FRIARside Chats

Meet the (Almost) Ex-Novices

2011-05-20T11:43:00.000-07:00

By tradition, the Franciscan novitiate, or training period for new members, is “a year and a day.” Although this year’s trial period for newcomers to the St. Barbara Province of the Franciscan friars (OFM) falls a few days short of the customary mark, it still marks a significant chunk of time for a man discerning a commitment to religious life.

This week, I stumbled upon our Province’s four novices while attending a meeting of our Definitorium (read: Board of Directors) at the San Damiano Retreat Center in Danville, California. The foursome were themselves attending a week-long meeting with their novice-confreres from other parts of the United States prior to their first profession of vows on June 24 at the St. Francis Retreat Center in San Juan Bautista, California. I took advantage of some break time to pull our brothers aside for a brief conversation about their novitiate year. They are a great group of men, and I’d like to introduce them to you, if I may:

Brother Mario Espitia, 29, hails from Los Angeles, California and is a trained social worker/counselor. Prior to his entry into the Order, Brother Mario worked in an East LA neighborhood program for children, teenagers, and their families. I asked him to reflect a bit about his time at our provincial novitiate at Old Mission San Miguel, California:

“When I started in novitiate, I expected to be bored and incarcerated all year. And instead, I feel like I’ve been freed. Liberated. Right now, I feel good. I’m happy. It’s not what I had expected in the beginning. When I entered the novitiate, I had a very unclear idea of what I was supposed to do at that point in my life. I was afraid of what it meant to be a Franciscan, a novice, and to have a commitment to the year. Now, I can’t say that the fears have left completely, but I am more aware of them. I have more trust in God, which I realized I didn’t have much in the beginning. More trust in the discernment process, and in the Franciscans.”

“For me, the lessons of the year were mostly family-related. I was struggling with resentments, anger... difficulties I had in growing up. I have been working on this and learning the Gospel way of life, the Rule (of the Order), and the words of St. Francis. I realized that if I am to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, I would have to let go, and to see the goodness of God even in the suffering, in the difficult moments of life. I used to believe that God was not present in the difficult moments in our family, that He was absent, but I learned that is not true. Now, I have come to be more compassionate with those who are struggling and feel alone. I feel more connected to the call to forgiveness and to love.”

Brother Mario reports that he has found the Franciscan lifestyle both demanding and rewarding. “Five times a week, we had Scripture reflection. It’s a challenging thing to do daily. It pushes you to go deeper and to try to think how your life is reflected in the Gospels. It was difficult for me at times because I don’t always want to accept my brokenness, shortcomings…. One of the high points for me was going to the Bay Area with my brother novices. We would go to the Saint Anthony Foundation in San Francisco to help out at the dining room once a month, serving food to the guests and interacting with them—sitting down and having lunch with them and talking with them. I didn’t wear my habit on those occasions. I didn’t want the guests to have any filters about what they wanted to talk about.... But when I finally told them I was a friar, they were surprised and grateful that I could have an open conversation with them, that I was non-judgmental and embracing of what they were. I could see myself in them and my own family—all that we went through—that might have led us to homelessness, substance abuse problems, and so on. We didn’t have that, but we could have. It helped me to grow in compassion and solidarity with the poor.”

After his first profession of vows on June 24, Brother Mario will be moving to the Bay Area to start studies at the Franciscan School of Theology in Berkeley. He will also be preparing for his professional certification as a licensed clinical social worker. He does not have plans to prepare for ordination to the priesthood, “but I am open.”

Friar Juan Jose Jauregui, 30, is a native of Zacatecas, Mexico, but after arriving in the United States with his family, he lived in Hayward, California, and worked in a restaurant at the Oakland Airport. Brother Juan is a quiet, soft-spoken man. When he speaks in English, he does so slowly but also clearly and deliberately, and doesn’t waste his words:

“ We have a saying in Spanish: ‘La juventud no es un talento; es una condicion fisica, que tarde o temprano termina. Disfrutala.’/ ‘Youth is not a talent; it is a physical condition which will end sooner or later. Enjoy it!’” Right now, I feel glad. Glad and blessed from God. Because the novitiate was a very different and very beautiful experience in my life. It was different from my other years with the Franciscans in postulancy and at the House of Welcome (our former ESL house.—ed) This year, I took time for myself to reflect, to think, to enjoy everyday life and appreciate my faith a bit more…. The year was beautiful for me because I discovered that I have a good relationship with the Lord. There was no real “best” experience for me. I liked the whole year. I can’t tell you specifics.”

“At first I thought there would be more solitude, more quiet time. And that it would be a very academic thing. There were definitely a lot of challenges. For me, one of the biggest challenges was learning more English. Sometimes I had some difficulties to communicate with others only in English.”

“After novitiate, I plan to go back to English classes again to improve my English and take some regular classes, too, at Laney Community College in Oakland. I feel called to be a brother (instead of an ordained priest), but I don’t really know right now exactly what I will do. I’m having like a disagreement with myself right now about exactly what career I will follow. I would like to be a nurse assistant or a caregiver of some kind because I like to help sick people.”

“When I think of my Franciscan life, I feel blessed. And proud of myself and my family. Because finally I am reaching one of my goals that I was feeling since I was a child. I am especially proud of my family because they taught me my faith, especially my mom, my dad, and one of my grandmothers.”

Brother Scott Slattum, 36, is a native of Salem, Oregon. Prior to his entry into the Franciscan community, he worked as a parish youth minister and director of religious education. In addition, he was active in education and prevention programs for youth affected by alcohol, tobacco, and drug addiction.

As Brother Scott tells it, “I didn’t really come in to the novitiate with expectations. I think I came in pretty much open; I was sort of looking forward to it. I had been very active, very busy in ministry, so I thought it would be great to step back and re-root myself in prayer. I was in a very busy ministry.”

“The year has been excellent. It has been pure gift. At the beginning of our year, our novice master, Brother Regan, asked us to write down our greatest fears. I put down ‘fear of rejection, of not being loveable’. (During the year), I discovered that I am definitely loved and loveable. I found freedom. And I found it in fraternity; it was a turning point for me when John, one of my fellow novices, left. . . . It was painful, but also a very growing moment. I wanted to talk him out of leaving, but I realized that this life is one in which I cannot claim ownership over other people’s love for me, or my love for them.”

“ I was also coming into novitiate with a fear of conflict. Living in community, in close quarters, not having any down time for your brothers, you can’t avoid it. But something happens along the way where you learn to sit with those uncomfortable feelings. Recently, of my brothers and I were struggling with something. We sat down and talked it over. I acknowledged my part and he did his, and then we went forward. The encounter wasn’t anything traumatic; it was sort of “Oh, this is actually nice.”

“Next, I will be moving to St. Elizabeth Parish in Oakland, California after taking some philosophy classes this summer with other student friars at Mission San Luis Rey. In terms of studies, they (our formation directors) are still working on that. I would like to remain a brother. I just feel called to be a brother to others, to walk with people, to journey with them as an equal. One of the things I would like to do is work with alcohol, tobacco, and drug prevention in a community setting.”

Brother Sam Nasada, 33, was born in Jakarta, Indonesia, and worked as an industrial engineer in the Los Angeles area before entering the Franciscans. As far as his novitiate year is concerned, he reports that:

“What I feel right now, toward the end of the year, is that it’s been a long year with a lot of growth. At first, at the beginning of our time together, I didn’t have a lot of expectations, so I came to the novitiate to continue whatever the next process would be in Franciscan life. Maybe I was hoping-- after hearing from previous novices-- to deepen my spirituality, my prayer life. People told me that’s what they experienced most.”

“Now, after a year: it worked! It was probably the biggest growth in me: to become contemplative. It woke up this side in me; something I never thought I would be comfortable with before, since I am not joining a monastic order. To be in silence, to focus on my interior prayer, to be comfortable in that and to enjoy it. It was something gradual. Knowing that having that kind of prayer is soothing, peaceful. Not just the official, or formal prayer time, but throughout the day. And this is the other surprise—it is the contemplative experience I get from working outside in the vineyard, even playing with the cat. All these things. To be really in the moment, to enjoy creation and to be contemplative through and with creation.”

“What’s next? I’ll have come vacation time, summer school, summer camp. After that, definitely philosophy studies. I will be moving to the Bay Area... I am attracted to the priesthood. It has been difficult sometimes (to think about becoming a priest), maybe because most people around me are not looking to ordination. . . . I think I need some more role models… people who have the same desire toward ordination as I do.”

Brother Kelly Cullen: A Eulogy by Laurence P. Dolan ofm

2010-11-29T20:25:00.000-08:00

The following eulogy was printed as part of the worship aid for the funeral Mass of Brother Kelly Cullen ofm, on Monday, November 29, 2010 at Mission San Luis Rey Parish, Oceanside, California. The author, Fr. Larry Dolan ofm, is Guardian of the local Franciscan fraternity at Old Mission San Luis Rey. -ct

MY BROTHER HAS DIED
It was a Sunday in 1987. I was pastor of Church of the Resurrection in Escondido, California. Kelly’s mother and father were parishioners. And into church bounced Brother Kelly Cullen, OFM. He wanted to meet this diocesan priest who was about to join the Franciscan Order. His parents had spoken well of me; but you who know and love him would not be surprised to hear that he wanted to check me out for himself.

I knew instantly that we would become friends in time. Until becoming guardian here at Mission San Luis Rey, I had never lived in community with Kelly. But our paths crossed when he was in San Francisco and I in Oakland; we saw each other at province events; and, in general, we stayed in touch, particularly during the years when I was at the Franciscan Renewal Center in Scottsdale, Arizona, and he was on our board of directors.

An entirely new vista of friendship and understanding opened up when Kelly entered the world of recovery. I have been sober since June 7, 1982, and I was delighted to discover that Kelly was deepening his spirituality and changing his life through the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. I became a trusted friend and advisor as he began to journey in this new path of freedom from addictions.

Kelly was giving a retreat at the Franciscan Renewal Center one weekend when I was celebrating a farewell Mass for the lay community as I was preparing to leave and take up my responsibilities here at Mission San Luis Rey. He was something to behold. The retreat was one he created based on “The Wizard of Oz.” There he was in the first row of the conventual church, clad in his Franciscan habit, and wearing the brightest red shoes you can imagine. He told me afterwards that everybody around him was crying because I was leaving, and he found himself crying too (you know how easy it was for him to cry!). Then he said to those around him: “What am I crying for? Larry is coming to live with me at San Luis Rey!”

What a joy he was to have in community. His passion for justice, for the poor, the marginalized, for his recovery program all rubbed off on the rest of us friars. He was more than a spark in the community – he was a burning flame, ever encouraging, ever willing to serve. All of us join with his family and with all of his friends in feeling his loss. But, you know what? He will always be part of me and of everybody who ever met him. May his beautiful soul rest in peace. Amen.

Brother Kelly Cullen ofm: Funeral

2010-11-29T15:57:00.001-08:00

OCEANSIDE, CALIFORNIA November 29, 2010.
At 11:30 sharp, the Old Mission’s bells began to toll. Slow, steady, strong. Mourners: family, friars, guests, friends, parishioners, admirers ambled in gentle procession from the Serra Center to the friars’ vault in the cemetery next door. No one was in a hurry for the final farewell. But within the hour, we would lay our brother to rest in the crypt alongside nearly a score of confreres who lived, worked, prayed, and died in this lovely place..

Minister Provincial Father John Hardin ofm presided at the Mass of Resurrection. Franciscan Guardian, Father Larry Dolan concelebrated as did Father Ray Bucher, who preached the final funeral homily. Fr. Adrian Peelo, a confrere of Kelly’s at San Luis Rey, was liturgist and master of ceremonies. The vast worship space was full, with more than a thousand congregants. Friars from throughout California and Arizona were in attendance, as well as members of the extended Cullen clan. The mood was one of gentleness, gravity, acceptance and grace. More than two weeks had passed since the shocking news of our brother’s untimely death in Italy had reached us. At last he was home; it was time to put him to rest.

Close friends—Sister Dorothy McCormick, Brother Timothy Arthur, Franciscan Covenant members Kay Sempel and Mark Beglin—did the Scripture readings and lead intercessory prayer. Father Adrian offered an Irish-language version of Psalm 23—“The Lord is My Shepherd”—and a combined parish choir complemented the musical aspect of the worship.

“They say that if you really want to understand Italians,” began Father Ray, “your really need to know one thing. That for every Italian, as each day begins, the curtain opens and they are on stage.” (Laughter)… “Well, Brother Kelly was Irish, not Italian, but he certainly was on stage a lot of the time, wasn’t he.” Father Ray has known Kelly since our brother’s early days with the Franciscans nearly 30 years ago: “He went to Assisi and prayed for many hours at the tomb of St. Francis. It gave him a sense of clarity about his vocation. We, his formators, weren’t that sure about his ‘clarity’ at first.”

Father Ray went on to describe each of what he called the various stages of Kelly’s life—the distinct areas into which he poured his considerable intelligence, passion, and commitment through the course of his adult life: Kelly’s early enthusiasm for politics (Kelly’s great uncle was a former governor of the State of Washington. As a teenager, Kelly himself worked as a Congressional page, part-time chauffeur to former Speaker of the US House of Representatives Tom Foley, then political organizer…..His work with disabled adults in the l’Arche community in France commenced shortly after college graduation was a seminal experience: “Kelly learned that to work for the poor, you needed to live with them.” The twin lessons of immersion/conversion continued as Kelly jumped with both feet into community organizing work in San Francisco’s hardscrabble Tenderloin neighborhood: “He started first by working with children, lobbying successfully to turn parking lots into parks.” Then Kelly—“yes, he was ambitious”— moved into direct service to the poor through the Franciscan’s own St. Anthony Foundation. Later, he moved on to take leadership of the TNDC (Tenderloin Neighborhood Development Coalition): under his tenure, the stock of SRO’s (single room occupancy hotel spaces) for the poor tripled. An accomplished fundraiser, he was also a superb “fun-raiser” and “could talk anyone into anything.”

Brother Kelly the Activist was also Brother Kelly the actor, poet, lover of music and the arts, and devotee nonpareil of the cinema. Kelly devoured movies “and he was happy to see a film two or three times. He would watch something again with you just to see you experience the pleasure of viewing something for the first time.” His encyclopedic knowledge of film was legendary and was not infrequently rewarded with competition prizes, including year-long free passes, a hotel stay in Monaco, and a safari to South Africa.

“What propelled and supported all of this intense, sometimes frenetic involvement was Kelly’s contemplative side: his deep love of God and devotion to prayer.” In more recent years, Kelly turned his attention to bereavement ministry and retreat work. His highly successful “Wizard of Oz” retreats drew participants from every faith tradition and none. In true Brother Kelly fashion, he would sport a pair of sparkling ruby slippers for the occasion.

“Now, at last, his wildness has been tamed…. and fulfilled in the Presence of God and God’s Love,” concluded Father Ray. Our brother had finally and most completely come home.

Following the interment in the friars’ vaults, family, friars, and guests snacked on sandwiches and brownies in the Mission courtyard. The wind was brisk, but the winter sun was bright and high and warm and loving. Just what Kelly would have ordered. Rest in Peace, Brother.

PS: A memorial service will be held for Brother Kelly on Friday, December 3, 3pm, at St. Boniface Church, San Francisco, California. -ct

Brother Kelly: Vigil & Wake

2010-11-29T15:12:00.000-08:00

The congregation—about 600 of Kelly’s closest friends and relatives—sat quietly in the dimly lit sanctuary at the Serra Center, (Mission San Luis Rey Parish, Oceanside, California). About ten minutes after the scheduled time, Kelly arrived—his coffin borne by an honor guard of eight male pallbearers. Eyes rolled; a murmur and chuckle coursed through the sanctuary: “That’s Kelly! Always late. Even for his own funeral. ”

Kelly had come home. Home to his family—all of his family: his blood relatives, his Franciscan confreres, his brothers and sisters in the recovery community, his parish family, his family of former strangers who, once met, were instantly won over by his wit, magic, and charm.

Kelly’s ‘magic’ played a large role in the eulogies given at the conclusion of the service of evening prayer led by Father Larry Dolan, ofm, Guardian of the Franciscan community at Mission San Luis Rey. As ancient, chanted psalms yielded to readings from Scripture and the Testament of Saint Francis, we entered into a space of prayer and reflection; many quietly shed tears. Fr. Larry preached briefly about the story of Lazarus, the friend of Jesus who had been dead three days before being raised to life again by the Lord: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” “Such a human question, “ Larry reflected. “But the Lord was present when Lazarus died…. And I am just as certain that the Lord was present with Kelly as well…. Our loving God will never abandon us.”

Prayers and incense gave way to shared reflections at the conclusion of the service. Jackie Bickford, parishioner, friend, and fellow cycling enthusiast, spoke first. She mentioned the deep bonds of affection between Kelly and her entire family that had grown and strengthened in the past three years. “He was my buddy, my friend, my brother, “ she concluded, as heads nodded in agreement. Kelly would have been that way to so many people.

Friends from the recovery movement—Kelly had been intimately involved in both Alcoholics Anonymous and Al-Anon in recent years—spoke next. Kathy from Al-Anon talked about the man whom she just knew from the get-go would be a great friend and companion in recovery. “ I just knew we were going to have fun…. He took everyone just as they were. He accepted them completely and totally without judgment.” Heads nodded again. “And there were times when he drove me completely crazy.” More heads bobbed in amused agreement….. John, his sponsor, spoke of a man completely dedicated to the spiritual path of the Twelve Steps and fully immersed in his own recovery. Anyone who knew Kelly in recent years would agree totally. “I went to an AA meeting with Kelly once, “ his brother Brian later commented. “When I entered those rooms, I encountered such honesty…. Such complete humility.”

Kelly’s niece, Erin Cullen-Harris, remembered the babysitting uncle who woke them from their naps to tromp barefoot in the forbidden precincts of the golf course near their home. “But we’re going to get into trouble,” she protested as Kelly led them prancing (and he “pranced a lot in this life” she added) through the mud and grass. “Whoooo caaaares?” was the response. “This is soooo much funnn!” That was Kelly.

Between the tears, more moments of mirth. Before the Master of Ceremonies, Fr. Adrian Peelo, another one of Kelly’s confreres here at San Luis Rey, introduced two of Kelly’s brothers (a third one, who lives in Thailand, sent his blessings), he presented Carol, “Kelly’s personal hairdresser.” No, that thick brown-to-black mane was not totally natural. Highlights were added in the secrecy of the salon’s kitchen. As were the gelled spikes that became one of Kelly’s coiffureal trademarks. No further secrets were revealed.

Brian and Barry Cullen spoke of their kid brother’s boundless energy. The ambitious Eagle Scout, Congressional page, chauffeur to a United States Senator. Party-giver and fundraiser extraordinaire: “If he walked in here tonight, he’d say—‘Great crowd. Let’s organize them for a fundraiser for the homeless.… Once Kelly made up his mind about something, there was absolutely no stopping him.”

Both siblings spoke of Kelly’s contemplative side as well: his need to stop and to appreciate, to savor whatever was happening. In and of the moment. They acknowledged his shadow side and struggles as well-- and his utter determination to live life intensely and to its fullest.

The evening ended with the dozen Franciscan friars present gathering around our brother’s casket to sing the “Ultima”, an ancient Latin hymn intoned whenever one of our own is laid to rest:

Ultima in mortis hora
Filium pro nobis ora
Bonam mortem impetra
Virgo mater domina
"When our day of life is ending 
Mary with your Son attending, 
Lead us home.
To you we call  Virgin Mother,
Queen of all."

A Book Review: American Grace

2010-11-22T12:20:00.000-08:00

American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us
Robert D. Putnam and David E. Campbell
Simon & Schuster: New York
c. 2010, 688pp. US$30.
ISBN: 10: 1416566716

In this exhaustive study of religious beliefs and practices in the United States, Professors Robert D. Putnam (of Harvard) and David E. Campbell (of Notre Dame) have provided a convincing aerial overview one of the most vital, dynamic, and fluid components of contemporary culture. Based upon a two-step, comprehensive interview survey (Faith Matters 2006, 2007) involving the participation of more than 3,000 subjects nationally, this comprehensive survey presents a series of findings that both affirm the importance of organized religion and at the same time call attention to important tensions (‘shocks’ and ‘aftershocks) that challenge its traditional role. Religious pluralism in America, they conclude, is thriving, yet shares a remarkable coexistence with polarization.

The authors concur that, unique among citizens of post-industrial societies in the world, Americans are an especially religious and religiously observant people—with more than 83% reporting that they belong to a specific religion, 59% reporting that they pray at least once a week, 40% reporting attendance at weekly services, , and nearly one-third responding that they read scripture once a week. This surprising depth, breadth, and resilience of American religious beliefs and practices, the authors attribute in part to the unique nature of United States society. The absence of a religious monopoly combined with an atmosphere of religious liberty has enabled faith involvement to flourish for more than two centuries.

At the same time that the authors point up to both the vibrant diversity and relative tolerance of contemporary American society with regard to religion, they also note three specific “societal shocks” that have generated current tensions and the emergence of a “fault line” separating evangelical Christians from others . The first, they maintain, was the period of “the sexually libertine 1960s,” which subsequently produced “a prudish aftershock of growth in conservative religion, especially evangelicalism, and an even more pronounced cultural presence for evangelicals, most noticeably in the political arena.” They assert that this evangelical revival emerged in the 1970s and began to recede by the early 1990s— sparked more by personal moral concerns rather than hot-button political issues: “Abortion and same-sex marriage are the glue holding the coalition of the religious together.”

The second aftershock from the Long Sixties—one which they assert is still reverberating—is that “a growing number of young people have come to disavow religion. “The politicization of religion has triggered a negative reaction among osme, mostly young, Americans… they perceive it as an extension of partisan politics with which they do not agree.” America is still a relatively religious country, but one with a growing “swath” of secularism, with approximately 15% of their respondents reporting no religious affiliation whatsoever.

Paradoxically, Putnam and Campbell maintain, that both religious pluralism and religious polarization somehow manage to coexist within American society. This, they explain, “lies in the face that, in America, religion is highly fluid…. Religions compete, adapt, and evolve as individual Americans freely move from one congregation to another, and even from one religion to another.” One third to one-half of all marriages, they maintain, are interfaith. Roughly one-third of Americans have changed religious affiliation during their lifetime. When it comes to religious identity and affiliation, they maintain, brand loyalty in terms of denominational identity is weak and traffic moves freely in and out of specific groups and communities. The consequent churn may cause people to realign into specific, like-minded clusters—but not necessarily bunkers—of coreligionists. On a grassroots level, they cite the Aunt Susan principle: we all have an Aunt Susan in our lives: “the sort of person who epitomizes what it means to be a saint, but whose religious background is different from our own.”

In terms of their consideration of the state of the Catholic Church in US society, the authors point to the maintenance of a steady, consistent bloc of about 25% of all Americans who identify themselves as Catholics—a proportion which has remained relatively unchanged over decades. At the same time, they are quick to note that this proportion has been maintained largely through immigration of Latinos. In contrast, “Anglo Catholics” have been leaving the Church in droves: “In terms of people in pews, the Catholic Church has lost roughly one-quarter of its strength over the last thirty-five years.” Elsewhere, their assessment is even more blunt: “…roughly 60 percent of all Americans today who were reared as Catholics are no longer practicing Catholics, half of them having left the church entirely…” This assessment is not news to anyone who has been following the institutional Church since Vatican II, but it is nevertheless disconcerting for this observant Catholic to see it verified so baldly.

Putnam and Campbell have established in an empirical way what historians and other cultural observers have already noted over time about the vitality and resilience of religious beliefs, values, and practices in American life. In this seminal work, they have effectively described the environment and named the issues at play in our own era.//

An Obit: Brother Kelly Cullen, Who Helped Build TNDC, Dies at 57

2010-11-22T11:44:00.000-08:00

The following article appeared in BeyondChron: San Francisco's Alternative Online Daily News and is reprinted here with permission. Our thanks to Randy Shaw, Director of the Tenderloin Housing Clinic and Editor of Beyond Chron, www.BeyondChron.org.
Photo (above): Former TNDC Director Bro. Kelly Cullen (left) with TNDC Director Don Falk and Sen. Mark Leno. Source: SF Chronicle. Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/missbigelow/detail?entry_id=74743#ixzz162iCEMZg --ct

Brother Kelly Cullen, who spent nearly 25 years in the Tenderloin neighborhood and played a critical role in building the Tenderloin Neighborhood Development Corp. (TNDC) died this weekend at age 57. Cullen headed TNDC from 1990-2005, transforming a small non-profit with limited capacity into one of the city's most productive housing development entities. He also built a highly professional fundraising operation to provide after-school programs and other services to low-income families living in TNDC buildings. I knew Brother Kelly almost from the day he arrived in the Tenderloin in the early 1980's, a young Franciscan excited to be among the urban poor. While I could not foresee that he would turn the then-shaky TNDC into the thriving entity it has become, Cullen was clearly a young man who would make his mark on the city.

TNDC was created when the Franciscans purchased four buildings in the Tenderloin as part of their mission to serve, and to live among, the poor. When TNDC subsequently became a housing development corporation in the 1980’s, it lacked the financial and administrative infrastructure typical of such organizations.

As a result, TNDC soon became administratively dysfunctional and suffered from severe financial problems. Executive Directors came and went with regularity, and when the job again became open and there were rumors that Cullen would be interested, I strongly encouraged him to apply for the job.

Despite his obvious ambitions, Cullen recognized the structural problems with TNDC and likely was concerned about his ability to surmount them. But he realized as I did that he was the only person who could get TNDC out of its mess, and would provide the charismatic leader the agency had long needed.

Lacking any experience in housing development, Cullen knew he would have to bring on top quality people to turn the agency around. His hiring of Don Falk as Housing Director in 1993 represented a turning point for the agency, and Cullen avoided further financial difficulties by upgrading TNDC's administrative capacity.

With a strong housing team in place, Cullen began rapidly expanding TNDC's building portfolio. TNDC has likely acquired more units than any other nonprofit during the past ten years, and has three major construction projects currently in the pipeline.

As TNDC was growing, Cullen sought to address its financial needs by building the group's donor base. The Tenderloin pool toss went from a small-scale event that included local politicians and activists to a major celebrity-studded event that brings TNDC over $250,000 a year.

The pool toss provided Cullen with entree into the San Francisco elite, the Pacific Heights crowd who loved the idea of contributing money to help a Franciscan priest help the downtrodden of the Tenderloin. Many of the city's wealthiest landlords, those opposing any efforts to expand rent control or eviction protections for low-income tenants, became donors to TNDC.

Despite his evolving relationships with the city's wealthy and powerful, Cullen remained committed to the best interests of the Tenderloin neighborhood. For example, in the late 1990’s, a Tenderloin community group facing financial troubles saw financial salvation in getting money to oversee the process of making the community a Redevelopment Area.

Although TNDC could have cut its own deal with Redevelopment, Cullen joined me in opposing making the Tenderloin a Project Area. When then-Supervisor Sue Bierman heard our testimony against Redevelopment, she withdrew her support for the plan; she said the people she trusted in the Tenderloin were against it, and that was enough for her.

By 2000, TNDC had a professional direct mail fundraising operation, annual events that generated six figure returns, and a donor base that likely exceeded any other local housing nonprofit. TNDC's website (TNDC.org) is a slick and professional product that makes giving easy, and even allows people to hear a talk from Brother Kelly on the group's mission.

But as TNDC's professionalized ambience grew, the organization seemed to forget that it was supposed to serve the needs of its tenants. Around 2000, renovation of four SRO's required tenant relocation, and the process was badly handled by TNDC. The property management division had continued turnover, and the talent Cullen had brought in on the development and financial side was not matched with the hiring of tenant-sensitive people in property management.

Further, conflicts between the Tenderloin's interests and those of Cullen began to emerge. In 2002 the battle over the proposed Hastings garage put Cullen in potential conflict with the President of the Hasting Board, who was a major TNDC donor.

The donor had informed Cullen of the garage project several months before the community learned of it, but Cullen kept the information to himself. Cullen joined the coalition against the garage but then criticized the tactics of those who broke up the Hastings Board meeting prior to its approval of the 885-spot project (the group included myself, Supervisor Chris Daly, Sister Bernie Galvin, Sam Dodge, James Tracy and Richard Marquez).

The mass arrest of these activists eventually led John Burton to demand that Hastings rescind its approval. But it was clear to garage opponents that Cullen had just gone through the motions of opposition, and did not want to risk a loss of TNDC funding by engaging in the tactics necessary for success.

In 2005, Cullen pushed the TNDC Board to oppose a Community Benefits District that would benefit Tenderloin residents. He took this position without making any effort to survey TNDC tenants, and in opposition to every tenant who spoke at the various public hearings on the issue.

Cullen told the Central City Extra (August 2005) that he opposed the CBD because “this would increase our taxes. I think we have 1% of the property in the district. We're trying to stay apolitical.”

Cullen had gone from a grassroots fighter for the Tenderloin's poor to a Director of a multi-million dollar agency concerned with avoiding tax hikes and staying “apolitical.” This shift may have been connected to his ongoing problems with drug addiction (which went unpublicized while he was at TNDC), and I think he knew it was time to move on.

The bottom line of Cullen's tenure at TNDC is this: he left the organization stronger than ever and his passion for housing the poor has brought affordable housing to hundreds who desperately needed this help.

