My Dear Family

THE ALMS OF WORDS

by Catherine Doherty

The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us (Jn 1:14). The Uncreated became man for love of us. But though the Word of God walks among us, millions in our dark and fearsome days do not know him.

The fate of our own world and civilization and of our own eternal life depends upon our knowing and loving him. It is time for us, the children of his light and love, to make him known.

How can we do this? We can do it in many ways. The simplest and most direct way is through almsgiving. Not only can we give money, food, and clothing (not all of us may be able to give these), but we can give the alms of words.

All of us possess these alms. All of us have them to give. And the need for such alms is everywhere.

However, like all other alms, words must be given lovingly, gently, thoughtfully. One must try to see with gentle eyes, think with a clear-sighted mind, and love with a burning heart.

For alms given without love, without compassion or graciousness or deep understanding, bring hurt and pain, and do even more damage than indifference or coldness. Without these, we prostitute the very act of giving.

But when, catchful and alert in the cause of Christ, we see our neighbors as Christ sees them, love will give us understanding. It will enable us to read the signs of hungry minds, numbed hearts, frightened and lonely souls, and broken bodies. Love will enable us to hear symphonies of pain and hurt, fear and near-despair, that life and the Prince of Evil play, with endless variations, on the strings of people’s emotions.

Everywhere, the ministry of love—the alms of words—can be exercised.

Do you see that lonely and sad child? Have you a moment to spare to give him the alms of a few little words? They will bring light into a darkness that should not be there.

To make friends with a lonely, lost, or unloved child, be he poor or rich, is to bring Christ to him. Take the child into your heart. Those who do, take Christ into their hearts. And surely he will reverse the process in eternity by taking you into his heart.

Do our eyes really see? Are we not blind to the thousands of little signs that exist in our own family? Father is a little grayer, a little more worried, a bit more silent. Mother is more tense, often with eyes that reveal tears. Sister or brother is sharper, thinner, less pleasant, more withdrawn. Maybe this is the beginning of a tragedy.

Is our love watchful, ready to give the alms of gentle, key words spoken in time? Such words may keep the door to a heart from closing.

Are we convinced that we are our “brother’s keeper?” Do we understand how far this “keeping” goes? Business associates, friends, fellow workers, strangers who cross our paths now and then, our whole work-a-day world—all are our brothers and sisters whom we must cherish in the Lord.

A smile and a pleasant word about the weather given to an ill-clad poor person in a public conveyance, or to a stranger within our gates, might mean the difference between his hatred of all that we stand for, and his understanding.

For example, with regard to foreigners in our midst, clearly enunciated words, spoken slowly, lovingly, with a smile of encouragement, are rich alms. Here especially, the alms of our words can change the fate of a nation.

For this stammering, shy alien, who barely speaks English, may tomorrow become the leader of hate and revolt, and may do untold damage to minds, souls, and bodies. And all this because no one took time to give the alms of gentle, understanding words.

The sick may be tiresome at times in their self-centeredness, in their urgency to take us through every step of their domain of loneliness and pain via their fretful, halting, rambling, repetitious speech.

How are we to console them, bring them back to the realm of God’s light and love, show them the treasure that can save worlds of souls everywhere?

We can teach them to offer that loneliness, those pains, to Mary, the treasurer of God. How else but through the alms of our comforting words and our patient, interested, unflagging care, can they learn the importance of offering everything through her?

The forgotten, the unwanted, the lost, the rambling alcoholic, the neurotic, the borderline “psychos”—would they be what they are if someone had given them the alms of words when they so desperately needed them?

Such words of love, understanding, compassion, patience, and help are oils that sooth the burning wounds of exhausted minds. They are cool waters that quench the thirst that almost kills them. They are food that nourishes a starvation resembling that found in concentration camps. Words are often keys that open prison doors. They are so easy to give, yet so often withheld.

Alms of warm, kind words are like a mother’s lullaby to the unwanted and the elderly who often have a hungry loneliness. These words bring peace and joy into joylessness and unpeace, make crooked ways straight, and people feel wanted and loved again.

