In Benedict’s Classroom

When Joseph Ratzinger was elected pope eight years ago, I told people who asked for my impressions that I looked forward to being surprised. I never imagined it would be this! Even if I had, I never would have thought I would be right in the middle of it. Yet here it is, and here I am.
 

I had a bird's eye view Sunday at the Angelus

I also told you in my last article that I wouldn’t be blogging regularly unless “something happens that might interest you.” You’ve had your pick of blogs and broadcasts, tweets and timelines surrounding the conclusion of the first papacy of the social media era. I wondered what I could offer you that hasn’t been put out there ten thousand times already.

Whenever I’ve gone out of the house in these last couple of weeks, people have wanted to talk. That’s normally not a problem, except that now it’s usually in Italian, so with my limited vocabulary, communicating is more of a toussle. Still, we’ve managed:
• The Carabiniera (Italy’s version of Homeland Security) who worries that the pope might be abandoning his vocation, the Church, and by association, her;
• A pharmacist in the neighborhood, who smells something foul in the air;
• The chiropractor, who perceives a new path for Church ministry, but wonders about the precedent it sets and how it affects our sense of fidelity to promises made;
• The theologian-friend, who anguishes over the questions it raises and who, as he continues to foster his deep relationship with God in prayer, will see himself in the questions he asks—if he hasn’t already.

Through these encounters I’ve stepped into the Pope’s classroom. The theme of his magisterium, or teaching role in the Church, is being repeated by one person after another.

A charism course presenter, Fr. Roberto Roveran, SSP, for instance, began class the day after the Pope’s announcement by inviting us to learn from what we’re picking up all around us. He sees in Benedict’s renunciation of the Petrine ministry, “not a retreat, but an openness to modernity. In this, too, he’s exercising a true magisterium. John Paul II showed the world his humanity by carrying the cross to the end. So is Benedict.”

When George Rutler writes that the ministry of the pope is not “indelible,” (see the end of this article) or as my theologian-friend says, “It’s not a vocation”—certainly not in the same way that states in life are—they’re reminding us that setting down the crosier is always a possibility. At the same time, Benedict remains a bishop, which means that, following his vocation, he will continue to teach the world.

One of our sisters in the U. S. e-mailed me:

“I totally think it [the renunciation] is keeping with his creative streak. What I mean is that first of all he is a theologian, and that is the job description of a theologian: find different ways to present truth and at times dig out truth from long forgotten corners, brush it off and present it to a contemporary people.
     “His role as a theologian has developed a mindset in him to openly analyze the truth in relation to the past and the present. A theologian is given to creative insight that most of us just don’t discover. I think that is partly why he was willing to make the decision. Reaching back to the past, he developed an unprecedented solution, at least in terms of the last few centuries. He remained faithful to being original, flexible, honest, and therefore, creative.”

Sr. Bernadette and me with don Rocca

History bears this out, too. In my estimation, the centerpiece of this blog article is in following written interview I had with Pauline historian Fr. Giancarlo Rocca, whom I introduced you to in my last article. The insights into our own community’s story that he integrates with recent events give us a way to live these moments in our Church with both trust and a personal sense of responsibility:

PF: One Catholic news source said that throughout the Church’s history so far, four popes have resigned. The most recent took place in the fifteenth century. Besides the modern context, what makes this one different?

“Judging from the numerous cases—many more than four* —in which pontiffs have resigned or were forced to resign from their ministry, I think that that the issues are varied and can be grouped into three broad categories: politics, personal motivations, and problems linked to issues within the Church.

“Those in the political category are the most easily identified. Until around the year 1000, there were several cases of forced resignation, when emperors decided to depose and exile popes, who at times named a successor. This was the case with Clement I, martyr and saint, Pontian, Silverius, and Benedict IX, not to mention the “anti-popes” elected, again for political reasons, like Felix (who replaced the legitimate Pope Liberius) and then later on, with Sylvester III and Gregory VI.

“The case of Celestine V (1209?-1296) is different. He is the pope certainly best known for his resignation, after holding the office of Peter for less than four months. His case was not political, but personal, religious. Celestine V was a hermit, loved solitude, realized that the culture of the Roman Curia was not for him, wanted to return to his cell, and so, chose to abdicate.

“Different still are the many cases of “anti-popes” during the so-called Avignon Papacy. These were deposed by the various councils of the time (Pisa and Constance in the 15th century), as in the case of Gregory XII vs. John XXIII.** Though they involved the civil powers of the time, these cases were due to strife within the Church.

“Despite the health factor, Pope Benedict XVI’s renunciation of the Petrine ministry is certainly closer to that of Celestine V. It almost seems that Benedict XVI has confirmed what he had said on the occasion of the famous Via Crucis, before being elected pope: the Church is stained and needs to be purified. I have tried to do what I could, according to my possibilities and my strength. Now that my powers have diminished, it is up to you. The Church is you too.”

PF: Some, like John Paul II’s former secretary, Cardinal Stanislaus Dziwisz, have suggested that, by renouncing his office, Pope Benedict is “coming down from the cross”—whether that cross is the burden of office, of accountability before the world, or of old age. What is your reading of the event?

“Cardinal Dziwisz has made it clear he did not at all intend to criticize the position taken by Pope Benedict XVI. When it comes to key issues in our lives, our decisions weigh heavy on us, too, as does the inevitable loneliness connected with them. We have to make these decisions for ourselves, knowing that others may or may not understand. That risk remains, as does the potential for second thoughts. In other words, the cross weighs heavy, perhaps even heavier.

“Personally, I think that the decision of Pope Benedict XVI brings us face-to-face with our responsibilities. In this sense, it doesn’t pay to discuss why Pope Benedict XVI decided to resign. Indeed, regardless of his motivations, the question for us is: What does this resignation mean for us? What I mean by that is, the wisdom of the ages is still valid: We can benefit from everything that happens to us. Like the Greek god Hermes, we wield  a magic wand that can profitably turn whatever happens to us—health, disease, friendships, disappointments, anything—into gold.”

PF: Has a papal resignation ever solved any problems of the Church in the world? Will Benedict’s renunciation help to iron out any difficulties that believers face today? Is there a hopeful sign in what he has decided to do?

“Voluntary or involuntary, the resignation of popes throughout history has not changed the character of the Church in which, Jesus said, the wheat and the weeds grow together until harvest. Good and evil are always mixed. An intervention helps to diminish evil in its excesses, not to eradicate it completely. Evil exists because there is good. If evil were to triumph, evil would destroy everything, including itself, and there would be nothing. Life goes on, and the Church goes on, just because goodness is still in the majority.

“There are times, however, when evil is too much and a strong jolt is needed. It’s a little like our personal lives, when things get as low as they can go; then from the bottom of the well, life surges, and downfall is transformed into renewal.”