The Tenderloin community is a far better place for his efforts.
(Ed Note: This article expands upon our September 2005 piece on Cullen’s departure from TNDC)

Kelly: As the Cullen Family Remembers Him

2010-11-22T11:31:00.000-08:00

Collage by Brian Cullen, Kelly's older brother.- ct

Brother Kelly Cullen ofm : Funeral, Memorial Service Planned

2010-11-19T20:14:00.000-08:00

Funeral arrangements have been made for Brother Kelly James Cullen ofm, 57, who died suddenly of a heart attack in Rome on November 13. Brother Kelly had been traveling through Italy to make arrangements for a pilgrimage he had hoped to organize for next year. Services will be held in Oceanside, California, where Brother Kelly had been stationed in recent years:

Sunday, November 28: 7pm
Vigil service at the Serra Center, Mission San Luis Rey Parish, 4070 Mission Ave., Oceanside, California.

Monday, November 29: 10am
Funeral Mass of the Resurrection at the Serra Center, Mission San Luis Rey Parish, 4070 Mission Ave., Oceanside, California. Interment following the Mass in the friars' vault at Old Mission San Luis Rey, adjacent to the parish property. A luncheon reception afterwards at the Old Mission.

Minister Provincial John Hardin, ofm, of the Franciscan Friars of the Province of St. Barbara will preside at the funeral liturgy. Fr. Raymond Bucher, ofm, will preach.

All are welcome to attend either/ both events. For information, call either the Parish (760/757-3250) or the Old Mission (760/757-3651).

In addition, a memorial service will be held:
Friday, December 3 at 3:00 PM

St. Boniface Church
133 Golden Gate Ave
San Francisco, CA 94102

Brother Kelly lived and worked for many years in the City's Tenderloin neighborhood and was instrumental in his leadership at the Tenderloin Neighborhood Development Corporation (TNDC), which provides housing for homeless and other low-income people.

Brother Kelly Cullen ofm: Tributes

2010-11-18T09:07:00.000-08:00

Anyone who knows anything about our Brother Kelly Cullen, who died suddenly in Rome last week, understands that he was a man well-acquainted with both love and suffering. Not only did Kelly love a great many people; he was in turn, loved by many. An off the wall, in your face extrovert, Kelly was always in the thick of things, in the midst of the crowd. And not infrequently in the midst of that midst…. I have received a number of written tributes to Kelly from friends, friars, and coworkers which I am privileged to print here. If you would like to add a tribute yourself, either put it under “comment” button below this entry, or email it to me at: friarchat@yahoo.com. Unless otherwise indicated, I will print first names only. Also, the extraordinary photo of Kelly (above) is provided courtesy of Jennifer Pantaléon. Many thanks.

At this point (November 18), funeral arrangements for Brother Kelly are still pending. Following the completion of a postmortem, his remains will be returned to California. I will place the details in this blog. But you may also refer to the website for the Franciscan Friars of California: www.sbfranciscans.org.--ct

Thank you for your posting on Brother Kelly. I knew him my whole life, and he used to joke to people when he introduced me that we knew each other before we were born. Our parents used to play bridge together and our families have always been close. He brought so much to my life and to everyone that he met. I wanted to share one of my favorite photos with you from the Pool Toss, one of the most successful and innovative fundraisers and another of Kelly's amazing ideas. He was like my brother and the reason I work with children, and he is on the board of Zanmi Lakay the nonprofit I co-founded with my Haitian husband helping street children in Haiti….. and now he rides on the wings of angels..... peace and love-- Jen

Sending prayers for those left behind. Many blessings. May he rest in peace.-- Ruth

I feel such a bittersweet mixture of sadness and joy when I think of Kelly. And I still half-expect to find out tomorrow that it's been a terrible mistake, and that he's still among us, singing, hugging, praying, smiling. Kelly and I never had much time together—I'm a little surprised to be so affected by his death, like a sudden eclipse that has caught me completely off-guard.--David

I am absolutely stunned by the loss of Brother Kelly...it is hard to believe he has passed away. He has counseled me through a personal crisis - and I am not Catholic - but in the true spirit of Christ he loved and helped me. The light of the Lord always shined from his face. He was a true friend, a real man, and a blessed messenger of the Lord. May the Lord bless him and may all who mourn him find a peace that exceeds all understanding. The world is a better place because of Brother Kelly; he will be missed immensely.—Reggie

I went to bed last night still stunned at this news and remain so today. Kelly and I have been friends about 25 years - since I was a young organizer and he was a young friar working in San Francisco's Tenderloin neighborhood. I could not be more sad. Thank you for sharing your beautiful words and photos. I especially appreciate reading the note Kelly wrote before leaving for Italy. I feel much love and sympathy to you and the other Franciscans for the loss of your brother, Kelly. -- Alexis

I was so sorry to hear about Brother Kelly's sudden death. We worked in the same community for years and I will miss him a lot. His death in Italy, the home of Blessed Francis is a benediction. May you rest in peace, Kelly.—Anon

Kelly, we miss you and will always remember the wonderful times we shared together. You will be in our hearts and minds forever. We love you and look forward to seeing you in the next dimension. Love-- Darwin & Robby

Found out about Kelly's passing while on an Immersion Retreat at St Boniface. Know that my prayers are with you all. May his memory be eternal.—Jeff

I worked with Kelly on the pool toss for several years. He was a man of great compassion, humor, and wit. I will miss his smile.— Anon

I will way that this man truly had an impact on my life in the non-profit world. He was my inspiration to make a diffence in a community through housing management. I will miss him dearly because of who he represents for me.—Felicia

Brother Kelly was an inspiration to me as a young affordable housing developer working in the Tenderloin. A peaceful, warm and truly kind man, he will be deeply missed.—Anon

Brother Kelly: We Hardly Knew Ye...

2010-11-16T14:52:00.000-08:00

Our mourning for Brother Kelly Cullen ofm continues. As of this date (November 16), funeral arrangements for Brother Kelly James Cullen, ofm, are still pending. In the meantime, the Province of St. Barbara of the Franciscan Friars has released the following statement:

OAKLAND, Calif. — Franciscan Brother Kelly Cullen, OFM, a longtime advocate for the poor in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco, died unexpectedly on Saturday, Nov. 13, in Rome, Italy. He was 57 years old. A former director of the Tenderloin Neighborhood Development Corporation, a nonprofit organization that provides housing for low-income people in an economically depressed area of San Francisco, Brother Kelly most recently served as director of the Old Mission San Luis Rey Retreat Center in Oceanside, Calif.

“I’m devastated by the news,” said Father John Hardin, OFM, provincial minister of the Franciscan Province of St. Barbara. “We’ve not only lost a good friar, but a great champion of the poor as well. I lived with Brother Kelly in the Tenderloin for more than six years, and I was always impressed with his work.”

Brother Kelly was born in 1953 in Spokane, Wash., the son of Betty and Pat Cullen. The youngest of four brothers, he grew up in Tacoma, Wash., and received his bachelor’s degree in business from the University of Washington in Seattle in 1975. After graduating from the university, he worked for a year in France with L’Arche, an international organization that places developmentally disabled adults in communities with non-handicapped assistants.

In 1977, Brother Kelly joined the Franciscan friars, a Roman Catholic religious order founded in Assisi, Italy, in the 13th century. He professed solemn (lifetime) vows as a Franciscan friar at St. Boniface Church in San Francisco in 1982, and received his master of divinity degree from the Franciscan School of Theology in Berkeley that same year.

Brother Kelly began his ministry with the poor of the Tenderloin area of San Francisco in the early 1980s. He initially worked in the employment office and dining room at the St. Anthony Foundation, a large nonprofit organization founded by the Franciscans to provide direct service to the area’s poor and homeless populations. Some 10 years later, Brother Kelly would serve on St. Anthony’s board of directors, and become its president in 1995.

For more than 20 years, Brother Kelly worked tirelessly as a champion for the economically disadvantaged residents of San Francisco’s Tenderloin. He saw the numbers of homeless people swell during his time in the neighborhood, as the ravages of AIDS, street drugs, increases in housing costs and decreases in federal social spending all took their toll.

In his early years in the Tenderloin district, Brother Kelly was active in serving the area’s youth. During the early- and mid-1980s, he worked as a staff member, and later director, of the Tenderloin Recreation Center. In 1987, he became the founding director of Tenderloin Youth Advocates, an organization that promoted programs to benefit and support the youth of the Tenderloin. Brother Kelly was instrumental in establishing the Tenderloin Neighborhood Playground in 1995, an effort that required several years of work before it became a reality.

In 1993, Brother Kelly became the executive director of the Tenderloin Neighborhood District Corporation, a position he held for more than 10 years. The TNDC’s mission is to provide safe, affordable housing with support services to low-income people of the Tenderloin area. When Brother Kelly became its director, the TNDC offered about 575 units to roughly 1,000 tenants in the neighborhood. By the time he left the TNDC, the organization had more than 3,000 residents living in 1,600 units.

In addition to his work as a housing advocate and community organizer, Brother Kelly was actively involved in his Franciscan religious community and the local Catholic parish. He was instrumental in the fund-raising effort for the retrofitting of St. Boniface Catholic Church in San Francisco. The multi-million dollar retrofit project was required to improve seismic safety of the historic structure, which serves the Tenderloin neighborhood. The church is kept open several hours a day to offer the homeless of the area a place to rest.

After more than 20 years of serving the poor of San Francisco, Brother Kelly became involved in full-time retreat ministry. He initially worked at the St. Francis Retreat Center in San Juan Bautista, Calif., and later at the Old Mission San Luis Rey Retreat Center in Oceanside. Both retreat facilities are owned and operated by the Franciscan friars of the Province of St. Barbara. Earlier this year, Brother Kelly was appointed chaplain of the Franciscan Covenant Program, a lay volunteer program ministered by the Franciscan friars.

“There was no more vital and energetic friar than Kelly,” Father Dan Lackie, OFM, said. A former chaplain for the St. Anthony Foundation in San Francisco, Father Dan works with the Franciscan province’s efforts in peace, justice and integrity of creation, known as JPIC. “He was an inspiration to so many of us who entered the Franciscans after him. It’s hard to imagine the friars without him.”

Maureen Sullivan, a close friend and coworker of Kelly’s, found this among a collection of poems he had left on his office desk before his pilgrimage to Italy. Ironically, the day before he died, Kelly had sent a number of his friends an email stating, in effect, that even if he died that very day, his life would be complete. Nobody ever dreamed how prophetic these words would prove.

Absolutely!
I hadn’t realized until this night
How very enheartened I am to be returning to Italy
How absolutely full of joy I am!
To be going back…
To hear the musical language,
To walk those storied streets
To enter those expansive churches
To look on the inspiration of their beauteous art
To smell and to taste and to touch my senses into the dolce vita
Of every minute in Italia.
Yes, to open my eyes upon the rising and the setting colors of that sun and that sky
Is also an opening of my soul and spirit and heart to beat palpably,
A rush of God into my tiny little steps
Across this amazing planet,
A dancing movement encouraged by the life uncovered and lived there
And undeniably woven into me, into my very being
Weeks from now yet I feel it all rising up within me like sap in the springling
Like a bridegroom flying out into daybreak
Like a sunbeam bursting forth into the light
Being light itself in its brightness.
How absolutely full am I!

Kelly Cullen, October 2, 2010

Brother Kelly Cullen ofm (1953-2010)

2010-11-14T16:12:00.000-08:00

It’s a beautiful, picture-perfect Sunday morning here in Oceanside, California. There’s a breath of chill in the air letting us know that our winter is on its way. Still, the sun is high in the sky—warm with the promise of another beautiful day. We are so blessed to live here.

As some of you may have already learned, one of our Franciscan friars here at the parish and Old Mission San Luis Rey—Brother Kelly Cullen ofm—died suddenly while on pilgrimage in Italy last week. He was 57 years old. We just received the news on Saturday (November 13), so we don’t have any details to provide you yet. As soon as we learn more, we will keep you informed. In the meantime, please pray for the repose of the soul of our brother—and for God’s consolation and peace for his family and family of friends, of whom there are a great many. Thank you.

For those of you who knew Brother Kelly (in addition to his responsibilities as program director at the Retreat Center, he served as a lector and Eucharistic Minister at the Parish), you will agree that he was a real force of nature. Spontaneous, open, frank, kind and deeply generous, he touched so many people with his humor, his honesty, and his love of the Lord and his love of Life itself. We will all miss his beautiful voice and his nearly infallible recall of almost every film and show tune know to humankind.

We his brothers are still reeling from the shock. Please keep us in your prayers as well.

Before he left for Italy with Kay Sempel, one of our devoted lay Covenant volunteers here at San Luis Rey—they were scouting out hotels, restaurants and sites for a group he was hoping to lead—Brother Kelly wrote this note to his friends. I would like to share it with you:

Praise be You my Lord for my Sisters and Brothers
So Generous and Good to me,
Abounding in Love and Kindness
Showing me Your Most Holy Face.
These, Your Special Children
I shall hold close on my journey
To the town of Francis and Clare
And as the dawn light Seeks to Praise You,
As the sunsets fly Your Brilliance,
As I sit in silence before You at Your Saints’ Tombs,
I shall Lift them Up to You, O Most Holy God
And pray You bless them and all their loved ones
Blessing them with All the Daily Bread they need:
For Life!

May God’s Light Shine on You, Brother Kelly.
And may you rest in peace.

Visiting the "New" Old Mission San Miguel: A Work in Progress

2010-10-18T19:04:00.000-07:00

Recently, I had the chance to drive up the Coast from southern California toward the Bay Area for a workshop. Right off Highway 101, I made a pit stop at Old Mission San Miguel to visit the friars and spend the night. I hadn’t been to San Miguel in quite a while (I lived there once for a year as a novice) and was curious to see how the restoration of this historic mission (founded in 1797 by Fray Fermin Francisco de Lasuén ) was progressing. The church and adjacent convento area had been heavily damaged by the San Simeon earthquake of December 22, 2003 (6.5 on the Richter scale). Since then, the Mission had been closed to the public until sufficient repairs could completed. Finally, the sanctuary was reopened for worship on the Mission’s patronal feast day, September 29, 2009. But there is still much to be done.

Approaching the site, I was taken aback by the clean, severe outline of the old Mission church itself. The visual effect is arresting. With extraneous vegetation around the church building cleared from the site, the rectangular structure now has a stark, dynamic and surprisingly contemporary appearance. The newly applied white plaster is brilliant in direct sunlight against the clear, deep blue skies of central California. The entire white lime plaster façade covering the sun-dried adobe brick walls has now been completely refinished. Skilled craftsmen, some of them from Oaxaca, Mexico, had been recruited to realize the surface treatment done by means of the traditional rejuelar technique. It is a method in which fired clay tile pieces are set tightly into lime plaster in grooves cut into the wall. The grooves with a rectangular cross section provide a mechanical interlock into the adobe masonry. Ingeniously, a chemical bond formed between the lime plaster and the fired clay, secure the plaster quite securely to the wall surface and structure. (Boletin, 23).

In terms of the church’s interior, visitors already familiar with the sanctuary will be struck by how little appears to have changed over the decades. The effect is, in part, intentional. New replacement windows frames, for example, were given the same chipped and weather beaten appearance as the materials they had replaced. This is, in part, a reflection of a perspective on restoration which holds that a refurbished environment ought not be returned to its original state, but rather, like a piece of antique furniture, should be permitted to reflect in its lived history, knicks, sratches and all.

Other significant changes are easily overlooked. For one thing, most of the 29 vigas, or roof timbers that stretch across the 26-foot width of the room have been either replaced or reinforced. The damaged lintel over the main entrance has been entirely replaced and the area around it reinforced so that one can safely pass through without concern that the whole shebang might come tumbling down.

But what about the magnificent frescoed interior walls, the wooden pulpit, and the wood and plaster reredos that give San Miguel the distinction of being the only one of the Alta California missions with completely intact interior decoration dating from the time church’s construction (c.1821)? The good news is that these remarkable frescoes and church furniture survived the multiple (and major) earthquakes (1857, 1952, 2003) virtually unscathed. The bad news is that they are, nevertheless, quite fragile and still in dire need of attention.

The origin of the interior decoration is a fascinating tale. Spaniard
Esteban Munrás (1789-1850) traveled from his native Barcelona to California via Lima, Peru. Together with a team of trained native Salinan Indians at the Mission, Munras was able to realize an interior decorative scheme with stenciled neo-classical colonnades and Greek key patterning reflective of then-contemporary Continental taste. The overall effect of the interior design is one of airy lightness, freshness, simplicity, and glowing warmth—seemingly in defiance of the structure’s otherwise ponderous five-foot thick adobe walls. Presently, there are just three window openings along the west side of the sanctuary instead of the six in the original construction. One can only imagine the dazzling effect of entering into such a light-filled environment—a startling moment of early 19th century European urbanity in what was then the California wilderness. When one realizes that these seemingly pencilled frescoes have been achieved only with a thin white lime-wash layer over a ½- inch thick earthen plaster surface, one begins to comprehend their fragility—and to marvel at their survival.

Like all of the other California missions, San Miguel was secularized (1834) and the resident friars subsequently sent into exile following the independence of Mexico from Spain. In 1846, the site was acquired by Petronillo Rios and William Reed. Tragically, shortly afterwards, all eleven members of the Reed household who had taken up residence in the Mission, were murdered by a band of wandering thieves. It was not until 1859 that Catholic Church successfully regained title to the Mission buildings (but not adjacent lands) from US President Buchanan. In 1878, the Mission church began to function as a place of worship again.

In 1928, the Franciscans returned to San Miguel after a hiatus of nearly a century. The friars began restoration efforts in earnest and expanded the facility to provide room for a novitiate, or training facility for new members of the order. In more recent decades, a full-service retreat center as well has offered hospitality to church and community groups on an ongoing basis. The friars have served the people of the area in terms of ministry, but limited financial resources precluded any major restoration effort. Until the 2003 earthquake, that is. Following the disaster, a major capital campaign was initiated and to date, about $9.7m of the $15 million goal has been achieved.

Today, once again, the Mission serves as a center of hospitality and evangelization for thousands of visitors who, like myself, drive the length of the El Camino Real, or the King’s Highway from the Bay Area to southern California. And it continues to house a vibrant parish community. In fact, while experts were struggling over the restoration of the historic church and adjacent convento, parishioners embarked upon an heroic project to realize a long-held dream: the construction of a handsome $1.0 million parish center close by. The friars are still and active and vital presence at the Mission as well, staffing both parish and novitiate. At present, in fact, we have six men completing their year-and-a-day formation process in preparation for their first vows next July.

For more than two centuries, Old Mission San Miguel has been well-served by its patron and protector, St. Michael the Archangel. It has not only survived, but overcome a number of disasters, including fires (early on), bloodshed, confiscation, abandonment, and neglect. Not to mention again three recorded earthquakes, all in excess of 6.0 on the Richter scale. The Mission remains, but so do its tremendous and pressing financial needs. If restoration is to be completed, a few more terrestrial “angels” will have to join Archangel Michael to secure the “mission of the Mission” for future generations.// Old Mission San Miguel website: http://www.missionsanmiguel.org/restoration

Reference: “Repair and Conservation of Mission San Miguel, 2004-2009”, Brother Bill Short et al. Boletín, Journal of the California Mission Studies Association, (vol.26: 1 & 2, 2009).

True Conversions No.14: Anne Rice

2010-10-15T17:14:00.001-07:00

Called Out of Darkness; A Spiritual Confession
Anne Rice
New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2008, 245pp., $24.00
ISBN: 978-0-307-39759-1 (bound)

On December 6, 1998, Anne Rice, a financially successful and internationally celebrated author of some twenty-five novels-- starting with the now-classic Interview with the Vampire— made the decision to return to the Catholic faith of her childhood. Not totally a conversion, however; the process and event appear to be more on the order of a spiritual homecoming. Nevertheless, Rice’s decision amazed her avid readers and fans, as did a subsequent decision in 2005 to devote all of her future writing to the exploration of religious themes consistent with her newly rediscovered Christian faith. Published in 20008, Called out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession marks the conclusion of the first decade of Rice’s re-conversion. Now, more securely rooted in her faith identity and commitment, she reflects upon the journey and process which prompted her initial spiritual quest.

The first half of the book is dedicated to Rice’s childhood in New Orleans—the child of a struggling blue-collar family straddling the adjacent, but separate worlds of the Garden District and Irish Channel neighborhoods. She was born into a third-generation Irish Catholic home, and the intimate world of experience she describes is one which would be immediately identifiable to anyone brought up in a similar Catholic enclave (circa 1940-60) in any major urban area in the United States. Here, the Church, most especially the parish church, was the spiritual heart and hearth of both families and entire neighborhoods. The protected and secure world of the Church affected every aspect of life. It marked the passing of the day and the procession of the year according to its holydays: Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, Corpus Christi. Saints were not only household names, they were members of the extended family and their intercession was sought on matters great and small.

In this highly devotional—and sensual—world of sights and smells and sounds, Rice absorbed an aesthetically-inspired faith: “My earliest experiences involved beauty; my strongest memories are of beautiful things I saw, things which evoked such profound feeling in me that I often felt pain.” Her hopes and longings were part of a dreamlike landscape in which, clearly, God and Beauty were one and the same. At college (Texas Woman’s University), away from home and exiled from this protective Catholic universe, Rice discovered a wider world of experience: one which both shocked and tantalized her. She soon shed her childhood Catholicism and immersed herself in its invitations and offerings.

What seems like a lifetime later, Rice the author returns both to New Orleans and to the Church. Her rediscovery of faith and re-immersion into the aesthetic comforts and consolations of the physical vestiges of her childhood reawaken her childhood longings for God and communion with that God. She buys several buildings in her old neighborhood, including the now-derelict parish church of St. Alphonsus. Other people enter the scene—she reconnects with her Catholic relatives, who to her amazement, are nothing like the narrow-minded and bigoted denizens of her childhood: “ I was picking up the pieces of a Catholic childhood with these significant purchases. I was forming alliances with those still within the fold. I was keeping company with their loving kindness and their daily faith.”

These rekindled relationships, to some extent become real-life replacements for the characters of the novels penned in her years as a self-proclaimed atheist: “The novel (Interview) was also an obvious lament for my lost faith. The vampires roam in a world without God; and Louis, the heartbroken hero, searches for a meaningful context in vain.” Art plus people plus longing plus a willingness to enter into the journey plus a compelling presentiment of being pursued by God—all of this informed and impelled her reconciliation.

In a nutshell, Rice’s conversion has an aspect totally consistent with her aesthetic bent and romantic longings. But is that enough? She seems to have been blissfully unaware and even unaffected by the major convulsions, both individual and societal around her. The major shifts and ensuing tensions within the Catholic Church and the world do not seem to have intruded upon her private devotion: “For just about thirty years, I’d suffered such an aversion to Catholicism that I avoided any mention of it anywhere, including any sustained contact w/ anyone who was Catholic. I’d heard rumblings of big changes in the Catholic Church, horror stories of the loss of the Latin liturgy, of an English Mass. I’d heard that the great church council Vatican II was responsible for this artistic disaster. I’d heard that thousands of priests and nuns had left the church. But I didn’t really know what was happening in contemporary Catholicism.” Who and where are the other inhabitants of the Catholic community Rice has now embraced? What is her connection with them personally,intellectually, spiritually?

The narrative is smooth and apparently seemless. No signs of struggle; not a hair out of place. Even the culminating moment of her decision is described with relative detachment as “ a determination to give in to something deeply believed and deeply felt. I loved God. I loved Him with my whole heart. I loved Him in the Person of Jesus Christ, and I wanted to go back to Him.” At the same time, there are hints of significant subterranean rumblings: the early death of her mother from alcholism; her immersion into the tumultuous world of the San Francisco Bay Area in the Sixties and beyond; her marriage to and subsequent loss of her husband, poet Stanley Rice. The author alludes to these events, experiences, and relationships without drilling down into the substance of their emotional/ spiritual impact on her life and spiritual quest. Her spiritual memoir is more descriptive than revealing.

Finally, there is an interesting Franciscan sidebar to Rice’s account. As a child, she is instinctively drawn to the heroism of the little poor man of Assisi: “I hungered for something beyond martyrdom—the greatness of St. Francis of Assisi, leaving his rich father, to found the Franciscan Order and reform the entire church. I hungered for a spectacular life of extraordinary triumphs, and I don’t think I understood anything really about obedience or humility in terms of this sort of life.” Later in life, a fortuitous discovery of a statue of a crucified Christ reaching from the Cross to embrace Francis serves as a significant personal icon. On a subsequent trip to Brazil, she spies the same, now treasured image: Never had I seen a statue that so reflected the disparate elements of my earlier faith. “Here was the sensuality and excess and the spirituality which I had so loved.” And today, ironically, she is a member of St. Francis of Assisi Church, Coachella Valley, California.//

The Feast of St. Francis: A Homily Reflection

2010-10-03T15:58:00.000-07:00

(Matthew 11: 25-30)
“At that time Jesus said in reply, ‘I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will.

“’All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.

"’Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for your selves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.’"

Today, we honor St. Francis of Assisi. A great saint in the Catholic Church. A great saint in the Christian tradition, revered by members of many denominations. A truly holy man, respected by people of good will who may belong to no particular spiritual tradition at all. Today, after eight hundred years, the figure of Francis continues to attract, edify, and inspire people. But why?

For us as Christians in the Catholic tradition, the saints are not especially significant in and of themselves. We respect, revere, and admire them primarily because we recognize that they were close to God, close to Jesus Christ. And that transforming ‘closeness’, which is so evident becomes tremendously appealing to us.

Here at our parish (Mission San Luis Rey), we’ve been spending a wonderful weekend together to commemorate and celebrate the feast of St. Francis. Last night in the Old Mission Church, we gathered with our Franciscan sisters, parishioners, and members of the Secular Franciscans (as well as our Benedictine brothers from nearby Prince of Peace Abbey) to celebrate the Transitus of St. Francis—the passing of St. Francis from this life into eternal life.

And yesterday, here at the parish, we celebrated St. Francis Day, a “funraiser” for our parish school involving a number of different groups in our parish family. Part of that wonderful celebration was the blessing of animals. Father Luis and I must have blessed more than a hundred pets during the day. People brought lots and lots of dogs, but, understandably, not so many cats at the same time. We also blessed a rabbit, three chickens and a rooster, and a lizard (gecko). It was great, but I confess last year’s blessing was a bit more exotic: we had a horse, a cricket, and a tarantula. Actually, I was hoping for more of the same this time around. I wanted to bless a centipede so I could say, “If I’ve blessed you once, I’ve blessed you a hundred times,” but it didn’t work out.

Seriously, as we were blessing all these wonderful pets, I began to realize—wait a minute, we are not just blessing them; we are acknowledging that these wonderful creatures (“criaturas” in Spanish) are a blessing to us. They bless us with their presence, and they can bring us closer to God, as well. They teach us so much about friendship, loyalty, and affection. No wonder then, that St. Francis should be the patron saint of animals. He understood that our Brother and Sister pets, as God’s own criaturas, contain a spark of Creation, part of the life of the Spirit itself given to them in their lives. And in their closeness to God.

To return to Francis. Everything Francis learned about God, he learned from Jesus. In particular, he learned to get close to God in and through the example of the intimacy of Jesus with the Father. Today’s Gospel from Matthew (Chapter 11) is illustrative. Jesus’ disciples have just completed a mission to the towns of Galilee, their home turf. They have done as Jesus instructed: they have gone to teach, preach, and heal. They return, no doubt feeling dejected and despondent; their message has been rejected. Jesus starts to call out—quite literally—the towns of Galilee for their unresponsiveness. But suddenly, what might have been only a curse turns instead into a remarkable prayer, and even blessing.

We are given a privileged opportunity here to listen to Jesus’ prayer—in language that would appear to come straight out of the gospel of John rather than any of the synoptics. Jesus calls God “Father”, or better yet, “Abba,” or “Daddy”/ “Papa.” He proceeds to observe that God has chosen to reveal Himself to the “childlike,” by which He is referring to his own disciples. Notice this is “childlike” not “childish.” The best part of childlike behavior is the best part of childhood itself: openness, innocence, spontaneity, and joy.

Jesus goes on to speak to these childlike disciples—who, in a way, are proxies for ourselves. He knows full well their (and our own) struggles, pain, frustrations, doubts and fears. And He offers to help to bear the burden—to share the yoke with these “yokels” —as team of draft animals would share the plowing of a field, lightening the burden each of the other.

In this wonderful story, Jesus invites us to get close.--really close—to himself. Francis, for his part, allowed Jesus to get close to him. Again, it’s really what made him a saint. That closeness, that intimacy, transformed his life and filled it with the life and light of Christ. It didn’t turn Francis into a perfect person. Frankly, Francis’s life was pretty messy all the way through—right on up to his premature death in his early forties due, no doubt in part, to the neglect of his physical health. But what changed, deeply transformed his life spiritually was the realization that God had a hold of him and would never, ever let him go. God invites us to get close to Him, as well—to allow him to grab hold of us and to transform our lives in his Love. And along with that invitation comes his promise: that once He has hold of us God will never, ever let us go. //

Images: (top and bottom) from: http://idlespeculations-terryprest.blogspot.com Artist: Aiden Hart

True Conversions No.13: Tony Blair: A Journey

2010-09-24T16:30:00.000-07:00

Tony Blair: A Journey: My Political Life
Alfred A. Knopf: New York
718pp., ill. c.2010 $35
ISBN: 978-0-09-192555-0

“I have always been more interested in religion than politics,” writes former British Prime Minister Tony Blair. Tellingly, this comment is made not in the introduction, but rather as part of the postscript of his recently published and quite compelling memoir. Political memoir, that is. It would be foolhardy to engage in a search for “proof texts” in this writing in order to flesh out any treatment of specifically theological/philosophical underpinnings. Missing altogether here is the tale and trajectory of his spiritual journey from childhood in Scotland and Australia, education at Oxford, his quondam association with the Christian Socialist Movement, his recent reception into the Catholic Church, and subsequent establishment of the international and ecumenically-based Faith Foundation. All of this would necessitate a distinct and separate account altogether and is, perhaps, would be better expressed in a biography rather than memoir. Blair’s reporting is more pragmatic, concrete, and action-based-- the self-description of a man in constant motion: “That’s the purpose of life: striving.”