The pariahs of our modern world—the “bums,” the panhandlers, the prostitutes, and those in prison—what about them? Who has the time and courage to give them the alms of words, or the courtesy of an attentive silence?

Everywhere, at all times of the night and day, people are crying out for the alms of words. They are crying silently not even knowing why they cry., Yet they do know that they are desperately hungry and thirsty for love and friendship.

But love and its flower, friendship, are God, for God is Love, and God is the Word, and he clothed himself with flesh for love of us!

Let us then lovingly show him to our brothers and sisters expressed in the thousand ways of love’s ingenuity, but especially in the alms of loving words!

Adapted from Dearly Beloved, Vol. 1, Oct. 1, 1962, pp. 275-278, available from MH Publications.

Just Smile and Say Hello

by a staff worker

Recently I was reading something Catherine Doherty wrote in 1962—“The Alms of Words,”—which became the lead article in this issue of RESTORATION.

“Not everyone,” says Catherine, “has silver or gold to give… but all of us possess the alms of words.” “Everywhere and anywhere, this ministry of love can be exercised.”

Suddenly I felt a beautiful flame burning in my heart. Suddenly I realized that I had learned this from my mother— my mother who spoke much more by her actions than by her words. Memories flooded my mind.

Once again, I was ten years old and walking down the main street of our little town. A young woman with her four children in tow passed by. As usual whenever I saw this woman, I observed how oddly others treated her. That day someone called her a prostitute.

When I got home, I related this incident to my mother. “There is something very special about Maureen,” my mother told me. “Like all of us, she possesses the light of Christ. It is up to us to draw it out of her.”

Then my mother told me that Maureen wasn’t married. She encouraged me to come to her (my mother) if I had any questions or if I wanted to talk more about it, but not to talk about Maureen’s circumstances with anyone else.

All I needed to do, she said, was to respect Maureen as the child of God that she was, and to greet her and her children sincerely as such. It wasn’t difficult, she told me. Just a simple smile and a “hello” was all that I needed to do.

So I did that. And as the weeks went by, I noticed that Maureen and her four little ones perked up when they saw me coming. After that it wasn’t long before they were greeting me with their own warm smiles.

Then four and a half years later, Amy came into my life. Her grandmother asked me to baby-sit for her during the summer.

I remember running home after the first day, thoroughly frustrated and announcing to my mother that Amy was a brat. Then Mom and I sat down at the kitchen table to discuss the matter.

The first thing she said to me was this: “Amy is seven years old, and you are fourteen. So you have seven years of experience and knowledge that she doesn’t have—which means that you have a lot to offer her.

“This little girl has already had a difficult life. Her father is in prison, and no one knows where her mother is. She has only her grandmother, and her grandmother is working in the factory during the day. You can offer her loving support, fun, and much-needed guidelines.” Then together, my mother and I mapped out a plan of action.

This was the beginning of a tender relationship. For the next few years I continued to babysit Amy, and she and I filled our days with games, conversations, projects, and forays to the park. Then when Amy no longer needed me as a baby-sitter, she would often stop by our house to see me. When I left home, Amy continued coming over to visit with my mother.

My third memory happened after I graduated from college. Being drawn to children, I had gone into teaching and for my first job, I was privileged to teach in an excellent, well-equipped school.

Even so, at twenty-two and teaching for the first time, I encountered many a challenge.

The most traumatic one was opposition from an irate mother who often met me at the classroom door at the end of an already intense day. Then one autumn day, this enraged mother entered my classroom, and walked right up to me screaming and shouting at me with fists raised.

My fear quickly turned into anger. But in the split-second before reacting, I heard in my heart my mother’s compassionate voice. I quickly called on the Holy Spirit for help.

Then in a soft gentle voice that surprised both of us, I asked the woman if there was anything I could do to help.

Suddenly her rage turned into sobs. The next thing I knew she was in my arms, her head nestled in the crook of my neck. She was shaking like a leaf.

