to us. The way she lived
her life and her vows made Muriel truly a sign of God’s love for all of us. Muriel
once confessed me to that as much as she loved the children; she had a special
place in her heart for those who were most difficult. This of course is in keeping
with Muriel’s desire to serve the littlest, the smallest, and the most needy of
God’s people.
Being a musician myself, there was a special kinship. She would thrust
music in my face minutes before our school Masses - asking me to sing this or
chant that, saying, in her own way that she knew, since I was a musician, I would
have no trouble learning it in a few seconds. I should consider myself lucky, she
even taught Bishop McCormack how to sing the penitential rite. When I
celebrated my 25th Anniversary of ordination, Muriel wrote special verses to a
song to honor me. I would often run into Muriel in the parking lot, and I would
love to harass her. I’d tell her crazy stories, and she’d act like she believed me,
and she’d end up smacking my hand and scolding me for fooling her.
She knew all the kids by name. I’d say, “Muriel, how do you remember all
their names? I’m here nine years and I can’t remember any of them.” They were
all special in her eyes. And as you can tell, the children adored her
All I can say is that, on a personal level, we are truly blessed to have had
Sister Muriel on our faculty as well as all those other wonderful, dedicated
religious women who currently serve our school: Sister Jackie Brodeur, our
principal; Sr. Julianne (celebrating her fiftieth anniversary of religious vows this
week and who has been teaching kindergarten for such a long time that I think
she taught ME!); Sr. Estelle, and Sr. Jackie K.
I am sure that when Muriel entered those pearly gates, her Lord and
Master was there to meet her, saying, "Well done, good and faithful servant,
inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world."
June 8, 2003
Pursuing a Dream
You may have noticed this weekend a fence around the two houses on
our property. Yes, the time is here when we are beginning our construction of the
new Aquinas Center. Usually summers are pretty quiet around here, with school
closed. But I have a feeling this year things will be hopping. There have been a
few delays. We wanted to start construction a month ago. The project will take
seven months, which may, at this point, mean that we will not have the building
ready for Christmas, as was my hope. But you never know. The latest delay was
finding asbestos in Aquinas House. This, of course, has added expense to the
whole project. Our current estimate is that construction will officially start around
June 15th or so. This, of course, depends on our not having any more delays. I
hope you feel the excitement in the air over this project. This has long been a
dream of our parish, and I know that many of the school parents have desired
this for a long time. It will serve us well and for many years to come. Of course,
we bid farewell to Aquinas House, which served this parish for so many years in
so many different ways. The coziness of Aquinas House will be missed. It has
served us as a meeting space, CCD offices, classrooms, library, and our dinner
spot when we had special meals. It was the meeting place of the RCIA on
Sunday mornings, and the youth group on Sunday nights. We will be holding on
to a remnant of Aquinas House. The railing on the stairway leading up to the
second floor will now be located in the social hall. So, for all you "sidewalk
observers" who like to see construction in the works, take a walk on our property
this summer and watch the progress. Be careful if you walk your dogs, however,
Blue will be on the prowl guarding his turf.
June 15, 2003
Vigil of Pentecost and Other Things…
This past week was filled with tons of activities at Saint Thomas. It all
began last Saturday with Vigil of Pentecost Mass. If you were in attendance at
this Mass, you know what a special event it is in the spiritual life of our parish. I
am sure I never saw anything like it before. Any visitor would have to check the
address to make sure that this was really a Catholic church. After all, we aren’t
used to Catholics being so exuberant at worship.
The Vigil of Pentecost was always one of my favorite events of the year. I
would play in the music ministry put together by Frank Howard and would haul
over my keyboards to Saint Marie’s for rehearsals and for the Vigil. This year, I
saw the Vigil from a different perspective, not only as main celebrant, homilist,
but also as pastor of the host parish. The Vigil was for me a true demonstration
of working of the Holy Spirit in my life.
The week before, everything was on schedule; planning the Mass, making
sure everything was in order. After all, besides the many people from around
diocese who would be there, Bishop McCormack would also be in attendance.
You know, of course that one always wants to look good when working in front of
his boss. Earlier in the week, my sister had called with news that my father had a
massive stroke and was in hospital. For the first few days, I had been in constant
communication with the family in regard my father's condition, treatment, etc. It
became obvious, as the week progressed, that I would have to go home to New
York and make some decision with the family down there. Although I knew I
should do this, the schedule of events in coming week, The Day of Prayer and
Healing with Monsignor James on Monday, Confirmation practice on Tuesday,
Confirmation with Bishop Christian on Wednesday, school graduation Thursday,
all had me bargaining with God, "Give me a few more days, Lord."
On Thursday it became obvious that I had to go home. I drove home and
went to see my Dad. Dad's stroke was debilitating and he is paralyzed on his left
side. He cannot speak or swallow. Dad is ninety-two, a resident of a nursing
home, and has wanted God to call him for a long time. After talking with several
doctors (including my own doctor here in Derry), consulting with family members
at home, we felt the best course of action was to get a hospice nurse for my
father to keep him pain free and comfortable, and not take any extraordinary
means at sustaining his life. After all, we realize that he was dying. On Saturday,
I drove back to Derry with Bro. Courtland and arrived back in the afternoon
emotionally, psychologically, and physically drained. I had not prepared a homily,
and just an hour before the Vigil began, didn't know how I would get through it.
Then the music started, and the Holy Spirit did His work. I was totally energized
and could have gone on for hours.
As of this writing, my Dad's condition is the same. We have placed him the
Lord's hands, and I know he will be happy reunited with my Mom again. In the
meantime, thank you for all your support, and thank God for continually watching
over all of us. Happy Father’s Day, Dad. And God watch over you and bless you.
July 27, 2003
Young Missionaries from our Parish
This past Thursday, nine young men and women set out from Logan
Airport in Boston on a journey that would give them an experience like no other.
These nine generous people, four of them members of our parish, flew down to
Miami and then to Ecuador, in South America, where they would begin
participating in ten days of missionary work in a small, very poor barrio called
Duran in Guayaquil, a city of over two million people. The four members of our
parish, Julia Parodi (who organized the trip), Joseph Parodi, Aaron Tekin, and
Dan Mitchell, will be experiencing the gospel in a special way in a program called
Rostro de Cristo, which means, "face of God." In this program they will see the
face of God in the people most dear to God's heart: the poor, the hungry, the
unfortunate, and the sick. The focus of this trip will be to live and work with the
people of that barrio and have a unique experience of Christian living; Julia and
Joe's uncle is a lay volunteer who directs this program. The work these young
people will be engaged in will be as diverse as the needs of the people they will
meet. They may be involved in specific building programs or other improvement
projects. They will visit a leper hospital. There are programs to find apartments
and jobs for those who have recovered from leprosy but have no place to go
because they have been disowned by their families. (Although leprosy is curable
today, the social stigma still remains in many countries, and those with leprosy
are not welcomed back by their families). Although they were helped by
donations to their project, these missionaries travel at their own expense, and
volunteer their time, talent, and treasure to helping God's people.
I know you will keep these nine young people in your prayers this week as
they experience something very unique in their lives. Hopefully, as they see the
face of God in the lives of the neediest among us, they will also have a clearer
understanding of God's will for them in this world.
August 3, 2003
Thinking about family…and Dad
As many of you know, my dad passed away in June. Being home with my
family for the week or so of the wake and funeral gave me an opportunity to
reconnect with many family members and friends. It is unfortunate that it takes
occasions such as this for us to come together, but we also do it for weddings
and other happy occasions. Although my family has been out of Brooklyn for a
long time, the ties with that borough of New York run deep.
When our family came over from Italy in the late 1800's and early 1900's,
they settled originally in the lower East Side of Manhattan, an area known as
Little Italy. Both my parents had roots in this section. My father moved to
Brooklyn at an earlier age, and, as a matter of fact, lived in the same
neighborhood where I grew up. My dad attended the same grammar school as I
did, Saint Catharine of Alexandria School on Fort Hamilton Parkway. By the time
Mom and Dad met, they were living in Brooklyn, and moved into the third floor of
a row house on 17th Street. That area, wedged between South Brooklyn and
Park Slope, was where I was born. It was a classic case of living in an extended
family, with my grandparents living on the first floor with my Aunt Tess, the
second floor reserved for bedrooms, and the third floor where we lived.