Fr. Alberione with John XXIII

PF: Fr. Alberione’s attachment to the pope was notable, even, some might say, extreme in its expression, at least to modern ears. For example, in a 1955 sermon to the Daughters of St. Paul, he urged the sisters (and all Paulines) to “have a papal mentality.” How are we to interpret this today?

“I would say that Fr. Alberione did not hesitate to accept the decisions of the pope, even when some of his requests were not agreed to. For example, between 1921 and 1927, he constantly proposed, as a characteristic of his men and women religious, the vow of fidelity to the pope (like the Jesuits), but the then-Sacred Congregation for Religious objected that such a vow was unnecessary, since it was included in the vow of obedience. Alberione acquiesced; his adherence to the pontiff and that of his institutes was unquestioned.

“He was able, however, to distinguish between the pontiff’s direct intervention and the workings of the Curia, or better, of the different Roman Congregations with which he dealt. Lover of history that he was, he knew that they could modify their opinion with a change in circumstances and persons. When he had the opportunity, Fr. Alberione worked to again clarify his ideas even to the ecclesiastical authorities. This is how the vow of fidelity to the pope was reintroduced into the Pauline Constitutions.

“The same thing happened regarding the apostolate of the press, which in the 1920’s the Sacred Congregation for Religious considered inappropriate for a religious congregation. It’s still this way for other issues, but then again, this is how it is for many other founders and saints.”

PF: Pure speculation here, but would you hazard a guess anyway: How do you think Fr. Alberione would have reacted, responded, in our day to the news of Benedict’s resignation? How do you think he would have engaged us in the mission to “confirm the faith” of the Church?

“I think that a certain event in the life of Fr. Alberione can offer us a way of responding to the resignation of Pope Benedict XVI. It happened that the Holy See intervened very forcefully in the life of one of his institutes. This is how Alberione reacted, and he recommended that his religious do the same: 1) The Holy See has intervened, as we all know. The fact is undeniable. 2) It is useless to talk about why and how the Holy See has decided to intervene in our lives, losing much time and energy with inevitable gossip and discussion. 3) Rather, let us see what this intervention, which makes us suffer, can teach us, seeing if we did what we could.

“It seems to me that Alberione’s reaction can tell us how he would have reacted to the resignation of Pope Benedict XVI: 1) We all know that he resigned and wanted to resign. 2) It’s useless to talk about why and how he decided to do this. 3) Let us see if we have done what we could and if his resignation does not require us to examine our conscience.”

I’ve started to make that particular examen of conscience, just processing the thoughts and feelings of these days, listening for the Spirit’s message that will make me more like Jesus. Unlike some of the superficial reactions I’ve run across, truth takes center stage here, if I allow God’s presence—now comforting, now disconcerting—to reveal itself through those events and through my response. This is magisterium at its most personal level.

Yesterday evening I heard on Radio Vaticana that Pope Benedict would post his last tweet (see right sidebar) and close his Twitter account at 5:00, just before climbing into the helicopter that would take him to the papal residence at Castel Gandolfo for the duration of the Church’s transition. So a few minutes after 5, I ventured out onto the terrace of our generalate in the southwest section of Rome and waited with rosary in hand. Soon enough, I spotted the helicopter rise above the horizon over Vatican City. It flew toward us, then circled slowly over the city before heading southeast to the Alban Hills. I hoped he knew I was praying for him; I knew he was praying for me—after a long day in the classroom.

                                                        **********
I’ve found several online and print resources on Pope Benedict XVI at www.news.va, at the U.S. bishops’ Web site and at the “Legacy” page of the Daughters of St. Paul site. John Allen’s blog, All Things Catholic, is a perennially reliable commentary, sizzling with the immediacy of a journalist in Rome. Brother Aloysius Milella, SSP, (Br. Al) sent me the link to an article by George Rutler, “Benedict’s Decision in the Light of Eternity,” which he considers one of the better articles out there. I agree.
_______
* A list of pontiffs who left office can be found in the Annuario Pontificio, or Pontifical Yearbook. In addition, a wealth of information is contained in the various encyclopedias on the history of the papacy.
** Obviously this is not the John XXIII of the Second Vatican Council. This one was deposed 600 years earlier. His rival, the legitimate Pope Gregory XII, resigned for the unity of the Church, paving the way for the election of Martin V, who actually restored unity.
_________
Photos:
St. Peter's Square; don Rocca: Margaret J. Obrovac, FSP
Jesus before Pilate: Courtesy of www.StainedGlassInc.com.

Fr. Alberione with John XXIII: www.alberione.org/operaomnia  

Paper Mates

It’s crunch time at the Charism Course here in Rome. After an eight-day retreat last week, we rounded the bend and began the second half of the course, which will take us to the end of May. Besides class each weekday, homework, three hours of prayer, and community commitments, there hovers over us The Thesis.

Sr. Germana & Sr. Bernadette

Depending on your perspective, it’s actually either a mini-thesis or a glorified paper. It’s supposed to consist of a minimum of 25 pages, single-spaced. In fact, we can look forward to a class on the formatting requirements. Sr. Bernadette Mary Reis, an American FSP who is serving now in our International Multimedia Center near the Vatican, e-mailed me her 111-page behemoth from six years ago. This way, provided the requirements are the same, I just have to type over hers, after I make a copy for bedtime reading once I go Stateside.

It just so happens that I picked the same adviser she had—Pauline historian Don Giancarlo Rocca. A prolific writer for the past fifty years, he was co-author and director of the ten-volume Dictionary of the Institutes of Perfection back in the 70’s and director of the magazine, Madre di Dio, for six years. His rigorous scholarship and no-nonsense approach to work are legendary. Thank God he has a great sense of humor…and he reads English. We also had him for thirty hours of classes on the history of the Pauline Family. So I know something of what I’m getting into—I think.

Sr. M. Grazia

I’m telling you right now, there’s no way I’m going to churn out 111 pages! Maybe 110, but no more. This afternoon Bernadette coached me on taking research notes using an Excel worksheet. I’ll be forever grateful. Still, I teased that she’ll be a tough act to follow; Rocca has not forgotten her. Her research covered the thought behind Bl. James Alberione’s book, Woman Associated With Priestly Zeal, seen within the context of the feminist movement in Italy. Mine is much less daunting: “The Donor as Pauline Cooperator: History, Charism, Future.” According to Sr. Maria Grazia Gabelli, who works in the Daughters’ International Secretariat for Spirituality, no one here has ever written anything on the topic, and both she and Don Rocca see a need for it. They’ll be my ticket to the archives of the FSP and the SSP. Through contacts and friends, I’ve already been able to get access to some resources in English and Italian at various places, including the Gregorian University Library. We’ll see what really emerges.