That said, Blair’s career as a key player in both domestic policy and international diplomacy during his decade of leadership (1997-2007) and beyond would appear to manifest an apparent, if not explicitly stated grounding in a set of core values consistent with the Christian tradition.

Tony Blair is first and foremost a politician—more specifically, a politician in the social democratic tradition of his beloved Labour , or rather “New Labour” party, as he might interject. In fact, his media-awareness (and not infrequent aversion), charisma, and international appeal might well put him in the class of his own as probably the most quintessentially “American” politician Britain has yet produced. The social programs of his administration are part and parcel of the social justice legacy of his party, with its roots in the trade union movement of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

Significantly, Blair’s self-avowed predilection is not for ideological consistency or purity-- of a Left over Right-- but rather for an “open” over “closed” worldview. It is this characteristic openness which enables him to appreciate the gifts and perspectives of both people and movements a more ideologically driven leader might otherwise reject out of hand. As a result, he was able to engage and collaborate with President George Bush on issues such as aid to Africa, assistance in combating HIV/AIDS, and the war in Iraq, while parting company with him—without apparent rancor-- on global warming and much of Bush’s domestic agenda. He was able to meet, engage, and at times collaborate with such mercurial world figures as Silvio Berlusconi or Nikolas Sarkozy without losing sight of his own principles: “Personal relationships matter—this is obvious, of course, but is also completely ignored by people who think it’s florid stratagems and mathematical calculations that drive negotiations and compromise. At all levels, but especially at the top, politics is about people. If you like a leader, you try to help them, even if it stretches your own interests.”

Blair readily espouses “an impatience with ideology and a hearty common sense about human nature.” At times he appears to delight in upsetting the conventional wisdom that people ought to operate within the narrow confines of a specified worldview. Does this expose him as a rank opportunist, or conversely, as a more prescient actor with an appreciation of ambiguity, subtlety and nuance? Depends if your are a fan or critic.

It is Blair’s impatience with received narratives and hidebound ideology that impels him (and challenges his readers, as well) to look at some issues with new eyes. During his decade of political power, he was forced to address any number of complex and often frustrating international crises ranging from Kosovo to the Northern Ireland peace accords to the ongoing deadlock of Israeli/ Palestinian relations. Domestically, his administration dealt with significant paradigm shifts in the role of government in areas of health, education, immigration, and criminal justice that have their analogs in every society.

It is not necessary to share Blair’s partisan views on all or even any of these issues. By his own admission, he either erred or even stumbled badly through several of them. What is informative, refreshing, and inspiring is his overall orientation and disposition . He is neither the sanguine moral relativist nor the affectively disengaged policy wonk. Rather, Blair avers over and again that his approach to issues often has its basis moral values rather than pragmatic or technocratic concerns alone. This is reflected most clearly, perhaps, in his insistent and consistent-- almost counterintuitive stance-- in favor of military engagement in Iraq. It is a position which generated widespread controversy both within Britain and internationally at the time. Some critics regard as his signal folly, while Blair has consistently stood what he considers to be his moral ground.

But what moral ground? What specific values? Who and what has shaped this particular world leader’s perspectives, informed his choices, or sustained him in his convictions, especially in the face of widespread public rejection? In this respect, Blair is uncharacteristically silent, making only passing and somewhat scant allusion to either salient formative experiences or any specific spiritual epiphany. Early on, for example, he mentions that he is deeply stirred by a viewing of Schindler’s List—struck by the moral complaisance, the “passive assent” of the guilty bystander to the depredations of Nazi terror. In passing, he makes mention of a seminal figure in his own moral development—his friendship with fellow student and future Anglican priest Peter Thompson, referring with admiration to the latter’s “muscular Christianity.” (a la C.S. Lewis?) In his discussions with Ulster Unionist Ian Paisley, Blair reveals that “we were both fascinated by religious faith as well as being people of faith.” Later on, Blair expresses respect for the ideas of Hans Kung on the nature of changing society and its rules. The Sower and the Seed, he reveals, is his favorite parable. And….?

These hints and passing references to belief and personal moral underpinnings are, unfortunately, both scant and scattered. What is largely unarticulated in this otherwise vast (700 pages) and sometimes overly articulated narrative is a sense of the ideas and convictions that have shaped and sustained the worldview and decision-making of one particular human being strategically located at the decision-making epicenter of some of the most significant and, often controversial issues of our time. Significantly, Blair does not reveal his sources-- at least not in this environment. Yet, clearly he has them. Otherwise, how would he have been able to withstand the unbelievable pressures and stresses of a limelight decade on the world’s stage? Is he just being coy, or is his reticence more deeply rooted in a personal belief system he considers inappropriate to discuss in a public forum? As one of his confederates, Alistair Campbell, indicated early on in Blair’s administration: “We don’t do God.” Really?

Arguably, we live in a contemporary culture deeply affected by a certain moral relativism, but Blair has infrequently a decidedly and often decisively moral stance frequently at odds with that culture—and one certainly not based on the perception of national self-interest alone. He offers, for example, primarily moral arguments for military interventions in Kosovo, Sierra Leone, Rwanda, Afghanistan, and Iraq. Fine. But one wants him to drill down even further: What are the source and basis of his moral decision making?

The ‘journey’ Blair alludes to in the title of this work is not, then, one of any direct conversion experience, political or otherwise. Rather, it is the description of his growth in public leadership , his decade-long metamorphosis from opposition figure to effective governing agent: “At first we govern with a clear radical instinct but without the knowledge and experience of where that instinct should take us in specific polity terms. In particular, we think it plausible to separate structures from standards… In time, we realize this is wrong; unless you change structures you can’t raise standards more than incrementally.” The call to leadership is a given; its fulfillment depends upon one’s response, rather than reaction to events over time. The arc of this learning curve is long.

Blair concludes this fascinating discourse on his political journey with a curious and oddly ironic remark: “… it has never been entirely clear whether the journey I have undertaken is one of triumph of the person over the politics or of the politics over the person,” he states. It is a subtle, perhaps even humble admission. But one suspects that there’s more to this man. Much much more.

The Irish Franciscans, 1534-1990

2010-09-19T21:14:00.000-07:00

The Irish Franciscans: 1534-1990
Edel Bhreathnach, Joseph MacMahon & John McCafferty, editors
Four Courts Press: Dublin.
464pp, illus. c. 2009
ISBN: 978-1-84682-209-4

This epic and epochal work is the third and presumably final volume of an historical trilogy tracing the history of the Franciscan friars in Ireland from their arrival in the thirteenth century through to the 1990s. Its publication in 2009 makes it an appropriate festschrift commemorating the Irish contribution within the context of 800 years of the Franciscan order’s existence. In his foreword, the current Minister Provincial for the Irish province, Caomhin O’Laoide, notes that this work is a cause great delight, gratitude and consolation: “Consolation—in that however difficult our own times are, there have been worse periods from which the Franciscans emerged with life and vitality.” The ensuing collection of 18 essays by 14 separate authors proceeds to chart, in quilt-like fashion, the varying fortunes of the Franciscans in Ireland over the past half-millennium. A scholarly work, brought about by the collaboration of the Irish friars and a team of experts, this compendium of current research is nevertheless quite accessible to the nonacademic reader and makes for stimulating reading.

The volume is divided into two distinct sections—the first charting the history of the Irish friars chronologically over the past five hundred years. The second half of the volume consists of a series of discrete articles of topical interest, ranging from such diverse themes as the contributions of exiled Irish scholars in the area of Franciscan philosophy and theology (Bernadette Cunningham)—the evolution of the Irish Poor Clares (also, Cunningham), the founding of the Secular Franciscan movement (Patrick Conlan), and the development of Irish Franciscan friary architecture (Michael O’Neill). An essay on St. Anthony College, Louvain, by Micheal Mac Craith ofm, is written in the Irish language; an English summary would have been helpful.

The authors offer quite literally a ‘blow by blow” description of the Franciscan experience from the initial effort to suppress monastic (and mendicant) life in Ireland under the English King Henry VIII (starting in 1539) to the struggles and challenges of contemporary religious life. One comes to appreciate the complexity and nuance of the various struggles the friars were engaged in over time. Suppression of religious orders and houses in the 16th century, for example, as described in essays by Colm Lennon, Mary Ann Lyons, and Raymond Gillespie--was by no means a straight-line, unidirectional development. Rather the trajectory of the friars’ fortunes is perhaps more aptly described in terms of a two-step-- as both well-placed benefactors and even, at times, civil authorities colluded to create a “protective network of well-wishers” which made the survival of the friars possible. The fortunes of the friars appeared to rise and fall as well, according to the course of least and/ or greatest military resistance to English rule, culminating in the ultimate re-conquest of the island by Cromwell’s Puritan-led troops in 1649-50. In the face of the subsequent imposition of the notorious penal laws (not to be relaxed until the late 1770s) the Irish friars once more faced the threat of virtual extinction.

In the face of such daunting domestic oppression, the friars adapted a number of strategies for survival, most notable among which was the establishment of a network of Irish colleges on the Continent (St. Anthony’s College, Louvain, 1607; St. Isidore’s, Rome, 1625; and, the College of the Immaculate Conception, 1629). These offshore institutions—along with other efforts which did not survive long-term-- served several vital functions: they allowed for the training of Irish friars who would return home, often surreptitiously, to engage in essential pastoral work. They also provided spiritual support and succor for exiled Irish troops and nobility. They further provided for the preservation of Irish language , identity, and culture—a culture which was being systematically decimated in the homeland. Finally, they provided an intellectual arena in and from which Irish friar/scholars could engage as full participants in debate and dialog on the major theological, philosophical, and ecclesial issues of the Catholic Church at large in the post-Tridentine era. No mean achievement for an exile community.

Ironically, though not surprisingly, the friars seem to have shone most brilliantly in their very darkest hour, and under the most trying of circumstances—the life and scholarship of friar Luke Wadding serving as a parade example. Conversely, in times of relative peace—during the course of the 18th century, for example—the friars appear to have lost their way. As author Joseph MacMahon – a friar himself-- writes: “Many external factors—the penal legislation, the prohibition on receiving novices and the assault on the colleges—had a detrimental impact upon them, but the main cause of their decline was the fact that they did not have a clear vision of their identity and mission. They gave the impression of drifting helplessly through choppy and unfamiliar waters not knowing when, and where they would land, if ever.” A sobering reflection upon any era.

Through their reference to source materials-- some of which have only become available in the past few decades through the close cooperation of the Franciscan friars and the University College, Dublin-- this team of scholars has provided an objective and detached historical overview of the order in Ireland. The friars’ relative progress—or lack of progress at times—provides both an inspiration and cautionary tale as contemporary Franciscans in Ireland and internationally seek to discern the movement of the Spirit in these demanding times.

72 Hours at Mission San Luis Rey

2010-09-13T12:02:00.000-07:00

(Above): The historic church at Old Mission San Luis Rey, Oceanside, California (founded 1798). Capacity: 350. Visited by more than 250,000 tourists annually. (Below) The Serra Center at Old Mission San Luis Rey, Oceanside (completed 1996). Capacity: 1600. Visited by members of our 6,000 family parish weekly: Please note. These buildings do NOT move (except during an earthquake, God forbid); everything else around here does. Constantly.

Friday
September 10
9 AM
I’m sitting in my office; the door is locked. No visitors. Teleconferencing with other members of our Province leadership about finances. The meeting lasts a full three and a half hours, with one 15-minute break. I don’t want to see another financial report. Ever again.

3 PM.
Home at the friary. Father Larry is returning from his vacation in New Jersey. Father Adrian is returning from Ireland tonight (who’s going to pick him up at the airport?) Father David is packing for a two-week trip to Kazakhstan. Father Luis and Brother Kelly are flying in from a meeting in Oakland. Brother Rufino is arriving for an overnight (he arrives and departs unseen). Another guest, Father Juvino, a diocesan priest from Goa, India, has been here just two days. The only friar one home for sure is Brother Mo (85), who is in his room watching a baseball game.

6 PM. Getting ready for the ninth annual Rotary Club Crabfest, a community-wide celebration/ fundraiser held in the Mission Gardens. Even before it starts, it’s been a great success: sold out, all 500 tickets. Both the Mission as well as the Parish social concerns office are beneficiaries. Veterans bring their own tools to crack crabs; a parishioner who owns a bakery got up at 2am to make 65 loaves of French bread.

The weather and garden setting are perfect; the music is great. The guests, representing every part of community life in the area, are relaxed, happy, and ready to eat! The Rotarians are working hard; the serving goes like clockwork. (Later on): I left the party early, gave up the ghost at 7:30 and took to my room. Slept through all the great music, missed some of the fun. This morning the courtyard is clear; the retreat center is preparing for weekend visitors.

Saturday
September 11

7:30 AM The ninth anniversary of 9/11. The flags in front of the Mission are at half-staff. The parish chapel (capacity 250) is full for morning Mass. Not unusual in our 6,000-family parish, but today is special just the same.The mood is somber; people remember where they were, what they were doing, how they reacted that day. Lots of spontaneous petitions during the Prayers of the Faithful—for the victims of Sep.11, for our military families (we’re next door to Camp Pendelton). For peace. After Mass, the Knights of Columbus lead about 100 worshippers in a scriptural rosary, part of a nationwide commemoration.

9 AM
This weekend's parish bulletins are ready and a few early birds have already snapped up advance copies. I head over to the Serra Center to give a short presentation to the English-speaking catechists in our religious education program (900 kids, 60 catechists). Brief talk on Franciscan spirituality, then off to hear confessions (Sacrament of Reconciliation). There’s a long line; the allotted one-hour time slot turns into almost three. Afterwards, I go next door to spend an hour with the Spanish-speaking catechists and give another presentation, along with a “dinamica” to get people moving. Lots of feedback and suggestions about what the parish needs.

3 PM
Quick late lunch, quick late nap. Then, literally across the street to the annual hoedown benefit for our neighbors at the Ivey Ranch, a great community-based noprofit organization that enables both disabled children and adults (especially Wounded Warriors—returning vets with combat injuries) to experience healing and growth through equestrian training. What could be more Franciscan? Try Canine Companions, in the same complex. They match up disabled folks with guide dogs. And then there’s Casa de Amparo, too, which helps women and their kids who are victims of domestic violence.

6pm
I have to skip the dinner at Ivey Ranch so I can get back to the parish for the 5pm Mass. The Gospel from Luke 15 is about the woman with the Lost Coin. After Mass, a woman approaches me: “I’ve lost my husband.” “Oh, I’m so sorry. When?” “Just today.” “Today? Oh my.” “Yes, Father, he was just here a minute ago, but I can’t find him anywhere.” “Oh (relief). I’m sure he’ll turn up.” (He was waiting for her in the parking lot the whole time.) Case closed.

Sunday
September 12
8 AM
“Meet and greet” as people leave morning Mass at the Old Mission Church. The sound system is working better, but no cantor this morning. David, the accompanist, did his best, but he’s not a singer. He was not amused…. I head over to the Serra Center to chat with members of our Guamanian community who are in charge of food sales this weekend: the standard cupcakes and doughnuts, plus wonderful soups—chicken noodle and corn w/ chicken. Not my usual breakfast, but tastes great!

9 AM
Say ‘hi’ to people coming out of the 8 AM Mass and then head over to another meeting hall, the McKeon Center, to welcome parents (English-speaking) who are registering their kids for religious ed/ sacramental preparation. I tell them (and I really mean it): I don’t know how you all do it. You have such busy lives with work, driving the kids to practices of every kind, taking care of relatives, dealing with financial stress and under/unemployment sometimes. And yet, you’ve made the decision to rear your children in the Catholic tradition—at a moment when we’re not exactly the most popular denomination on the block.

Back to greet people arriving for the 10 AM Mass, making a detour to bless one very large van. Run into lots of families with kids: “How’s school going?” “Good.” A burly, middle-aged man approaches me. John. Turns out he is Armenian and a truck driver. “I passed this place twelve years ago and promised that I would visit it some day. So here I am with my wife and mother.” Three women (sister all—one from Pennsylvania, another from West Virginia). The third one from New Philadelphia, Ohio. (Hey. That’s my mom’s hometown. We hug. Six degrees of separation. Works every time).

The “lost coin” theme continues: I misplace my keys (ALL my keys) and a volunteer from the parish library tells me: “Father, I can’t find one of our books, but I’m embarrassed to tell anyone. The title is Where is God? (I’m not making this up). We both pray to St. Anthony. I get my keys back by noon; haven’t heard anything about the library book yet.

12 Noon
Spanish Mass. This is the weekend of Independence Day for Mexico and, I am reminded by a lady who shouts it out during Mass—that of Central America as well. Father Luis is presiding; Fr. Adrian and I are there to show solidarity. The choir members, along with a lot of other worshippers are dressed in green/ white/ red combinations, in homage to the Mexican flag. The Serra Center is packed; the mood is jubilant. And the kids are noisy, but so what. Luis tells the people: “Let’s continue this Eucharistic feast by going across the way to our “Fiesta Patrias.” We applaud all the members of the parish Hispanic Committee/ Comite hispano and then bless the four young women “candidatas” who are vying for the title of “reina”/ queen of the fiesta.

All afternoon
Fiesta time. Cool, sunny weather. Families relax, stroll around the grounds, listen to great music, dance, and eat and eat and eat. The vendors are out in full force: carne asada, tamales, enchiladas, elotes, tortas, pupusas, aguas, flan—you name it. All of it incredible. Fr. Luis and I meet, greet, and eat. And eat.

6 PM
I take a break for a sick call and a nap. Back to “meet and greet” for the 5pm liturgy and make sure Fr. Tom has everything he needs for Mass. In the sacristy, he’s eyeing the bag of homemade oatmeal cookies a parishioner gave me. I gave him my “don’t even think of it” look, then relent and offer him one for after Mass. He accepts. Back at the fiesta, it’s time to listen to the mariachias, join in a bit of the dancing, and then get up on stage announce the winner for the pageant and crown this year’s queen. All the candidates are given warm applause and each receives a scholarship award to help her with her studies. After the coronation, I head home to crash.

Monday
September 13
9 AM
This is the Serra Center (again). Please note: it does not move. Except during an earthquake, God forbid. Everything else around here does. Constantly. Peace and all good!

Meeting our Mentors: The ExMinProvs

2010-09-08T21:50:00.000-07:00

ExMinProvs? By way of introduction and explanation, the Franciscan universe is organized into approximately 117 mostly geographical entities called ‘provinces.’ The work and life of each province is directed by an elected Minister Provincial in consultation with a group of advisors, or ‘definitors’ who assist him. Former ministers provincial are sometimes referred to affectionately by the moniker "ExMinProvs."

I am myself a definitor in my province and serve as part of a six-member consultative team elected to assist our provincial minister, Fr. John Hardin (Numero Uno) and his vicar, Fr. Ken Laverone (Numero 2). Six times a year, we gather for 4-5 days at one of our retreat houses to consider the business of the province and make plans, recommendations and decisions. Basically, it’s like doing jury duty. We sit sequestered for long stretches of time, reviewing in detail an array of complex issues (financial, legal, personnel, etc.,) and hold consultative votes on specific agenda items. Discretion goes with the territory; all of our discussions are confidential. The process is thorough and generally effective; it can also be bone- tiring and soul-wearying. By the end of most sessions, we're ready to take the very next plane home.

Often our meetings are predictable and routine, but our most recent Definitorium session (August 29- Sep 2) was a welcome exception. For one entire morning, we suspended our working agenda to listen to presentations by a panel comprised of all five of our past ministers provincial-- hence, the term “Ex-Min-Provs”. For several hours, these extraordinary men mentored us collectively and spoke about the challenges and opportunities they encountered and experienced during their terms of leadership. In doing so, they provided not just an historical reflection on their time in office, but more importantly, valuable insight into the meaning of leadership over time in the Franciscan context.

So meet the five ExMinProvs. Their shared experience of leadership spans the past forty years of life in the Church and the Order. Several of them were trained by men whose experience of Franciscan life, in turn, reaches as far back as 1950:

Father John Vaughn: Minister Provincial 1976-9; Minister General of the Franciscan Order (OFM), 1979-1991). His initial six-year term was cut short by his election as Minister General of the Franciscan Order (OFM), a post Fr. John held in Rome for a total of twelve years. A prudent, soft-spoken man, he is respected for his ability to listen deeply to others and to serve as a conciliatory voice in discussions of ‘hot button’ issues affecting the Order and the Church. He has brought a heightened sense of international awareness to our province and the Order.

Father Louis (Louie) Vitale: Minister Provincial (1979-1988). Louie moved up from to the position of MP with the election of John Vaughn. A former US Air Force pilot, after completing a doctorate in sociology at UCLA, he went on to become a prominent figure in peace and justice work nationally. In recent years, he has been arrested and jailed on multiple occasions for acts of civil disobedience at places such as the Nevada Desert Test site (for atomic weapons research) and Fort Benning, Georgia (site of the controversial School of the Americas).

Father Joseph (Joe) Chinnici. MP (1988-1997) With a Ph.D. in history from Oxford University, Fr. Joe presently works as a professor and academic dean at the Franciscan School of Theology, Berkeley, CA. In all of his work, he has consistently stressed the necessity of reclaiming and renewing our Franciscan history and intellectual vision. During his tenure as Minister Provincial, he responded to the gravity of the issue of clerical sexual abuse with transparency and compassion.

Father Finian McGinn: MP (1997-2003). An accomplished linguist, Fr. Finian holds a Ph.D. from Fresno State University and worked with the Hmong immigrants in California’s Central Valley. As Minister Provincial, he brought a keen sense of awareness of our increasingly multicultural Order and society.

Father Melvin (Mel) Jurisich: MP (2003-2009). Also an educator, Fr. Mel served as Provincial Secretary for more than two decades prior to his election as Provincial. His by-word has been ‘transparency’—a willingness to share accurate and meaningful information with friars and the public at every level.

These men have been the heavy hitters of our Province. Individually and collectively, they have risen to positions of leadership during times of intense turmoil and growing polarization in both the Church and society. Each has succeeded in a significant way in maintaining a ‘center of gravity’ in our community life and service in the midst of this upheaval. As a province, we have been blessed; we appear to have received the ‘right’ leader at exactly the moment when we needed him most. These are all capable men who have been able to discern the ‘prevailing passion’ of the time and to channel that energy into the fulfillment of the deeper goals of our Franciscan vision.

So, what pearls of real wisdom were we able to gather? The ExMinProvs laid out for us the tremendous re/evolution of structures and issues that have emerged over the past forty years in the Order, the Catholic Church, and in society as a whole: the impact of Vatican II; the movement to a less hierarchical, more consultative style of leadership and participation; collaboration with the laity, and the adaptation of decision-making processes and structures to deal with increasingly complex issues. They organized their comments into five general categories of discussion: governance; dreams and their realization/ frustration; self-care; challenges, and the distinctiveness of the Province of St. Barbara

“We discovered that feeding the poor was not enough,” reflected Fr. John Vaughn. “We needed to change structures.” By the end of Vatican II, friars were leaving a quasi-monastic environment in order to serve people more directly. Friars were now intensely involved in hospital work, in parishes, and among immigrant farmworkers—especially in California’s Central valley. The shift in ministries was contemporaneous with rapid changes in the structure of religious life. As exMinProv Joe Chinnici noted, “In the period 1961-72, approximately 110 friars left the Province (out of a total of about 400).” Those who remained, reflected Mel Jurisich, had to deal with the serious issues of “ the loss of fraternal life, loneliness, and (the need) to rely upon (one’s) inner resources. We became more individualized in order to survive.” There was a hardening of attitudes on social issues and lifestyle choices (“I’m poorer than thou”) and a sense of increasing isolation.”

Institutionally, friars had to deal with a steady stream of complex issues— both intramural and societal-- that their predecessors had been spared: participation in the Social Security system (friars had not participated in the system until about 1970 because of an expressed desire to maintain strict observance of the vow of poverty), sexual abuse, health care for the elderly, possible bankruptcy. “We needed to see the bigger picture beyond ourselves, “ Father Mel observed. “And to understand that it takes time to move people forward together.” In the matter of Social Security, for example, it took friars nearly 12 years to agree to enroll in the government program. Addressing the ramifications of the sexual abuse cases has consumed much of the energy of leadership from 1993 to the present. Realignment, or ‘right-sizing’ of ministerial commitments has been a matter of discussion for more than a decade now.

All five ExMinProvs concurred that in today’s Church and world, crisis management is normative. In each of their administrations, “circumstances shaped one’s ability to lead as each generation faced new issues”, as Chinnici observed. Rather than being consumed by crisis, though, he suggested that future leaders learn “to shape the agenda given to him/ them so as to turn it towards the good and further the deeper goals of the (Franciscan) vision.” In practical terms, he suggested, this requires that the leader “discover the prevailing passion-- internationality, justice, Franciscan vision, culture, transparency, and so on.” Any given issue needs to be subsumed into the larger whole in order to “enable persons to… move forward.”

Remarkably, given the enormity of the tasks each and all of these men have had to undertake, none of them voiced any bitterness or resentment. Each appears to have developed the capacity to ‘lean into’ an issue rather than be overwhelmed by it. To seek help and advice, as Louie put it “from people who know a heck of a lot more than I do.” And to keep before them ‘the greater vision of life’ that Chinnici has articulated: “the dignity of the person, the need to create fraternity in mission, the decentering (sic) of politicization of issues towards something greater which we hold in common, (and) the inclusion of all in sorting out the tensions.”

The leadership of the Franciscan province of St. Barbara, like that of many other religious communities in the Catholic Church today, continues to struggle with the need to deal with the world one has inherited, to muddle through the messiness and complexity of daily life, and to face squarely both one’s own shortcomings as well as the reality of the unforeseen consequences of one’s decisions. The problems won’t go away, but they can and must be addressed in terms of the greater vision: “We’re not corporate CEO’s,” concluded our present Provincial Minister John Hardin, “ nor should we act like them. We Franciscans have our own culture and way of looking at the world.” It is the trust in that Spirit-led ‘way of looking at the world’ which continues to feed our dreams and guide both ex-, present, and future provincial ministers.

Summer 2010: Friar Days at San Luis Rey

2010-09-06T13:26:00.000-07:00

The invasion began peacefully enough. Precisely around dawn (Franciscan time) on Sunday, July 25, while some friars were still fast asleep in their beds and others were preparing for Mass, the vans rolled silently onto the grounds of the Old Mission. The new occupying forces--fourteen student friars in all—nine of them from our own Province of St. Barbara— quietly gathered their backpacks, laptops, and sleeping bags to set up summer camp. The Mission would never be the same again.

Welcome to unofficial Friar Days at Old Mission San Luis Rey, Oceanside, California. For almost a full month, Franciscan friars, secular Franciscans, parishioners, families and friends gathered at the historic (founded 1798) 50-acre site north of San Diego to celebrate and share our heritage and hopes through a number of classes, workshops, and special events.

First off, the student friars spent time in summer classes on Franciscan philosophy—Sister Mary Beth Ingham offered a course on Franciscan philosopher Duns Scotus. Our own Father Tom Herbst, home for the summer from the Franciscan International Study Centre in Canterbury, England, provided sessions in Church history and Franciscan spirituality to both friars and the general public. Interwoven into all of this were three separate retreats on Franciscan spirituality provided for leadership groups in the English-speaking, Spanish-speaking and Samoan communities, kicking off an18-month renewal project for the Parish family.

In the midst of all this scholarly and community activity, we celebrated a number of special public events as well. On Friday, August 13, our brother Sebastian David Sandoval-Ballestros was ordained to the transitional diaconate by Bishop Robert Brom, DD, of the Diocese of San Diego. Deacon Sebastian has since been assigned to the Franciscan Renewal Center in Scottsdale, Arizona, to complete his training in preparation for eventual ordination to the priesthood.

The following morning, our Minister Provincial Father John Hardin, presided over the profession of solemn (lifetime) vows by Friars Louis Khoury and Christopher Best in the Old Mission Church. The Church was filled to capacity with family, friends, and more than forty Franciscan friars—a record attendance for us. Besides being a monumental occasion for our professing brothers, it also served as a poignant reminder to all of us friars of what we have pledged to the Lord and our brothers:

“… with firm faith and will, I vow to God the Father, Holy and Almighty, to live the whole time of my life in obedience, without anything of my own, and in chastity….”

“Therefore, with all my heart, I entrust myself to this brotherhood, that through the working of the Holy Spirit, the example of the Immaculate Virgin Mary, the intercession of our father Francis and all the saints, and with the help of my Brothers, I may in the service of God, the Church, and humankind seek the perfection of charity.”

With the words “therefore, with all my heart,” I can assure you that we friars felt a collective lump in our throats. The promises made by every newly professed friar both reaffirm and challenge the commitment of us all. It is in grace-filled moments like this one that we realize that, our individual wounds and flaws notwithstanding, there is something (or rather, Someone) who brings us together and calls us to our better, even best selves.

Completing the triduum of Franciscan festivities, on Sunday, August 15, the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, friars and members of the parish family of Mission San Luis Rey gathered at Eucharist to bless and dedicate our new Franciscan/ San Damiano Cross. The nine-foot long object “written” icon-style on a ‘body’ of solid pine wood is an interpretation of the same Cross from which the corpus of Christ spoke to St. Francis of Assisi nearly 800 years ago, enjoining him to “rebuild my Church.” Our brother, Vincent Nguyen spent two full months as artist-in-residence at the Parish working on the figure.