When I was born, my grandmother had already passed on. Around 1954
or so, the city took over our house to make room for the new Prospect
Expressway, and we had to look for a new home. We moved to 38th Street and
13th Avenue in the Borough Park section of Brooklyn, which at that time was
largely Jewish and Italian. For a long time, I thought everyone in the world was
either Jewish or Italian.
Little by little, our family, which left Manhattan in the early part of the
century, and scattered all over Brooklyn, began moving out of Brooklyn to quieter
places: Staten Island, New Jersey, and Long Island. The next generation of
family was even bolder moving to Florida, California, and other places.
Today we are experiencing a mobility never seen before by humanity.
Although this allows us to "see the world," so to speak, it also separates family at
great distances. In former times, when it was traumatic for the children to move
out of the house or off the street, today we see the prospect of our children
moving thousands of miles away. This makes our reunions much more important,
but, our sense of family much more difficult to retain.
For myself, sometimes I long for those days gone by when we are all
together, living on the same street or in the same house, and events such as
funerals and weddings give us a little glimpse of the way life used to be. Then
reality hits and makes me happy that I moved away. Don't get me wrong. I love
my family. But things can never be the same, and we're all different people.
August 10, 2003
Suffering from AAADD
Sometimes I think my life is like a road trip that never ends, spinning my
wheels and getting nowhere. Yes, it’s like going from one thing to another, doing
a lot of things but accomplishing little.
Someone recently sent me a cute little gag article on “AAADD.” In reading
it, I realized that it was a description of my daily routine.
What is AAADD? It is “Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder.” I’ll give
you an example of how it works in my life.
My day starts at 6:30 AM when I get up, shower, wake up Blue, and get
down to my office. I immediately open up the friary doors in preparation for
Mass, fetch the newspapers (no, Blue hasn’t learned to do this yet), take Blue
outside to do his morning obligation, bring him back to my office and try to do
some paperwork (or check emails) before the 8:00 Mass. After the 8:00 Mass, I
go back to the friary for some breakfast. Then it’s back to the office where my
AAADD kicks in.
I begin trying to clean off my desk. I notice a marriage license that I have
not completed, so I begin doing that. I open the top drawer of my desk for a pen,
and see some keys lying there. I decide to label the keys, so I begin walking
around the office, trying out keys. It is then I notice that someone has raised the
thermostat in the office, making it unbearably warm. I head to the thermostat,
and see that there’s some mail, which needs to be stamped. Before I get the first
piece of mail in the stamp machine, I see some messages in my mailbox from
the night before. I begin reading these messages when the phone rings. I rush
back to my desk to answer the phone when I remember that the Easter Mass
schedule is still on the voice mail system. I click on my computer to look up the
voice mail prompt, when I notice that I’ve gotten some emails. I click on the
email icon when the mailman comes in with a giant pile of mail. I begin sorting
the mail when I notice a letter I sent has been returned because of a wrong
address. I go on the computer again to my label writer program to check on the
address. As I am doing this, I see that my label writer has run out of labels. I
check my desk drawer for labels, when I see some bills that are long overdue. I
pull out the checkbook to pay the bills, when I realize that I have not made a
recent deposit to the bank. I announce to the staff that I am going to the bank to
make a deposit when Blue indicates that he has to go out again. I take Blue out
and notice that my car’s inspection is one month past due. I come back in the
office to book an inspection, when I decide to grab a bottle of water out of the
fridge. I open the fridge and see that the water has frozen, so I put the water out
on my desk to defrost. I then notice that the marriage license is still lying there.
By now it is time for lunch. I’ve wasted the whole morning. In the meantime: My desk is still a mess, the marriage form is not competed, the keys have not
been labeled, the thermostat is still high, the mail has not been stamped, my
messages are still unread, I never answered the phone, the Easter Mass
schedule is still on the voice mail system, my emails haven’t been answered, the
mail has not been sorted, I am still out of labels, the bills have not been paid, the
checks have not been deposited, my car hasn’t been inspected, and Blue is lost.
Then I wonder aloud why I’ve been so busy, why I’m so tired, and nothing ever
gets done.
Does your life seem like that, too? Well, I decided to take my time into my
own hands. I decided to call a counselor for help. So I sat down at my desk,
went to my computer, google searched a counselor for New Hampshire. In the
middle of my google search, I noticed a marriage license on my desk that needed
to be completed. I looked in my desk for a pen….
August 17, 2003
Thirty-Five Years as a Friar
This weekend I celebrated the thirty-fifth anniversary of my first vows as a
Franciscan. On August 16, 1968, along with eighteen of my classmates, I took
the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience for the first time. These vows came
at the end of a year of intense training and Franciscan living called the novitiate.
The year was 1968, a time of great upheaval in our country. Martin Luther
King and Robert Kennedy were assassinated, Richard Nixon succeeded Lyndon
B. Johnson as President, the Democratic Convention in Chicago broke out in
violence and the Vietnam War was raging.
I was eighteen years old at the time. Many of my friends were in the army,
fighting in Vietnam. A few never came back. But here, I was in the security of the
Franciscan novitiate. I had entered our novitiate at Saint Anthony Friary in
Catskill, New York a year and a day earlier, on August 15, 1967, when I received
the habit of Saint Francis. I was fresh out of high school when this happened.
During the year of novitiate, we didn’t have any formal studies. Rather we
lived for the first time as Franciscan brothers, taking classes on the life of Saint
Francis, the rule, the constitutions of our order, the vows, as well as other
assorted topics. These classes were taken in the morning. Our days were very
regimented. We would wake up about five thirty a.m., having Matins and Lauds
(Latin terms for the hours of the Liturgy), Mass, and breakfast, followed by
meditation and classes. We would have mid-day prayer at eleven forty-five,
followed by lunch at noon, which was our main meal of the day, European style.
After lunch, we had work time. This consisted of cultivating the grounds, lawns,
mowing, painting, housework, etc. Sometimes we did work which seemed to be
fabricated for us just to keep us busy, like the time our Novice Master asked us to
tackle a pile of gravel by separating the larger pieces from the smaller ones. Yes,
it was a test of our obedience, and we passed with flying colors, after giving a
knowing wink to one another. You see, we knew better than to question our
superiors on this one. About five o’clock we were back in chapel for evening
prayer (vespers) and an hour-long meditation period. We never were really
taught about meditation, except to just do it, so for a lot of us, it was a time to
take a quick nap (unless the Novice Master saw us). He would be quick to poke
us in the back to wake us up. After a light supper, we had a little bit of recreation,
before assembling again for night prayer. After night prayer, we could study or
pray in our rooms before going to bed. In the early days of novitiate, we had
midnight prayer, which meant we had to get at eleven forty-five and trudge down
to the chapel to chant the Divine Office.
After a few months, this was done away with, much to our delight. I never
was one for getting up in the middle of the night. We led a very sheltered life, in a
sense. We weren’t allowed to watch television, or listen to the radio, or even read
the newspapers. Our novice master wouldn’t even let us watch the Ed Sullivan
show. It was days after Robert Kennedy died that one of the staff remembered to
tell us. While our friends grew their hair long, listened to rock, burned their draft
cards, and moved to Haight-Ashbury to become hippies, we were kept in buzz
cuts, sang Gregorian chant, burned incense, and took walks down to the Hudson
River for a swim. We had no money and never had junk food (I weighed one
hundred sixty-five pounds at one time in the novitiate, what happened since
then?) Those of us who smoked were given three cigarettes a day (thanks a lot,
Father!) We formed bonds with our brothers that would last all our lives, and
would never forget how close we felt to each other. We were true sons of Saint
Francis.
As I look back over the years, these thoughts bring me some nostalgia. It
was a long time ago, and, you know what? I wouldn’t change anything about it.
August 31, 2003
Driving on the “Right” Side of the Road
I can remember only a few times when I was struck by such a disorienting
feeling. The first time I remember was back in 1963…
I had been in the minor seminary in Andover for about three months.
Every room on the students' side of the building was tremendously large. Even
the dorms where we slept housed twenty or thirty beds. It was December, and I
had come home for the first time. I remember walking into our living room on 38th
street in Brooklyn. It seemed tiny, like a dollhouse. In fact, the whole house
seemed very small. I had to sit down on the couch for a minute, dispelling some
dizziness at the small quarters. I realized it was just an illusion, after being in
such large spaces for so many months.