What I know will happen is already happening. Besides learning, I’m growing in a real reverence for those who’ve preceded me in the Pauline Family. I sense within myself a deeper appreciation for the complexity of our history and our current reality. Above all, I’m constantly amazed at how Jesus Master has stuck with us, guided, forgiven, and encouraged us, just as he promised to the first Paulines in a dream-vision to Fr. Alberione: “Do not be afraid; I am with you. From here (from the Eucharist) I want to enlighten. Live with a penitent heart.”

What all this means, “Gentle Reader,” is that given the demands, I won’t be able to continue regularly with Pauline Faithways until the end of June. If I manage to get a moment here and there and if something happens that might interest you, based on your survey answers last year, I’ll post it and notify the people on my e-mail list. If you’d like me to add you to that list, send me a note at pearlmjo@gmail.com. Many thanks for the comments you’ve already sent, either here on the blog or in my e-mail box. Thank you for your suggestions, encouragement, and prayers. And, especially next Tuesday, Feb. 5, when the Pauline Family gathers to remember co-foundress Venerable Thecla Merlo 49 years after her death: my prayers for you as you evangelize, passing along some part of the Good News to family and friends.

St. Paul's Housewarming

One day during Christmas break, I was wandering the roads less traveled in Rome’s historic district until I finally ended up on the congested via del Corso. I came across the church, Santa Maria in via Lata, which was open, since it was later in the afternoon. So I decided to stop in for a short visit. It had been twelve years since I had been there, and it already carried a special memory for me. Little did I know that I was about to make another memory that would dwarf just about every other spiritual or sentimental connection I had with the place.

I already knew that it was built over the rooms that according to tradition, served as St. Paul’s living quarters while he was under house arrest, awaiting trial before Caesar. (See Acts 28:16-31.) I remember twelve years ago peering down a very dark stairway that was filled with rubble and so, was inaccessible to the public. This time I had barely stepped into the vestibule of the church when I was greeted by a man at a table, who beckoned to me to visit the recently restored site! Giuseppe wouldn’t even charge me the two Euros it cost to get in. When he learned that I was one of the Prisoner’s Daughters and was in the process of writing the text for a PBM app on the places connected with Peter and Paul in Rome, he got on his cell phone and called the rector, Fr. Amante, who appeared in (almost) a New York second to give me a personal tour.

Recently discovered frescoes in the crypt

We headed down those stairs, now trafficked and well-lit. My guide explained that three other locations in the city claim to have housed Paul as prisoner. The least likely is the Mamertine Prison in the Roman Forum, the Empire’s hub of public life. Another possibility is a place on the Aventine Hill, which I haven’t seen yet. Lastly, we have what is  probably the strongest contender: the sanctuary in the church of San Paolo alla Regola, which is built in place of the house in the Jewish Quarter or “Ghetto,” a word that in Italian does not carry the same negative connotation it does in current English. Since the Acts of the Apostles states that, once established, Paul summoned the leaders of the synagogue to explain himself, he may well have lodged in the vicinity. That’s not conclusive proof for Regola, however, since at Paul’s time there were eleven synagogues in Rome, and Acts doesn’t say which one received his invitation to pranzo.

When I had visited Fr. Fernando Cornet in Sardinia over Christmas break, I learned a little something about Roman penal practice. He’s a scholar on the Fathers of the Church and a friend of our American FSP Choir. He said that, unlike our modern European and American systems of justice, prisons were not designed to punish people for crimes they committed. They were nothing more than holding pens for those awaiting trial or execution. Since Roman executors of justice were in no hurry to hear your case, that holding pattern could circle for years. If you were not suspected of a capital crime and posed no immediate danger to society, you could rent lodgings and hire a guard. Hence, Paul’s need to work for a living in the meantime.

The crypt that Fr. Amante was now showing me dates back to the first or second century A.D. Paul would have been there in the 60’s. About a 15-minute walk from the Roman Forum, the apartment was part of what may have been a warehouse complex that certainly extended the length of almost two-and-a-half football fields, between Piazza Colonna and Piazza Venezia. A kind of post office was located across the street.

In each room two travertine rock brackets on opposite walls from each other would have been used to support a slab that served as a ceiling for the lower room (Paul’s shop?) and a floor for the upper one (his apartment?). Excavations also revealed a garden fountain and a well. Now, I don’t know the first thing about tent-making or leather-working, but I’m told that a water source is essential. In fact, the proximity of the Jewish Ghetto to the River Tiber lends support to the Regola location. At any rate, archaeologists fished out of this well a number of Roman-era objects, including, of all things, a length of rusty chain. While we don’t want to get too romantic over this—it could have been tossed there by anyone anytime—a period column clearly shows a chain’s rust marks, and a Latin inscription on it reads, “The word of God is not chained,” from 2Tm. 2:9. No doubt, an act of devotion, but it does send a tingle down the spine. At the very least, it testifies to the influence that the Apostle has had for centuries on the faith of millions.

Three layers of frescoes

That influence prompted pilgrimages to the site early on. By the end of the sixth century—so, only five hundred years later—a monastic community from either Greece or Cappadocia had moved in and built a chapel in one of the rooms. They stayed for a few centuries until a women’s community took up residence in the same rooms. They carved out their own chapel, and the eleventh-century church followed. In fact, excavators have discovered three layers of frescoes from three different periods.

Sr. Filippa Castronovo, FSP, whom I introduced you to in October (10/16/2012), just yesterday finished her series of presentations to us in the Charism Course on “Paul and Alberione.” One thing she said back then has stayed with me: “Spiritual writers and scholars tend to speak more about interpreting Paul than imitating him.”

That matches my experience: I audited a course at the Gregorian University last semester, in which the professor, an official at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, referred to how Paul “interpreted” Christ. It takes more than just doing what Jesus or Paul would do. It means understanding them, fostering a friendship with them, learning from them, and above all, applying what we pick up from them in study and prayer to our own life-situations, some of which no one before us has encountered. Fr. Alberione used that word, too, when he held Paul up as the model of our apostolic spirituality—I ran across the passage today. When it came to using various media for evangelization, for instance, how many times the founder said that our pioneer Paulines were being asked to blaze trails where none existed. We still do. So do many others. And Paul is a wonderful companion.

A tradition holds that Peter was also a guest at the site of Paul’s house arrest. In fact, a marble bas-relief depicts St. Luke taking notes while Peter and Paul “discuss the organization of the Church.” As Fr. Amante stated with a little smile, that’s pure fantasy. In the 60’s the Church of Rome consisted of perhaps 125 believers. This in a city that, within about fifty years, would boast a population of one million. Humanly speaking, the Church  was so small and insignificant, that “organization” was the last thing on anyone’s mind.

In addition, he pointed out, the Church everywhere in those early days was not a homogenous group of believers. There had already arisen different traditions, which eventually gave birth to the four versions of the Gospel, and in the extreme, different factions. We only have to read Paul’s epistles to get a whiff of that. In addition, Peter and Paul were not always on the same page, theologically. Fr. Amante wasn’t referring to the basics of the Christian message; he was talking more about perspective and priorities. While both men no doubt respected each other and certainly wielded major influence in the Christian community in Rome, to the extent that even now people here seldom speak of one without mentioning the other, in life they were not on the best of terms and they attracted people with different viewpoints.

