True Conversions No. 1: Mary Karr

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

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

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

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!

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

“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

"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!//