Another time came when I was fishing with another friar on the Quabbin
Reservoir. We had rented a small boat, and went into a cove. I remember the
water being so crystal clear that we could easily see the bottom of the lake. As
we entered this cove, I again had this disorienting feeling. Floating on top of the
water, I had the impression of being on a mirror. It was difficult to tell where the
water began or ended. Occasionally, I have had similar, lesser experiences. But
my latest was the longest and the one that took the most concentration.
Getting into my rented Nissan car at Shannon Airport in Ireland I knew this
was going to be a challenge for me. In fact, it was a source of a bit of anxiety
about the trip. How would I deal with driving on the left side of the road, with the
steering wheel on the right side of the road? Or, as I was frequently saying,
“driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road.”
Now, I realize that there is no "wrong" or "right," (although there is
obviously left and right). One of the locals in Ireland explained it to me. He said,
"The British screwed up everything. Everyplace they've been, they messed up.
That's why the whole world drives on the right side of the road (right meaning the
opposite of left) except us. You Americans got out of the Commonwealth just in
time." I laughed. As I started the engine, I knew I was in for an adventure. I was
grateful that the other mechanisms, gas pedal, brake, signals, etc. were in the
same position as our cars. I wasn't sure this was going to be the case, and could
imagine, in the case of a close call, hitting the gas instead of the brake.
The first challenge came only about two minutes after pulling out of the
rental facility. We were greeted with a "roundabout." Now, I am familiar with
these things. We have one right here in Derry, although we call it a circle. And
New Jersey is full of them. Now I had to concentrate. Look right - there may be
cars coming. Drive on the left. I found myself hugging the left too much, hitting
curbs and running into hedges. But I managed. I was amazed that eventually it
became fairly easy, although it was true that you cannot "switch off" (as one hotel
desk clerk told me) when driving.
There were times when driving down a stretch of road with no other cars I
had to think, am I driving on the right side of the road? (right meaning correct).
And a few times I realized, after navigating one of the thousands of roundabouts
in Ireland, I was fortunate that no other cars were there, because I hadn't looked
to the right. But, I am happy to report, that neither occupants nor automobile
were any worse for the wear, and came out with neither a dent, scratch, or, a
close call.
Flying back into Logan Airport, I wondered what terror must meet tourists
from the British Commonwealth as they rent one of our cars and drive out of
Logan only to be greeted by the aggressive Boston drivers, screaming, yelling,
and honking horns at them. I am sure, in this time of the big dig that they are in
for the adventure of their lives, and probably see some gestures from the natives
that are none too friendly.
What is the motto of my story? Be kind to drivers who come at you on the
wrong side of the road. They may be from Ireland.
October 7, 2003
The Curse Lives!
I was thinking about what a great year this was to be a baseball fan. Both
my Yankees and your Red Sox were in the chase for the American League
Pennant. The Sox hoping to end the infamous “Curse of the Bambino,” while the
Yankees trying to get back to the World Series. When I was in the seminary in
Boston, the Red Sox would give to priests and religious a season pass. For fifty
cents, you could sit in any empty seat at any game. I would write to the Sox and
they would send six or seven passes to our friary in Brighton. I would love to
catch an afternoon game, especially when the Yankees were in town. A bunch of
us (yes, all obnoxious New Yorkers) would sit in the stands and make comments
about the Red Sox.
One day, a woman sitting in front of me got so upset with me that she
slapped me. Not hard, more playful, but frustrated. That was before my
conversion. When I was sent to Pittsburgh, I felt I was in baseball no-mans-land.
Or should I say, American League no-mans-land. I was an exile in my own town,
an American League fan in a National League hotbed. In those days before the
Internet and espn.com (or even ESPN), I would have to rely on the evening news
for baseball scores. They almost never gave the American League scores. In
fact, they referred to the American League, almost derisively, as “the junior
circuit.” Meanwhile, I had to endure the one and only play in all of Pittsburgh
Pirate history that they had anything to brag about, the home run that was
declared recently by fans as the most famous home run in the world. Yes, Bill
Mazeroski’s home run in the bottom of the ninth at Forbes Field against my
Yankees.
I remember that World Series on October 13, 1960, since even at the
tender age of ten, I was an avid Yankee fan. The Yankees clobbered the Pirates
in that World Series for three of the games. The Yankees won by scores of
sixteen to three, ten to nothing, and twelve to nothing. It was such a lopsided
series that a member of the losing team, Bobby Richardson, won the series
MVP. But there it was, playing over and over and over again on the Pittsburgh
sports shows: the late Pirate announcer Bob Prince calling this horrendous home
run. Then I moved to Boston, and now to NH, where, in a sense, the roles are
reversed. I have my own battle cries: 1918, “No, No Nanette,” the Curse of the
Bambino, Bucky Dent, Wade Boggs riding a policeman’s horse at the end of the
1996 World Series, and more recently, Roger Clemens. I won’t even mention Bill
Buckner. No sense in opening more wounds.
There was something about this year’s Red Sox, however, that led me to
believe that they were going to cause the Yankees a lot of trouble. And although I
didn’t know if I could stomach a Red Sox World Series win while living in Red
Sox Nation, I was secretly hoping that maybe this year we’d put an end to all the
nonsense about the Curse. After all, the Yankees don’t have to win every year,
right? Well, almost every year is good, too. And besides, Catholics don’t believe
in curses.
Anyway, I know that my future won’t be too bright. I know that anywhere I
go I’m always going to find people who hate the Yankees. And, unless I get
stationed in some parish in the middle of the Bronx, I will probably have to put up
with a worse breed than Red Sox fans…Mets fans. But just think of all the fun I
have irritating people wearing my Yankee hat, my Yankee tee shirt, and having a
Roger Clemens bobble head on my desk.
October 19, 2003
You Mean Blue is Actually my Cousin?
I guess by now we’re used to human beings being compared to monkeys.
After all, geneticists tell us we have a common ancestry. But now there is a new
twist to all of this. Scientists have given us the word that the dog, man’s best
friend, is also a close relative. As a matter of fact, they have come out with the
bold proposition that the dog is closer to human beings than the mouse. Well,
thank heavens for small favors. I guess that’s good news for Goofy and bad
news for Mickey. Anyway, anyone who lives with a dog knows how almost
human like they can be. You have heard the saying that as time goes on dogs
and their masters begin to look like one another. Well, we’ve only had Blue for a
little over a year, and I don’t see my skin getting any darker, but I have noticed
hair growing out of my ears lately, so, there may be some truth to that.
I think Blue is very fortunate growing up in a friary. In fact, in addition to his
clerical black coat (and his enforced vow of chastity which we imposed on him
when he was a few months old through the skillful hands of his vet), Blue has
become a good friar-dog. Some points, in fact. Blue is a people dog. He greets
everyone who comes to the friary door, sniffs out every class and meeting being
held on the property, and greets people coming out of their cars in the parish
parking lot. Some people say he has better people skills than the pastor. When I
take him for rides, he hangs his head out the window and observes every passerby, every car, and every pedestrian. Blue loves being with the friars. He would, in
fact, rather be with us than eat or drink. Often I have to sit with him in the kitchen
to get him to eat. You may view this, in fact, as very “un-friar-like,” since the friars
will take food over being with each other any day. Yes, sad to say, offer a friar a
nice bowl of pasta, and the Pope could be in the next room; he will be sitting by
himself for a while. Well, maybe not the Pope, but certainly a bishop. Blue, I
guess, is a good example for us.
The Franciscans are known as one of the “mendicant” orders of the
church. That is, our roots are in begging. The friars originally supported
themselves by begging for what they needed. This changed through the
centuries as the needs of the church became more focused, but Blue is definitely
true to our mendicant roots. Yes, he begs all the time. He has a way of sniffing
out every crumb and morsel that falls to the floor in our kitchen. He scours the
social hall floor after the school kids have had their lunches. He will sniff out
pocketbooks, pockets, and paper bags if he detects even the remnant of a stick
of gum or breath mint. He will lick your hands long after that spuckie from RigaTony’s is finished. Yes, Blue is a true mendicant friar. He is an expert at
begging.
Blue also has a good measure of Catholic guilt. Do something wrong,
chew up something in the friary, and Blue let’s me know by his actions. Very
often, when Blue has misbehaved, he will actually punish himself by staying in
his crate. Yes, I think Blue not only proves that the dog is a close relative to the
human, but also that Blue was meant to be a friar.