Had we lived like that almost five hundred years ago, we might never have had to endure Martin Luther’s break with the Catholic Church, with all the heartache and wars that followed. Both Catholics and Lutherans are gradually coming to terms over issues that could have been resolved if everyone had taken conversion to heart and seen through some of the language to what was really being said. But unlike Peter and Paul, the people at the eye of that storm were too heavily invested in matters other than ongoing conversion. In this Octave of Prayer for Christian Unity, that ends on the feast of St. Paul’s Conversion (Jan. 25), let’s pray for that for each other. The Pauline Family will gather tomorrow evening for Mass at the tomb of St. Paul in the Basilica that bears his name, precisely to pray for this. I’ll be sure to take you with me.
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Photos used with permission from Santa Maria in via Lata (www.cryptavialata.it).

Making (Radio) Waves

I was checking my LinkedIn account a couple of months ago, and saw that I had a request to connect from Seàn-Patrick Lovett, the director of English language programming at Vatican Radio (www.radiovaticana.va). I knew him only by name, but immediately answered that I hoped our paths might cross someday while I was still in Rome. He graciously wrote back and suggested that we meet. After we were finally able to find a convenient date in early December, I made my way to his simple, unadorned office around the corner from via della Conciliazione, the broad street that runs into St. Peter’s.

He leaves his door open to visitors and co-workers alike and, as I discovered, to unexpected emergencies. With its staff from fifty-nine nations, Vatican Radio, always at the service of the Holy See, reaches radio stations worldwide in over forty languages. So, there are bound to be surprises in the course of a day.

Of course, there’s its indirect reach, too. For instance, Columbian-born Sr. Maria Ruth Reyes, one of our U.S. Daughters, incorporates into her weekly program, Jesús en mi vida diaria, a recording of the voice of Pope Benedict speaking in Spanish that she receives from Vatican Radio. Besides their Web presence, our U.S. radio programs, now in their 21st year, are sent gratis to over 100 stations around the world. Actually, as one of the beneficiaries of this service, Vatican Radio itself edits our program for its own purposes before broadcasting it in turn.

This is a far cry from Pope Pius XI’s first broadcast—in Latin—82 years ago. At the pope’s request, inventor Guglielmo Marconi had recently built the station to make the thought of the pope better known. It was during the Second World War and later during the Communist era, though, that the station distinguished itself as a source of free information and outreach, in its service to POWs, other military personnel, and displaced civilians, connecting them with their families. Broadcasts of the Second Vatican Council in 30 languages and, since then, technological advances in its service to press agencies and news media, plus coverage of the popes’ travels, launched Vatican Radio into the information, then the digital, age.

It’s those papal travels and his own teaching trips that color Seàn’s career/mission with the radio, a journey of more miles than he can count. He hales from Cape Town, South Africa, describing himself as “African by birth, Irish in origin, and Italian by adoption.” Seàn arrived in Rome 35 years ago, married, and settled here. He and his Italian wife have two grown sons, one who is as passionate about communication as his father, and a younger one who is going into law on behalf of the disadvantaged.


Irio Fantini. The prophecy of Balaam. Vatican Radio.
This belongs to a series of paintings envisioned by the
artist, to depict communication in the Bible. For the
 story of Balaam going where the Lord sent him and
saying what the Lord wanted, cf. Numbers 22.

When he arrived in Rome, Seàn didn’t know that a future with Vatican Radio was in the stars. In fact, he had been working as a war correspondent in the Middle East and in Ireland for Catholic News Service. He was praying one day before the Eucharist in St. Peter’s, not at all certain in which direction he should go, or even if he should stay with the media. In a moment of desperate prayer, he felt he heard the assurance: You are where I want you to be. You’re doing what I want you to do.

It was his call, and he believes it continues to shape every other call he has, including his total following of Christ, as he says, to love the Lord his God with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his mind, and with all his strength (cf. Mk 12:30).

His studies in communication (he attended the Gregorian University, “The Greg,” here in Rome) as well as his 35 years of experience at Vatican Radio equip him to offer training and formation courses in communication to religious orders wherever there’s a need. This commitment has taken him to places like South Africa, Zambia, the Ukraine, and India. At the invitation of the former vicar general of the Sister Disciples of the Divine Master, he will head out to the Philippines later this year. There, both the new professed sisters and the community’s leadership will participate in his course, so that both levels will receive the same message. This contributes to a certain continuity in their project of formation in communication. He used to direct both Italian and English programming at Vatican Radio, but the demands of that role kept him from doing the teaching he loved. So he dropped the Italian part and is now better able to fit the Greg in on the side.

I don’t know if you knew this, but I didn’t; I must have missed class that day: The Vatican Telephone Exchange is staffed by the Sister Disciples of the Divine Master, as part of their mission to the clergy. (This Pauline congregation was founded by Fr. Alberione with a liturgical/Eucharistic focus. If you go to St. Peter’s, you’ll see them taking turns for adoration in the Blessed Sacrament chapel.) A few Pauline brothers assist them. In the passage from analog to digital technology, Seàn trained the sisters, who range in age from twenty-something to seventy and who speak a variety of languages. Call the Vatican, and you’ll get a PDDM on the other end of the line. They receive thousands of calls daily. As Seàn puts it, topics range from “How much does it cost to get into the Vatican Museums?” to “My child just died, and I want to kill myself.” His sessions continue to update them even on technique and public relations. Their love for the Gospel and the People of God meshes well with his ministry to them. 


I. Fantini. Fresco in the Sala Marconi of all the popes
who have addressed the world through Vatican Radio.

In Seàn’s second year at Vatican Radio, Paul VI died, John Paul I was elected, and died 34 days later. Then John Paul II was elected. Seàn talked about what he learned about communication from each one. “John Paul I was eclipsed by John Paul II,” but “he taught me that [Revelation] is not just dogma. It’s communication, and communication is feminine. John Paul took a risk and spoke about God also as our Mother, * who loves us unconditionally. A person may be a murderer, a rapist, or any other criminal, but his mother will never stop loving him. The Church is our mother, and that doesn’t mean she just cleans up our messes.” 


Irio Fantini. The Tower of Babel and Pentecost.
Vatican Radio

As he spoke I was reminded of the great Church document on communication, Communio et progressio. The whole first part describes the great moments of Revelation in terms of communication. In fact, it basically states that this is what Revelation is: God communicating with humanity. If the Church has been entrusted with that Revelation, this means that she is not only its communicator, but is herself part of that communication with the world. American Fr. Bob Bonnot goes so far as to say that only when theology (which is based on Revelation) is understood as communication, will the Church fully and universally embrace media and acknowledge its role in evangelization.