For the next hour she talked and I listened. And from that day on, Joseph’s mother and I were fast friends.

The final memory that I will share with you took place in another school, a school in a congested area of a large city. In this school the cafeteria was four blocks away. So every day for lunch our entire class of 46 children and I walked those four blocks together. And every day we met Chester.

When we did, at least one of the children would shout out, “There’s Chester, the bum.” And every time Chester would reply, “You no-good, rotten kids. Go drown yourselves in the canal!” or some such thing. In my distress over the situation, I phoned my mother.

“Dear,” she advised, “just tell the children the facts. Tell them that Chester is a beautiful person, just like they are. Tell them he should be treated with dignity. Tell them that it’s just a simple matter of saying, “Good afternoon, Chester. Hope you have a good day.”

I did that and when the children started greeting Chester in that way, at first he was stunned. But every day he waited at the corner for them.

After a few weeks, he began to say, “Good afternoon, kids. Hope you have a good day, too.”

The school year flew by. And there wasn’t a day that went by without all of us eagerly awaiting our rendezvous with Chester.

As I thought about my mother and all these memories, I came to see that my mother and Catherine Doherty had the same idea. And why not? God’s command to us to love one another as I have loved you (Jn 12:15) is the essence of the Gospel.

Word Made Flesh

MY IRREVERENT RELEVANCE

by Fr. Pat McNulty

The following is a reflection on Matthew 18:21-35, the story of the unforgiving servant. It’s the Gospel for September 15th, the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

———-

Even though I was never declared a heretic, I know there were people who wanted to “burn me at the stake” for some of the unorthodox things I said and did in the parish in the `60s.

Looking back now, even I would say that some of my attempts to “make the Gospel relevant” though not heretical enough to make me deserve the stake, certainly were a stake in the making of some rather heretical stuff which eventually came out of the `60s.

One instance of this was a homily I gave on this Gospel for the 24th Sunday of Ordinary Time, the Gospel in which the king forgives a servant who owes him very much and then the same servant refuses to forgive a brother who owes him very little.

I made this Gospel event “relevant” when I said that it was a good example of the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Now, that is precisely the kind of irreverence to the Bible out of which genuine and irrelevant heresies are made! So, just for the record:

#1. We do not make the Gospel relevant. The Gospel, by its very nature as divine revelation, is already eternally relevant. What we have to do is pray to discover that relevance in our everyday lives.

#2. Whereas a goodly number of folk do imagine that the Christian faith can be summed up in that Golden Rule, and whereas it might be a good place to begin dealing with some things in our human relationships, the Holy Spirit has to re-teach us in almost every century that this is not where genuine Christian life comes from.

Even a look at secular history can remind us that this Golden Rule can quickly degenerate into fool’s gold until before long it becomes, “Do unto me what I want and we’ll talk about you later.”

No, neither the ultimate message nor the deepest meaning of the Gospel flows from or to any human axiom or wise saying. The Gospel is divine revelation. It does not simply reveal to us how we are to live. It reveals how God lives, so that we can live in God’s image and likeness.

For if we Christians do not live in God’s image and likeness—personally, socially, and politically—we are already dead—golden rules notwithstanding.

This Gospel incident for the 24th Sunday of Ordinary Time is not about what seems nice and good to us. It is not about our sense of what is right or just. It is not about how people can get along with each other.

In this Gospel, Jesus is revealing how God deals with sinners so that all of us (sinners) can then understand how and why we must deal in the same way with each other. It is about learning how to be true children of “Our Father who art in heaven….”

And Jesus has also told us that what we do unto others we do unto him, the Son of God!

This is the divine revelation which we are meant to live on this earth. And it is the fact that it is divine revelation that makes this Gospel and every other Gospel relevant and meaningful. Not our feeble, sometimes heretical, attempts to popularize it!

And we can only begin to understand the Gospel if we begin at the beginning, namely, believing that the Gospel is the Holy Spirit revealing to us through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, how God lives. And it is revealed to us so that we can learn to live in God’s image and likeness.