October 21, 2003
Priesthood Sunday
This past week the Church had quite a few things to celebrate. First of all,
there was Pope John Paul II’s 25th Anniversary of his election as Pope. We
would all have to admit that this past twenty-five years has been an interesting
one in the church, and Pope John Paul’s ministry as Vicar of Christ and
successor of Peter has been an inspiration to us all. We also celebrated the
beatification of Mother Teresa of Calcutta, a modern-day saint who ministered to
the poor, the homeless, and the outcast.
Today we are celebrating Priesthood Sunday. This celebration came
about as a response to the decline in morale among priests as a result of the
recent scandals, and also as a reminder to all Catholics of the role of the
priesthood in the Church. It is a day in which Catholics are called to re-affirm not
only their belief in the importance of the priesthood, but also their appreciation of
the priests who serve them so selflessly in various ministries.
This has been a very difficult time to be a priest. The sexual scandals that
have rocked our church have been devastating to our people. Although things
seem to be abating a bit, I don’t know of any priest who hasn’t been deeply
affected by what has taken place, and who has not been embarrassed and
ashamed. Even though the numbers of priests who were engaged in this
behavior were very small, all of us were implicated. This was certainly not the
priesthood I had aspired to as a young boy, nor did I ever dream that the general
population would ever look on Catholic priests in such a way.
Another source of difficulty is the decline of vocations. From the look of
things, the dire predictions of a decade ago were off base. The current trend is
even worse than predicted. It’s no wonder that only one person entered our own
Franciscan formation program this year.
Two weeks ago, the priests of the diocese had a meeting with Bishop
McCormack at Saint Anselm’s. At the meeting we heard a report from the
diocesan planning team. The numbers for the future are scary. By the year 2020,
there will be, at best estimates, sixty priests working in the diocese. More likely is
the pessimistic number at forty. At this rate of decline, if we want to maintain the
goal of having a Mass at every parish at least once on Sunday, the number of
parishes would have to be reduced, either by closure, twinning, or merger, from
one hundred twenty to sixty. This is very frightening. Priests will most likely be
like circuit riders, going from congregation to congregation, celebrating Mass and
the sacraments, and then running off to the next location. To have a resident
pastor (or even two priests in the same parish as we have here at Saint Thomas)
will be simply impossible.
For most Catholics, priests will be strangers, not members and leaders of
their communities. There are a lot of theories why this is happening. Some say it
is the liberalization of the church. Others blame society. The truth is probably
somewhere in the middle. We do live in a society that ridicules and mocks
religion. Today even good Catholics have stopped fostering vocations. When
someone states they are thinking of a vocation to the priesthood or religious life,
they are immediately discouraged, sometimes even mocked. This is a far cry
from the days when I entered, when it was considered an honor and a privilege
for a family to have a son studying for the priesthood. Some blame celibacy. It’s
important for us to realize that celibacy for the diocesan priest is not a vow, it’s a
discipline imposed by the church. It is not a dogma, nor does it have biblical
roots. We know that not only were the apostles married, but for at least the first
five hundred years of its existence, priests were married; a tradition that remains
in force to this day in the Eastern churches. The vows that we Franciscans take
include the vow of chastity; only religious orders take vows; and those vows are
part of our vocations as friars, not as priests.
There are other factors that make a priest’s life more difficult. Priests have
to deal with a barrage of criticism; ranging from people who have some personal
agenda about the church or priesthood, to complaints and bickering within the
parish. Idle gossip also destroys morale and sometimes even reputations.
Sometimes people expect us to be super-heroic, and fault us for every slip of the
tongue, mistake, forgotten gesture, or failure. What makes it worse is that some
seem to always presume ill will or maliciousness on our part. I have found here at
Saint Thomas there are some who proclaim loudly that they support our priests
and priesthood, while privately working against everything we try to do.
Priesthood Sunday will not reverse this. But perhaps it will make us more aware
of the difficulties facing priests today.
While I will be the first to admit that priests generally live pretty
comfortable lives, at least in this country; priests also make great sacrifices.
Since I was thirteen-years-old when I entered the seminary, I have never been
stationed near my home. I missed my nephews growing up; was not able to be
with my parents in their last days; and have not been able to attend a lot of
important events in the lives of my family. Being subject to obedience, we have to
be willing to take on a new assignment at the will of our superiors, even if it’s not
what we wanted or planned. Our future is not our own to determine. And it is
difficult to share the loneliness and isolation one experiences when not having a
family of their own; never really even belonging to a family, or to another person.
It is difficult to convey what it is like never to be held in love, or experience the joy
of having your own children. There are priests I know who have lived with this for
so many years that today they never have the experience of physically touching
another person, or being touched, or held, or hugged.
I know I have painted a pretty negative view of priesthood, but please
don’t get me wrong. As Hyman Roth said to Michael Corleone in Godfather II,
“This is the life we have chosen.”
In this life, which I not only have chosen, but also continue to choose each
day, I have found immense joy, happiness, and satisfaction. The primary
satisfaction comes from doing God’s work and being obedient to His will, which
has to be at the center of the life of every priest. After all, every priest believes he
is a priest because God calls him. Our relationship with God and our response to
His call puts all these “negatives” into perspective, as well as the faith that God
will bring to completion what He has begun in us. I have found supreme
satisfaction and joy in my priesthood, and in the celebration of the sacraments;
and of being an instrument of God’s love for others. In the celebration of the
Eucharist, the awesomeness of being a representative of Christ, proclaiming the
word and offering sacrifice on the altar through the Eucharist, is something that I
find completely overwhelming, as well as being a source of reconciliation in the
sacraments of healing, of giving people peace on their death bed through
anointing, or peace in their hearts through the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
Even though I have been a priest for twenty-seven years, Saint Thomas is
only my third assignment. This is because, in each assignment, I have literally
fallen in love with the people with whom I minister. I spent thirteen years at Saint
Pamphilus Church in Pittsburgh, going there right after ordination. I was twentysix years old when I went to that church, and the people of that parish taught me
more about being a priest than any seminary professor or formation director. My
five years working as Vocation Director for our province showed me the great
generosity of other young men who sought to follow in the footsteps of Saint
Francis. Saint Thomas has been, and continues to be, a lesson about the faith
and spirituality of lay people, as I see, and am often humbled by the Christian
lives of so many around me. I often reflect here at Saint Thomas on the holiness
of so many of our people, especially the young people of our parish, and it gives
me strength and courage to face the future.
Through everything that has happened in the church and priesthood, our
faith must be in God. Certainly, while number of priests decline, we see more and
more the priesthood of the laity, and how so many will be needed to fill those
roles and ministries that were once only the province of the ministerial
priesthood. And despite the difficult numbers with which we are faced, I see great
hope; that God, who loves us so immensely, will lead us to new places; places
we may not even imagine at this moment.
On this Priesthood Sunday, I can only ask you, beg you, to restore your
faith in all of us, your priests, and to assure you for every priest who has gone
astray, there are hundreds, even thousands, who every day plod through the
difficulties of this life, seeking only to do God’s will and minister to God’s people.
November 22, 2003
Grease Stains on my Homework
Thanksgiving is one of the holidays that has national origins, and yet is
very often treated with religious overtones. Although it is not a holy day in the
church, and people do not feel the need to go to church on that day, it is still a
day when families get together to celebrate around the dinner table, much like we
would do on Christmas or Easter.
Growing up in an Italian family always presented a dilemma for us,
especially around Thanksgiving time. After all, we asserted the fact that we were
“Americans”, not Italians, and that we should be celebrating this holiday in
American-style, like other Americans. (It’s funny how, as young people, we
wanted to be Americans like everyone else- but as we grow older, we gravitate
more and more toward our traditional ethnic origins). Today I would take a dish
of mom’s ravioli over a turkey any day.
In those days, I think we were keenly aware that we were different and
didn’t want to be different. I remember the days after Thanksgiving especially,
when our non-Italian friends would bring their turkey sandwiches to school for
lunch: white meat turkey on white bread smothered with white mayonnaise.
How we Italian kids envied them with our eggplant parmigiana, meatball, and
sausage sandwiches on fresh Italian bread, oozing with tomato gravy and oil.
(By the way, it’s gravy if it’s made with meat - sauce if it’s not). I remember one
of the Irish Sisters that taught us remarking that she could always tell which
homework was from the Italian (she called us “Eye-tyes”) children- it had grease
stains on it! (My homework often did!) And we would gladly trade our greasy
gravy-filled sandwiches for one of their turkey delights. (We must have been out
of our minds!)