Seàn connected divine and human communication this way: “Communication has to have meaning; otherwise, it’s chaos. The challenge of the human experience is to search for that meaning and to never stop questioning. We need to use our sensory experience to search for that meaning whenever we can.”

He then reminisced about Pope Wojtyla:

“Working with John Paul II for 26 years, I learned transparency. He spoke about the Church as a glass house. It’s a most exquisite image under two aspects. One, it speaks about two-way transparency. There has to be good will on both sides, and two, it can break easily. There’s vulnerability. In the moment I communicate, I open myself to being hurt.”

Here Seàn stopped to reflect aloud on confrontations he’s witnessed time and again between representatives of the Church and of the media culture:

“We need to be aware of oversimplification. I hear exponents of the Catholic Church blasting the media, and those outside saying that the Catholic Church has it all wrong…plus variations on the theme. I want to say: Both of you, stop throwing stones! With your stereotypes and your inability to hear each other, you’re creating havoc and destroying it all.”

He’s right. Those who speak for the Church need to speak in language the culture can understand. We can do it! After all, we have a great track record here. If the Church’s missionary activity has succeeded at all, it’s because we’ve made ourselves understood within cultures in ways that are often new to our evangelizers. On the other hand, the media culture has to recognize that the Church has something valid to say even if it doesn’t fit into a sound bite or within the limited categories the culture has constructed. Of course, only when this culture breaks free of the consumerism that dictates what’s important will this even be possible.


Irio Fantini. St. Paul the Apostle evangelizes the
Athenians. Vatican Radio

Seàn continued:

“It takes intelligence, humility, and courage. Listening to others requires both left and right brain. Recognize what you don’t know. Not everyone will agree with you or like what you’re doing. Persecution is the litmus test that what you’re doing has value. We’re called to go against the flow; that’s what make our faith so exciting. The early saints did this; that’s why we’re still talking about them. Define the culture and work from within to transform the context. The prophet sees the context, steps out of it, and brings others to realize what’s not working and to ask what can.”

Just as Fr. Alberione did. Then he took it one step further: He acted on what could work. In fact, this aspect of his labor and his legacy is what made him a pioneer in media evangelization. At a time when many in the Church limited their views on media to  denouncing what was evil—I’m thinking especially of the 1920’s and 30’s—he, with men and women Paulines, made a positive contribution, even in the face of misunderstanding and criticism. Production and distribution of print and recorded materials, of films and radio transmissions became key elements in this contribution.

Chapel of the Annunciation,
Vatican Radio

The Pauline project differed in an important way from those who worked exclusively in the business sector, even when they offered religious materials: the intention. The Christmas season points to this essential aspect of Pauline dedication, whether it’s done by lay or religious members. “Jesus, Divine Master,” Alberione taught us to pray, “we adore you with the angels who sang the reasons for your incarnation: ‘Glory to God and peace to all people.’ We thank you for having called us to share in your own mission. Set us on fire with zeal for God and for souls….”

It’s no accident that the single laymen and single laywomen in Pauline institutes are called Gabrielites and Annunciationists. Nor is it an accident that the room at Vatican Radio where Liturgy and devotions are celebrated with the world is called the Chapel of the Annunciation. Living for the glory of God and the peace of his people makes all the difference.

“Laudetur Iesus Christus,” “Praised be Jesus Christ,” is not only Vatican Radio’s motto. It’s a way of life.

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* For further reflection on this, see the Catechism of the Catholic Church, n. 239, and the works of other spiritual writers, most notably, Julian of Norwich.

The Kingdom of Joy

Daughters' chapel vestibule, Boston

I’m glad I’m not a priest. How do you proclaim Advent/Christmas joy to a grieving community, even if it is a faith community? The readings this past Gaudete (“Rejoice”) Sunday invited us not only to be joyful, but to make joy a way of life. I wondered how a pastor could be upbeat when almost 30 of his community’s members—within and without the parish—were murdered only days before, most of them under the age of ten. Yes, the “feast” of Holy Innocents came early this year to Newtown, Connecticut.

So I visited the Web site of Newtown’s St. Rose of Lima Church. Some events have been cancelled. The church is now open 24 hours a day. There’s an invitation to celebrate liturgy, recite the Rosary at home, pray as a community. Two new pages were added. One of them, “Prayers for Our Community,” posts messages, poems, songs, and prayers from people in several parts of the world and from various religious backgrounds.

The most touching one I read was addressed to the pastor, Monsignor Weiss, by Monsignor O’Sullivan, the pastor of Holy Family Church in Dunblane, Scotland, where sixteen children and an adult were fatally shot at the parish school, also at 9:30 A.M., sixteen years ago. He writes:

“…in this church…there were prayers and tears for you all at Mass this Sunday morning, as the tragedy in Newtown recalled our own suffering and agony in March 1996.
     “We have been there, so we know what you are suffering as a community, though of course, only bereaved parents can understand what parents are suffering, and at Christmas of all times. Our tragedy took place during Lent and that was the end of a normal  Lent and Easter in our parish.…[O]ur prayers and love go to you as a priest, especially if you have to carry out funerals.
     “…May God comfort all the suffering of Newtown and, in  particular, help and strengthen you and the rest of the pastors who have to preach God’s love to the afflicted members of your community.”

When I sent my own e-mail to the parish secretary (I told her I didn’t need a response), I said that our Pauline community here in Rome was also praying for everyone involved. Many of the sisters were once assigned to troubled areas of our world, subject to oppression and senseless irreverence for human life. They empathize with the loss that the families are experiencing at this time and will continue to feel for the rest of their lives. Yet they also share with them a solidarity in faith, the only source of our common hope in Jesus.

S. Maria del Popolo, Rome

At meals, I’ve sat with Sr. Agnes Quaglini, one of the senior members, who certainly knows her own fine mind, and we’ve talked about the incident, along with the social issues surrounding it. She and I also happen to be in the same small group that gets together every so often to meditate together. After one such meeting on Monday, she gifted each of us with a small booklet she wrote on the “universal vocation” to joy. With original insight she writes:

“Intimate and pervasive joy can also know moments of sadness and loneliness. Evil in the world can dim our joy, but God has assigned everyone the ‘job’ of being joyful, because he knows that we are unable to handle life without joy. Only a joyous acceptance of life makes us capable of conversion and of bettering ourselves, changing the world around us, and radiating transforming energy. Basically, the job of being joyful means…building the kingdom of God in this world.”