Minister Provincial Father John Hardin presided at sequential unveilings of the Cross at both the principal English and Spanish-language celebrations. He also received the renewal of temporary (annual) vows from our nine student/ simply professed confreres. At the end of Mass, the Parish Knights of Columbus Council 3162 presented scholarship awards to three of our student friars: Joe Sury, Louis Khoury, and Ryan Thornton.

After a weekend of liturgical celebrations and ensuing fraternal partying, our student friars stayed on at San Luis Rey to help out with ‘voluntary’ manual labor on a variety of unglamorous jobs on the grounds. Many thanks to them for their hard work in the gardens and elsewhere.

I’ve been told that next summer, the student friars will be with us at OMSLR for an even longer period of time. We welcome another friendly invasion. These men bring along with them the contagious passion, energy, and excitement of both their youth and their 'young' vocations. This, in turn, helps to re-ignite the Franciscan spirit among us; we are really blessed.

--Many thanks to Secular Franciscan Tuan Cao and to Brother Eric Pilarczik for the photos provided in this entry.- ct

True Conversions No.12: Girl Meets God

2010-08-26T17:31:00.000-07:00

Girl Meets God: A Memoir
Lauren F. Winner
Random House: New York
c. 2002, 310pp. US$15.00
ISBN: 978-0-8129-7080-7

A graduate student with both high aspirations and admirable accomplishments (degrees from Duke, Columbia, Cambridge universities), Lauren Winner is what one might term a sequential convert. A child of a mixed marriage (her parents, Southern Baptist and Reform Jew respectively) from Charlottesville, Virginia, she first converts to Judaism while still in her teens. Several years later, she is baptized into the Episcopalian tradition of the Christian faith. All along and throughout her faith journey, she struggles to reconcile the tensions of both traditions within her. This memoir is the story of those interior struggles and the author’s efforts to “come home” both spiritually and culturally.

This all sounds very serious and ponderous. And it is. But at the same time, Winner brings a wonderful and totally unexpected element of mirth to her account. Simply put, she is very sassy and very funny. She is the first to see the irony in her own situation, which she is able to view with frankness, grace, and humor, despite some quite painful interludes.

“I had no epiphanic on-the-road-to-Damascus experience. I can’t tell my friends that I became a Christian January 8, 1993, or on my twentieth birthday. What I can tell them is that I grew up Jewish. I can tell them about the time I dreamed of Jesus rescuing me from a kidnapping; I can tell them I woke up certain, as certain as I have ever been about anything, that the dream was from God, and the dream was about Jesus, about how He was real and true and sure. I can tell them about reading At Home in Mitford, a charming if somewhat saccharine novel about an Episcopal priest in North Carolina, a novel that left me wanting something Christians seemed to have. I can tell them about my baptism.”

So begins Winner’s account of her spiritual journey, a journey which, initiated with her baptism, continues to unfold as she realizes the depth of pain her ‘divorce’ from Judaism has cost her. Both parents are perplexed; several members of her tight circle of Orthodox Jewish friends break off contact and shun her altogether; secular colleagues, are skeptical and patronizing. Only a few Christian friends-- including other converts from Judaism-- and her parish family at her All Angels church community provide a nucleus of support and encouragement for her newly claimed spiritual identity.

Tellingly, Winner is drawn to Christianity—and most particularly to the Anglican tradition—because of the Incarnation: “the idea that God lowered himself and became a man so that we could relate to Him better…. Christians, unlike Jews, spent their time talking to a God who knew from experience what it was like to get hungry, to go swimming, to miss a best friend.” Her insight into the Incarnation of Jesus provides a natural segue into an embrace of sacramental, most especially Eucharistic life: “I believe… receiving the Eucharist is the place where reality is most real. I believe it is the most important thing I do each week.” That said, she acknowledges “I have never felt God at the communion rail…. I keep hoping one day God will give me some feeling at communion. I figure he is helping me become something else…. He is calling me to a place where He is truer than everything else, truer even than how I feel.” Ultimately, all explanations and rationalizations aside, the individual experience and decision is what it almost always is—a literal leap of faith.

The organization of Winner’s memoir is of interest. She follows an entire Christian liturgical calendar, both beginning and concluding with Advent. Within each of the demarcated sections, she moves back and forth from the Christian event to a roughly simultaneous or roughly analogous Jewish celebration. Winner is every bit as steeped in Jewish history, culture, and theology as she is in her newly-embraced Christianity. Consequently her synoptic reflections are especially rewarding for the non-Jewish reader.

This book was first published in 2002. Winner formerly converted to Orthodox Judaism after high school. She was subsequently baptized into the Christian faith after her undergraduate years. This memoir was penned during her years as a graduate student and doctoral candidate. Where is she now in terms of her faith journey? Has the “divorce” she describes between her Jewish and Christian identities been resolved? Has she, over time, been able to integrate both traditions more harmoniously in terms of her spiritual practices and devotions? The spiritual memoir of this intelligent, inquiring, and deeply sensitive young adult certainly merits a sequel. This volume clearly concludes with a “to be continued” rather than a “happily ever after.”

True Conversions No.11: Faith Interrupted

2010-08-16T18:11:00.000-07:00

Faith Interrupted: A Spiritual Journey
Eric Lax
Alfred A. Knopf: New York
c. 2010 275 pp. illus. US$26.00
ISBN: 978-0-307-27091-7 (hardbound)

“I came to the obvious but difficult-to-accept conclusion that my son’s perception of his religion was not at all unusual for a young person, and that what I wanted for him—a personal sense of the excitement of Christianity—was something he would have to learn for himself…. He would have to discover it and test it—verify it…and make it his own, in his own life, in his time, through his own encounter with the living God.”

So opines author Angelo Matera (Faith on the Edge), when confronted with the discomfiting knowledge that his teenaged son did not share his own religious convictions. Faith, we are given to understand, is a gift. Yet it never ceases to surprise and befuddle us that what we cannot seem to impart the essential DNA of our deepest beliefs to the next generation. The discovery and acceptance of faith must, ultimately, be a free, conscious and personal decision.

Author Eric Lax has written a deeply personal memoir on precisely this subject. He wrestles with the enduring conundrum of conscience and consciousness: that while he deeply respects the religious faith of others, he cannot accept that same faith for himself. In a way, this is not a memoir of Lax’s own faith journey. More aptly, perhaps it is the spiritual biography of the two people in his life he appears to admire most: his father and Episcopal priest John Martin Lax, and his best friend, George (Skip) Packard. The course of Lax’s narrative is partly a “coming of age’ narrative and partly a description of these parallel and simultaneous journies: Lax’s own gradual drifting away from belief, and his father’s (and Skip’s) increasing embrace of and commitment to the Christian faith.

Lax provides a loving description of the Episcopal liturgy which has framed and informed his worldview from his earliest memories as an acolyte assisting his father at Holy Communion at their parish in El Cajon, California, through his experiences at church school, then summer camp, and student years at Hobart College. Lax’s hold on the Anglican tradition is a heavily aesthetic one: the beauty of the liturgy captures his senses, imagination, and emotions. (There are several, unnecessarily long descriptions of liturgy as well as verbatim citations from the Book of Common Prayer) But, apparently, the aesthetic attraction has worn away with time. The faith of his father/s is not sufficient to address his deeper longings for meaning and understanding.

At the same time that Lax charts his own drift from Anglicanism, he records in admiring detail the growing faith of his college friend, Skip. Coming of age on the cusp of the Vietnam War, Lax struggles with the decision to request “conscientious objector” status based upon his religious beliefs, and serves a two-year stint of duty in Micronesia as a Peace Corp volunteer. Skip, meanwhile , joins the US Army, attends Officers Candidate School, and sees active combat. Upon his return from Vietnam, Skip enrolls in seminary and is ordained first as an Episcopal priest, and ultimately as a bishop.

The figure of Lax’s father, the dedicated, humble, and kindly priest, is always within close reach. Lax appreciates the depth and strength of his father’s (and Skip’s) convictions, but cannot embrace them himself. Doubt about dogma stands in the way. For his part, Lax gradually disengages from church attendance over time: the more he consults the creedal statements of the Church, the less willing he is to give assent to its doctrines. “… shortly after I turned thirty I noticed a drift away from my secure faith. It was a course of omission, not commission—of what I happened not to do rather than what I decided to do.” Lax’s stance is neither rebellious nor condemnatory of the church. It is simply a matter that the church is no longer relevant to his life: “I felt part of the Church, an insider in a genteel and socially prominent faith. Unfortunately, this meant that I found comfort more in feeling connected to the establishment than to the Holy Spirit.”

Interestingly, he seems to draw comfort and consolation from the wry wit of Woody Allen (Lax has written two books on the comedian’s life and work): “Woody’s conviction (and annoyance) is that as much as we might like there to be a personal God in a universe where wrongdoing is punished and virtue rewarded, we only kid ourselves into comfort by believing it. His aphorisms and observations about God (e.g., “I think the worst you can say about (God) is that basically He’s an underachiever.” ), religion and faith are widely quoted, in part because they’re pithy and funny and in part because they lead to reflection.”

The trajectory of Lax’s spiritual journey is not unique to his generation—women and men reared in a mainline Christian denominations who realize that the church no longer holds the hope, promise, or consolation of their formative years: “I wasn’t looking to lose it; I just suddenly noticed there was a separation I had never known. I was like a car whose tires all have imperceptible leaks. Everything runs smoothly, until suddenly four flats bring you to a halt.” The separation from that tradition and grounding elicits more nostalgia than bitterness; there is a quiet sadness and recognition of loss: “I still find myself at home in a church, but now it is more like revisiting the home in which I grew up.”

This is an honest account of one man’s spiritual experience, but it still leaves one wanting to push, delve, and discern more deeply on the nature of belief. “For all my childhood,” Lax writes, “it was as if faith were part of my DNA, determining but unseen.” “Faith, I guess”, he concludes,” is like love: It withers when unattended.”

True Conversions No.10: Faith At The Edge

2010-08-16T15:57:00.000-07:00

Faith at the Edge: A New Generation of Catholic Writers Reflects on Life, Love, Sex, and other Mysteries
Angelo Matera, editor
Ave Maria Press: Notre Dame, Indiana
c. 2008, 224 pp. US$15.95
ISBN: 978-1-59471-140-4

“Just about every Catholic I know collects conversion stories, “ observes contributor Eve Tushnet, herself a convert. “… These stories usually have recurring patterns and themes… They’re often love stories; they’re often stories in which a sense of disturbance and inadequacy provokes a search for answers and the ‘answer’ to the questions is found in another person—or Person. They’re often stories in which an encounter with beauty forces an often unwanted recognition of a truth about oneself, one’s identity, and how one needs to relate to others.” Tushnet’s observation also serves as an apt commentary on this group of essays edited by Angelo Matera. It is a collection which on the whole describes, at times quite poignantly, aspects of both search and encounter central to the process of spiritual transformation and growth.

While not a compilation of “conversion stories” per se—themes run widely and sometimes wildly from young married life and parenthood to natural family planning, corporal mortification (!) and even a tongue in cheek consideration of exorcism—this volume nevertheless expresses in a significant way the spiritually transforming experiences of people who have in one way or another been challenged, confronted, and even surprised by faith at various moments in their spiritual journey. The conversion process here is less frequently a ‘once and for all’ struck-by-lightning kind of event, than an ongoing struggle and unfolding of actual, lived experience and engagement.

Religious experience and conversion are not the property of any one class, community or interest group. The Spirit blows where it will, whether right, left or center. According to editor Matera the seventeen writers whose work is represented in the 20-odd essays in this survey comprise “a new generation of Catholic writers.” While they may well represent part of a generation of Catholic writers, I wonder whether they actually comprise the full cohort. Many of the authors represented in this book are also in some way with the website GodSpy.com, inspired by the Communio/ Faith and Liberation movement with its roots in postwar Italy. Their perspective is that of a self-conscious orthodoxy and identification with the magisterium (official teaching authority) of the Catholic Church. There are very few strays. “What unites the writers of these essays, “ notes Matera, “ is a singular vision: a paradoxical desire to live according to the firm doctrines of their church while at the same time freely expressing the truth of their experiences, and the judgment of their consciences.”

That said, I found this collection of essays to be at times a fascinating melding of traditional theology with a remarkably fresh and free-- sometimes even a bit too free—expressive style. The insights may be traditional, but the voices are clearly those of contemporary Americans, often well-read, articulate and world wise. In the main, they tend to be artists rather than theologians.

The (perhaps unintended) leitmotif of personal conversion in this collection is present throughout the book. In the introduction, editor Matera notes: “I remember the specific moment that sparked my interest in the Catholic Church. It came from an unlikely source—a review of Pope John Paul II’s encyclical Veritatis Splendor by gay writer Andrew Sullivan in The New Republic…. Sullivan was repelled by what the pope wrote. But as a sincere Catholic he also found it difficult to resist the pope’s ‘bracing’ argument…. I was fascinated by the idea that anyone as traditional and doctrinaire as a pope could be intellectually challenging.”

“New Orleans made me a Catholic, or at least the kind of Catholic I am, “ writes Jessica Griffith in her poignant reflection on life in the Big Easy post-Katrina. “It always seemed to have body and soul—the sacred and the profane locked in constant embrace.” For Brian Pessaro, the experience of a Marriage Encounter weekend provided a spiritual epiphany: “I don’t remember much from that weekend, but I do remember one specific statement that the husband of one of the presenting teams said. ‘Love is not a feeling. Love is a decision. You have to decide to love your wife each day.” Pessaro continues later in his essay: “There was no theophany, no burning bush or pillar of fire. But over the course of the next year things began to change.” Paula Huston, describing her decision to complete the RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) process for full membership in the Catholic community despite some initial obstacles, concludes “I could have gone to another church… but an easier church might not do the job, might not be able to tame this thing in me that needed taming.”

The accounts and reflections in this survey are most convincing and powerful when they come directly and candidly from the people’s lived experiences. They are less persuasive when they appear to be polemical, rigidly self-justifying, or just a teensy bit “out there.” This is a mixed bag, but the mixture is interesting and worth exploring.//

True Conversions No.9: Thomas Merton: The Seven Storey Mountain

2010-08-10T20:57:00.000-07:00

Thomas Merton
The Seven Storey Mountain
c.. 1948 (Anniversary Edition: 1999), 496pp.
Harcourt Brace: New York
ISBN-13: 9780156010863

I first read Thomas Merton’s now-classic spiritual memoir in 1980, when I myself was 30 years old. I had just arrived in New York City for what was to be a three-year stay; it was a geographic move that also coincided with an earnest spiritual search. Earlier that same year, I had made the decision to become more actively involved in my faith after a lengthy sabbatical from regular participation. Spiritually, I was eager, curious, hungry, and a bit scared. Serendipitously, I lived in the same Morningside Heights/ Columbia University neighborhood that Merton had inhabited four decades previously. And as I delved into his spiritual autobiography, I could trace my own personal Merton Trail down the spine of Manhattan: from Corpus Christi Church and the Columbia campus on the upper West Side to the depths of Greenwich Village. It was a wonderful journey: for myself, and no doubt for many others, Merton’s Manhattan served as a helpful point of reference and entry into the passionate quest of one of the great spiritual writers of our time. A quest which paralleled my own personal path of spiritual rediscovery and connection.

Since its publication in 1948 (Merton was himself 33 years old at the time and preparing for priestly ordination at the Trappist Abbey in Gethsemani, Kentucky), The Seven Story Mountain has sold more than three million copies—600,000 hardcover copies in the first year alone-- and is still in print. This summer, at the age of 60, I decided to re-read The Seven Storey Mountain to see what kind of impression it would leave this time around.

The Thomas Merton of 1948 was a passionate, even somewhat uncritical apologist for Catholicism. He maintained all the fervor of the neophyte—a spiritual enthusiasm which led him from a promising literary career ‘in the world’ to an equally fulfilling literary career while a Trappist monk. Merton’s early life as described in this memoir is a mixed tale of privilege, struggle, suffering, numerous detours, constant searching and ultimate satisfaction in a religious faith and identity. He was born in France in 1915, the first child of an artistic family—his father was a successful painter. His parents were of Canadian/New Zealand nationality with strong connections to both England and America. His was a childhood and youth marked both by tragedy (the early deaths of both parents) and frequent familial disruption and upheaval. Merton’s formal academic education in English public schools and later at Cambridge and Columbia University, was rounded out by ongoing travel and family visits through Europe, England and the United States. As studies and travel involved an intimate immersion into European culture, young Merton moved gradually from an early attraction to Catholic culture to an eventual embrace of the Catholic faith.

Merton’s spiritual ambit, however, was no perfect trajectory by any means. Rather it was marked by painful periods of confusion, reticence, and self-doubt—with heavy doses of adolescent angst and self-absorption. By his mid-twenties, however, Merton had found his spiritual home and entered into the protracted spiritual honeymoon that resulted in this memoir. His was the pre-Vatican II Church— frequently perceived by its faithful as a morally impregnable fortress and bulwark against the seductions and depredations of a decadent culture. It was a world that spoke of certainty, security, and order to its denizens— an environment no doubt especially attractive to a sensitive and intellectually precocious young man who had experienced precious little real stability during his own tumultuous upbringing.

Today, Merton’s narrative stands on its own—even at a distance of six decades-- as a poignant prelude to the ongoing search and spiritual growth of a man who, even from the distance of the more than 40 years since his death in 1968, continues to be admired for his soaring intellect and deep spiritual insight. Its abiding strength and appeal lies perhaps in Merton’s utter sincerity and dogged determination to plumb the depths of his own soul.

I tried, in my own re-reading of Merton, to put aside anything I had heard or read about him in order to have as fresh and unbiased experience as possible. I found myself full of admiration and respect for a young man who, obviously, had suffered so much in his early years. Yet, I could also see the somewhat spoiled and entitled youth of the British and American upper classes who, seemed to sail effortlessly (and literally) across the Atlantic at a time when most Europeans and Americans were struggling to keep body and soul together during the depths of the Depression. Merton’s first direct experience of genuine poverty, in fact, came as a volunteer at Harlem’s Hospitality House, founded by the celebrated Catherine (Baronness) deHoeck just a few years prior to his entry into the monastery. His conversion occurs at a rather high altitude as well: exposure at Columbia to a gifted teacher and mentor, literary critic and anthologist Mark van Doren: his collaboration and friendships with other budding young writers at their periodic encampments in Olean, New York; his rapturous embrace of William Blake work as a topic for his master’s thesis.

But Merton is certainly more than the sum total of his class and relatively privileged background. His initial immaturity and naivete notwithstanding, there is something more to Merton—“something’ which impels him further in his spiritual journey. This is the part of SSM that not only ‘reads’ well today; it also continues to move and inspire the contemporary seeker even at a distance of more than a half-century.

I have to mention, by way of a postscript that there is also a Franciscan dimension to Merton’s spiritual journey. Initially attracted to the Order, he discerned with the friars, but withdrew his application to postulancy after having been dissuaded by his would-be superiors. Merton is rather vague about his reasons for not joining the friars, but the decision did not deter him from teaching for a while at St. Bonaventure’s University before his eventual entry into the Trappists. I can’t help thinking how both Merton and the Franciscans might have been affected had he decided to become a son of St. Francis. We’ll never know!//

Joseph P. Chinnici: When Values Collide: The Catholic Church, Sexual Abuse, and the Challenges of Leadership

2010-07-19T17:11:00.000-07:00

When Values Collide:
The Catholic Church, Sexual Abuse,
and the Challenges of Leadership
Joseph P. Chinnici
Orbis Books: Maryknoll, NY
$25.00 236 pp., paperback
ISBN: 978-1-5075-873-7

On November 29, 1993, in Santa Barbara, California, the Provincial Minister of the Franciscan Friars (OFM) of the Province of St. Barbara, stood before a room filled with media representatives as well as some “fifty victims, parents, and concerned parishioners” to release a study report revealing that “eleven (Franciscan) friars had abused thirty-four students at St. Anthony Seminary from the period 1964-1987.”

That signal event marked a particularly Franciscan moment in the unfolding of the clerical sexual abuse scandal and concomitant institutional crisis that has rocked the Catholic Church in the United States over the past two decades. It is estimated that between 1950 and 2002, more than 10,000 victim/survivors have come forward. More than 4,000 priests and male religious have had allegations of abuse made against them. The total cost of settlements to date is estimated to be about $3 billion. The cost to the lives of victim/ survivors, their families, friends, and loved ones in terms of pain, suffering, and humiliation is inestimable.

The Franciscan Provincial Minister who stood before the world to announce and acknowledge the serious misconduct of some of our confreres was Father Joseph P. Chinnici, ofm, the author of this book. Today, some seventeen years later, Chinnici offers an extraordinary account and penetrating analysis of the events in which he himself was a primary participant and player. More than that, as a highly regarded historian and observor of the Catholic Church in the United States, he also offers something of equal, if not even greater importance: a call to create new “pathways”of dialogue out of the crisis in order to effect lasting healing and reconciliation. In doing so, the author taps deep into the wellspring of Franciscan spirituality for inspiration and direction by referencing the lives and writings of Sts. Francis of Assisi and Bonaventure (with relevant material from St. Augustine of Hippo).

This is a dense, difficult, demanding, and even exhausting book— but one which, at the same time, provides rich rewards for the reader who is willing to engage the subject matter and stick with it. Be prepared to take your time; this is not easy or light reading.

The entire issue of sexual abuse by clergy has been so highly charged emotionally and polarizing socially and institutionally, that voices of reason and reconciliation have been reduced to whispers and largely ignored in public discourse. Chinnici breaks new ground in this neglected area, charting a course that is both intellectually rigorous and ethically demanding. One hopes that this work will help to usher in a new period of calm discussion and dialogue as a counter to the sensationalism that has dominated treatment of the issue.

Chinnici’s introductory remarks provide a helpful aerial overview of the territory to be explored. Initial chapters provide a summary of the development of the sexual abuse scandal in both the American Church as a whole as well as in the particular case of the Province of St. Barbara. From there, the author moves into the broader field of interpretation. “The sexual abuse scandal can be healed only through the cultivation of trust, affection, mutual exchange, and the preservation of people’s individual dignity, ” he asserts. He argues that “a fundamental consequence of the abuse crisis has been the loss of a shared ethical space of reciprocal exchange between people.”

To help recover that shared ethical space, Chinnici refers to both Francis and Bonaventure for guidance and inspiration in a search for new avenues of communication and healing. The Franciscan value of “fraternitas”— the acknowledgment of the essential brother/sisterhood of all creation—he observes, was an important factor in breaking the deadlock of protracted social conflict between individuals and groups in medieval Italy. “Francis’s task was medicinal, one of soothing the relationships between people so that more peace could reign in the society and the Church.” (p.104). In a similar mode, Chinnici examines the concept of the Order of Love proposed by St. Bonaventure, which is “encapsulated in the Great Commandment (of Jesus)… a freely given bestowal of gifts and a bond of trust between people.” Both Francis and Bonaventure avoid the perils of a direct assault upon societal norms. Rather, they urge the more patient approach of convincing all parties to recognize and embrace those essentially transcendant values which serve to modify relationships. The Gospel imperative of love, mutual care and promotion trumps the struggle for power and domination.

Fine, but what does any of this have to do with a way out of the personal/ institutional impasse presented by the contemporary sexual abuse crisis? “A key means of healing this wound,” Chinnici asserts, “ is the discovery of a framework for faith that releases our energies to love again.” A uniquely Franciscan contribution toward the charting of that pathway “is not discovered through intellectual parsing but through companionship, humility, dispossession, lamentation, and the practice of pietas (the virtue by which one recognizes, in true humility and reverence, God’s primacy in all things-ed.).” The author is reaching deep into the Franciscan story both to recall and to remind us that this movement is essentially a penitential one. We need to recognize both our own fragility and woundedness: “Life’s center of gravity needed to become not the perfection of Christendom but the following of Christ and the embrace of his presence in his disfigured body on earth, the Church.” (p.178). In support of this argument, he provides a particularly powerful reflection on the conversion of Francis himself— in which the saint moved in his own life from an attitude of utter disdain to the recognition of the “sweetness” of his full embrace of the lepers.

Chinnici does not offer quick or facile solutions to what is, at heart, not simply the cumulative effect of private behavior-- individual wrongdoing writ large-- but rather, what he considers to be the profound breakdown of a fundamental sense of community. “The Church will be challenged… to create a consistent communal ethic of repentance, humility, … respect for a common human dignity dictated by the terms ‘brother’ and ‘sister’, obedience to the order of love, and the daily practice of pietas.” In other words, genuine reform both necessitates and impels a process of deep and ongoing personal conversion as well as meaningful institutional change.

In his concluding chapter, Chinicci writes that “the sexual abuse of minors in the Church has begun to fade from the height of its institutional charge….” Sadly, the unfolding of events in Ireland and western Europe this past spring and summer would tend to indicate otherwise. The scandals are not going away. If anything, they continue to point to the woeful inadequacy of personal and institutional responses to wrongdoing that are still essentially reactive and self-protective. Chinnici concludes by challenging us “to re-member the scandal, and by this re-membering, insert into our public discourse and life a Gospel vision of God’s goodness and who we are called to be together.” The call to conversion remains and is more compelling than ever. Chinnici’s work gives one hope that this call may, finally, be heeded.

Read this book.

POSTSCRIPT: Several of the events described in this book have been part of my own lived experience as a Franciscan friar. On the day of Father Chinnici’s public revelation of evidence of sexual misconduct, I was in the postulancy (entry) program of the Province of St. Barbara. The ongoing process of fraternal healing, reconciliation, and restitution has coincided with my formation as a friar ever since. The journey has been a long and painful one for all of us, but I believe we have emerged as a stronger, more united brotherhood as a result.—ct.

True Conversions No. 8: The Crying Tree by Naseem Rakha

2010-07-02T17:16:00.001-07:00

The Crying Tree
By Naseem Rakha
353 pp. $22.95
Broadway Books: New York
ISBN: 978-0-7679-3140-3

For the most part, I’ve been consulting spiritual memoirs—actual auto/biographical references- as a point of departure for an exploration of the phenomenon of spiritual conversion and transformation. But a friend suggested this novel, so I thought: "Why not? What can we learn of this process from the perspective and experience of a work of fiction?"

September 20, 1983. Irene Stanley of Carlton, Illinos, will never forget the date she lost her only son, fifteen year-old Shep to a violent death: For the following nineteen years, she and her family (husband Nate, a police officer; daughter, Bliss) struggle to come to terms with his passing. During this same period, after a steep and prolonged plunge into deep depression and listlessness, she emerges energized and transformed interiorly. She not only makes the decision to forgive Shep’s putative killer, quondam drifter Daniel Robbins, but is willing to move heaven and earth if necessary to achieve her ends. She decides-- and against all odds-- succeeds in completing the process of reconciliation by meeting Robbins face to face on the eve of his execution in Blaine, Oregon: October 28, 2004

In between these two key dates, the reader is moved back and forth over time and across the continent, charting the separate development—character development, if you will—of Irene, Daniel, and prison superintendent Tab Mason (himself a victim of violent crime in his youth at the hands of his own brother). Shirley struggles valiantly: alternately rising, coasting, sinking, floundering, drifting in and out of a woozy despair only to emerge victorious at last— triumphant over her own hatred and desire for revenge.

What is the catalyst for Irene’s spiritual transformation? Novelist Naseem Kakha depicts a scene in which Irene finally hits bottom, deciding and attempting to take her own life. Somehow, in that botched effort, she experiences a spiritual awakening. For the reader (like this one) who is looking for the “God in the details”, the author offers rather slim pickings in terms of a thoroughgoing reflection or explanation. At this critical juncture in the character’s transformation, she becomes curiously vague and imprecise. If Irene is, finally, so certain that the execution of her son’s putative killer represents an act of revenge rather than one of justice, what are the underpinnings of her reasoning? What is the basis of this fundamental, life-changing insight? What is the source of her newfound strength and courage—and how does it sustain her in her subsequent struggles?

While we are left in the dark about the character’s motivation, it becomes quite clear to the reader what Irene does not believe in. The spiritual leader of her small, rural community, Pastor Samuel White is certainly kind enough as a person. With courage, determination and perseverance, he jumps to the ready to assist victims of a freak tornado which has ravaged the area. But despite his courage and display of apparently genuine Christian charity, he is ineffectual as a spiritual mentor. He responds to Irene’s insistent questioning and demands with pat and patronizing responses and a single, stubborn conclusion: a merciful God would certainly forgive someone like Daniel. But by the same token, a just God would not contest or impede the literal execution of this capital punishment. End of story.

Bereft of spiritual consolation, Irene seeks her own counsel. But what exactly constitutes her inner world? Who or what inhabits it? What principles—ethical, moral, philosophical, religious—guide and direct her subsequent decisions and actions? Granted the character has experienced a genuine life-changing transformation—a clear rupture with the habits of her own heart and a willingness to stand apart from the traditional values of family, friends, and community. But what directs and sustains all of this? Midwestern gumption alone does not suffice.