So we revolted. The kids (cousins, etc) went to our parents, proclaiming,
“We want a traditional turkey dinner this year for Thanksgiving. We’re tired of the
same old Italian stuff.”
And so, it was announced that this year we would have a traditional
American turkey dinner for Thanksgiving. However, some concession would still
be made to our Italian heritage, but, by far, it would be a turkey dinner.
We were delighted, thinking of the turkey sandwiches on wonder bread we
would proudly display at school Monday morning.
Finally, the day arrived. We were all excited - it was like Christmas
morning, opening our gifts. I remember going over Uncle Happy and Aunt Tessie
Jr’s apartment in Park Slope. The table was set. We had so many people the
table extended through two rooms, using fold-up tables. There at each place
was a half grapefruit, with the fruit cut in pieces, and a cherry on top. Yes, this
was exciting. This was “American.”
We sat down for our Thanksgiving Day dinner, as Americans did all over
the country. We started with a prayer, usually led by one of the younger cousins.
Then we started. How delicious it was, that cold fruit sliding down our throats.
After the grapefruit came out several large platters of antipasto, with Italian cold
cuts, olives, peppers, artichoke hearts, cheeses, all smothered with olive oil. OK.
This was still a turkey dinner, right? After the antipasto came a delicious bowl of
hot turkey soup. Yes, we were back on track- Americans again. Then it started
- our choice of lasagna, ravioli, or cavatelli, followed by sausage, meatballs,
bracciola, and pork ribs.
What’s going on here?
Don’t worry, we were
reassured. The turkey is on its way.
Then came what we were waiting for: a large turkey, sweet potatoes,
turkey stuffing, turkey gravy, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and sweet corn.
Our eyes bugged out of our heads. This was wonderful, until we realized that we
were stuffed. We had filled up so much on the pasta and gravy meat, we
couldn’t eat another thing.
“You see?” my mother bellowed from the kitchen. “You wanted turkey and
nobody ate it!”
Yeah no one ate it, not after all that other food. Our turkey was followed
by Italian pastries, and pumpkin and apple pies, accompanied by black coffee
(espresso, we say today).
Although the older folks got their way - we cleaned up on the Italian food
and the turkey was untouched, we had tons of leftovers for the next few days,
including a lot of turkey meat to proudly display at school the next Monday, on
white wonder bread, dripping with white mayo. Yes, we were Americans!
Eventually, our American traditions won out, and now we have only our
turkey with all the trimmings. But every Thanksgiving, when I sit down to give
thanks to God for all his blessings, I remember them all: Mom and Dad, Aunt
Tess, Aunt Tessie Jr. and Uncle Happy, Aunt Rose and Uncle Nick, Uncle Joe
and Aunt Marie- all the De Palo’s and Lorenzo’s, all gone on before us, and I
wish I could trade in that big fat turkey for a nice bowl of mom’s homemade
ravioli with some of Aunt Tess’ delicious meatballs.
2004
March 14, 2004
What’s the Matter with Kids Today?
There was a song from the musical, “Bye Bye Birdie,” that expressed very
well that generation’s view of teens and young people. “What’s the matter with
Kids Today?” So, aren’t you disgusted with today’s young generation? After all,
what good are they? It seems that all of the good things we have tried to instill in
our children have come to naught. What did the song say? “Noisy, crazy, sloppy,
lazy loafers,” they are nothing but trouble. All they want to do is party, party,
party.
They take nothing seriously, especially their faith. What will become of
our world and our church when they are in the hands of this worthless lot? God
help us!
If that expresses your sentiment about teens and young adults, then you
haven’t been looking too carefully. As a matter of fact, judging by the young
people of our parish, the exact opposite is true.
Those of you who were at Mass last weekend had to be impressed by the
testimony of young Tessie Swope, a student at Pinkerton Academy and a
graduate of Saint Thomas School, who talked about the non-profit organization
she founded in order to provide housing and a school for poor people she met
last summer while doing ministry in the Dominican Republic. Tessie was indeed
very articulate and she has sent this note of thanks to all of us:
Dear Fr. Joe, Fr. Tom, and parishioners,
Thank you so much for the generous show of support I received last
Sunday when I spoke at all the Masses about the Five Stones Project. We
raised nearly five thousand dollars! It was more than I had ever expected or
could have hoped for. Thank you from the bottom of my heart and I’ll be sure to
tell Manuel when I see him in June!
Sincerely,
Tessie Swope
As you heard, Tessie and some fellow students from Pinkerton plan to
return to the Dominican Republic to make her dream a reality.
Tessie is not alone. This week, Mark Santos is in Olancho, Honduras,
with a group of college students from UNH, who have accompanied Father Dan
St. Laurent on their spring break.
Yes, instead of partying down in Ft.
Lauderdale, Mark and his fellow students are doing some great ministry to the
poor.
Last summer, a group from our parish went to Ecuador to minister to poor
people living, literally, on a garbage dump. All of these young people make us
very proud, and are very typical of the generous and loving young people we
have here at Saint Thomas.
Any conversation with our Confirmation candidates or youth group
members will convince you that our society and church are in good hands for the
future. Or how about the wonderful young men and women that minister on our
altar as Masters of Ceremony? The number of Saint Thomas youth attending
such things as retreats, the Steubenville Youth Experience, or involved in a
variety of ministry, makes me very proud, and we should all be heartened by their
witness and example of Christian faith.
Thank you, young people, for restoring our hope in the future.
March 28, 2004
Dancing the Tarantella
One of my favorite scenes in the movie The Godfather is the opening
scene. You know, the one where Connie Corleone marries Carlo Rizzi. The
scene takes place outdoors, in the backyard of Don Vito Corleone’s mansion
somewhere on Long Island. There’s all the elements of a typical Italian wedding:
lots of food and drink, sandwiches flying in the air, the Italian band playing
Neapolitan favorites, people dancing the “tarantella” - an Italian folk dance
imitating a spider, an irreverent old uncle singing a raunchy Italian song, and the
sophisticated cousin singing “Mamma.”
There are photographers snapping
pictures, people laughing and dancing, a lot of flirting, and the happy bride and
groom. Take out the F.B.I. spying in the parking lot, and you have your typical
Italian wedding.
The wedding depicted in The Godfather movie was what used to be called
an Italian football wedding. The football part came in because, instead of having
an elaborate feast, the basic food was hero sandwiches stuffed with cold cutscapicollo, prosciutto, salami, maybe even meatballs and sausages, if you had
money to spend. These sandwiches would be delivered, much like a football, by
being thrown through the air. Thus the name “football wedding.”
Today’s Italian weddings are much more elaborate than that, and I can tell
you there’s nothing in New England that compares to some of the weddings I’ve
attended in New York, weddings for my nephews, nieces, and cousins.
Let me first say that there is no expense spared at your typical Italian
wedding. To pay one hundred and fifty dollars a plate is considered a bargain.
The hall is extremely elaborate, there is always an open bar (New Yorkers don’t
take to cash bars), the food is great and plentiful, and you’d better have a lot of
money stuffed inside that busta for your gift. By the way, busta is Italian for
envelope. If the bride’s family is paying one hundred and fifty dollars a head for
the dinner, you’d better be prepared to put a lot of money in that busta!
The wedding starts with the cocktail hour. Both cocktail and hour here are
used as oxymorons. It should be called the “abbondanza festival.” This usually
lasts about an hour and a half and, in itself, consists of a banquet. You will find
three or four bars making your favorite drinks (sky’s the limit on this); a pasta bar
with a chef making your favorite sauce; a fish bar with shrimp the size of trout,
fresh shell fish, calamari, lobster tails- let’s say enough fish to deplete the Indian
Ocean stocks for five years; chefs carving beef, pork (sometimes a whole pig), or
a ham; a pizza bar; Italian favorites such as cheeses, focaccia breads, fried
zeppoli. In other words, the cocktail hour is as big as most weddings.
When the cocktail hour is done, the guests assemble in the main dining
hall. They are seated according to the place tags they have received. It is a
mortal sin to seat Aunt Mary with Aunt Stella, especially since Aunt Mary and
Aunt Stella haven’t spoken to each other in twenty years. Did I mention that
they’re twin sisters? That doesn’t matter. For Italians, the vendetta runs deep
and long.