That spirit is what believers take into public discourse, especially as firearms control and the care of our ill and marginalized now take something close to center stage. It’s what keeps us civil toward each other and what drives our decisions. Monday I ran across an interesting article in the New York Times, “The Freedom of an Armed Society.” One of its quotable comments is this startling statement: “…an armed society—especially as we prosecute it at the moment in this country—is the opposite of a civil society.” When I studied marketing way back in 1994 I learned that the fast food industry at the time was governed by no fewer than 24,000 regulations, including the thickness of the pickles that dot our burgers. I had another professor who commented that the less civil a society is, the more regulation it requires, since people are too insecure to use their intelligence, integrity, or social responsibility and to behave decently or judge accurately without fear of litigation. That we need some kind of arms legislation is clear to anyone without an agenda. However, it’s quite a commentary on American society that we need this kind of legislation just to protect us from ourselves.

Although he may not have been thinking of a ban on semiautomatic rifles last Sunday, Benedict XVI did respond to the Newtown tragedy with this plea: “During this Advent Season, let us dedicate ourselves more fervently to prayer and to acts of peace. Upon those affected by this tragedy,…I invoke God’s abundant blessings!” Living and dying by the sword—structuring our culture, attitudes, and government by it—does not guarantee peace! What are our fears? What is the reason for our hope? Where is our joy?


Daughters' chapel vestibule, Boston

I understand how people in Newtown could take down their Christmas decorations. My sister and I went through that with our parents when they were too sick or depressed to be interested in them. But it’s precisely at these times that we need even visible reminders of the reason for our hope and most profound joy. The Scripture readings last Sunday—and throughout this week—tell us that what robs us of our joy is fear, and what ensures it is faith in God’s saving presence in our lives. God asks us to give him our fears, because he is near, loving us into salvation. Check it out for yourself: Zephaniah 3; Isaiah 12; Philippians 4; and Luke 3, especially verse 16. The ultimate beauty of such salvation is that it lasts forever.

Fifty-eight-year-old composer Marco Frisina is Maestro Direttore at Rome’s Pontificia Cappella Musicale Lateranense. It’s a post once held by Palestrina, and Frisina is a worthy successor by any standard. During our community Mass on Sunday, we sang one of his songs, which I’ve abbreviated here. You can hear the full version by clicking on the YouTube link below it. (No, sorry, it’s not our community singing.)

“La Vera Gioia” (True Joy)

True joy…is like a fire, and in its warmth,
It gives life when the heart dies.
True joy shines in the darkness
And builds up the world.

…Truth keeps joy’s flame alive,
Since it fears neither shadow nor shame.
True joy releases your heart,
Making you free to sing.

True joy soars above the world;
Sin will not be able to stop it.
Its wings shimmer with grace,
The gift of Christ and his salvation….



How do we shine in the darkness and build up the world? Quoting his mother, Mister Rogers used to suggest that during times of disaster we could “look for the helpers.” First responders, caregivers of all stripes, donors, volunteers, neighbors who care long after others have moved on…the list is almost endless.

 “Jesus was born into a violent world where economic, political, and social machinations took the lives of children and adults There was only the hope that light would enter the darkness. This is the essence of the gospels: the light overcoming the darkness. Christmas is not a cuddly story about a baby being born in a manger and being visited by shepherds and wise men. Christmas is a story about courage: the commitment of individuals (like Mary and Joseph) to bring light into the chaos of this world.
     “The best way to celebrate Christmas is to just stop, look around you, and bring love and compassion to an individual or situation that needs it. The problem is not the commercialization of Christmas (we'll always have malls), the problem is indifference to the pain and suffering around us. The best way to honor the victims and families in Connecticut is to pay attention to the dark situations that need light. You don't have to look far” (Frank DeVito, The Fenix Center for Innovative Schools, 12/17/2012).

Photos: Margaret J. Obrovac, FSP

Thanksgiving Italian-Style

It was a Thanksgiving Day to remember. Back in early October, Sr. Germana and I began talking about the possibility of celebrating this all-American holiday here in Rome. After talking with our local superior, who loves Thanksgiving (she spent years in Canada) it became clear that, for a number of reasons, it wouldn’t be possible here at the generalate. Of course, Thanksgiving Day itself is a workday in Italy and class day for me. So, the Italian sisters at via del Mascherino, near the Vatican where our Pauline Multimedia Center is also located, very enthusiastically agreed to host it there the Sunday before.

They also decided to invite our international student community on the floor below them. That brought our party to 22. With a little rearranging of the dining room furniture, everybody actually fit. I think that was easier than finding enough space inside us for all the food we prepared! Two of us offered to cook: Sr. Bernadette Mary, the American in the Mascherino community, and I. Sr. Germana took over décor, and enlisted Sr. Elaine’s talent. From the generalate community we had invited any sisters who had spent the holiday in the U.S. even just once, but only Sr. Elaine from Scotland was able to come. Since she’s here from the delegation of Great Britain, I told the others that we brought her along as a token representative from the mother country.

It’s no small task to get holiday fixins here. Sr. B had ordered two ten-pound turkeys the week before; a large one wouldn’t have fit in ovens the size of a shoebox. The birds were imported, since Italy doesn’t grow them that big. (A heartfelt word of thanks goes to a friend of ours in the States whose donation made that possible. You know who you are!) Then she went to Castroni’s, the import chain, for cranberry sauce, canned pumpkin, evaporated milk, and brown sugar. Sr. Lorenza has a pass to the Vatican grocery—kind of like the commissary on a U.S. base—so we were able to get the other items at a reduced rate. I stayed overnight so that we could pop the first turkey in the oven before 7:00 A.M. Mass.

I had already entrusted the project to the prayers of Sr. Bernadette’s mom, who died just a few months ago, and mine, who died on Thanksgiving weekend three years ago. It added a little extra TLC to the day’s preparations. With their help, we managed to keep on an even keel, while churning out bread and chestnut stuffing, twice-baked sweet potatoes, green beans with almonds, biscuits, two pumpkin, and two apple, pies. I don’t know which mother to blame for the gravy, but even though we had to throw it out, nobody missed it. Of course, it was a “spirit-filled” event as well…if you know what I mean. Sr. Rosaria, the 80-something superior of the student community, brought up a bottle of limoncello as “a digestive,” said she.

Sr. Germana prepared a beautiful meal prayer, sharing the story and significance of the holiday. She explained how, more than any other holiday or feast day in the States, Thanksgiving is the day for family. And here we are, she added, celebrating with our Pauline Family, “pilgrims” from eight countries on four continents.

I ran into several of the sisters the following Monday, Nov. 26, at “the Sanctuary,” our Queen of Apostles Basilica, where Blessed James Alberione is buried. Hundreds of Paulines—religious and lay—celebrated Family on the founder’s feast day. After the liturgy, we gathered to chat. The sisters grinned at me and called out a word they’ll never forget: “Tacchino!” I can’t tell you how heartwarming it is to be called a turkey.