In the Reader’s Guide which follows this engaging narrative, the author poses two crucial questions in this regard: “Do you think it is necessary to have a belief in a God or a higher power to have made the choices Irene made? Do you think the ability to forgive can be learned?” Great questions. I just wish the author had dealt with them more directly in the story. This is a “true conversion” for sure—but what makes it “true”? //

True Conversions No. 7: Julia Scheeres

2010-06-29T21:20:00.001-07:00

Jesus Land  
By Julia Scheeres  
Counterpoint, $24  288 pages  
ISBN 1582433380

True conversions? This chilling, “coming of age” memoir by author Julia Scheeres, is more in the nature of True Confessions. Scheeres writes intensely-and graphically- about her adolescent struggles against both an abusive home situation and the strict upbringing she experienced in the Christian Reformed Church, a denomination with its roots in historic Calvinism. This book covers the period of her transition, in the early 1980’s, from the sheltered haven of a private Christian elementary school to the ‘secular’ world of public high school in quasi-redneck Lafayette, Indiana.

This is not an idealized, “Leave it to Beaver” American family. Sheeres’ father, a prominent surgeon, reportedly beats his male children on a regular basis, often on the flimsiest of excuses. Two paddles—one named “Spare the Rod”, and the other, “Spoil the Child” tell the story. Her mother spends most of her time involved in church-related work—support of foreign missionaries is her passion. She appears to be utterly indifferent to the affective needs of her children. When she does give them attention, it is usually to criticize. Her parents have adopted two African-American children to rear alongside their own biological offspring. One of the adopted children, David, is the same age as the author, and becomes her literal soul mate. The other stepbrother, Jerome, exhibits violent and self-destructive tendencies from an early age. In addition to his other behaviors, he has sexually assaulted his sister on multiple occasions.

To fill out this grim portrait of domestic dysfunction, teenagers Julia and David are shipped off to hellhole of a Christian reform school in the Dominican Republic where, according to the author, they are subjected to a daily regimen of humiliating mistreatment. Only the mutual love and concern of the brother and sister make their psychic survival possible. Eventually both siblings are liberated from their banishment, but David is killed some years later in an auto accident. The author herself ends up being excommunicated by her church and shunned by her community for her unorthodox views and conduct.

This is not a tale about religious conversion; it’s a story about survival. Survival from a loveless childhood and adolescence; survival from apparently indifferent, and even violent parents. Survival from a religious community which apparently accorded these young people little, if any, acceptance, support, or affirmation.

This grim memoir straddles precariously between necessary truth telling and compulsive self-disclosure. The reader does not really need a lengthy blow by blow description of routine abuse and humiliation to get the picture. It’s pretty clear what’s going on from the get-go. What is less clear is what is happening to the young Julia Scheeres internally, spiritually, if you will. She writes about the beliefs of others, but not about her own. Although the author describes extensively the religious beliefs and attitudes of her family and church community, she reveals very little of her own worldview or spiritual beliefs. We know what she’s ‘a-gin”, but we have no clue about what she’s “fur.” At present, Scheeres half-jokingly describes herself as a “devout hedonist, agnostic, (and) secular humanist.” Not a surprising response from someone who appears to have experienced only a mean, petty, and vengeful God as a child. Exposure of deep and still-raw wounds to the light of day may be the requisite first step in her healing process. “True conversion” may well have to wait.

June 14-21: A lot can happen in a week

2010-06-21T20:15:00.001-07:00

About this time last week, I drove up the Coast to Santa Barbara from our friary at Old Mission San Luis Rey (Oceanside, California) to witness the priestly ordination of our brother, Luis Alberto Guzman, ofm. Since we friars all have different work schedules, I hitched a ride with Mark Beglin and Kay Sempel, two of our volunteer lay Covenant Members who live at the Mission and assist in our work and ministries. We had a great time together and made it to Santa Barbara in just under three hours-- record time-- in Kay's cool yellow Mustang convertible.

Our newly ordained confrere, Father Luis, 44, is a native of Tamaulipas, Mexico, and has been a member of our Province for more than a decade. A year ago, he finished his studies at our Franciscan School of Theology in Berkeley, before being assigned as deacon at the parish of Old Mission Santa Barbara. Luis is a fine man, and a friend, so I was keen to attend his ordination. Not only that, he has been assigned to our parish starting in July, so I had a professional interest in his ordination as well.

The beautiful twilight liturgy on June 15 was attended by hundreds of parishioners, family, friends and friars. Bishop Alexander Salazar, auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, was warm and personable. He spoke directly to Luis and indirectly to the assembly, stressing that priestly ordination rises from our baptism in Christ Jesus. Everything a priest does is an act of service, he emphasized. Service expressed most profoundly through our sacramental life as Catholic Christians: the service of baptizing, the service of presiding at Eucharist, of hearing confessions, of witnessing marriages, of anointing the sick. As I sat in the sanctuary of the Old Mission church, I could not help but reflect upon my own priestly ministry a decade ago. Where has the time gone? But more importantly, how can I reclaim and keep alive in my own heart the tremendous feeling of peace and gratitude I experienced at my own ordination?

I stayed overnight at the Old Mission so I could attend Father Luis' first Mass at the monastery of the Poor Clares the next morning. Here, the setting was more intimate and familial. Flanked by three other Franciscans at the altar, Luis was well supported as he made his way through the liturgy. The chanting of the nuns-- unseen, cloistered behind their grill-- gave a formal and austere feeling to the event. But when the Mass was ended, everyone broke out into warm and enthusiastic applause. Luis just stood there for a moment, taking it all in, beaming.

After the ordination, I drove back to Oceanside with Friar Adrian Peelo, the third member of our team of sacramental ministers. We gave a ride to our new friar-to-be, Sam Nasada, who will enter our novitiate program at the beginning of July. We dropped Sam off in Los Angeles, stopped at Ikea for lunch, and chatted away about our plans and hopes for the parish now that we have a another priest to help out.

When I got home, I met with Brother Vincent Nguyen, who is staying with us for the summer. Brother Vincent has been commissioned to produce a full-scale interpretation of the celebrated Franciscan, or San Damiano Cross for our sanctuary. We hope to have the work completed by the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary on August 15. Meanwhile, we placed the blank form in the sanctuary this first weekend so that people would have an idea of the scale of the project. Vincent is making great progress and is generous in explaining the iconography of the Cross to parishioners and others. This is a very concrete way in which we hope to plant the Franciscan identity in our faith community.

I had scarcely unpacked when I learned that our three novices-- Friars Philip Polk, Michael Minton, and Ryan Thornton, along with their assistant novicemaster, Father Tom Frost, had stopped by to spend the night. The novices explained that they had been on the road for 19 straight days, visiting friars and friaries in Arizona and southern California. They were both exhausted and elated; they had learned a great deal during their site visits and were eager to share their insights. At the same time, they were more than ready to return home to Old Mission San Miguel (California) to prepare for their first profession of vows on July 2.

Once the novices left, there was no time to spare in preparing for weekend liturgies (we have 6 Masses-- 2 in Spanish; 4 in English). Everything looked fine until we discovered that we had no water pressure-- there was a break somewhere-- but where?-- in the line. So, we had to close all the bathrooms and shuttle people back and forth via golf cart to the Mission next door so they could use the facilities. Luckily, by noon on Sunday, we were able to plug the leak. Always something!

Today is Monday, June 21. Six of us friars decided to take our day off (yes, we get one whole free day a week) as a Fun Day. So, Friars Larry, Kelly, Andres, Mo, Adrian and myself piled onto the northbound Amtrak train together. We got off at the very next station to spend the afternoon visiting one of our sister missions, San Juan Capistrano. We were given the royal treatment by the staff at both the parish and Mission. San Juan is compact and easily accessible. Even though it welcomes more than 300,000 visitors annually, it has succeeded in retaining its identity and spirit as a place of prayer, reverence, and spiritual refreshment. We friars never seem to have enough time together, so this was a rare treat. We strolled through the Mission and its adjacent basilica , gazing and grazing. Savoring the gorgeous grounds. After an early dinner, we caught the next train back to Oceanside.

It's late. I'm tired and need to rest. It's been a great week; it's been a while since I've been able to spend this much time with the friars. But I have to admit I'm looking forward to some quieter days now to catch up with office work at the parish. Enjoy your week.

True Conversions No. 6: Irene Lape

2010-06-12T20:15:00.000-07:00

Leadings: A Catholic’s Journey through Quakerism
Irene Lape
Brazos Press: Grand Rapids, Michigan c.2003
160 pp. ISBN: 1-58743-054-1

It’s tempting to think of a conversion journey as a one-way street. A person moves from one spiritual “home” or tradition to another, either in terms of a natural evolution or as a response to some crisis. And then, presumably, they live happily ever after. End of story. Irene Lape’s excursion, however, is best described as a two-way street, a round-trip experience, even. Brought up by socially involved, but self-proclaimed atheist parents, she first converted to Catholicism (via the Episcopal faith) as a college freshman. Before graduation, though, she had opted out again, only to re-enter the Catholic community some decades later. But not until she had had first become thoroughly steeped in the Quaker tradition.

This short, but intense spiritual memoir also serves as a sympathetic and insightful introduction to Quaker identity, theology, and tradition. Lape clearly treasures her exposure to and involvement in the Religious Society of Friends (of Quakers) as well she should. She does not leave that tradition empty-handed. In fact, if anything, she enriches the Catholic environment through both her search and discoveries. That her search is marked by openness, intellectual rigor, patience, consistency, and integrity is evident in this dense and serious chronicle—one that never lapses into smugness or self-indulgence.

For Lape, Quakerism served as a much-needed antidote and alternative to the “broad way—the popular way—of my generation, the way of ideology and political theorizing, the way of psychology, and scientific ‘positivism’, the way of doubt and skepticism of all traditions.” Like others who came of age in the turbulent Sixties, Lape was attracted to the “simplicity, integrity, and plainness of speech” of the Quakers, to the strength and beauty of their silent worship. She also found the Quaker witness to social justice to be singular and exemplary. The Friends Service Committee, for example, was proactive early on in the struggle for a peaceful resolution to the Vietnam War and consequently exerted an influence far beyond its limited membership.

That said, as much as she admired the Quakers’ stand on social justice, Lape is insistent that her decision to join the Friends was triggered primarily by her spiritual longing and search—most especially by her experience of the presence of Christ within her very self as well as within community: “My outward life was not suddenly different, but inwardly everything was changed. I saw differently.” Elsewhere, she notes that “ (The) Friends said Christ was in me. His Crucifixion was something to be joined with in the depths of my being… and he was inviting me to be joined to him, to trust as he did in the Father to bring forth something good in his own time.”

Lape’s conversion to the Friends led her both to deeper institutional involvement and to a relentless search to plumb the depths of the Quaker theological tradition. In her dogged resourcement, she pondered the writings of founder George Fox himself, as well as those of other Early Friends such as John Woolman,and Isaac Penington. She introduces the reader to the rich vocabulary used by Friends over time—a vocabulary marked by indirect discourse rather than confrontation. Quoting early Quaker sources, she writes of “leadings,” “clearings,” “motions,” “pressings” and openings” not as charming linguistic ornaments, but as apposite descriptions of the nature of the spiritual life and of God’s activity in that life.

As her own search and research into Quaker sources continued, Lape was surprised to find many of her contemporary Friends either indifferent to or ignorant of the early traditions of their own movement: “Missing from the modern way of understanding and articulating Friends’ testimonies is any kind of radical call to holiness, especially in relation to personal, sexual behavior…. or self-abnegation… (or) the sense of sin early Quakers found so important in coming into the sense of God’s new covenant presence.” Increasingly, Lape appears to have found a fundamental disconnect between the theological insights and intentions of those early Quakers and those of present-day practitioners, some of whom evinced only a hazy or remote connection to Christianity itself.

In terms of her own journey, Lape began to question the apparent rejection of both tradition and of a physically incarnate sacramentality within the Friends. This questioning, in time, led her to embrace Catholicism again in her maturity: “It seemed to me… that the Catholic Church understood better than the Friends and most other Christian denominations that Christ had not necessarily come to end outward forms and observances of religion, but to extend them in new ways that represented a real continuity of his physical presence among us.” Added to her sense of the incarnational aspect of Catholicism was Lape’s appreciation for the roots of the faith in apostolic tradition.

Grateful as she is to have found her own spiritual home (again), Lape nevertheless evinces no interest in scoring denominational points, however. On the contrary, she is emphatic that her experience and identity as a Friend were part and parcel of her process and journey: “I had come to Christ among them (the Friends). There was a dimension of the Gospel they knew about ,” she continues, “ that I had not found among Catholics, and (that) God did not want me to lose.” Elsewhere, she concludes, “ I went back (to Catholicism because I believed God wanted me to go back, and as a Friend I would have proved unfaithful had I failed to obey his voice.”

Ultimately, Lape is much more interested in the larger, more transcendent picture: “ I know that the message I responded to is a message anyone can respond to…. The work of redemption God performed through the Jews and brought to us all in Christ is a work we are all invited to be joined to. Open your eyes and see that God is in you… and acknowledge him. Serve him, obey him, let his life grow up in you. If you do, you will experience a delight deeper than any you have ever known, a depth of meaning in your life greater than you have ever imagined.” Blessed by the Quaker tradition, Lape extends and shares that same blessing with us.

Stockholm's Franciscan Heart: Riddarholmen

2010-06-12T19:52:00.001-07:00

Over the past several decades, a number of attempts have been made to ‘plant’ the Franciscan order in Sweden, but have met with only limited success. It is unfortunate, because up until the Protestant Reformation, the Franciscans flourished in this country and throughout Scandinavia. In a very special way, the Franciscan ‘footprint’ is still physically present in the form of Stockholm’s oldest building—and one of its’ most distinguished cultural landmarks-- the former friary now known as Riddarholmkyrkan (the Riddarholm Church).

In 1268, just forty years after the death of St. Francis, friars arrived in what is now present-day Sweden. Under the patronage of King Magnus Ladulås (1250-90), they settled on a tiny island in the center of the Stockholm archipelago and immediately adjacent to the Old City (Gamla Stan). Here, on Riddarholmen (the island of the Knights), a large brick sanctuary in the early Gothic style and adjacent friary were constructed, then dedicated in the year 1300. Returning the courtesy of royal patronage, the friars provided for a burial place at the foot of the main altar for King Magnus. He was to be accompanied two centuries later by another Swedish king, Karl Knutsson. Both tombs remain in the sanctuary to this day.

According to historian Henrik Roelvink, himself a Franciscan, the friars flourished on Riddarholmen for more than 200 years. It is believed that the community consisted of up to 20 men who in addition to their other responsibilities, also served as chaplains to the nuns at the nearby monastery of St. Clare. The friars continued to enjoy royal patronage during these centuries, and the convent became famous for its scriptorium. In fact, the very first book ever printed in Sweden was the Dialogus creaturarum moralizatus/ The Moral Dialogue of Creatures, printed at Riddarholm in 1483.

With deep roots in the culture and continuous royal support, one might reasonably assume that the friars would continue to thrive, unmolested and unencumbered in their communal life and ministry. But the arrival of Sweden’s King Gustav Vasa (1523-1560) changed all of that. Under the battle cry (and cover) of the Reformation, Vasa proceeded to break the power and influence of the medieval Church in Sweden. Not unlike Henry VIII of England, he confiscated church property, appropriated altar silver (later melted down and used for the royal treasury), and closed most religious houses and foundations. For the friars, this was a traumatic event; we really don’t know what happened to the friars themselves afterwards. Following the closure of their convents (c.1527), it is assumed that most of them dispersed into the general community, either returning to their families or going into exile abroad. Now banned by law, the Franciscans and other Catholic religious orders were not to return to Scandinavia for more than 300 years.

The departure of the friars, however, did not mean the end of Riddarholm Church. While other religious houses were sacked and destroyed, Riddarholm remained relatively unmolested—physically, that is. For one thing, it contained the remains of one of Sweden’s earliest and most revered kings, Magnus Ladulås, a vital connection to Sweden’s past that it was in the interest of Gustav Vasa to preserve. For another, it had never been a parish church, so its sanctuary could quite easily continue in its role as the burial chapel for Swedish royalty and nobility—a function it has served well into the twentieth century. In time, the early Gothic structure of the church would be modified to accommodate the construction of additional side chapels for burial vaults. A large bell tower was erected, replaced in the nineteenth century by the ornamental metal structure which survives to this day.

The appearance of present-day Riddarholmenskyrka continues to reflect its Franciscan roots. For all the glory and opulence of its royal residents, this (initially simple) brick structure remains a surprisingly spare, even spartan environment. Only a collection of heraldic shields covers the wall; otherwise, the space is barren of superfluous ornament. Fragments of various frescoes can be found throughout the sanctuary, though, hinting at more extensive decoration during the Franciscan era.

It’s remarkable that after 700 years, this important memorial to the Franciscan presence in Sweden should have survived. Of course, it is just a building. One hopes for the day when the Order itself may be return, flourish once more, and leave its distinctive mark on Swedish life in terms of our presence and ministry.//

True Conversions No. 5: Me

2010-06-12T19:34:00.000-07:00

June, 1980. I had just turned 30. My father had died suddenly the previous summer, and I was still coming to terms with his death. I felt confused, despondent, and overwhelmed. I was going through a difficult time with work and with some personal relationships. Spiritually, I was drifting. I was a mess.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I received a grant from the Swedish government to study and write about traditional handicrafts in Scandinavia. It was an unexpected opportunity; I had already done some freelance writing on the subject and was excited to have the opportunity to spread my wings as a budding freelance journalist. So off to Stockholm I went, with the intention of visiting for just a couple of months. I ended up staying in Sweden, off and on, for almost three full years. I went to Sweden expecting to become a journalist, and I left wanting to become a Catholic priest. No one was more surprised than I was myself.

Although I was a cradle Catholic, educated in parochial schools, and brought up in an especially devout family, I hadn’t been much of a churchgoer since I left home for college. I still believed in God and prayed on a regular basis, but I was ticked off at the church and stayed away from active participation and involvement, as did many people of my generation. But here I was in Stockholm, Sweden, of all places, and, after a few initially euphoric months, I began to feel like my life was coming apart again and that I was sinking. I was stranded-- isolated both physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Cut off from family, friends, work, culture, language, even food-- almost everything and everybody that I thought defined me as a person and supported my identity. I was lost and didn’t know how to get found. As all of these other supports dissolved, I realized that what kept me going was my faith.

I discovered a small Catholic church in the neighborhood where I was staying. Temporarily housed in a converted movie theater, St. Eugenia’s was open during the week, so I started to drop in for an occasional visit. I would just sit in the sanctuary and ask God for help and guidance; anything that would give me some grounding and direction in my life.

I began to feel more and more at home in church-- not just in the physical space, but also in the liturgy and prayer life of the parish. Cautiously, I started to attend Mass again, but I was careful to sit in the very last pew so I could escape out the back door right after the final blessing so I wouldn’t have to speak with anyone.
St. Eugenia’s served a broad international community and was staffed by German Jesuits. These good men made a lasting impression on me: they were intelligent, calm, prayerful men. I liked their style; they were welcoming and approachable, but at the same time discrete and a bit reserved. I screwed up my courage and approached one of the younger priests to ask for an appointment to talk about my life and spiritual search. Over the course of several ensuing months, that initial conversation developed into a more formal process of reconciliation and spiritual direction. I was now coming home in a more conscious and conscientious manner.

My prayer life was flourishing. And at the same time I was getting more clarity about what God was asking of me in terms of a vocational commitment. I was thrilled and scared at the same time. I realized that once I reconciled fully with the Church, I would have to put myself completely at God’s disposal-- to place my self and all of my gifts upon the altar. And I would have to have to come to terms with a growing desire for priesthood—a ‘secret’ I had kept from everyone, including myself for a very long time.

Eventually, all of my deepest fears were realized and I’m glad they were. I did become reconciled to the Church. I did ‘place my gifts on the altar’, and I did finally admit that I was being called to be a priest. But it’s not as if all the pieces fell into to place quickly or easily. The process initiated in Stockholm in 1980, took more than a decade to come to fruition. I moved back to the United States, found a job and apartment in the Bay Area, got connected with a parish community, sought regular spiritual direction, and began to do some volunteer work. Ultimately, in 1993, I was accepted into the postulancy program of the Franciscans in California. A lot happened in between, but my Swedish experience was the initial catalyst for my spiritual conversion, growth and development.

Over the past three decades, I have kept up my Swedish connection and contact with friends and former colleagues. I will always be grateful for the opportunity to spend time in this extraordinary place in the world. In and out of church, I have been nourished on so many levels by the hospitality, friendship, love, and acceptance I have received from people here. As I was leaving for this trip to Stockholm, one of my Franciscan brothers joked with me about returning to my ‘adopted’ country. But, actually, Sweden adopted me. Sweden gave me a home and it helped to bring me home. Amen.

Where do Franciscans go to get away from other Franciscans?

2010-05-12T21:19:00.000-07:00

Don’t get me wrong. I love my brothers. But from time to time, I really need to get away from them. And vice versa. So, where does this Franciscan go to get away from other friars? Well, a lot of places, actually. My personal preference is to spend some time at another religious community—most often with Jesuits, Trappists, or the Benedictines. Whether for a ‘sabbath day’ away, or a week-long retreat—the atmosphere of retreat house or monastery can provide a real relief from the stress of ministry and yes, of community living, as well.

Since moving from Sacramento to southern California last July, I have been searching for a place/ places where I can get away from the demands of parish and community life in order to get some rest, time out and spiritual refreshment. It’s ironic. So many people come to us—to our home—looking for those very things. Our Franciscan community at Old Mission San Luis Rey (Oceanside, CA), has an excellent retreat house (and some pretty good cooks!), beautiful grounds, and a wonderful old historic mission church. But it’s also where we friars, eight of us, live. And on weekends, we are often swamped with school groups, Marriage Encounter weekends, and other crowded retreat activities. What looks like an idyllic, restful environment ain’t all that peaceful when you are living there and working behind the scenes.

I try to go for spiritual direction about once a month and, when possible, I make it an overnight visit. It usually involves a three-hour train and bus trip to Los Angeles for me-- to the Cardinal Manning House of Prayer for Priests in the city’s Echo Park neighborhood. As the name suggests, this facility, perched at the edge of the motherhouse of the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary (IHM), focuses on the spiritual needs of Catholic clergy. Two resident priests, both Jesuits, are available to work with priests from throughout the region and country. For me personally, a visit to the House of Prayer is a savored opportunity to rest deeply in the Lord.

Hospitality is the cornerstone of the Benedictine tradition since the establishment of the Order more than 1,500 years ago. In southern California, we are blessed with two abbeys of Benedictine men. Prince of Peace Abbey in Oceanside, California, is just down the road from our friary at Old Mission San Luis Rey. Poised on a secluded hilltop adjacent to the US Marine facility at Camp Pendelton, it offers a splendid beach and ocean view. The contemporary architecture of Prince of Peace is particularly striking, but what one notices most about the place is the quality of meditative quiet it embodies and imparts. It would be difficult for anyone to leave this spot unaffected by its serenity. Prince of Peace Abbey: princeofpeaceabbey.blogspot.com

Just about 2.5 hours north of Oceanside is another Benedictine monastery, St. Andrew’s Abbey in Valyermo. Unlike Prince of Peace and the Cardinal Manning House of Prayer, St. Andrew’s is, quite literally, a desert community. Cactus, cottonwoods, and Joshua trees dot the sparse and parched landscape of this very basic, very simple monastic settlement. Though physically isolated, it is, ironically, within the bounds of Los Angeles County. Consequently, both individuals and groups from throughout the metropolitan area take advantage of the Abbey’s idyllic environs. In addition to guest/retreat facilities, the Abbey hosts a ceramics center, youth retreat facilities, and its welcome center boasts one of the best Catholic bookstores in the West.

The community at St. Andrew’s consists of some 20 monks, but not everyone is at home 24/7. As one monk quipped: “We Benedictines take a vow of stability, not immobility.” At the moment, a small Byzantine monastery of the Holy Resurrection shares the site while its members search for a more permanent home of their own. They offer, through their presence, an opportunity to experience the richness of the Eastern Christian monastic tradition. St. Andrew’s Abbey: https://www.saintandrewsabbey.com

The Trappists offer hospitality at the New Clairvaux Abbey in Vina, California, about two hours north of Sacramento. The region boasts vast prune and almond orchard, and the abbey has its own winery and pottery. A recently reconstructed 12th century Spanish charterhouse solidifies the stamp of the Cistercian spirit and identity on the site in physical terms. Retreatants are welcome to attend the Liturgy of the Hours, but I, like others, skip the odd hours of prayer and focus on resting as much as possible. Once, I informed one of my spiritual directors of my earnest plans to bring a stack of books and my journal and breviary along with me on a week-long retreat. He just chuckled: “Concentrate on sleep instead. The best thing about retreat time is getting as much rest as you can.” He was so right! New Clairvaux Abbey: www.newclairvaux.org

It is to places like these that I try to make personal pilgrimage whenever I can. In religious life, if you’re too busy to pray, you are way too busy! I work at a large multicultural parish. We’re on call, often 10-12 hours a day, six days a week. The people are wonderful, but the level of stress can really get to you. So when I can, I try to take a day (or two, if I can squeeze it in) to spend a ‘sabbath’ day in a monastic environment.

I really admire our Benedictine, Trappist, and Jesuit confreres, but have no inclination to join either community. Each group has its own particular ‘personality’ or charism, and without going into detail, I still feel most at home with the Franciscan lifestyle. It fits. But I deeply appreciate and respect the quiet, rhythm and balance of monastic life, in particular. Its harmonic, unhurried pace helps me to put my own too busy routine into perspective. It helps one to refocus, “re-center” on one’s prayer and personal encounter with the Lord.

A Sabbath is not the same as a sabbatical, but it certainly is better than nothing. And it’s important. All of us need to put on the breaks periodically and make more time for the Lord. You certainly don’t have to be a member of a religious community to partake of the offerings of such centers of hospitality. Laypeople, whether on an individual, private retreat or as part of a visiting group are often welcome. I’ve included contact information above for the places which would welcome inquirers and guests. Amen.//

True Conversions No. 4: Sara Miles (again)

2010-05-09T17:55:00.001-07:00

Jesus Freak: feeding, healing, raising the dead
Sara Miles
Jossey-Bass, San Francisco, c.2010
171 pp. hardbound, US$21.95
ISBN: 978-0-470-48166-0

This is a great book with an unfortunate title. Jesus freak ? Visions of flower children dance in one’s head. That’s definitely not what this book is about. JF is basically the sequel to Miles’s hard-hitting spiritual memoir, Take this bread: A Radical Conversion (c.2007). In a way, this most recent literary effort by Miles—the “feeding’ segment, in particular—takes up where its predecessor left off. The rest of the book is an extended meditation on the meaning of the presence of Christ as healer and reconciler — embodied/ incarnated in the experience of suffering of the poor and those dedicated to accompanying them.

Feeding. The Food Pantry, which Miles founded while a member of St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco shortly after her initial conversion experience in the mid-Nineties, has now blossomed into a regional network of some 18 pantries for the poor. The Portrero Hill site presently offers free groceries on a weekly basis to upwards of 800 families and individuals. Throughout this surge, Miles has maintained her determination to continue to offer a sense of genuine eucharist (and Eucharist) to all comers. All are fed. In fact, volunteers are especially well fed, with a home-cooked meal prepared for them each Friday before the doors open to the public. The Pantry’s radical sense of inclusion— its stubborn ‘no questions asked’ policy— makes it oddly invincible. Miles reflects: “We had everything we needed because we gave everything away: we were invincible because we offered power and authority, just like food, to everyone.” A teen volunteer concurs: “…it’s cool how people can’t take advantage of you.”

Miles’ focus here is almost exclusively on her own project. It is important, even extraordinary work. But it would be helpful if she had put it in the context of the impressive array of nonprofit projects throughout The City which also serve the poor-- often heroically: e.g., Project Open Hand, Glide Memorial Methodist Church, and our own Franciscan-inspired St. Anthony’s Dining Room, which feeds up to 3,000 free meals daily to the poor.

Healing, raising the dead. If Miles’ entire book were concerned solely with the work of The Food Pantry, it would serve primarily as an informative sequel to her culinary cum spiritual endeavors. Thankfully, it doesn’t stop there. Instead, Miles plunges into a fervent and feverish reprise of the Gospels-- a relentless reflection on its meaning and relevance to her own experience. She’s on a spiritual truffle hunt and doesn’t come home empty handed. In this literal —“hunting for the Gospel in our own stories”—she branches out from The Food Pantry to work with a group of health care professionals based at nearby San Francisco General Hospital. Here she encounters dedicated women and men determined to instill meaning as well as technical/professional efficiency in their work: “Healing’, here, “(is) about creating meaning. What was our suffering, the suffering of others really for?” Miles’ responds with the ‘answer’ of Jesus: “… the answer to all the questions of our lives. Sickness, war, falling in love, going to the grocery store: everything happens so that God’s works might be revealed.”

While Miles the journalist reports on her active participation in projects aimed at feeding the hungry and healing the sick, Miles the convert (but no longer the neophyte) sinks her roots (and teeth) more deeply into the Christian faith: “I realized how my continuing conversion depended on being thrown together in intimate ways with all kinds of strangers I hadn’t chosen.” And, one might add, all kinds of experiences, impressions, and ideas she had not countenanced either. Miles appears to want to take things and shake them up to see what they’re really made of. In this, she is willing to be unorthodox, even “heretical”— while not taking herself too seriously in the process. (In Miles’ argot, Jesus The Beloved becomes The Boyfriend, for example. Cute, but a little annoying after a while)…. With relish, she takes on the issue of authority, especially the authority of The Church. Miles brings communion (and Communion) to the homebound; she anoints the sick; she listens to confessions; she buries the dead. Why, she asks, as do others—why is this sacramental life and power restricted to ordained ministers of The Church? Jesus trusts us (all of us) to do his work, she submits.