When everyone is seated at their tables, the rituals begin: the solemn
entrance of the grandparents, followed by the parents, followed by the bridal
party, and finally, the bride and groom. This part can take a while, since there
are usually about thirty people in the bridal party. Father Joe is usually called up
at this time to give the blessing and grace before meals (we’ve already been
eating for two hours, mind you), and the best man gives the official “toast.”
The first course (what was that bacchanalia we had when we first walked
in?) is another appetizer, followed by salad, and then, mandatory among the
Italians, some form of pasta or “macaroni” as its called. (I’ve already had three
plates of linguini with clam sauce during the cocktail hour, by the way). Each
course is followed by music and dancing. I think we’d have to dance about ten
hours to knock off what we’ve eaten already.
Following this comes the main course, usually a choice of meat (filet
mignon, veal, or chicken) or some kind of fish. There are plenty of vegetables
and potatoes to go with the main course (and even a side of ziti, if you haven’t
had enough pasta by now!) This is followed by dessert, coffee, espresso, and
the wedding cake.
During the main course, the bride and groom usually make their way
around the banquet hall, greeting each guest, and, more importantly, collecting
their busta. These are placed in a busta bag, usually an elaborate bag made of
silk (possibly matching the bride’s dress), and big enough for all the envelopes
that will be placed in it. This is then given to one of the old aunts (usually the one
with the moustache and tattoos) to guard over until it is taken home.
After this, the bride and the groom are going through their rituals: the
garter ceremony, tossing the bride’s bouquet, and the bride and groom feeding
cake to each other.
Less you think we’re done, then comes the Venetian Hour. Out of the
kitchen come carts loaded with cakes, ice cream, Italian pastries, and all kinds of
after-dinner drinks. Some weddings have had a cotton candy vendor, a hot dog
vendor complete with an umbrella and even a breakfast bar, complete with bacon
and eggs, sausage, pancakes and bagels.
Of course, there are other options for extra attractions at weddings. At
one of our weddings, there were two Cuban exiles rolling hand-made cigars for
the guests. (That was one of my favorites).
The rest of the night is filled with singing, dancing, and socializing. At
some point the tarantella is done (usually between the Macarena and the chicken
dance) but thank God the singing of “Mamma” seems to have fallen by the
wayside.
The final coup de grace of the evening comes on your way out – each
guest is given a bag of hot fresh Brooklyn bagels (to eat on the way home in
case you have another inch of esophagus that’s not crammed with food), and the
Sunday newspaper.
In the parking lot after the wedding, loud mumbling and swearing can be
heard when people no longer fit behind the steering wheels of their cars, due to
all the weight they put on during the wedding.
Oh, how I remember those Pittsburgh weddings with fried chicken and
baked ziti. They are looking better and better. Where’s the Pepto-Bismol?
May 30, 2004
And the Oscar Goes To…
First of all, I would like to thank the members of the Academy for this great
honor. There are so many people I need to thank, and I will be thinking of all of
you whenever I look at this Academy Award First of all…oops, sorry folks,
lapsed into a day dream.
Okay, I was thinking about my Academy Award role last Sunday at the
seven p.m. Mass. Yes, I could tell I had everyone totally drawn into my role as an
angry, frustrated pastor yelling at one of his parishioners during Mass. Let me
set the scene for you.
Last weekend the Confirmation Class of our parish experienced the “Walk
to Emmaus” retreat at Saint Francis Retreat Center in Andover. It was a great
retreat in a wonderful setting. Our team, led by Laurel O’Connor, Maureen
Parodi, and Father Tom did a fantastic job walking with our candidates in this
final preparation for the Sacrament of Confirmation, which they received this past
Tuesday from Bishop Roberto Camilleri, O.F.M. The venue had some minor
significance for me too; I had lived five years at that house, four of them in the
mid-sixties as a high school seminarian. To see these high school students
sitting there where I once sat at their age was a little unnerving, but kind of
brought things full circle for me, too.
Anyway, my final talk was at the homily of the Sunday Mass, where we
concluded our retreat. I usually like to get a few of the kids on the retreat to get
up and talk about their experience, but the question was how were we going to
do this? Tom Treloar, palanca director for the retreat, and I worked out a
scheme. I would begin my homily and his cell phone would ring. Adam Tekin,
one of the Masters of Ceremonies would dial his number. I would go into a
“tirade” about cell phones, and he would inform me that the phone was off, but
rang anyway. Well, I just got carried away with my role. I had visions of Sir
Laurence Olivier, Richard Burton, the Barrymores, Cary Grant, or even De Niro,
Pacino, Lorenzo. Okay, I’m getting carried away. I could see from the terrified
look on the parishioners’ faces (as well as the retreatants) as I was haranguing
Tom, who played his role with appropriate humility, that they were totally drawn
into the scene.
I yelled up at the congregation, “Did anyone hear Frank tell everyone to
turn off their cell phones?”
With horror on their faces, no one dared nod, or even look at me. Hannah
Morini, one of the team members, said out loud, “No, Father Joe, I’ve heard of
cell phones ringing while they were off.”
I wheeled around and shouted at her, “IF IT’S OFF, IT’S OFF! HOW
COULD IT RING?”
I loved every minute of it. As the sketch went on, Tom informed me that
the call was actually for me. At first, I thought it was Bishop McCormack, then
the Pope. Finally, I realized it was God the Almighty Himself. He informed me
that, even with my twenty-eight years of experience at giving homilies, He
wanted to hear from someone else. I called up five of the candidates, who were
still reeling over my dramatization and just beginning to realize that it was all an
act. And they were fantastic in sharing their awesome experience with the rest of
the congregation.
After Mass, everyone was buzzing about my performance. People
thought I had flipped, lost it, and that my tirade was real.
Yes, I accept this award, and I would first of all like to thank my good
friend, Bobby DeNiro, for helping me prepare for this role. I would also like to
thank…
July 7, 2004
Our Provincial Chapter
Two weeks ago, Father Tom and I attended the Provincial Chapter of the
Franciscans, held at the Friar Tuck Inn in Catskill, New York. This resort is
probably a very apropos place for a chapter of Franciscans, since the whole
décor of the place is “Franciscan,” or should I say, “friar.” There are statues and
pictures of friars on the walls, and the rooms are aptly named for medieval times.
Friar Tuck, from the legend of Robin Hood, was a pudgy priest from English
folklore, who, armed with a sword, a bow, and a merry temperament, was one of
Robin Hood’s best-known men. He was known as one of the best swordsmen
and archers in the land. Tuck has long been identified as a Franciscan, although
some believe he may have been actually a Benedictine. But whatever the case,
many people easily identify our Franciscan robes with Friar Tuck. I jokingly said
that every time I was in the lobby of the Inn during our stay there, someone was
asking me to take their luggage to their rooms. But actually, many of the guests
of the inn mistakenly identified us as staff, or some kind of mascots.
Provincial Chapters are always a great experience for the friars, and this
one was no exception. Although there was a tremendous amount of work to be
done, one of the key aspects of the chapter is coming together with the other
friars; some of us friends for many, many years. Sharing our lives together for
these brief days is such a delight; celebrating the Liturgy together, praying
together, sharing meals, having a good time, all make the hard work well
worthwhile.
During the Chapter, we confirmed Father Robert as our Provincial for
another six years, and we elected our new leadership who will assist him in his
decision-making. I mentioned last weekend that I was elected to the Provincial
Council, what we call a “Provincial Definitor.” It’s a position I held before, back in
1989, with another Provincial. The Council is not technically involved in the dayto-day operation of the province, but rather serves much like a pastoral council,
in giving advice and “counsel” to the provincial. There are certain aspects of
decision making that do require a vote of the Provincial Council, however, but
most of the regular operations are left to the Provincial and his staff.
The office of Provincial Definitor is not a full time assignment. Rather, it is
a position of service to the friars of our province, and I know from my past
experience on the council that the friars are not reluctant to let you know what’s
bothering them. However, as much as that may seem to be a full time job, like
the other four council members, I will receive a full time ministry position when
we begin meeting on July 6th.
On July 6th, the next phase of our chapter begins. This part does not
involve the one hundred ten friars who took part in the Provincial Chapter, but
rather the Provincial, Vicar Provincial, the Council, and the Visitor General, who
is sent from another province to oversee our activities. At these meetings, new
superiors of friars and pastors will be appointed for another term of three years.