On Thanksgiving Day itself, Sr. Germana and I led the day’s prayer at the generalate. Sr. Bernadette was able to join us for morning prayer and Mass. So was Sr. Karen Marie, who had flown in from the States to work on a project with the Secretariat for Spirituality. So we had a little group that could carry off a few hymns in English—in harmony, no less! Even if it wasn’t concert quality, the community appreciated our efforts to involve them too. Afterward, a sister from Sardinia quipped, “The only thing we’re missing is the Statue of Liberty!”

Those Thanksgiving celebrations were the first encounter most of the FSPs had with this blessed tradition of ours—one of the last non-commercialized holidays left (Forget about Black Friday beginning on Thursday. I’m talking about the holiday itself.) The day’s blessings, stories, singing, and laughter that colored the welcome we gave each other resonate with the spirit of the Pauline Family. Those of us who fêted the communities felt blessed too—by the presence of our sisters, by everything they shared, and by their joy.

Compared with this abundance, I have to think hard to remember anything we did miss besides gravy. The mulled apple “cider” was incredible, even though we lacked most of the necessary ingredients. The turkey frame soup that evening was hearty, even if it was a little bland. Martha Stewart would never have given a second glance at the potatoes (See the slideshow at right.) Her loss; they sure tasted good. And everyone was more than satisfied.

In article nine of the Daughters’ constitutions, we’re reminded that “from [St. Paul] we learn to live in Christ with thanksgiving….” It’s true. Scan any one of his letters, and you’ll be hard pressed to find a page that doesn’t pulse with blessing, gratitude, or thanks for something. Nor is it unusual for him to offer it in the face of the thanklessness of others. Anyone who can sing hymns of praise while chained in a maximum security prison is worth learning from! (Acts 16:16ff.)

What a great preparation for Christmas it would be to cultivate this spirit in some small way, regardless of our circumstances. When our surroundings scream at us to buy everything in sight, how liberating it is to name what we already have and be grateful. How Christian. How American.

“Let freedom ring!”

Photos: Germana Santos, FSP; Margaret J. Obrovac, FSP; Rukhsana, FSP.

Beyond Seeing Red or Feeling Blue

Beginning at breakfast the day after the U.S. election, the question of the day was, “So, Margaret, are you happy with your president?” They knew I had voted, but most didn’t my choices. In the weeks leading up to the first Tuesday in November, I had largely avoided stating my personal preferences and stuck to explaining the issues as I saw them. I was not about to change my modus operandi. So beginning at breakfast, my response throughout the day was, “I wouldn’t have been happy with either one.”


"Official" photo of the Charism Course group

That often put a cork in further conversation. But the Italians and Latinos I live and study with made no secret of their choice: Barack Obama. To those for whom socialized health care is a way of life, he’s a champion of the poor. Others, drawing on their recent embarrassing experience with a millionaire in their own government, harbor a deep distrust of “The Mormon.” (A couple of older sisters actually wondered aloud how many wives he has stashed away.) In any case, if you’ll allow me to generalize, they probably reflect, to some extent, the overall demographic of the U.S. voter. It was interesting and sometimes very entertaining to witness their passionate involvement. As one sister explained, “What affects the United States affects us all.”

A few days later, I was chatting with Sr. Germana, one of the Americans living and working here at the generalate. Not surprisingly, our conversation turned to our sisters’ lively interest in U.S. politics, which by the way, made for great TV here, too. I think it gave people a brief reprieve from the Roman circus of local politics. Several sisters from other countries were returning after a month-long course, and together with the Italians, they had expressed to us their admiration for the way Americans transfer power from one administration to another without bloodshed; for the gracious spirit in which candidates congratulate each other after a hard fight; and for the way almost all of us, the electorate, get on with our lives after either celebrating our victory or licking our wounds. Even after listening to harrowing stories from places like Pakistan or Indonesia, I can’t really imagine what it must be like to struggle for basic justice, much less proclaim the Gospel freely. Some of the issues that fire up our campaigns just don’t factor into theirs.

John Allen, Vatican correspondent for the National Catholic Reporter, has often said in his blog that a growing number of voices in the U.S. are rising in protest over perceived “persecution” of the Catholic Church at home. Yet the real persecution, he writes, takes place in Pakistan, Nigeria, parts of India, and other countries at a rate of almost 100,000 deaths a year and the obliteration of Christian cultures thousands of years old, such as in Iraq and Syria. Moreover, it would be too facile, he says, to attribute that to Muslim or Hindu hostility.

Sr. Germana and I thought about this as we talked. Our founding fathers and mothers did something new in world history. It succeeds because, despite our differences, we’ve been willing to work through them. Checks and balances keep us accountable to each other, if not completely honest. Most people, citizens and others, are basically decent human beings who want the same things for themselves and their families. Those who have a long way to go on the road to decency get lots of “help” along the way.

It seemed to us that we know we’ve got a good thing in this “experiment in democracy,” and we don’t want to lose it, or get to the point of murder and mayhem. When we see ourselves selling out to the spirit of the age, or when some among us cry, “Persecution!” they’re not equating what has been called “America’s last acceptable prejudice”—U.S. anti-Catholicism—with the intolerance in other populations. Our standard for excellence in governing has never been how we measure up against the norm in other countries. With greater or lesser success, they work with their own cultural dynamics. We set our standard over 200 years ago, and that’s what we compare ourselves with. The Deist principles on which we were established as a nation makes me slow to call our roots Christian, but our founders did give us ground in which Christianity could survive and even flourish.

Without idealizing it, that ground held a greater respect for objective truth and goodness than we often find in social discourse now. About two weeks before the election, I noticed that one of my blog articles had moved near the top of the popularity list. In March I had written about the way 55-year-old Sr. Annette Margaret Boccabello prepared for her death and I had made a case against the doctor-prescribed referendum that would appear on the Massachusetts ballot. So, opportunist that I am, seeing the interest in the story before the election, I directed my Facebook friends to it, plus to two others on the same topic.

Then I decided to walk into the lion’s den. I posted the article on the Facebook page of Death With Dignity, the proponents of the referendum. The response I received was a marvelous example in civility, even though the position was predictably contrary to what I represented. What bothered me most was this: “Death is an intensely personal experience, and what worked well for Sr. Annette, doesn’t necessarily work for other people dying of terminal illnesses. You’re certainly entitled to your own opinion….” In other words, what decides right or wrong is majority rule, even though I’m kindly allowed my opinion—as long as I don’t “impose it” on others. So tomorrow, when the vote moves beyond suicide to euthanasia, who gets to decide the morality? Is legality the only common denominator among us? “Euthanasia is, in fact, not allowed under these laws, and injections are *never* involved”—yet.

“Death with dignity” was defeated at the polls, but proponents are already revving up for its return. We have our work cut out for us, beginning with prayer.


Pauline Family at Mass of Bl. Timothy Giaccardo, SSP

 Those of us who are taking the charism course here in Rome are sometimes amused by the heated dialectics among our congregations over apostolic priorities or points in Pauline history. These people are really invested in this! Yet the bonds of affection are stronger than the disagreements. I know from experience that when one of our congregations suffers, everyone feels it and rushes to the aid of the other, especially in prayer.