Miles goes further in her exploration and theological inquiry, ever willing to push the envelope. She meets Anibal Mejia, a psychologist working with the desperately poor, who is also a priest in the Brazilian Candomble tradition. Her gets her thinking about and questioning The Church’s resistance to and rejection of cultural/ theological syncretism…. At one point, she entertains the notion that religion itself is an enemy of the Gospel. She proposes her own definitions here as “a set of ideas about God, purified and abstracted from ongoing relationship with God. And from religion springs sin: the attempt to separate ourselves from others, the failure to see everyone as an inseparable part of God’s body.” Isn’t Miles painting with a rather broad brush here? Is religion itself, rather than its abuse, the real culprit?

Yet, Miles’ frankness, her willingness to cast a broad net, to address people, experiences, and ideas fearlessly is in part what makes her faith so dynamic, intense, and – well, so downright attractive. In that regard, one is wondering when and how Miles will come up for air, take a giant step back—zoom out and reflect on the whole body and trajectory of this intensely active faith lfe. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves; Miles has the whole goshdarn four Gospels on hers.

In a reflective moment, she considers the enduring effects of her conversion: “In my new life with The Boyfriend, I wasn’t particularly nicer, but I was freer. I wasn’t more holy, but I felt more blessed. And I knew that to the extent new life was real in any of us, it had sprung, just as Jesus promised, actual feeding, healing, forgiving. It didn’t come from the sky, but from plates of enchiladas, the bruises of strangers, frustration and tears.” Amen.

True Conversions No. 3: Darcey Steinke

2010-05-03T21:54:00.001-07:00

Easter Everywhere: A Memoir
Darcey Steinke
Bloomsbury: New York, c. 2007
231 pp. $14.95 (paper)
ISBN: 1-59691-138-7

I once asked a friend of mine in Stockholm why so few Swedes ever bothered to go to church. His answer was both direct and revealing: “We don’t really need to; the influence of Lutheranism is so deep in our culture. In fact, we even have a saying: ‘Luther sitter på axeln,’ which means, “Luther is sitting on our shoulders.” It appears that author Darcey Steinke certainly started out in life with Luther propped up on her shoulders. But in the progress of her faith, as this intimate memoir reveals, she has made the clear decision to carve out her own spiritual space, Luther or no.

Steinke was born in upstate New York, into a clerical family¬-- a preacher’s kid. A Lutheran pastor’s preacher’s kid, in fact. Her earliest memories, she writes, “are of my father in cassock and white surplice preaching from the pulpit.” It’s clear that this and other early experiences have left a deep imprint on her faith journey. Her childhood and adolescence occur during the cultural revolution of the Sixties and early Seventies. Her parents’ spiritual progress during this same period reflects the disruptive influence of the times. Her father moves from the not so genteel poverty of pastor and parent, through a more secular calling as hospital chaplain slash social justice activist, to an ultimate return to church work three decades later-- as shepherd of a struggling inner-city congregation. The waning and waxing faith of her father coincides with the downward spiral of her mother’s ongoing clinical depression, as well as her growing estrangement from, and ultimate renunciation of any formal creed. In and through both of these broadly diverging poles, Steinke seeks to forge her own path.

When she was a child, her father spoke to her of a deity whose existence and presence in the world are both “infused” and infinite. She intuited that somehow God must be something like her dad, in a way: both loving and aloof. Her paternal grandfather, also a pastor, images a deity made of sterner stuff: stolid, humorless, even punitive. Her own search unfolds as a quest for a God who is more passionate, direct, and intimately involved people’s lives, an image that, understandably, she rejects. Later on, in adolescence, she finds her father’s faith struggles perplexing: “Outside of church I’d never seen him pray and he mostly read popular novels…. But his voice quivered as he blessed me (at confirmation), and I knew that his faith hadn’t gone completely, that he still clung to a particle of faith.”

Steinke’s own quest for belief continues through the struggles and growing pains of her teens and twenties: multiple family moves, a study term abroad and her first experience of love, relationship, breakup and heartache. A healing summer sojourn in South Carolina, accompanied by a peak into Penecostal exuberance. A subsequent move to New York, more studies, bouts of clubbing, druggy friends and acquaintances, an abortion, a frustrating relationship, the birth of her child. An emotionally excursive and itinerant life, to be sure, but one in which apparently aimless wandering metamorphoses into a dedicated search for spiritual succor. Lifestyle experimentation gives way to greater inner stability and a disciplined approach to prayer, spiritual reading and direction, friendships with fellow seekers, and the search for a stable worshipping community.

Through her persistent searching and longing, Steinke ultimately experiences something of an epiphany—a direct and intimate experience of the divine which is her own—neither inherited, borrowed, nor vicarious. She is at the University of Mississippi on a fellowship grant: “I paid the sitter and sat outside on my lawn chair. The sky was full of stars, like salt spilled on salt paper. I saw one fall, a quick arc of light disappearing over the horizon… I felt weirdly deracinated, but it was not a creepy feeling. My daughter and I were not, as I had so often feared, doomed characters in the opening sequence of a horror movie. I felt we were living in the eternal moment, residing inside infinity. I raised my hand up and held it before me as a sign.”

Back in New York, she endeavors to settle more firmly into her own life and literary career, She joins a church in her neighborhood—Grace Reformed—and is drawn to the passionate ‘presence’ of evangelical faith. She participates in a study group on Rick Warren’s A Purpose Driven Life. She connects with a spiritual director, an Anglican nun on Manhattan’s upper West Side. And, intermittently, she attends Catholic Mass.

By the books’s end, Steinke has reached her own, but still somewhat tentative conclusions about faith: “I am not able to break with Christianity, no matter how uncomfortable I am with many of its current manifestations. Biblical imagery and Christ’s message of forgiveness continue to haunt me, and I know my own redemption lies in Christian tenets, not in others’ religious beliefs.” She stakes her own ground within the tradition: “The idea of church still has a grip on my imagination, but I realize now that what I thought was held only inside those walls—grace and divinity—is actually located directly and authentically inside myself. Church is not a set of rules or a specific building,” she concludes,” but a way of life.”

There is an ambivalence here yet. Steinke is still not quite fully convinced, committed. She writes more about the Christian church, for example, and less about her direct experience of the Christ from whom the church (traditions, theology, people) has emerged. Still, even if Steinke is not completely at home spiritually (who is?), she is certainly in the neighborhood.

True Conversions No. 2: Sara Miles

2010-04-26T14:26:00.000-07:00

Take this Bread: A Radical Conversion
Sara Miles
Ballantine Books: New York, c. 2007,
283 pp. US$24.99
ISBN: 978-0-345-48692-9

(As far as book reviews go, this one's a little late. Just after I finished rereading this conversion memoir by Sara Miles (published in 2007), I discovered that she has recently come out with a new title --Jesus Freak: Feeding, Healing, Raising the Dead—published just this spring. So now what? Well, I’m gonna write about what I’ve read, then order the new title from Borders, and then write about that later on. Sound like a good plan?--ct)

Take this Bread: A Radical Conversion, is a driving, passionately articulate narrative of a faith lived, loved and savored. If there’s such a thing as Episcopalian chutzpah, she’s got it. An experienced journalist and former war correspondent Miles is equally relentless and unsentimental in her spiritual quest. She forces one to realize from the get-go that there’s no such thing as a ‘conversion’: I came, I saw (the Light?), I conquered (or was conquered?), over and out. No. Miles makes it clear that life, all of life, moment to moment, day to day, is an ongoing process of converting. She appears to move in a Spirit-driven universe in which one is challenged constantly, consistently, and persistently to know, grow, and sometimes glow (wonderfully, even) amidst all the mayhem and messiness of life in order to understand and acknowledge Life and the Source of Life itself. There are bound to be collisions, but so what?

Miles doesn’t lean into conversion. She jumps heart-first right into the middle of things and then tries to figure out where to go from there. Apparently out of the blue and overnight, she moves from the stance a theologically uninterested bystander-- offspring of atheist parents (and, ironically, missionary grandparents)-- to that of a convicted believer. “One early, cloudy morning when I was forty-six,” she writes in the opening paragraph of this breathless narrative, “I walked into a church, ate a piece of bread, took a sip of wine…. This was my first communion. It changed everything.”

The ‘everything’ that has changed for Miles, starting with this initial experience more than a decade ago, includes her understanding of herself, of the nature of church, the centrality of communion, and the transforming power of sacramental life. Her “converting” process is fed and fueled by one vital discovery after another: “ The mysterious sacrament turned out to be not a symbolic wafer at all but actual food—indeed the bread of life.” In light of this epiphany, she begins to see the ways in which she, as a self-professed ‘outsider’ finds her own place within the communal narrative of the Christian faith: “I realized that what I’d been doing with my life all along was what I was meant to do: feed people.”

And feed them she does—with both zesto and pesto! Miles is fed by a profound and explicit experience of Eucharist, which in turn moves her into a direct and abiding experience of a particular church community—that of St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco’s Portero Hill neighborhood. Centered and centering at St. Gregory’s she is impelled to extend the Eucharistic experience and narrative literally—by dedicating herself to feeding others. With the help of a motley/godly crew of volunteers, she draws from years of restaurant experience to start a food pantry at St. Gregory’s, which over time morphs into a project involving a citywide network of distribution centers. The Pantry’s approach is a direct reflection of the congregation’s own inclusive promise: all are welcome, all will be fed, and all are invited to feed others. No questions asked.”

It is this openness of Communion and communion which, ironically, helps to ground Miles in Christian tradition. She constantly bristles at any sign of cant and hypocrisy in the church as institution, while just as constantly drinking deeply from the very depths of a living tradition that has somehow—miraculously-- survived, even thrived through centuries of alleged institutional fossilization. Welcome to the mystery.

The Christian faith of Miles is intense, kinetic. A kind of ‘in your face,’ but at the same time, ‘isn’t God great’ small ‘c’ catholicism. She has no patience for borders and boundaries she feels have been arbitrarily construed, constructed and defended through human selfishness, fear and pride. And her passion for ‘feeding’ the outsider of any and every description shines through it all. The Pantry is neither a service or a ministry as such; for Miles it is serving and ministering. Period.

With all this constant movement, one wonders: who, what, and where is its still and certain center/ Center? One has hints of this in Miles’ fidelity to the tradition of morning and evening prayer— a potent force in the Anglican/ Episcopal tradition and wonderfully expressed through the liturgical life at St. Gregory’s . But overall, Miles writes less about ‘being’a Christian than about ‘doing’ Christianity.

Like Mary Karr (see previous blog entry) and others, Miles’s converting is not always understood or appreciated by friends, family, and colleagues both beyond and within her faith community. Initially, at least, her decision is greeted by those on the ‘outside’ with skepticism, amusement, and indifference. Within the context of the church, she clearly struggles with the tension of another order—that of belonging to an institution which is all too often reactive rather than proactive in the proclamation and living out of Gospel values. Miles appears to understand that tension fully and is willing to engage it, wrestle with it. Rather than becoming frustrated and embittered, she continues to feed and be fed. And she challenges us as well: take this Bread (and live it)!

True Conversions No. 1: Mary Karr

2010-04-19T20:44:00.000-07:00

Lit: A Memoir
Mary Karr
Harper: New York, c. 2009
400 pp. US$ 25.99
ISBN: 978-0-06-059698-9

One of the most interesting phenomena of our time from my perspective is that “a pesar de todo y en medio de todo”/”in spite of everything and in the middle of everything”—people continue to join the Catholic Church. At our parish alone this Easter, we welcomed 47 new Catholics—30 adults, teens, and children (no infants) were baptized at Easter vigil; an additional 17 were received into the Catholic community from other Christian denominations. In the Diocese of San Diego as a whole some 1400 neophytes joined the Church. Nationwide in the US, more than 100,000 people enter the Catholic Church annually. A pretty good indication, from my lights, that in terms of Church membership and attendance, there’s a fair amount of two-way traffic—people are leaving (no news), but other people are joining as well (pretty big news for us Catholics, I’d say). How come?

While I have a few hunches from my own pastoral experience as a Franciscan and as a priest, I’m also fascinated by the number of our contemporaries who have been willing to step forward and articulate their own conversion stories. Nearly two decades ago, I found myself sitting in an audience in San Francisco as author/ poet Annie Dillard spoke about her own unlikely embrace of Catholicism. The information was received with embarrassed silence followed by surprised gasps and giggles by her generally well-heeled and well-read listeners. There was no applause. I hadn’t know about that part of Ms. Dillard’s life, but she made it clear that her faith was important to her and that it illuminated her own artistic search and expression. I liked that in her. I still do.

That was then. More recently, I’ve become aware of a whole slew of “true conversions” stories appearing in print media– almost a sub-genre in itself. I find these tales of personal discovery fascinating. Why would someone choose Catholicism—especially now—especially given the media coverage of the sexual abuse scandals, in particular? What’s going on here? How is the Spirit moving in our time? What is s/he saying to us? What continues to attract intelligent and committed people to this faith community, while other equally intelligent and committed people appear to be leaving in frustration, bitterness, and contempt? I’d like to reflect a bit on some of the stuff I’ve been reading lately. It is, after all, all about ‘vocation’—listening for the clear, calm, gentle voice of Someone (maybe God?) inviting us into a deeper experience of love and community. In spite of, and in the middle of all the ‘stuff’ that goes on in our lives.

Writer Mary Karr can best be termed as a “memorist”. Her first works-- The Liars Club and Cherry—were both bestsellers. The former concentrated on her rough and tumble childhood in Texas. The latter dealt with her adolescent struggles. Karr’s third and most recent memoir, however, focuses on her spiritual journey and her unlikely path of conversion from, what-- Alcoholism to Catholicism? (Would it be fair to describe it as kind of a shift from one kind of‘religion’ to another?) So how did she get from there to here?

On the other hand, why not look at things in reverse—how did Mary Karr make her transition between here and there? “Time arcs back,” the author notes in the very last chapter, “carrying me in it.” She is visiting her mother—an aging, cantankerous, absolutely charming professional prevaricator and ingrate. Karr stumbles across an underlined passage in her mother’s Bible—Psalm 51—(“the hanging psalm”). The thing is, this is the very passage her spiritual director has prescribed for Karr’s Lenten reflection. She reflects: “… it feels as if God once guided my mother’s small hand, circa 1920-something to make two notes I’d very much need to find seventy years later—a message that I could be made new, that I am – have always been – loved.”

Karr’s conversion story ‘ends’ in its’ ‘beginnings’—the jagged trajectory that her life has made “arcs backwards” from love to Love. In between is all the ‘stuff’ that happens or that we make happen in our own stumbling, bumbling way. In Karr’s case the arc passes backwards and forwards through childhood misery, adolescent longing, youthful experimentation, catastrophic relationships, and toxic dependencies. In between and among all this, one is able to discern some slender, yet surprisingly firm threads of sustaining hope, stubborn discipline, and sustaining friendship and love. “A pesar de todo y en medio de todo,” she discerns presence of a loving God in her life, partly through the means and medium of her chosen call, the written word.

Where does the Catholic part come in? Maybe it was just some kind of crazy luck or random choice, but I think not. Again, my funny bone tells me that with Karr it may have been a matter of things “fitting”— the narrative of her own suffering and redemption coalescing with that of our own collective history and struggles. They fit. They fit well enough for her to embark on the path and serious business of making a faith choice and commitment to a specific community of worship and service. Whatever happened, it is clear that the point of entry into the faith experience for Karr was every bit as much through her pain as it was her brain. As she expressed it in a PBS radio “Fresh Air” interview: "I thought faith was a feeling. My intellect told me this was insane. The only way I was able to do it was through practice," she says. "[I'd] been trying to get sober and not really listening to the ways you're supposed to do it, and somebody said 'pray on your knees every day for 30 days and see if you stay sober.' And I just saw it as, like, self-hypnosis or like talking to yourself."

Karr’s journey is not unlike a lot of our own stories. What makes her tale particularly striking and convincing, though, is her gift of honest expression— by turns blunt, blue, raw, or reflective, yet ever relentless. Her seemingly constant and continuing collisions with crushing realities. Her ultimate deliverance from multiple and cumulative experiences of pain and suffering-- through successive dead ends to eventual recovery and spiritual awakening. Read the book for the details. It’s not always pretty, but it’s really real. Just like life.

Jesuit Advice in a Franciscan's Life

2010-04-18T21:53:00.000-07:00

Discerning the Will of God
An Ignatian Guide to Christian Discernment
Timothy M. Gallagher, OMV
Crossroad Publishing: New York, c. 2009.
ISBN: 987-0-8245-2489-0
$16.95, 160 pp.

Personally, I struggle a lot with decision-making. It doesn't come easily or naturally to me. It never has. Recently, though, I needed to make a decision—a really good decision—about an important matter in my life. And I wanted to get the best help and advice available. My spiritual director (a Jesuit, by the way) suggested this text, which I took along on a recent trip to read, study, and reflect (upon). I was looking for a practical, step-by-step guide which would lead the reader through the discernment process-- hopefully without too much stress or discomfort (!).

Timothy Gallagher’s guide to discernment in the Jesuit tradition clear, rational, user-friendly, and methodical. But it was not Gallagher's methodology which I found most helpful. Rather, it was his basic insight that the foundation for any and all good decision-making is an “awareness that God has created us out of love and ceaselessly offers that love to us.” The recognition and acceptance of that Love leads to a “consequent thirst for communion of wills with the One who so deeply loves us.” Peter, one of Gallagher’s spiritual directees, states things succinctly. Peter reports that at the age of eight, he approached his father saying, “Dad, everything we learn in church and everything in the Bible comes down to just one thing, doesn’t it? …. That all God wants us to do—all the time—is to ask him what he wants us to do, and then do it…. Instead of asking ourselves, ask God.”

Imagine. Good decision-making, for the Christian, has its foundation in our relationship with a loving God. For the adult, it is “the experience of ourselves as loved sinners, loved in our failures, faults, woundedness, and pain—loved in a way that frees us to seek moral newness and so creates a heart ready to discern.” (p.41)

The necessity of basing one’s discernment upon a foundation of love—God’s love (intimate, personal, and abiding)—transforms one’s experience of the ensuing process.Gallagher goes on to speak of the “disposition,” “means”, and “fruit” of discernment. And he provides a clear and accessible road map of the distinct and discrete “modes” of discernment provided in the writings of St. Ignatius of Loyola.

I was surprised by a couple of other aspects of the book as well. For one thing, Gallagher quotes extensively from the reported experiences of his spiritual directees over a thirty-year period. A fair number of these anecdotes are from women and men contemplating priesthood or religious life. This is particularly helpful and accessible to those on the path of vocational discernment.

The other surprise I experienced was Gallagher’s reference to several Franciscan sources. He refers for example, to an account of a Secular Franciscan, Blessed Peter Pettenaio, who reports his vision of Christ walking into the cathedral of Siena, surrounded by a throng of saints, each of whom tried (unsuccessfully) to place her/his foot into the footprint of the Lord. At last, the only one to succeed in the task was Francis of Assisi (Atta boy! That’s our guy! Whadda way to go, Francis!)

A more revealing and relevant reference, however, is the experience of Francis’s own clarity in eventually discerning his call: “Immediately, exulting in the Holy Spirit, he cried out: ‘This is what I want, this is what I seek, this is what I long to do with all my hear!’” (I Celano). Isn’t that the kind of clarity, focus, and determination most of would really like to have in our own lives?

This is a very good, practical, and user-friendly guide to spiritual discernment. It is not enough in and of itself, however, as the author wisely cautions. To be complete the process requires a disciplined commitment to spiritual practices (prayer, spiritual reading, reception of the Eucharist, silence) and the help and assistance of a skilled spiritual director. By the way, it was a great help to me in my own recent decision-making.//

April 16: V-Day

2010-04-16T19:55:00.000-07:00

It has been a tradition in our Order that each year on April 16 – the day on which Francis made his profession into the hands of Pope Innocent III – we gather and renew our commitment to our way of life. The purpose of this renewal is to recall the origins of our Rule, to recall the devotion of Francis and his companions to follow the Holy Gospel, to recall our own fervor as we began this way of life, and resolve to commit ourselves again to these ideals.

Reading:
From the Testament of St. Francis of Assisi (14-17)
“And after the Lord gave me brothers, no one showed me what I had to do, but the Most High ... revealed to me that I should live according to the pattern of the Holy Gospel. And I had this written down simply and in a few words and the Lord Pope confirmed it for me. And those who came to receive life gave whatever they had to the poor and were content with one tunic, patched inside and out, ... We desired nothing more.”

Friars Renewal:
All praise be yours, Most High, for all creation gives you glory. All praise be yours, O Lord, for all good things come from you. All praise be yours, Almighty One, for you call us to the life of the risen Christ. Today, we your sons, renew and re-dedicate ourselves to the call you have given us. We renew our commitment to the Rule of our father Francis, and we ask your help to continue to live the life of the Gospel with obedience to your Spirit and your Church, with poverty that imitates the life of your beloved Child Jesus and his holy mother, and with chastity that frees us to love you and your people with unmeasured love. All praise be you Most High! Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning is now and will be forever. Amen!

The Promise of Eternal Life:
“And whoever observes these things, let them be blessed in heaven with the blessings of the Most High Father, and on earth with the blessing of His Beloved Son with the Most Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, and all the powers of heaven and with all the saints.” {Testament. 40}

The truth is:
Today, Friday. I came home from the parish about 4. It had been a grueling week: way too many meetings, emergency calls, appointments with people struggling with overwhelming issues in their lives.... Celebrations: Fr. Jerry's anniversary as a priest (Fr. Jerry is a retired diocesan priest who helps out with Mass on our day off. A truly good and humble man)..... The School Mass for our parish school (the kids were full of life and just amazing)..... A man sitting in the chapel, sobbing, after Mass: his brother had just died. A dozen red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese appearing out of nowhere..... A couple in their 60s, walking hand in hand, like a couple of lovebirds-- stopping by to plan the details of their August wedding..... 78 emails waiting to be answered.... The Sunday homily to be started..... A mother and her son visiting the family graves.... An elderly Filipino couple who wanted Anointing of the Sick. And so on....

I hopped in the shower, planning to skip evening prayer and sleep through dinner as well. But something bugged me-- so I went to the friary chapel after all. Oh, Renewal of Vows! Wow! Already? What does it feel like after 16 years in this life style?

It feels like it's my life. My life, not someone else's. Not a dream, a fantasy, a daydream or a movie. Just my life. Getting up in the morning, praying with my brothers, doing my best during the day (with lots of disappointments and failures). A precious hour of 'radiation therapy' before the Blessed Sacrament. A nap after lunch. Relief at locking my office door and walking across the property to the Old Mission-- hey, it's really beautiful outside! Tired. And content. Still tired, but still... content. And grateful. So, let's keep going: The Lord gave me brothers. Siempre adelante!/ Always go forward!//

Men Religious: Image and Experience

2010-04-12T20:32:00.001-07:00

Let the Great World Spin
Colum McCann
Random House Trade Paperbacks: New York, c.2009
US$15.00, 375pp.
ISBN: 978-0-8129-7399-0

Brooklyn: A Novel
Colm Tóibín
Scribner: New York, c. 2009
Hardbound, US$25.00., 262pp.
ISBN: 978-1439-138311-1

When it comes to religious life and/or priesthood, I’ve always been struck by the difference between image and experience. When I was growing up in the urban Midwest of the Fifties and Sixties, the dominant images of priests and priesthood available were those created and promoted by Hollywood. Wise, folksy, affable, but also appropriately tough and worldwise ‘don’t mess with me, I’m nobody’s fool’ kind of Irishmen, by and large. Pat O’Brien, Gene Kelly, Bing Crosby. Father Flanagan of Boys’ Town; Going My Way, The Bells of St. Mary’s. If the cassock fits, wear it.

My own actual, lived experience was of men of a somewhat different cloth altogether. Monsignor Heinrich, pastor, had up to four (count ‘em!) full-time associates at any one time. He was a stern, aloof, and formal figure, who left no strong impression, endearing or otherwise. He simply ran the place, and ran it rather well. His associates, like Frs. Stetson, Sargent, Murphy, and Bank were somehow more visible, approachable, believable. Outside of church, they could be seen catching a smoke at the sacristy door, or in their T-shirts washing their cars on a Saturday morning, or chatting easily with families after Mass. Inside the sanctuary, however, they could sometimes be holy terrors--Fr. Sargent, the ex-Presbyterian, brought the spirit of John Calvin to much of his preaching. Parishioners basically took them as they were, though: liked them, respected them, and downplayed their failings. The cinematic Irishness of O’Brien & Company was charming and romantic. Our real, live parish priests were far less dramatic or compelling figures. But they were good, hardworking, and holy men, and over the long haul, that counted for more than charm and charisma.

Novelists McCann and Tóibín, both transplanted Irishmen who write about US culture, provide differing images of priests and male religious-- ones which merit some consideration and reflection. In Let the Great World Spin, one of the chief characters is Corrigan—Irish-born and bred and self-styled urban monk who, by the early 1970s, has graduated from the streets of Dublin to the howling madness of the South Bronx. In the spirit of the heady decade immediately following Vatican II, Corrigan parachutes right into the midst and messiness of inner city life. “What Corrigan wanted was a fully believable God, one you could find in the grime of the everyday…. He consoled himself with the fact that in the real world, when he looked closely into the darkness he might find the presence of …light.” His parishioners are the neighborhood’s most fragile denizens: the elderly and the street prostitutes whom he befriends, and attempts—largely without success—to protect and defend.

By the time of his early exit from the novel’s pages, Corrigan has fallen in love—with a single mother from El Salvador, who works as a nurse’s aide and sometimes assists him in his ministerial endeavors. He has also become addicted to heroin: “He was shooting smack (his brother reports)…because he couldn’t stand the thought of others being left alone with the same terror.” In a fatal auto collision, he ultimately gives/ loses his life. During the remainder of the novel, his life and character— flaws as well as virtues-- are reconstructed through the memories of family, friends, and the destitute and the abandoned people he served.

One is left with a number of doubts about Corrigan. What is his real ‘religion’—his point of connection, his interpretive lens of spiritual meaning? To whom and to what is he connected beyond the immediate realm of his ministry-- his family? his religious brotherhood? the Church? Corrigan is a kind of kamikaze Christian— in the unsparing arc of his self-styled call to action, the fact of his demise is ultimately unsurprising, yet nonetheless compelling. He leaves behind a motley crew of suffering, struggling human beings who have been genuinely touched by his love. But has anyone, included himself, been transformed or redeemed through his sacrifice?

Colm Tóibín’s Brooklyn: A Novel visits an earlier, kinder, gentler, quieter, safer New York. It is a slice of the Brooklyn of the early to mid-1950s, the waning days of the fraying Irish ghetto, with even a remnant of the immigrant boardinghouse. Tóibín’s cleric is the irreproachable Fr. Flood, who on one of his periodic visits home to Enniscourthy, County Cork, befriends Eilis, the novel’s main figure and protagonist. Fr. Flood sees that, left unsupported or encouraged, Eilis faces a doomed existence in the same pinched and provincial small-town life he himself escaped. He proffers himself as patron and protector, and assists Eilis in her literal and figurative passage to the new world. Fr. Flood is an honest broker: he knows the game and the players. Through a mixture of kindness and canniness, he is able to place and assist Eilis in her adjustment to a very new and different cultural reality. He arranges safe living quarters for her, work in a respectable department store, and the possibility of contacts with appropriate peers through a network of parish social activities. He is a mentor and literally, a ‘father’ figure, but he is at the same time somewhat detached in his dealings with Eilis. He takes pains not to shelter or smother her in the way her own family and culture have done. But the safety net of parish and family life are always assumed. Eilis may suffer, but she will not be devoured by her environment.

There you have it. Two good and decent men. Both deeply committed to the Church and to the care of souls. Fr. Flood is from central casting—or at least what’s left of it by the mid-Fifties. He could squeeze into the suited image of O’Brien, Kelly, and Crosby with few alterations. Corrigan is another bird altogether. He is cut astray, searching and uncertain both in his personal identity and institutional anchoring. Part of a generation of men (and women) who have broken out of a traditional network (or web?) or relationships and have not yet firmly fixed a new one to replace it. Corrigan is the more complex and compelling figure by far. His heroic struggles and ultimate, untimely death are lived and expressed the ambiguities of a world and culture split wide open by the Sixties. Neither Father Flood nor Eilis have any sense of the convulsive decade ahead of them.

Two images, two expressions, two experiences of men committed to the Lord and the Church through religious life and/or priesthood. What appeals to you in these characterizations? Which of the qualities in these characters would attract/distract you in your own search for identity and expression? What images and experience/s of your own do you have of priesthood a/o religious life? Do they help or hinder you in your personal journey in any particular way at all? Feel free to leave a comment….

Praise with Elation!

2010-04-12T20:17:00.000-07:00

The Carnival cruise line Elation, that is. Hello, Everybody!
The Blog is Back. Some time in February, 2009, I made the decision to discontinue Friarside Chats. We Franciscans of the Province of St. Barbara had just held our biennial Chapter (i.e., congress) at the historic Old Mission San Luis Rey in Oceanside, California (about 40 minutes north of San Diego). We elected our new provincial administration, and then proceeded to reshuffle the deck in terms of ministerial assignments.

As a result of that process, I was elected as one of six definitors (consultors) to our new leadership team, which includes our recently elected Provincial Minister (Numero Uno), Father John Hardin, ofm, and our vicar-Provincial (Numero Dos) Father Ken Laverone, ofm. In July of last year, I left my job as vocations coordinator to become reincarinated (or rather, re-incardinated) as pastor of the parish at-- Mission San Luis Rey—the same venue as our Chapter meeting.