While election of superiors is a pretty straightforward job, pastors must be preapproved by the local bishops before any announcement can be made.
All dioceses today require some kind of background check on any friar
coming into their diocese, priest or not, and all pastors and associate pastors
must be approved (and ultimately appointed) by the local bishop. What the postchapter meeting does, is “nominate” a friar for the position, since those of us who
are pastors, function as part of the local diocese and under the bishop. The way
this works specifically is that, in matters of the friary and the life of the friars, the
jurisdiction is under the provincial, while the parish and any activities regarding
the operation of the parish are under the ordinary, in our case, the Bishop of
Manchester, John McCormack.
Please keep us in your prayers this coming week, as we ask the Holy
Spirit to guide us in all our decisions.
July 25, 2004
Life in a Parish
One of the things that I have to admit about working all these years in a
parish is that your days are so unpredictable. No matter how carefully you might
plan your schedule, there is always something that makes you throw it all out the
window: sometimes an emergency, an unexpected appointment, or just a spur of
the moment change. I could never imagine myself working in a nine-to-five
situation, traveling the highways during the rush hour, doing the same thing over
and over again, no matter how interesting or important. Yes, it’s definitely the
diversity that makes parish work so interesting and, at times, so much fun.
Let’s face it, in a parish I get to deal with all kinds of people: young and
old, rich and poor, very educated and less educated. A typical week will bring
me into contact with the children from our school, the residents of Integrated
Health Services, an anointing at Parkland Hospital, marriage preparation and
marriage counseling (yes, sometimes we get to talk to couples on both ends of a
marriage). I will need to deal with my staff personnel, with salespeople, a variety
of parishioners coming to the office for all kinds business, and, if that isn’t
enough, have a lengthy, intellectual conversation with Blue. I bet a lot of you talk
to your dogs, too. And I have to admit that sometimes I get more feedback from
Blue than I do from some people.
Yes, I often wish that people were more like dogs. Blue wears his feelings
on his face, and are reflected in his whole body. When I come home from a trip,
he’s there at the door to greet me. I call him “the tongue” because he is so black
that all I can see through the screen door is his pink tongue. And there he is,
jumping for joy, wagging his tail so hard he’s putting dents into the walls, ready to
jump up and give me a lick on the nose. There’s no doubt about his sentiments;
it’s pure joy. Blue also knows when he’s fallen out of favor: getting a little to
rough with a visitor, or barking at someone. Just one sound of my stern voice
has him put his head down, giving me a mournful, sorrowful look. I usually
chuckle to myself. Blue is a lesson in humility and penitence. A great lesson for
those of us who find it hard to say, “I’m sorry.”
Whenever I cook, Blue gives me those “begging” eyes, waiting for a
morsel of food. And he knows what a slob I can be when it comes to cooking,
that he’s sure to get a belly full just from what falls on the floor. Blue gets super
excited when I take him down to the dog park, or to Brenda Reagan’s to see his
friends Riggs, Maggie, and Gabby (three black labs, Maggie and Gabby are
Blue’s sisters by another litter). He can’t restrain himself, and will jump out the
car window if I let him. The four of them will play and play to the point of
exhaustion.
So, I guess in all of this, you have heard the news that I have received a
new assignment- as Pastor of the Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua, in
New York City. This is not only the church where I was ordained, it is the Mother
Church of our Franciscan Province, founded in 1866. This church, located in the
SoHo section of Manhattan (SoHo stands for south of Houston- the church sits
on Houston Street), is one of the oldest Italian churches in the country, although
now it is a territorial (geographical) parish. It is also right around the corner from
our Provincial Headquarters, and there are currently about twenty-five friars living
in the three friars there.
Many of you have asked if Blue was being transferred to New York City,
too, and my answer has been the same, “of course.” Although he won’t be
receiving an official “obedience” from the provincial, I wouldn’t think of leaving
Blue behind. I’ve checked out our new neighborhood, and there’s a dog park
only a few blocks away. I’m sure Blue will make a lot of new friends. And
someday, if for some reason, you’re visiting New York City, you might see me
and Blue walking down the Great White Way. Who knows?
August 22, 2004
Dedication and Farewell
A few years ago I attended Father Mike Bercik’s fiftieth birthday party at
his parish in Marlboro, Massachusetts. Father Mike, you will remember, is your
new pastor. The birthday bash was actually a roast. I told Father Mike after it
was over that such an event would, “never happen at Saint Thomas. They
wouldn’t dare do that to me.” Well, I guess I was wrong. I don’t know if my staff
and friends assumed some additional courage, knowing that I was leaving, and I
am sure that they had great glee (as did the crowd in the Aquinas Center) as my
whole life was shredded apart, but it was certainly a lot of fun, even for me, the
victim.
The whole day, in fact, was very special, beginning with the dedication of
the Aquinas Center. The Mass, celebrated by Bishop John McCormack, was
fantastic, and I did not expect that it would be a Mass in my honor as well. This
is what happens when you give too much authority to your staff. I had wanted
everything wrapped up in a neat package, not confusing the dedication with
either my leaving or Father Tom’s farewell. Instead, the weekend got jumbled
into all of the above.
Most of the events of the weekend were a surprise. I admit I had some
suspicions about it all, and the committee went through heroic efforts to keep the
plans secret. Father Tom told me that even the bishop was in on the plan, even
changing the date of the dedication. I had received an email I wasn’t supposed to
see a few weeks earlier, so I knew that something was in the works. I was aware
of secret meetings, efforts to get me out of the friary, staff people missing from
their desks for periods of time. That morning I thought it was odd that I couldn’t
find a bulletin to do the announcements for Sunday Mass. Father Tom told me to
trust my staff and mind my own business. I retreated to the living room and
watched the Olympic games. I also thought it was odd that the whole gymnasium
was set up in such a fancy way; kind of overkill for cheese and crackers, wouldn’t
you say?
When I walked into the church for the dedication Mass, and saw my sister
Angela and her husband there, I knew what was happening. And finally, Father
Tom made the announcement that the Mass was to be, not only for the
dedication of the Aquinas Center, but in my honor. At the Mass, there were
several speakers who told the congregation of the impact my ministry and
friendship had on their lives; Brittany McNally, a recent graduate from our school;
my good friend Brenda Reagan (the very fact that she got in front of the church
speaks volumes of her love for me); and my Derry “family,” Bob and Teresa
Tekin. The bishop had some great things to say, as did Father Tom.
That evening, three hundred people filled the gymnasium for my dinner
and “roast.” The roast really wasn’t that bad; everything was said with great love
and devotion, from my Italian roots (Jack Kukowski’s elaboration of “Father Joe
as Godfather”), Mark Santos, telling what it’s like to be one of “Joe’s boys,” Aaron
and Adam Tekin’s PowerPoint show; Frank, Dave, and Jarrod’s songs about me
(don’t quit your day jobs, guys); Dan Mitchell’s letter about what he learned living
with me; and John Pellegrini’s barbs about the Yankees, (coming, of course, as
the Yankees pulled ten and one half games ahead of the lowly, sad Red Sox). In
the end, it was a lot of fun, and I know everyone had a good time. In the midst of
all the fun, there were a lot of wonderful things said. My good friend Phyllis
Katsakiores, a state representative and member of the Derry town council,
present me with decrees from New Hampshire Governor Craig Benson and the
Derry town council, and I teased her because it was nine p.m. when I found out
that August 14th had been declared, “Father Joe Lorenzo Day” in the town of
Derry. Gee, I would have gone on a binge if I had known that earlier.
As Brittany said during the Mass, I have always been a great tease, and I
know that every so often it is through joking and teasing that we really express
our love and affection for each other. And I felt that tremendously from everyone
present. I guess I was also humbled, not by the jokes, but by all the great things
that were said. I felt sometimes like they were talking about someone else. As I
said in my concluding remarks, I just tried to do my job, and to say, “Yes” when it
was sometimes easier to say, “No.” I never felt that I was doing anything heroic,
only that I was doing my job and what God wanted me to do.
In the end, I am eternally grateful to Father Tom, my staff, pastoral
council, and all those who made this day special for me. I will always have these
wonderful memories of my friends and co-workers here at Saint Thomas.
August 24, 2004
Moving On - My Swan Song
Start spreading the news, This is my last day.
I’m gonna be a part of it - New York, New York.