In post-election America, my hope is that each of us can find it within ourselves to do the same. Regardless of how a neighbor, co-worker, or relative voted, can we switch from seeing red or feeling blue to honoring them, first by praying for those we have disagreed with and asking them to pray for us, even about something totally unrelated? Prayer takes us beyond labeling others or demonizing them, to recognizing them as images of God and, yes, “fellow citizens with the saints” (Eph. 2:19). We can work on the rest afterwards.


Sr. Jerome helps Sr. Margaret Kerry in Sandy relief.

That kind of prayer united us with you in these past two weeks. Those of you who live in the Caribbean, New Jersey, New York, and especially in Staten Island, need to know that you are being prayed for by some extraordinarily holy women, as you rebuild after Sandy. (The last time I checked, God still understood Italian.) I kept them updated during the storm(s), and at Evening Prayer in particular, they enveloped you in love and grace.

On your side of the Pond, Sr. Margaret Kerry, a Staten Island Daughter of St. Paul, has spearheaded a relief project for Staten Islanders, consisting of essentials for both body and soul, including food, blankets, and inspirational reading. If you would like to contribute to that, you can contact her at mkerry@paulinemedia.com, or at 718-447-5071.
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Photo credits: Daniela Son Heesoon, FSP, Society of St. Paul--Rome, Margaret Kerry, FSP

All Saints’ Blueprint for Living

Canonization of this October's "magnificent seven"

The year 2000 may have been the Church’s jubilee year, but it was also an election year in the U.S. As a student in Rome, I found out that I could vote absentee at the U.S. Embassy. So the week before Nov. 7, I trekked up via Veneto to discharge my civic duty. (That was before e-mail voting, which I just did last week.) On the way, I noticed a church, Santa Maria della Concezione, and decided to stop on my way back for my hour of Eucharistic adoration.

Whatever memory I may have had about my voting experience was completely wiped out by what followed. I had seen a small sign outside the church that read “Chapel.” So I walked in. There in front of me was a corridor with several galleries of human bones either stacked on shelves, clothed in Franciscan habits, or arranged in hundreds of intricate designs on ceilings and walls. 

It was the most macabre burial ground I had ever seen in my life. The brochure that the Capuchin friar kindly handed me quoted Mark Twain’s comment on his visit there. To the friar then on duty Twain is reputed to have said something like, “I wonder what’s going to happen when the final trumpet blows.” It wasn’t until I left that I realized it I was there on Halloween.

Stop laughing; this is serious. Wikipedia actually has an accurate history and description at http://bit.ly/4RDzo.

Much more inspiring to me was this year’s canonization, the Sunday before last, of seven fascinating people, including two Americans, Mother Marianne Cope of Molokai, who carried on Fr. Damien’s work with lepers, and our first Native American to be honored, Kateri Tekakwitha. Louise Hunt, who is a Penobscot, a Holy Family Institute member, and the mother of our Sr. Marie James, was there, too, with her family.

Through the kindness of one of our sisters in Rome, I got a green ticket to the event, which put me near the altar in St. Peter’s Square. Tickets are all free; they’re just used for placement and tracking. Yes, I broke my personal rule again and squeezed into the Piazza for a major event. And was it major—100,000 pilgrims major! By a sheer miracle I ran into friends from St. Louis, Dave and son Alex Mueckl. Msgr. Sal Polizzi had promised not to let go of my wrist as we were almost swept in by the crowd at the entrance. Since we managed to get inside without any serious harm to body or soul—ours and everybody else’s—we posed for a championship photo.

The real titleholders, though, were the seven new saints. In his homily for the canonization Mass, Pope Benedict repeated Jesus’ words from the Gospel for that day: “‘The Son of Man came to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many’ (cf. Mk 10:45). He called these words the saints’ own “blueprint for living,” singling out their  “heroic courage…in total consecration to the Lord and in the generous service of their brethren.” They were women and men, clergy, laity, and religious, Asians, Europeans, and Americans. What they had in common was their undaunted love for Christ and for their brothers and sisters in Christ, in the face of challenge and even death. How many live like them today!

When people ask what goes into making a person a saint, they’re often thinking of the canonization process: Servant of God, Venerable, Blessed, and finally, Saint, with a miracle attributed to the person’s intercession before the last two titles can be given. But that’s at the end of the road. The process looks at what came before: a life of faith, hope, and charity to a heroic degree (not to “perfection,” you’ll notice). That distinction is clear in their lives, and as we’re noticing during this year’s charism course, in the life of our founder, Blessed James Alberione.

In an attempt to legitimize the Pauline Family’s existence, we’ve often lionized Don Alberione. We Americans do this with our founding fathers and mothers and with other great figures in our history. It’s natural. The professors of our charism course, though, want us to know the real Alberione, in so far as we can know someone whose confidants were few, who spoke and wrote sparingly about himself, and who destroyed most of his personal notes, as well as every letter sent to him. Fortunately his secretary, Don Speciale, disobeyed his orders to dispose of many priceless papers, and some of Fr. Alberione’s closest collaborators kept diaries and letters. From them and from other eyewitnesses, documents, photos, and visual and audio recordings, we can piece together a portrait.

That he was a great Christian and a great founder is without question. I wonder how many founders responded to the call of Christ through the signs of the times with as much energy and creativity as he. That he could be unyielding and impatient is also without question. One professor of ours, Don Giancarlo Rocca, a Pauline historian, recounted how Alberione held a particular grudge for years. A Sister Disciple in our class marveled, “And yet he’s a Blessed!” “Yes,” answered Don Rocca, “because he never stopped correcting himself.” Fr. Alberione took seriously the words he heard from Jesus Master, “Have a penitent heart,” or according to a later rendition, “Be sorry for sin,” words that made it to our chapel walls and hopefully into our hearts and lives. People aren’t saints because they’re perfect, but because they never stop saying to God and to others, “I’m sorry” and “Help me to be better tomorrow.” The more sincere they are at this, the more saintly they are.

That’s my prayer for you as you celebrate All Saints Day tomorrow and All Souls Day on Friday. Do the same for me!
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In solidarity….
In our generalate here in Rome, we’re praying for the 60 million people plus, who are being impacted by Hurricane Sandy. May you feel God’s provident care and comfort in the concern of us all.

And don’t pass up your privilege to vote! Even if you don’t like the candidates and find it almost impossible to choose, pray, inform yourself, and make a decision. Take heart from these words of Fr. Alberione: “Those who do things make mistakes, but those who do nothing make the biggest mistake of all!” Are there propositions or referenda in your state that need your input? Massachusetts does. Question 2 proposes to legalize physician-prescribed suicide. Guess where I stand. How about you?