I was not alone in terms of reassignment. Of the more than 100 friars in active ministry in our province, nearly half of us were moved in the wake of our Chapter. It’s not that we weren’t doing our jobs. Rather, as an integral part of our vocation as ‘itinerants’ (pilgrims and strangers on this earth) we are asked to be open and available to the call of the Spirit and of our superiors at all times—the terms is “disponible” in the lingo of religious orders. When I first entered religious life 16 years ago, I thought that moving around like this on a regular basis would be easy and fun. Now, I find it more difficult—it’s really hard to leave the friendships and contacts one develops in a particular place. Every move brings its sadness and joy.

In this process of institutional musical chairs, everyone was to be in place by the time the record stopped on September 1. And it worked! With the exception of a few stragglers, everyone was in place, at least physically, in his new assignment by Labor Day. The psychological adjustment is ongoing and takes much longer, of course.

For my part, I shifted from a very focused, one-on-one and small-group oriented ministry to responsibilities as head of a leadership team for more than 5,000 families in a large, multi-cultural environment. We have a staff of 20, including 2 full-time friars, 12 lay ministers, and a five-man maintenance crew. The parish campus—about 12 acres in all—includes a ‘worship space’—the Junipero Serra Center (capacity 1200), and our parish Montessori school with 200 students. In addition, the parish hosts a wide variety of programs, ranging from our religious education program (800 students, K-12), to the Knights of Columbus, to ‘grupos de oracion/ intercesion’ and even that enduring mainstay of Catholic parish life: bingo! It’s compelling, often overwhelming, but I’m not complaining. Seven months into a rather steep learning curve, I am really enjoying this new ministry. The people—warm, welcoming, and faith-filled-- make it all worthwhile, believe me. And the local Franciscan fraternity—eight of us all together, along with four lay Covenant volunteer members—makes for stimulating community life, to say the very least.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have come to realize even though I’m now working as a pastor, I’m still very interested in vocations work and will probably continue to help promote vocations one way or another for a long time to come. I am deeply convinced that the Franciscan movement, lay and religious, is still ‘alive and kicking’, and that there is a vital role for us in today’s Church and society. But we ain’t goin’ no place unless or until we can get the word out effectively

We have an excellent new vocations coordinator, Father Alberto Villafan, ofm, who works out of San Jose, California. I have known Fr. Alberto for more than 16 years—we are classmates and entered the Franciscans together as postulants in 1993. He is a good, hardworking, and dedicated man. I will be writing more about him in future blog entries. At any rate, Fr. Alberto has moved the Vocations Office to San Jose, California, and can be reached directly at 408/903-3422. Email: avillafanr@hotmail.com

For my part, of course, I’ve decided to restart this blog and see what happens. This particular stroke of genius (or was it sunstroke) hit me while on a post-Easter boat ride from San Diego to Baja California, Mexico. The ship, by the way, is the Carnival Line’s Elation. (!) I like that. (The trip was a 60th birthday present).

But now I will be writing from the perspective of my own ‘vocation within a vocation’-- my work and experience as a pastor and member of a large Franciscan community. It’s just one of a wide variety of working/living situations our Province supports and maintains. I hope something from my experience may help you in your own spiritual growth and discernment.

Feel free to contact me at any time and I will be happy to respond and/or forward inquiries to Fr. Alberto as it appears appropriate. Peace and all good!—Fr. Chuck Talley, ofm.

A Few Novel Approaches to Discernment

2009-02-16T20:13:00.000-08:00

“Once at a conference of Benedictines,” writes Kathleen Norris, in her recently published bestseller, Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and A Writer’s Life, (Riverhead Books: New York), 2008: “ I witnessed an impassioned response to a presentation a sister had given on using the ancient practice of discernment to treat mental illness in the present day. She defined discernment clearly enough, as fostering ‘our ability to do the right deed with the right intention or motivation.”

I, too, remember once attending a lecture and listening to a stirring presentation as well. Only this one was given by a visual artist as she described her work and process. She said it was so important to “plant” an idea on one’s mind and then to follow that creative impulse over time and notice how the idea “grows” and develops. How the subconscious appears to gather information the artist needs for the work from a wide variety of sources: from nature, from exhibitions, from books and publications, and even chance encounters with people. Provided, of course, that one is consistently alert and carefully attentive.

I’ve been experimenting with that idea myself lately with regard to the whole idea of vocational discernment: How do we learn to make good decisions? How do we know and trust the path we are taking? What helps and hinders us along the way? Instead of referring to the ‘usual suspects’ of Scriptural references, academic writing, and biography for help in this time, I decided just to “plant the idea” in my mind and pay attention to the results.

I’ve been doing this over the past several weeks now-- reading (and watching) things more or less at random to see what pops up in terms of approaches to vocational discernment Here are a few of the discoveries I’ve made that I’d like to share with you. I hope that this process may help to stimulate your own spiritual creativity and discovery. If you’ve made any analogous discoveries on your own that you’d like to share, let me know. Just send an email to: friarchat@yahoo.com. --ct

The Green Knight, by Iris Murdoch (Penguin Books, New York), 1993. One of the chief characters in this novel about a rather complicated upper-middle class family of friends in the London of the 1980s is a rather earnest young man named Bellamy. Still in his early 20s, Bellamy has made an impulsive and superficial conversion to Catholicism, after which he resolves to become a monk to boot. He leaves school and work, rents a tiny room in a rundown neighborhood, surrenders most of his worldy possessions-- including his beloved dog—all in the name of his recently embraced aesceticism. He starts to correspond with a monk, a certain Father Damien, who turns out to be a great deal wiser and more perceptive than Bellamy would ever suspect. The priest is friendly and polite, but also cautious and circumspect in his long-distance spiritual direction. He consistently offers very good advice about discernment which Bellamy consistently ignores or rejects. Sound familiar?

Towards the end of the novel, we find Bellamy—now a bit older, sadder, and wiser, going over his accumulated correspondence with Fr. Damien. From this pile of letters, he fashions for himself a rather breathless summary of Damien’s observations and advice over time: “You are deeply stained by the world, (the priest writes), the stain is taken deeply, as the years go by, you cannot become holy by renouncing worldly pleasures, you must not look for revelations or for signs, these are mere selfish thrills which you mistake for adoration, what you take for humility is the charm of masochism, what you call the dark night is the obscurity of the restless soul, by picturing the end of the road you imagine you have reached it, you cherish magic which is the enemy of truth, you think of the dedicated life as a form of death, but you will be alive and crying, the way of Christ is hard and plain, it is a way of brokenness, we seek the invisible through the visible, but we make idols of the visible, icons which are made for breaking, the agonies of that pilgrimage may consume a lifetime and end in despair, your wish to suffer is a soothing day-dream, the false God punishes, the true God slays, the evils in you must be killed, not as pets to be tormented, do not punish your sins, you must destroy them, go out and help your neighbor, be happy yourself and make others happy, that is your path, not that of the cloister, be quiet, humble, know that what you can achieve is little, desire the good which purifies the love that seeks it, pray always, stay at home and do not look for God outside your own soul.” (p. 464).

Father Damien gives it to Bellamy both barrels. Yes, he is rough on the young man, but he is also honest, direct, and generous. He attempts to break through the thick layers of adolescent self-deception and denial that Bellamy substitutes for authentic experience, reflection, and understanding. He insists that the young man can and must find his own path—but only by entering through the narrow gate of authentic relationship with others-- in both friendship and in service. It is difficult for Bellamy to digest and accept any of this. But finally, and only after much resistance and multiple failures, does the young man start to admit the truth of his life and search. It is then that his real novitiate into adult life begins.

Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace… One School at a Time, Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin, (Penguin Books: New York), 2006. This bestselling autobiography describes Mortenson's transition from a professional mountain-climber to a humanitarian committed to reducing poverty and educating girls in Pakistan and Afghanistan. In 1993, after an unsuccessful attempt to climb K2, the second-highest mountain in the world (where he intended to plant a necklace in honor of his recently deceased sister, Chrissa), Mortenson descends the peak only to arrive at the modest village of Korphe. He is welcomed by the villagers and their mayor, Haji Ali, who helps Mortenson recuperate from the treacherous descent. In time, Mortenson is shown the village ‘school’—an open air site where the children gather year-round to study. He writes: “I felt like my heart was being torn out. There was a fierceness in their desire to learn, despite how mightily everything was stacked against them…. I knew I had to do something….

"Standing next to Haji Ali, on the ledge overlooking the valley, with such a crystalline view of the mountains he’d come halfway around the world to measure himself against, climbing K2 … suddenly felt beside the point. There was much more meaningful gesture he could make in honor of his sister’s memory. He put his hands on Haji Ali’s shoulders, as the old man had done to him dozens of times since they’d shared their first cup of tea. ‘I’m going to build you a school,’ he said, not yet realizing that with those words, the path of his life had just detoured down another trail, a route far more serpentine and arduous than the wrong turns he’d taken since retreating from K2. ‘I will build a school,’ Mortenson said. ‘I promise.’” pp. 32--33

Man on Wire (film, director, James Marsh, 2008). Frenchman Philippe Petit first captured the world's attentio—and imagination-- in 1974 when he successfully walked across a high wire between twin towers of New York's. World Trade Center. This documentary film explores the preparations that went into the amazing stunt as well as the event and its aftermath. The project was eight years in the making. In the film, Petit describes the genesis of his idea: As a 17-year-old boy, he finds himself sitting in the waiting room of his dentist’s office in Paris. He notices a newspaper drawing of the proposed Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York and immediately envisions the possibility of traversing the space between the two structures on a wire: “ Suddenly I see something magnificent,” he recalls. “Now I need to have this little tangible start of my dream. Everyone is watching, but I must have that little piece of my dream….“Usually when you have a dream, the object of your dream is tangible—it’s there….it’s quixotic, but its’ there, you know, nagging you, confronting you.” Petit rushes out of the dentist’s office-- newspaper in hand-- determined to pursue an improbable, even impossible dream which would take him nearly a decade to realize.

A Gentle Path through the Twelve Steps: The Classic Guide for All People in the Process of Recovery, Patrick Carnes, Ph.D (Hazeldon: Center City, Minnesota). 1993, p. 111 “Access your own wisdom,” the author of this popular 12-step recovery workbook writes. “Emptying ourselves of distractions, preoccupations, and obsessions allows us to connect with who we really are. Henri Nouwen, the famous tehologican, described this early stage of spiritual life as the ‘conversion of loneliness into solitude,’ It means discovering what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called, ‘the ground of our being.’ It is finding the sacred within us. When we are true to ourselves, we are most spiritual. That means tuning into our own authentic voice.

“How do we do that? Think of your own life experience. Think of the times you had an intuition that something was not going to work out, but you did it anyway. And when that turned out to be a disaster, you said, ‘If only I had listened to myself.’ Carl Jung talked about a larger consciousness that we can tap into with our intuition—if we would listen. This is called ‘discernment’—the ability to see clearly what is, especially in those situations when we have no rules, laws, or prior experience to direct us. This is where divine guidance and trusting ourselves meet. All heroes come to this crossroards where they do not know the outcome, but must act.

“To cultivate discernment, keep a regular journal, develp a daily meditation routine, listen to music that makes you feel like yourself, and read what helps your insight and sense of self. There is no magic about this process. If you work at it, your true voice—the one that is in harmony with the larger universe—will become clear.” p. 111

A New 'Chapter' in Our History

2009-01-29T16:56:00.000-08:00

"Siempre adelante! Nunca para atras!" ("Always go forward! Never turn back!") These word of Blessed/ Beato Junipero Serra, ofm, presidente of the historic California Missions founded during the Spanish Empire in the West, served as inspirational bookends for our recent Chapter 2009 (January 4-9, 2009). Old Mission San Luis Rey in Oceanside, California, served as an effective inspirational backdrop to our week-long meetings and festivities. And, oh, what a week it was!

In fewer than five days, the 160-plus Franciscan friars of the Province of St. Barbara had to make their way through a daunting list of decisions, projects, and activities. First off, we received a summary report from our Visitator General, Father Peter Williams, whose job it has been to visit each of our fraternities and interview and evaluate the work and community life of each and all of our friars. Secondly, we had the task of bidding farewell to our current Minister Provincial, Father Mel Jurisich, and then electing new leadership for the next six-year period. The new leadership team includes a new provincial minister (Fr. John Hardin)and his assistant/ vicar provincial, Fr. Ken Laverone. In additon, the solemnly professed friars also voted on the membership of the provincial's group of councillors, or Definitorium-- six friars who will assist in the decision-making functions of the Province over the next three years.

Father Mel, in his farewell address, encapsulate the efforts of his six-year term of service under the rubric of "transparency": “'Transparency'", he said, "has become a key word of this administration. This movement of open communication has involved more than just a transfer of information We (firars) are speaking more openly and honestly with each other. This open approach has brought about some significant changes. First, we are moving more and more from a vertical relationship to a horizontal one which is more in keeping with Francis’ vision. Instead of running to the Provincial with every issue in fraternal life and ministry, friars are engaging one another as true brothers. Secondly, this transparency has deepened our communal ownership of the Province. And thirdly, this ownership has brought about more accountability and responsibility on the part of the friars. At the heart of all of this transparency is trust. Because we have a heightened trust of one another, we are more tolerant of our differences. We see it as a generative circle: transparency leads to trust which engenders respect which encourages transparency. We believe that the friars will not settle for less in the future."

Following Fr. Mel's presentation, friars heard from the top five candidates nominated for the position of provincial minister. The friars' choice was Father John Hardin, 53, who is presently head of the St. Anthony Foundation in San Francisco, one of the largest nonprofit organizations in the western United States providing direct services to the poor. In addition to his deep and abiding concern for the marginalized people of our society, Father John brings excellent organizational skills and a business acumen almost unheard of in our province-- he holds an MBA from Notre Dame University. Second in 'commnand' is our new vicar-provincial minister, Father Ken Laverone. A sixth-generation native California, Father Ken hails from the town of San Juan Bautista, south of San Francisco, and worked as a diocesan priest and pastor for 25 years before joining the friars. He also holds a degree in canon law. We will be well-served by both of our confreres.

The third go-round of elections was for the six positions on our Definitorium. Definitors act as advisors to the administration, but keep their day jobs. They confer for a solid week every other month and handle oversight of both routine administration and the extraordinary business of the province. This year, the friars selected men representing a variety of personal backgrounds and geographical regions: Franklin Fong, Oscar Mendez, Joe Schwab, Mike Doherty, Robert Rodrigues, and myself. Wish us luck and keep us in prayer!

The rest of the business of the Chapter was 'business.' Our province holds 'open' chapters (vs. 'delegate' chapters), which means that all solemnly professed friars are expected to be present and participate. We discussed and voted on several proposals which, on the whole, will shape the direction of our commitments and focus for the next term: a retirement policy for our senior friars; a long-range strategy for financial planning; evangelization and Our Plan for Gospel Living (i.e., our fraternal life and ministry), and immigration (both on the societal level and within the context of our own province.). Because the friars had been able to vet and discuss much of this material over the 18-month preparation period that proceeds Chapter, we were able (miraculously, some would say), to come to an overall agreement on principles rather easily. Work of this nature belies months and years of study and preparation on the part of many of our friars.

If the Chapter was only about 'business', the friars would rise up in rebellion. For us, it is above all, the opportunity for the brothers to come together. To reconnect and rekindle friendships. To pray together, enjoy meals and recreational time together. To renew our sense of common bonds and shared purpose. During much of the year, friars are most often absorbed in their ministries and local communities. This is a real homecoming in more ways than one.

The midpoint as well as the high point of the week's procceedings and festivities was the visit of our Minister General, Fray Jose Rodriguez-Carballo, who flew directly from Rome along with one of our former provincial ministers, Fr. Finian McGinn, who serves on the international Curia for the Order. Fr. Jose's visit coincides with the celebration internationally of the 800th Anniversary of the Rule of St. Francis (1209-2009). Following his address to the gathered friars and guests, we participated in a dialog with our lay collaborators-- the women and men who work as partners and active participants in our ministries. Mass in the Old Mission Church came next, with the renewal of vows by all of the friars present. For many, it was a deeply moving experience-- not only to share in this historic occasion, but to stand side by side with our confreres as we publicly recommit ourselves to the way of Gospel life inspired by our beloved Poverello, St. Francis of Assisi.

Needless to say, all were invited to a wonderful banquet following the liturgy-- and then proceeded to a special, multi-media revue, "I Conoscenti" ("We knew him") presented by a cast from the Franciscan Renewal Center in Scottsdale, Arizona. This event was the second of two cultural offerings during the week. Earlier on, friars as well as professional musicians representing the richness of the cultural diversity of both our fraternity and of the beautiful communities we are privileged to serve, provided an inspirational evening of song, poetry and prayer in our multi-culturual concert.

The Chapter event is over. But the Chapter itself is much more than an intense week of gathering and decision-making. It is, actually, just the culminating moment in our ongoing process of personal and communal conversion, conversation, and renewal. The work goes on and on and on. Siempre adelante! Nunca para atras!//

Franciscans in Advent: Weeks 3 & 4

2008-12-14T15:34:00.003-08:00

We continue with our series of Advent reflections prepared by Friars Larry Gosselin and Tommy King. As mentioned in our previous blog, Fr. Larry is presently in residence at Ascension Parish in Portland, Oregon. Prior to this assignment, he spent many years working with Native American peoples in Arizona and New Mexico. Fr. Tommy King ministers along with our Brother Gerard Saunders in the Amazon region of Peru. Fr. Tommy has also worked as a missionary in Guatemala. I hope you will find these reflections helpful in your own Advent journey.—ct.

Third Sunday of Advent: “To Listen With Justice.”
Fr. Larry: Rejoicing awaits us here in this place where there is justice, for this joy is near in the hearts that long for Christ to be born in the womb of the world. “Rejoicing heartily, that the joy of my soul is in my God.” The prophet again heralds a voice in the desert, “Make straight the way of the Lord.” “Shake all the nations,” proclaims the prophet Haggai. The hope of justice, shows us One who hears our cry and whose gentle strength changes hearts. This Servant is sent to proclaim liberty and release for those bound in oppression. “’Rejoice in the Lord always’, again I say it, ‘rejoice’.” Open our hearts to rejoice so that we may listen with justice.

Fr. Tommy: Even among very sincere people of good will you often hear, “I saw a lot of very poor people when I was in Guatemala (or any other Third World country), but they were very happy.” Liberation theologian Leondardo Boff reminds us that those types of observations should never be any kind of justification of the horrible poverty that so much of the world’s population suffers (including in the North America and Europe) but a testimony to the profound integrity of so many poor people who can maintain a spirit of joy in spite of their daily struggles with poverty and oppression. I have only been in Peru five years, but nevertheless I have already seen too many children and young people who, to borrow Gustavo Gutierrez’s expression, “died before their time” because of inadequate health care.

I assure you that if the well-meaning but naïve tourist was with the parents of those children and young people in those moments, they would not see smiles but hear only weeping and the eternal question, “Why did God allow my child to die before me?” With that being said, I have often discussed with Gerard, my Franciscan brother who has worked in the Peruvian Amazon for fifteen years, the incredible resilience that poor people have in the face of terrible tragedies. We both know many parents in Peru who have tragically lost their children to curable diseases who do not harbor anger against God or other people for their loss. Their faith does not seem to weaken but only grows stronger as they are grateful to God for carrying them through the painful time. Most of them returned to work and the “normal” responsibilities of life the day after the funeral of their child. Just incredible!
The prophet Isaiah says to us today and Jesus repeats in the fourth chapter of the Gospel of Luke that God offers “good news to the poor and heals the brokenhearted.” Gerard’s and my experience in Peru verify this message. But there is more to the message of the prophet: “Proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners! Announce a year of favor from the Lord and a day of vindication by our God, to comfort all who mourn!”

To fulfill the prophetic vocation that we all have as baptized Christians, we are called to both work for the liberation of the poor and oppressed and also provide them comfort in their time of pain-- a difficult but central message of the Gospel. Like John the Baptist in today’s Gospel, this is how we “prepare the way of the Lord.” In faith we trust that, in the fullness time, God will bring about complete liberation for all people who suffer. However, we know we can’t just wait around for that to happen. As disciples of Jesus, we are called to continue the building up of God’s kingdom that he started. As we commit ourselves to this task, the grace of God also liberates us from the oppression of our own fears and doubts. In the Kingdom of God, not only are the poor blessed but also those who live in solidarity with the poor. This is indeed Good News.

Fourth Sunday of Advent: “To Remain with Hope”.
Fr. Larry: Today darkness covers the earth, in our northern hemisphere it is our darkest day of the year. It is into this darkness that we look to Christ. It is, as if on the earth, darkness has overshadowed light. Into the stillness of darkness we long for Christ to come with light. In this darkness give us a taste of hope that your birth is near. Help us build “a house made of dawn” that awakens in us that we are that shelter in whose arms all may find comfort. “The angel came and spoke, ‘The Lord be with you’.” Good News brought by Gabriel, given to Mary, meant for all. Come to us, be with us, remain with us. Inspire in us so that we may remain with hope.

Fr. Tommy: When I arrived in the parish in the Peruvian Amazon five years ago, only about twenty of the sixty-five villages in the parish had local chapels for the Catholic community. A couple of years ago, the parish received a grant from a foundation in the United States to build chapels in seven more villages where I felt there was good leadership in the local Catholic communities. Because the parish covers an area of about 3,400 square miles, I am only able to celebrate Eucharist frequently in three of the villages. I am only able to visit most of the other villages once every two years. However, many of the villages have animators, who are the local pastoral agents for the Catholic community and who lead the Sunday liturgy of the Word celebrations.
Since the whole chapel-building process was new to me, it was quite a learning experience. Many villages that wanted to build chapels had no active faith community. Their attitude was, “Build a church and they will come.” I emphasized that iglesia (church) is a community of the people of God. Templo most accurately describes the physical building where people of faith gather. I made it clear that a templo would only be built after iglesia already existed. Some folks had a hard time with my approach just like David has a little difficulty understanding the Lord in our first reading from Second Samuel. God has to clarify to David that the central issue is faith and not a physical building.

In the parish, some villages with beautiful chapels are “dying on the vine.” There is hardly any sense of communal faith and joy. Other villages just have a very small simple thatched roof chapel but are bubbling with a spirit of enthusiasm as they celebrate the presence of a loving God in their midst.
They have a clear sense of God’s promises that the prophet proclaims: “I will fix a place for my people and I will plant them so they may dwell in their place without further disturbance. . . The Lord reveals to you that he will establish a house for you.” Holy people know that grace comes from God and not from buildings or any other king of possession. Mary clearly understands this in the Gospel when she states, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord” and not her own virtues. Her humble faith and that of so many holy people I know become their “greatness.” God is clearly more interested in building more communities of humble faith than physical structures. Sacred space is a profound reality but we must remember that the sacredness of places like the Holy Land and Assisi started with the blessings of God and not building projects. Inspired by today’s readings, we pray for the grace of our loving and humble God to guide us in building humble communities of joyous faith. (TK)

Franciscans in Advent: Weeks 1 & 2

2008-12-07T19:11:00.000-08:00

How is your Advent coming along? Are you taking time to take time? To slow down. To be still. To listen—patiently, expectantly—for the voice of God in your heart as you prepare for Christmas. Advent anticipates and articulates the deep longing and incipient joy of all Christians as we contemplate the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, as the “God made man among us” No wonder then, that Advent has a very special place in the hearts of Franciscans everywhere. The words of the liturgy express it so beautifully: “… we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus the Christ.”

Part of our job as friars is to minister— principally (and ideally) to anyone and everyone God places in our path. Usually, we tend to consider our ministry in terms of our institutional roles: as pastors in parishes; chaplains in hospitals and jails; as teachers and administrators of charitable organizations to help the powerless, the dispossessed, and the destitute. But we friars also need to minister to each other, at home, brother to brother, brothers among brothers. And to allow others to minister to us as well. This is a part of our life which so vital to our way of trying to live the Gospel of Jesus, but it is also one which is necessarily removed from public view Yet, in order to minister effectively in public, we must minister each other ‘at home.’ It’s something we work at and struggle with constantly; there is no single, perfect way to do it. So we are always trying different approaches to see what works best.

For example, this year our provincial JPIC (Justice, Peace, and Integrity of Creation) office circulated a little pamphlet with a series of Advent meditations written by friars for friars and others. Some brothers are using this material in their personal, individual prayer and meditation. But a group of us, representing three different houses in the San Francisco Bay Area, decided to get together and spend and entire ‘day of recollection’ to consider and discuss this material together. A dozen of us took off work, disconnected our cell phones and pagers, and gathered at San Damiano Retreat Center in Danville, California, to share and prepare for Advent together.

Friar Tommy King (above) is a missionary priest in the Peruvian Amazon. Friar Larry Goselin (below) currently lives and works at our parish—Ascension Catholic Church—in Portland, Oregon, and has worked for decades in Mexico and among Native Americans.
Don’t ask me how they did it, but somehow they managed to communicate and collaborate to produce this, the fruit of their own prayer and reflection, as a special gift to us, their brothers. We, in turn, offer it to you for your own Advent journey:

“We sometimes hear the command, “Hurry up and wait.” This paradoxical statement presents a hurried way that we can approach a time and place of “waiting”. Advent calls us to pause, listen, ponder, and to bring into ourselves a place that hungers to wait in a spirit of patience and joy. There are different attitudes that we can enter into as we are asked “to wait.” We can wait either with idle expectation or with an active attention. To be in an idle stance of expectation would be characterized by feelings of emptiness, discontentment, and restlessness, boredom, lacking desire or focus. In this attitude the one who waits is seen and felt as non-essential or unimportant. However, an active attitude in “waiting” could be characterized as an experienced that is filled with anticipation, calmness patience, listening, longing, excitement, and receptivity. In this place the one who “waits” is essential and important…

First Sunday of Advent : A Prayer
Lord, as the dawn waits for the morning light, we long for Your Life. Come, we pray send the light that will awaken hope and alertness in joy. A child is promised to us. May we be drawn at this beginning point, to the still point of creation, the One to be born in a manger, the promised heralded King. It is in His poverty that we have our strength, and it is His humility that we are lifted up. Free us from the darkness that hinders our vision, inspire us to watch with faith. (LG)

A Reflection
Joselito has been the parish boat driver for over twenty years. Navigating the Ucayali River is not easy and I admire the skill with which he controls our little aluminum craft and its thirty horsepower engine . We often make journeys together that are three hours or more to visit some of the distant villages of the parish and I completely trust in him. He is such a good driver, I am usually relaxed enough to read, pray, listen to my I-Pod or just doze a little. When the river rises in the winter, Joselito must constantly dodge pieces of trees that are floating all over. In the summer he has to constantly watch out for sand bars so as not to run aground. When we are hit with a hard tropical rain in our travels, Joselito skillfully revs up the engine and we speed through the raindrops that feel like bullets hitting your face so we can leave the storm behinds us a quick as possible. And all year around, Joselito seems to have X ray vision when he constantly avoids well- hidden fishing nets that could reek havoc on the propeller. As Joselito and I travel together, my mind often wonders but Joselito is constantly alert to make sure we arrive at our destination safely.

Joselito’s need to constantly be alert to fulfill his duty is a great metaphor for me to understand today’s Gospel. Jesus tells us, “Be watchful!” and “Be alert!”. He is not warning us to be on the lookout so we can avoid God’s wrath but guiding us on how be people who live deeply conscious of the Kingdom he is proclaiming. Because Joselito is watchful and alert when he navigates the Ucayali River, he is deeply aware of the reality all aspects nature around us and we travel peacefully. Likewise, when we seek One to be prayerfully alert to world that surrounds us, God offers us a vision of life so we can live in peace with other people and all of creation. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus makes it clear that God is always closer to us than we are to ourselves. The challenge for us is to be more and more alert and responsive to that loving presence through our personal prayer, community prayer and our relationships with our brothers and sisters in the human family and throughout all of creation as we seek to “navigate” our lives with the vision of God’s Kingdom . The Good News is that we are never alone because our “Heavenly Boat Driver” is always guiding us. (TK)

Second Sunday of Advent: A Prayer
The voice of the prophet sounds in the in the depths of life. The “cry of the poor” is heard in ancient voices throughout ages, today the voices are new. “Prepare the Way, a Highway for our God.” “Let the valleys be filled and the mountains lowered, smooth the rough ways. Comfort, give comfort and bring Good News to the poor. This is the cry of the prophet. May our voices be attuned to this voice of hope. May we be the hope that is Your promise to us, inspire us to listen with joy. (LG)

A Reflection
One of the most difficult aspects of my job is the pastoral care of people in the parish who constantly must deal with inadequate health care. In my political district, there is only one doctor for every ten thousand people, no X ray machine, very crude clinical labs and often a shortage of basic medicine. The painful reality is that this injustice not only exists throughout the Peruvian Amazon but it is a reality for our sisters and brothers all throughout the Third World. Ignacio Ellacuria, one of the Jesuits martyred in El Salvador in 1989, preferred to call the poor countries the “Crucified World” because Christ continues to suffer in the poor who must daily live under inhuman conditions. Sister Guadalupe, a Franciscan sister in the parish is a very compassionate nurse and is absolutely wonderful in caring for people of all ages and a great inspiration for me. She regularly visits the sick and the dying in their homes. Sister Guadalupe would not even have basic pain killers to offer injections to people who are dying. I am often confused and ask myself, “How do I offer comfort to people who must suffer so much injustice?”