These size 13 shoes, will no longer stray,
I’m starting something new in
New York, New York.
I want to wake up in the city of my birth,
And all those restaurants in town I hope they don’t add to my girth.
These Derry town blues, aren’t melting away,
I’m leaving all of you, my friends, For old New York.
You know I’ll miss you so,
In fact, it’s hard to go,
But soon I’ll be in New York, New York.
Start spreading the news, this is my last day,
And I’ll miss every one of you, in New York, New York.
That 10:30 Mass, it’s really been great,
But it will never be the same, in old New York.
And now the View from my Window will really change,
To be of concrete and steel, it will really be strange.
I’ve had a great time throughout all of these years,
But now it’s almost time to go, - I’m holding back tears.
You know I’ll miss you so,
In fact it’s hard to go.
But soon I’ll be in New York, New York.
(Here start your “Radio City Rockettes kick”)
August 24, 2004
Drawing the Shades - My Final View
These past two weeks have been very emotional for me. I remember
when I left my parish in Pittsburgh back in 1989, how I cried for days before I left,
and even longer when I arrived at my new assignment. I know this will be a
similar experience. My attachment isn’t to the buildings or structures; yes, not
even to the new Aquinas Center. Rather, it is my love for the people of this parish
that will make my transfer more difficult.
A church, after all, is composed of people. The buildings and programs all
help us in our desire to accomplish God’s will, but it is the people who matter the
most. So it is no wonder that my memories of Saint Thomas are filled with
images of people who have touched my life during these ten years.
My first memories are of the wonderful prayer warriors of our parish; so
many of you, men and women who, from my earliest days at Saint Thomas,
stormed heaven with your prayers and intercessions, first, that I would become
pastor here (even though it’s not what I wanted), and through the years, with your
constant support, care, and concern. I guess the fact that I became pastor
proves your prayers are more powerful than mine! (Remember, I was praying for
any place but Derry.) I can’t tell you how much I appreciated your prayers, those
times when you prayed over me, especially in the more difficult times. Those
were powerful moments and humbling as well, powerful knowing the faith-filled
people I was working with, and humbling, knowing how my own faith was the size
of a mustard seed in comparison to yours. I would have to admit, that I have
never experienced so much spirituality and faith as I have in this parish.
I was strengthened by so many friends, as well as people who were never
afraid to tell me what they thought, to hug me when I needed to be touched, and
who stood by me when I acted as though I wanted to be left alone. When Jesus
told his disciples that, if they gave up their families, they would find a multitude of
fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers in abundance; I have certainly found a
countless number of you who have been father, mother, sister, brother, and even
son and daughter to me.
I know that, no matter how my pastorate will be ultimately judged, any
successes I have had were not my own, but belonged to the many leaders in our
parish who were allowed to function in their proper capacity. The first of these
would have to be my fellow friars, who journeyed on this road with me, in
particular most recently Brother Courtland and Father Tom. These two were
always there to support me, and accomplished great things in our parish. They
touched many lives and stirred many hearts. I am appreciative of my staff people
who took their obligations seriously and did a great job in the process. I will
always remember such people as Rachel Bernier and Sandy Sherman, who
stood guard at the office door (and phone) to protect me from salespeople and
unwanted visitors. Sandy has been a godsend for this parish and for me,
functioning as business manager, and relieving me of much of the minutiae of
administration, reminding me of important events on my schedule, upcoming
birthdays, and never hesitating to tell me what she thought I should do.
I have learned much from the compassion of people like Pam Lamontagne
who, in guiding our outreach ministries, has demonstrated Christ’s love for the
vulnerable and the poor. Another great partner in ministry and co-worker has
been Deacon Gary Long. He has been involved in many ministries, such as
RCIA, preaching, baptism instructions, and many have come to know our faith in
a special way through his, and his wife, Priscilla’s efforts. Gary, you know that
Father Tom preached longer than both of us combined!
Before I came to Saint Thomas, I never even dreamed that the young men
and women in any youth program could reach the level of spirituality that I have
seen in our youth here at Saint Thomas. Father Tom, Laurel, Maureen, and the
youth team have done a fantastic job in bringing forth a level of faith that I never
thought possible. When I look at our young people here in Derry, the Masters of
Ceremonies, the Confirmation classes, the Steubenville weekends, the
missionaries spending their vacations in Ecuador or Honduras, the teens
storming the altar after the seven o’clock Sunday Masses or kneeling in
adoration before the Blessed Sacrament, I am filled with so much pride and
confidence in the future of our church.
I probably will miss our Sunday liturgies the most, especially the beautiful
music of our adult choir and our contemporary groups. Being a musician, I know
it has been difficult to keep me satisfied in these areas, but I have found our
music groups to be immensely competent as well as prayerful. I cannot tell you
the feeling of standing up at the presider’s chair and looking out over our Sunday
congregations singing and praying together, lifting up hands in praise, dancing,
giving praise. It is something I will always remember and cherish. Thanks
Emery and Frank for the beautiful music you have given us, as well as cantors,
choir members, and instrumentalists for all our masses. Thank you, Steve, for all
the memories I will take with me through your recording ministry.
I will always cherish Saint Thomas because of its family atmosphere and
the tremendous children of the parish. Having been blessed with a thriving
school, a fantastic religious education program, and so many things that are
family and children oriented, I will always hold close in my heart the families and
children who have become so much a part of my life. I will in particular
remember my visits to the classes at the school, the pageants and programs, the
Christmas carols and nativity plays (especially playing the little shepherd boy with
two live sheep coming down the aisle of the church for Christmas masses), and
harassing parents at sacramental preparation programs. Thanks so much to
Sister Jackie and her school staff and faculty for making our school the best
school in the diocese, as well as to Coral Ropple for her great work with our
religious education program, her diligence and hard work, and the many
parishioners who assist her in that program as catechists and assistants.
I will always smile when I think about the fun we had, how I loved ribbing
all you Red Sox fans about my Yankees, the funny moments of homilies, my
introduction of “baccala” at the Christmas midnight Mass (yes, gloves and all),
the look on the children’s faces when I caught a twenty-six-inch walleye while
fishing in the baptismal font, the fun homilies after retreats (especially this year’s
cell phone “rant” that fooled so many of you into thinking that I had lost it),
throwing around a real cow’s heart after surgery on a STATEC retreat, or
throwing up my pepperoni pizza on a Friday during my Penance talk. I think we
did a lot of laughing during these ten years.
I will miss my special places; the garden pond, the back deck of the friary,
the view from my window in my office, the sound of the church bell, spuckies at
Riga Tony’s, dinners at the Coliseum, fishing at Arlington or Island Ponds, driving
up Rt. 1 into Maine to Nubble Light, or trips to see the moose in Pittsburg, with
Aaron, our New York trips with Aaron, Adam, Peter, and Mark (Joe’s boys);
catching a show in Boston or at the Loop, the mussels and Barbados wings at
Café Teresa, teasing the folks at the two nursing homes, and harassing the
nurses at three in the morning at Parkland Hospital for not having my bacon and
eggs ready (well, maybe I will miss it more if it were a little later in the day). I’m
going to miss the tent revivals, the Pentecost celebrations, pig roasts, school
auctions, watching Blue bound across the school yard to play with the kids,
extorting five dollars from the First Communion classes, and harassing the
Confirmation classes. I will miss the hugs of the little children in the schoolyard,
listening to Sandy and Pam filling each other in on the latest parish news in the
office, giving dirty looks to “clinking” Eucharistic ministers, and scaring the
daylights out of the new altar servers as they attempt to wash my hands during
mass. I will miss the view from my window and from my presider’s chair. I will
miss the staff parties and singing “I am the very model of a modern major
general.”
I will miss you, Bob and Teresa, Aaron, Adam, Pete, Mark, Sister Jackie,
Sandy, Pam and Gary and your wonderful kids, Brenda, Coral and Dave, Mike
and Chris (thanks for giving me Blue), Joe Gags, (this list can go on and on), and
all of you who touched my life in a special way. I love you so much.
In the end, I thank Almighty God for giving me the privilege of serving you
for these past ten years. I ask for your forgiveness if, through my own human
frailty and weakness, I have offended or hurt anyone, or failed to meet anyone’s
expectations. As I draw the shades on my window, please know that you will
always be clearly seen in the view from my Heart. God bless you always.
Love,
Father Joe