Most certainly this type of injustice must constantly be denounced. Inspired by the example of John the Baptist and Jesus, we all are called to denounce injustice and proclaim the Good News of God’s Kingdom. We know that denouncing an injustice system and trying to change it to better serve the poor is a difficult and slow task. What do we do in the meantime not to lose hope? Isaiah invites us today to find comfort in God’s constant and faithful presence with us-“Here is your God!” Like a shepherd, God “carries us in his bosom.” It seems to me that, after doing all we can to change an injustice system, the only other thing we can do is comfort the poor and suffering with the assurance that God loves them and is deeply present to them. As pastoral ministers, our presence and care to them is to be “physical proof” of God’s loving compassion for them.
We see in today’s Gospel that John the Baptist “prepares the way of the Lord” by calling his listeners to conversion. For Ellacuria, central to our commitment to ongoing conversion means asking, “What shall I do to bring down the ‘crucified people’ from the cross?” As we try to respond to that call to conversion in our own lives, with the help of the Holy Spirit promised by the Baptist we renew our commitment to denounce injustice in the world and manifest God’s personal and loving presence by caring for the poor and suffering. (TK)

A Franciscan Hermitage? Welcome to St. Clare's in Sebastopol, California

2008-11-26T11:47:00.001-08:00

What comes to your mind when you hear the words ‘hermit’ or ‘hermitage’?
A magnificent palace/museum of the same name built by Catherine the Great in St. Petersburg, Russia?....

A mountain aerie inhabited by a gnome-like holy man lost in deep meditation?....

Well, guess again. Welcome to the St. Clare Hermitage—a uniquely Franciscan place of prayer and rest… and yes, a bountiful measure of joy!

Envision, instead, a tiny, ‘postage stamp farm’: a nine-acre site just outside of the town of Sebastopol in exurban Sonoma County, about an hour by car north of San Francisco. A half-dozen rustic cottages on wooded meadowland, circling a small pond close by. Prepare for a warm and gracious welcome in the person of our Brother Mateo Guerrero, the resident friar at St. Clare’s. And get ready to sit one down immediately to a cup of freshly brewed coffee with an obligatory plate full of homemade brownies and oatmeal cookies.

Mateo smiles with good reason. He has seen more than a few miracles in the six years he has been at St. Clare’s: “Here I can choose how radically I want to live the Franciscan life,” he reveals, jumping into the heart of the hermitage experience. “It’s about learning to say ‘yes’ to what the poor have no choice about…. Here, we have no official support whatsoever. No allowance, no regular income. Just the neighbors. And friends. People just show up at the door with eggs, produce, flowers. People give. There is real power in being fragile, vulnerable, not having. It gives other people the chance to give. Yes, we may have to move one day. But then again, maybe not. We’ll just see what the Lord has in store and go along with that.”

Before we go on any further, though, let’s backtrack a bit. Yes, St. Clare’s is a real hermitage—but in a particularly Franciscan sense. And Brother Mateo is really a hermit -- also in that same particularly Franciscan sense. So, after nearly 800 years, what exactly does it mean to be a hermit in the “particularly Franciscan sense”? According to his earliest biographers, Francis himself always felt drawn to remote places…. “After he had renounced the world at the court of the Bishop of Assisi, he spent the next several years living as a hermit…. And when Francis and his eleven companions returned to the Spoleto valley from Rome after their Rule had been approved in 1209, they first discussed among themselves whether they should live strictly as hermits or live a mixed life of prayer for the salvation of souls.” (Omnibus, p. 71).

Eventually, Francis and his companions did select the ‘mixed life’ combining contemplation and active ministry, but our founder made provision for the expression of eremetical piety in the form of a special Rule for Hermitages. In brief, 3-4 friars were to live together for a limited period of time. They would divide themselves into “mothers” and “sons”/ “Marys and Marthas”, if you will. The “mothers” provided for the material needs of the “sons” and protected them from disruptions to their prayer. After a period of time, they would reverse roles. The main thrust of the eremitcal life among Franciscans then and now has been to provide a period of rest and spiritual renewal from the struggles of active ministry, rather than a long-term commitment dedicated to this one lifestyle.

Franciscan hermitages are relatively common in Europe today, and relatively rare in North America. Brother Mateo, initially joined by Friar Rob Young, began the first project in the Province of St. Barbara in 2003. It was an idea which had been percolating in Mateo’s mind and heart for decades, though, finally reaching fruition in the establishment of the St. Clare Hermitage. As Mateo himself explains:

“I entered the community at the age of 18, going on 10. After a period of time, I found myself in a spiritual rut and left on a ‘leave of absence’ for nearly 10 years. I realized my own ‘greenness’ and lack of worldly understanding. I led my life among the rich and the famous, working as a private cook. But all the money in the world can’t bring you happiness. Eventually, I felt the Lord calling me back.

“For me, (the contemplative life) for us Franciscans is tapping into who we really are. St. Francis spent much of his life in hermitages and look at how productive he was!.... (We need to take time to) rest with our Beloved, with Jesus. If you don’t have a personal encounter with Him, there is something wrong. You need to be alone with the Beloved…. (I believe) there’s something to be said about bringing out that fire in prayer…. It feeds us, gives us a reason to continue, and gives us inner strength. Saying ‘yes’ to Jesus, not from the mind, but from the heart."

After years of searching for a suitable property for a hermitage, Brother Mateo learned about the Sebastopol site. Originally a small family farm, the Vaughn Ranch, the nine-acre parcel was acquired by the St. Anthony Foundation in the early 1950s as a rehabilitation center for men. Up to 30 residents at one time were involved in the project, which initially included a small candlemaking concern and a projected Christmas tree farm. The land was unsuitable for cultivation, however, and lack of ready well water jinxed the endeavor. The Farm moved to a larger site several miles away and shifted its focus to dairy products. Meanwhile, a group of Dominican sisters moved into the small bungalows on the site and stayed for nearly thirty years, before Mateo ‘inherited’ the site six years ago.

Friars and others come for various periods of spiritual rest and renewal—anywhere from several days to several weeks. The air is fresh; the neighborhood astoundingly quiet; the night sky, often crowded with stars. And the food is incredible.... Each visitor contributes according to her/his means and inclinations; there is never a “charge’ for anything. In terms of maintenance and upkeep, a faithful group of local supporters, representing a variety of faith traditions—or none—have made the hermitage into their own labor of love. E

In terms of the rhythm of daily prayer, or ‘horarium’, St. Clare’s offers regular morning and afternoon recitation of the Liturgy of the Hours. There is Eucharist when a priest is available. Devotional prayer including the rosary and a Holy Hour before the Blessed Sacrament also available. Everything is optional for guests, many of whom just need time to rest deeply in the Lord: . “The schedule serves us; we don’t serve the schedule. Of course, we need to be flexible and sensitive to people’s needs. But it should also ‘pinch’ a bit, be just a little uncomfortable to help one grow.” The response to the spiritual offerings of the hermitage has been gratifying, especially among lay friends: “People come to our 24-hour vigils at every hour of the night and day. You really see their devotion; the sacrifices they are willing to make.”

Brother Mateo’s dream is to maintain a stable, ongoing place of rest and welcome to all: “Hospitality goes such a long way toward healing, towards opening the door (of one’s heart) to Jesus.” This is immediately apparent in the small touches of welcome everywhere: flowers in the rooms; a jar jammed with homemade cookies; signature gourmet meals that Mateo—a master chef-- just ‘throws’ together—simple, healthful ingredients combined with a great deal of care.

Pressing financial burdens in these difficult times have made it necessary to put the property on the market recently. Consequently, the hermitage may have to find another home at some point, but Brother Mateo remains optimistic about future prospects. And at age 73 (he looks decades younger), he is still not afraid to dream boldly: “One has to accept this and let go. But we’ll keep going, no doubt about that. This way of life requires hope! We need to rekindle the flame, that first love of Jesus and Francis we have experienced….The hermitage will go on; contemplation is, after all, at the heart of our Franciscan life.” Amen, Brother!//

P.S.: Since posting this blog, we have received a number of requests about how to make donations or contact St. Clare Hermitage. You can reach: Br. Mateo Guerrero, ofm, St. Clare Hermitage, 6501 Orchard Station Road, Sebastopol, CA 95472. Tel. 707/792-5033. Note: Br. Mateo does NOT have email.... ct//

San Francisco: An Immersion Excursion

2008-11-19T20:22:00.001-08:00

It's axiomatic. The only real way to meet the friars is to-- well-- meet the friars! That's exactly what Sam, Dirk, and Simon-- our guests the weekend of November 14-16-- did as part of their San Franciscan Bay Area Immersion Experience. The trio all arrived from southern California, both by air (Sam and Dirk) and Greyhound (Simon). They brought with them open and willing hearts as well as their own stories. Sam, originally from Indonesia, is an industrial engineer. Dirk, a native of Aachen, Germany, has worked in the LA area for more than ten years as a technician for theatre production work. And Simon works in human resources.

Just as our guest/inquirers shared parts of their faith journey and life experience with us, we Franciscans tried for our part to share our own stories as well, through our ministries and community life. The San Francisco Bay Area, with its tremendous diversity and wealth of resources, is the perfect place for an inquirer to jump in and explore Franciscan life up close. And that's just what we invited our guests to do.

The quick pace of the three-day weekend event provided our visitors with the chance to get a good overview of the Franciscan presence in the Bay Area and most significantly in the city of St. Francis itself. Our first stop was historic Dolores Mission, founded in 1776 and a poignant reminder that the histories of both the Franciscans and the city of San Francisco are closely intertwined. Next stop on the Grand Tour was a visit with our brother, Fr. Richard Purcell at the Aurora Dawn/ Marty's Place foundation in the city's Mission district. Richard, whose brother Marty died of AIDS, founded this hospice for homeless men with HIV/AIDS and has served as its resident director since its inception. Over the past two decades, hundreds of men have spent the last weeks and days of their lives at Marty's Place. Without exception, they have experienced respect, acceptance and loving care.

As our host, Richard received us with that same warm welcome and gracious hospitality. At the time of our visit, he was in his element and regaled us with wonderful stories about his life and work both at Aurora Dawn and earlier on among the Native American people of the Southwest. "They taught me everything," he told us, "Before I met the Indians, I didn't have a spirituality. They gave me my own and it has anchored my life." Richard held us spellbound and in stitches with his devilish humor, charm, and wisdom. We had to tear ourselves away after two hours. For his part, he was just getting warmed up.

Our other visits over the weekend followed a similar rhythm, juxtaposing the experience of formal institutions with encounters with real live people. Friday night, we had a great dinner as guests of the friars at St. Boniface in San Francisco's hardscrabble Tenderloin neighborhood. The next day, all four of us pitched in next door at the St. Anthony Dining Room. Joined by several dozen other volunteers, we helped to serve a hot, nutritious lunch to the nearly 2800 guests who queued in line from 10 to 2. For all of us, it was an extraordinary encounter, difficult to describe. Hope, despair, friendship, holiness. Interwoven with the shocking reality of deep poverty, disease, and homelessness just a few blocks from the one of the world's great upscale shopping districts-- Union Square and the San Francisco Centre close by.

We had little time to digest or process the intensity of our experience at St. Anthony's. Next stop: the East Bay, with brief calls at St. Elizabeth parish and friary in Oakland's primarily Latino Fruitvale neighborhood, followed by visits in turn to the new Oakland Cathedral of Christ the Light, then on to our Franciscan School of Theology in Berkeley. At St. E's, we were greeted by the guardian, Fr. Ponchie Vasquez and several student friars. With more than a dozen friars, St. E's is the largest house in our province. The adjacent church is a magnet for Hispanic Catholics from throughout the East Bay.

The relative homeiness of St. E's gave way to the sophisticated elegance of the new cathedral, whose overall simplicity, nevertheless, clearly resonates with the Franciscan spirit. On to Berkeley's Holy Hill, north of the University campus, we were able to check out FST, our school of theology, which includes among its faculty some of the most respected names in Franciscan studies: Kenan Osborne, Joe Chinnici, Michael Guinan, and Bill Short among others. We also did a walk-through of nearby buildings which belong to the Graduate Theological Union, an ecumenical consortium of which FST is an integral part.

After pausing to savor the sunset from Holy Hill, we drove down to the Berkeley flatlands to our Brother Giles fraternity, where friars Adrian Peelo and Luis-Alberto Guzman had prepared a wonderful dinner of chicken and pasta casserole, with salad and not just one, but several outrageously sweet desserts. Armies move on their stomachs, but we friars are perfectly willing to sit still a good while to enjoy our dinner, which is exactly what we did on this occasion. Again, several student friars and other guests joined in.

Sunday morning there was just enough time for a quick breakfast before a wonderful Gospel Mass back at St. Boniface. Friar Vince Hughes presided over the liturgy, while the gospel choir had even the most timid souls among us up, clapping our hands and stamping our feet in praise and thanksgiving. That's what it's all about! After Mass, the four of us regrouped for a check in and wrap up session before lunch and departure.

This Immersion Weekend is not your typical retreat experience. In fact, it's not a retreat at all. But it really is an intense and fast-paced immersion into our life as we actually experience it, not as some sugary showcase that reveals nothing about who we really are: practicing human beings like everyone else. Our guests took it all in stride-- the magnificance of a Saturday sunset over the Golden Gate bridge right along with unscheduled delays, detours, and distractions: Fr. Jorge took sick so I had to jump in to take the Friday noon Mass.... A 4:30 am fire alarm in the neighborhood had everyone in the house up (not me, I slept through it all, thank you very much).... We caught friars as we could-- and they were frequently on the run to and from work, classes, funerals, and youth group meetings..... All of that mixed in with food, friendship, fun, punctuated by some periods of prayer and reflection. Welcome to us. Come and join us yourself on our next immersion experience. In the meantime, may the Lord give you peace!

We're Getting Ready to Enter a New Chapter

2008-11-13T23:17:00.001-08:00

Loving God,
Send us Your Spirit of courage
- that we might consult not our fears, but our hopes and dreams;
- -that we think not about our frustrations but about our unfulfilled potential;
- and that we concern ourselves not with what we tried and failed,
- but with what is still possible for us to do.
- Siempre adelante!/ Always forward, never look back!
Amen!

For more than a year now, we friars of the Province of St. Barbara have been reciting this prayer in preparation for our upcoming Chapter 2009 (January 4-9) at Old Mission San Luis Rey, Oceanside, California. It is an adaptation of a prayer written by Blessed John XXIII in preparation for what was to become the transforming event known to the world as the Second Vatican Council, or Vatican II. It certainly conveys something of both our own experience and hope as a community.

Earlier this year (see: August 19, 2008) I wrote a blog entry entitled “Greetings from our meetings”—a description of how we friars organize ourselves and do business. Our ‘chapter’— (I know, the word sounds like a section of a book. And in a way, it is. A section of the book of our Franciscan life)—is certainly a deliberative gathering. But it is much more than that for us. It is really more in the nature of a week-long liturgy. A prayer and way of praying that reminds us that we are not so much leading (although, face it, we’re human, and like to think we’re in charge of everything) as being led. By that Spirit of Courage we invoke in our prayer. I've been working with a group of friars in our Chapter Steering Committee to help put things together for our January meeting. We've still got a ways to go, but here's a little sneak preview of what we'll be doing.

When we Franciscans gather to chapter (both noun and verb) this coming January, we will need to make some very important decisions together that will affect our lives for the next three years and beyond. (below, left, Minister Provincial Mel Jurisich, ofm, with Fr. John dePaemelaere, ofm):

Elections. Guess what, we have elections, too. But unlike the presidential contest we’ve just undergone, it’s not a matter of an intense campaign. We will select our new Provincial Minister as well as his six counselors, called ‘definitors’. Names are surfaced through several straw ballots conducted by mail among solemnly professed friars. A shortlist of those most highly ranked is sent to our Curia in Rome for approval. At Chapter, we listen to and pray with our brothers, and then vote by secret paper ballot.

Visitation. (Above, Fr. Peter Williams, ofm) Every six years, each Franciscan province throughout the world is required to undergo a thorough review of its life conducted by an appointed Visitator General. His unenviable (and I do mean ‘unenviable’) task is to visit every single friar in every single friary at every single ministry in our province before making a final report with recommendations about how to improve and enhance the quality of our Franciscan life. This time, our visitator is Fr. Peter Williams, ofm, a member of the English province who has worked as a missionary in Africa over the past 25 years. By the time we get to Chapter, Fr. Peter will have spent no less than five months at his task.

Proposals. The Chapter provides a way for friars to inform and direct our leadership by naming specific priorities for our fraternal life and ministry. Issues tend to percolate upward and outward. Ideas may originate with an individual or small group of friars; they may come from one of our organized councils; or they may emerge from our Definitorium. At any rate, they set the tone and direction of our leadership for the next three-year cycle.

This Chapter, four major issues/ proposals have emerged for the friars to consider:

 The care of our senior friars (a policy on retirement. (Below, Fr. Warren Rause, ofm):

 Evangelization & Our Way of Gospel Life: focus on how we minister and live together, especially as we face institutional downsizing because of shrinking numbers and the aging of our community overall; (below, Friar James Lockman, ofm):

 Long-Range Financial Planning: an effort to recognize our financial needs and to develop a program for raising funds to assist our senior friars and those who are in studies and/or formation; (below, Fr. Ken Laverone, ofm):

 Immigration: a movement to address this tremendously important and controversial issue as it affects the people to whom we minister as well as our own fraternal life. (below, Fr. Rigoberto Caloca-Rivas, ofm):

The icing on the cake for this particular Chapter is that is coincides with the celebration of the 800th anniversary of the (first) Rule of St. Francis in 1206. As part of that celebration, our Minister General, Fr. José Rodríguez Carballo, ofm, will be flying in from Rome to address our gathering.

In addition, we will be dedicating an entire day of our proceedings to acknowledge the gifts and contributions of the laypeople with whom we collaborate in our ministries. More than 40 laypeople are expected to be in attendance, along with nearly 200 friars.

So that’s what we do at Chapter. But it’s not all we do. Not by a long shot. Our communal prayer life flows in and out of the proceedings, with almost 20 separate liturgies throughout the week.

Also, we will be having two special cultural events—a multi-cultural concert involving musicians and performing artists representing some of the communities we serve. A second performance event, “I Conoscenti” involves a multi-media ensemble interpretation of the life of St. Francis through the perspective of the ‘conoscenti’—the people who knew him.

That’s our Chapter. Not just an event, but a process which has been ongoing now for nearly 18 months. The actual week at Old Mission San Luis Rey will represent the culmination of our works, dreams, and most certainly, prayers.

For someone interested in our way of life, this is just a little peek at a way of life of an institution which has succeeded—amazingly!—not just in surviving, but in renewing and being renewed by the Spirit for 800 years.

Siempre adelante!

Friarside Feedback

2008-11-09T14:42:00.000-08:00

Many thanks to all of our readers for your feedback and encouragement. Here are a few recent comments. Feel free to contact us by pushing the 'comments' button at the bottom of this or any entry. You can also email us at: friarchat@yahoo.com. We would especially appreciate any suggestions or ideas for themes you would like to see explored in future blog entries. Peace and all good! -- Fr. Chuck

Congratulations...on reaching 10,000 hits! Your blog is an inspiration to me.
--Philip C.
San Francisco, CA

I first became familiar with the Friarside Chats through Fr. Chuck. He travels with his camera in hand; prepared to capture his next story as inspiration strikes. If you spend anytime with him, you are bound to have your picture taken. The Friarside Chats capture both the spirit of St. Francis and of his modern day followers. As I read each posting, I am reminded to recall and reflect on my own daily experiences, through the eyes of faith.

Scott S.
Hood River, Oregon

I have been prompted to read Friarside chats for three reasons (I know, how Trinitatarian). The first is that the blog is written well, and that always helps. The second reason is that it helps me to deepn my own faith journey. And the final reason, is that it helps me keep appraised of the what is happening with my Franciscan siblings!

Pax
Jeff D.
Oakland, CA

I have been enjoying your Friarside Chats and have been meaning to thank you. I just finished reading what is on your page and it is wonderful! I especially like the sermon by Dr. Williams. Peace and all good to you,
Nora
Sacramento CA

Splendid job on your web site. In a time when religious vocations are being highlighted/ Friarside chats offers a non-threatening opportunity for exploration of the Franciscan community. Your topics are always interesting and offer knowledge on the Franciscan spirituality. I check the column weekly. Our son is currently a novice and we are able to learn so much about the order by checking in with you site. May many be called by seeing what you have to offer.
--Dan B.
Chino Hills, CA

I remembered to log onto your blog and WOW! … Your blog (what an unattractive word, huh?) is beautiful. Love the pictures and the verses.
Philip
Malibu, CA

The Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome: The Franciscan Connection

2008-11-08T21:54:00.000-08:00

Sunday, November 9, Roman Catholics celebrate a very special solemnity: the dedication of the Basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome. Actually, for Franciscans, this historical commemoration holds special significance in our history and tradition.

The Lateran, as it is referred to affectionately, is one of four major churches or basilicas in the city of Rome. It is the pope’s church as Bishop of Rome, while St. Peter’s Basilica is the pope’s see as leader of the universal Church. In addition, St. John Lateran is one of the oldest Christian churches in Rome, having been given to the Christian community by the Emperor Constantine in the year 313 CE. The Lateran has been pillaged, destroyed, and rebuilt several times throughout its long history. Yet, it has not only endured, but perdured through the centuries.

The Franciscan connection is quite direct and poignant. Sometime in the year 1209, Francis, along with his motley crew of initial followers, had traveled to Rome to petition Pope Innocent III for approval of his Rule-- i.e., permission to establish a new religious order. Innocent III was not just any church leader, by the way. He was probably the most powerful ruler, secular or religious, in all of medieval Europe. Francis, in contrast, was both an eccentric and somewhat marginal figure initially.

While Francis was in Rome awaiting the pope's decision, Innocent III had a strange experience. As St. Bonaventure recounts in his biography, The Major Life of St. Francis “He (Pope Innocent III) saw in a dream,... the Lateran basilica almost ready to fall down. A little poor man, small and scorned, was propping it up with his own back bent so that it would not fall. ‘I’m sure,’ (Innocent) said, ’he (Francis) is the one who will hold up Christ’s Church by what he does and what he teaches.’ Because of this, filled with exceptional devotion, he bowed to the request (of Francis) in everything and always loved Christ’s servant with special love. Then he granted what was asked and promised even more. He approved the rule, gave them a mandate to preach penance, and had small tonsures given to all the lay brothers, who were accompanying the servant of God, so that they could freely preach the word of God.” ( Chapter 3).

In front of the Basilica, a contemporary statue of St. Francis, arms outstretched stands poised and ready for action. If the viewer stands directly behind the sculpture, he/she will notice that the figure of Francis appears to ‘hold’ the basilica in his hands. Elsewhere, in the Basilica of St. Franics in city of Assisi itself, , a series of extraordinary frescoes recounting scenes from the life of St. Francis include a panel depicting of “The Dream of Innocent III”, have adorned its walls since the 14th century.

It is not simply out of a sense of "family pride", sentimentality, or nostalgia that the Franciscans have cherished this account for the past eight hundred years. Rather, it is the heart of this story—our call to bear witness to the Gospel by our lives and example—that continues to challenge and inspire us even today. Especially today.

The ‘church’ which Francis was called to rebuild was not the Lateran or the little chapel of San Damiano or any other physical structure, of course. The ‘church’ was and is the People of God who emerge in every time and place to proclaim and even reclaim, where necessary, the Good News of Jesus Christ. We continue to try-- in spite of and sometimes, even in the midst of our own struggles and doubts—to be true to that founding spirit and to do our very small part.

So, we continue to join with Francis and Clare in the simple prayer which defines our hope and mission:

“We adore You, Most Holy Lord Jesus Christ
Here and in all Your churches throughout the world.
And we bless You, because by your Holy Cross,
You have redeemed the world.”//

We're at 10,000! This calls for a celebration!

2008-11-06T16:13:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends,

Thanks so much for your support of Friarsidechats!
Since May, 2008, we've logged about 10,000 "hits" (i.e., visits) to our site. This calls for a little celebration, don't you think?
We will send a FREE gift (!) to the next 10 people who send us an email now that we've reached the 10,000 mark!

Just write to us at:
friarchat@yahoo.com
with your name, both email and mailing address, and a short statement of what induced you to read the blog. Feel free to suggest any topics or themes we might consider in future blog entries.++

Okay? We'll print the reviews and your first name, and city, but nothing else.

Thanks again!
Fr. Chuck Talley, ofm

++P.S.:Another option is to press the 'comments' button at the bottom of this blog and provide the same info.

T is for Tau

2008-11-06T14:12:00.001-08:00

Since the time of St. Francis and St. Clare in the 13th century, the distinctive emblem of the “tau” has served as a trademark of Franciscan identity. It is said that Francis used the “tau” (rhymes with “how”) in his writings, employing it as his own personal signature. Tradition also has it that he had the ‘‘‘tau’’’ painted on the walls and doors of the places where he stayed. If so, it is our earliest documentation of Franciscan graffiti, but hardly the last. What is the “tau” exactly, and what is its significance in Franciscan life and identity today?

I’m so glad you asked! First of all the “tau” is exactly what it looks like, the letter ‘T’—the last letter of the Hebrew alphabet ,which could be simultaneously written: /\ X + T. The most frequent reference used by Christians is from the prophet Ezekiel: ” Then he called to the man dressed in linen with the writer's case at his waist, saying to him: Pass through the city (through Jerusalem) and mark an X ( i.e., ‘‘‘tau’’’-ed) on the foreheads of those who moan and groan over all the abominations that are practiced within it.” .-- Ezekiel (9:4, New American Bible translation)

In early Christian tradition, the stylized ‘‘tau’’ cross came to represent the means by which Christ reversed the disobedience of the old Adam and became our Savior as the “New Adam.” Origen wrote in the third century: “The shape of the letter ‘tau’ presented a resemblance to the figure of the Cross and that therein was contained a prophesy of the sign which is made by Christians upon their foreheads, for all the faithful make this sign in commencing any undertaking and especially at the beginning of prayer or of reading of Holy Scripture.” (Note, below, the Tau cross on Tory Island, Ireland, dating from the sixth century):

The use of the “tau” scarcely originated with Francis, then, but he certainly succeeded in popularizing the emblem as the unofficial logo of the movement which bears his name. Some writers indicate that Francis may have had contact with a religious community called the Anthonians/ Antonians, known for their work with lepers. They wore a great “tau” painted on their habits. It would not require a great stretch of the imagination, then, to infer that Francis may have appropriated the symbol as an indication of his own commitment to serve lepers and other marginalized people in his time.

At the Fourth Lateran Council, on November 11, 1215, Pope Innocent made reference to the ‘‘tau’’ and quoted the above-cited verse in reference to the profaning of the Holy Places by the Saracens. It is widely accepted that St. Francis was present at the Council and that he heard the words of Pope Innocent III when he said, "The ‘‘tau’’ has exactly the same form as the Cross on which our Lord was crucified on Calvary, and only those will be marked with this sign and will obtain mercy who have mortified their flesh and conformed their life to that of the Crucified Savior. “

St. Bonaventure said, "This ‘‘tau’’ symbol had all the veneration and all the devotion of the saint: he spoke of it often in order to recommend it, and he traced it on himself before beginning each of his actions." Thomas of Celano, another early Franciscan biographer wrote that, "Francis preferred the ‘‘tau’’ above all other symbols: he utilized it as his only signature for his letters, and he painted the image of it on the walls of all the places in which he stayed."
In the famous blessing of Brother Leo, Francis wrote on parchment, "May the Lord bless you and keep you! May the Lord show His face to you and be merciful to you! May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace! God bless you Brother Leo!" Francis sketched a head (of Brother Leo) and then drew the ‘‘tau’’ over this portrait.

Indeed, the habit worn by Franciscan men is itself in the form of the ‘‘tau’’ cross, a sign of lifelong penance and conversion of heart. As St. Bonaventure further wrote: "For even while he [Francis] lived among men, he imitated angelic purity so that he was held up as an example for those who would be perfect followers of Christ. We are led to hold this firmly and devoutly because of his ministry to call men to weep and mourn, to shave their heads, and to put on sackcloth, and to mark with a ‘‘tau’’ the foreheads of men who moan and grieve, signing them with the cross of penance and clothing them with his habit, which is in the form of a cross". -- St. Bonaventure, The Life of St. Francis.

That was then and this is now. Today, the ‘‘‘tau’’’ is a common sight at Franciscan gatherings. It is often worn as a simple wooden cross around the neck, attached with a string cord that not infrequently has three knots on it: one for each of the three vows to poverty, chastity, and obedience taken by all Franciscans.

Most frequently, the ‘‘tau’’ would be worn by friars (when not in their formal habit), and on a daily basis by many Franciscan sisters, as well as by the nearly one million Franciscan women and men who belong to the lay movement known as the ‘secular’ Franciscans. In fact, since Vatican II, a modified version of the ‘‘tau’’, including what is known as ‘the conformity’—the crossed and outstretched arms of Francis and Christ—has served as the official habit of the secular Franciscan order (SFO’s) around the world.

Of course, since we don’t check id’s on this score, the ‘‘tau’’ is also worn by a great number of people who have a particular devotion to and admiration for the Gospel life as inspired by Francis and Clare of Assisi.
Personally, I am of the opinion that one can never have too many friends or too many ‘‘tau’s”, either, for that matter. Often when I travel ‘incognito’, which is to say, not wearing my habit, people will ask me about the ‘‘tau’’. And if they seem sincere in their interest, then, well, I’ll just give ‘em the one I’m wearing. Not to worry; I’ve got a stash of them at home.
The ‘‘tau’’. A simple and beautiful sign. And a reminder of a commitment which is meant to be equally simple and beautiful: to follow Christ and to serve others with an open and joyful heart. //