Then, as we grow accustomed to seeing things from that perspective, we discover that it is God who will change our lives and the world in which we live.

And so, for us Christians, if there were a divine rule we might call golden it would be that which was revealed by Christ himself when he said, Love one another as I have loved you (Jn 15:12). (Notice he did not say, “Love others as you would want them to love you.”)

Since the ’60s there have been all sorts of attempts to popularize the Gospel and to make it relevant. And we must indeed do what we can to help one another understand the Gospel.

But it is very dangerous to then leap into thinking that we have succeeded in some rather arrogant, contemporary fashion to “make the Gospel relevant.” For in some mysterious fashion the relevance of the Gospel is not in understanding it but in standing under it. Meaning? It is the difference between reverence and relevance.

When I have a legitimate question about the meaning of a particular Gospel or about its contemporary relevance, the first thing I must do is “fold the wings of my intellect,” as Catherine would say. In other words, stop thinking about it and pray.

How do I pray about it? I kiss the very book in which I find the Gospel event I am having questions about and then I kneel and wait in the silence of the mystery of divine revelation—even though, at the same time, I get up and go about the daily work at hand.

And when I choose this reverence over the need to be relevant, I choose to stand under the Gospel. I choose to submit myself to it. Then the Holy Spirit is free to open up the eyes of my mind and heart to an understanding, to a relevance, which comes from beyond all things human and man-made, beyond even golden rules—a relevance from the very heart of God.

Wow, I think I just discovered an orthodox way of being “unorthodox” without being heretical. Now that’s what I call being “really relevant!” And I didn’t have to do anything but listen to the Spirit. Could it be that simple, Lord? Really!

Combermere Diary

FROM GLORY TO GLORY

by Cheryl Ann Smith

It seems so long ago that spring began to stir from her long winter’s sleep—so long ago when those first flowers, the crocuses, bravely pushed their way through the cold earth. Soon they were joined by the sunny daffodils, and then our richly-hued tulips. Bright colors cheered our hearts, and adorned our chapel and dining rooms.

By the time our day of Promises arrived on June 8th, we had the glory of tulips, peonies, roses, lilacs and irises to shout and sing out our joy!

Throughout the summer, the earlier flowers give way to later varieties, and each in turn proclaims God’s beauty—foxgloves, delphiniums, daisies, day lilies.

Then in autumn, the leaves, not to be outdone, will burst forth in brilliant yellows, oranges, and reds. And so it will continue—from glory to glory —until winter’s blanket comes out of storage and once again is gently laid on the garden beds.

Now, why am I talking about the flower gardens? Well, the events of this summer seem to live out a similar rhythm. The feast of Our Lady of Combermere opened the summer with a splash of color, love, and rejoicing. At the end of July and beginning of August, we will share in the world -wide celebration of World Youth Day—a flowering of months of intense preparation and prayer.

And our celebration of the Assumption of Mary on August 15th will be our last floral feast. Flowers of all shapes, sizes, hues, and texture, will be gathered into baskets, bouquets, and corsages, to proclaim our love of Our Lady, and to mark the apex of summer.

But this period between the great glories is more like our St. Francis’ garden that lies quiet and hidden on the path to the statue of Our Lady of Combermere. Its terraces are more subtle, its flowers delicate, humble, and lovely— bringing beauty on the journey.

And we have other kinds of flowers. Several of our young staff from our field houses—Christina Milan, Theresa Girard, Jo-Ann Treige, and Petra Muller—have come to Combermere for the summer to help us with World Youth Day preparations—and to attend, themselves. Cathy Mitchell and Peggy Cartmell have just arrived, also, to help out, as 40 staff will be attending all or part of the activities in Toronto.

How do we open our doors to the hundreds of pilgrims who will be coming to Madonna House as part of their World Youth Day trip? Well, we’re finding our way through scads of meetings, planning everything from outdoor jons, to indoor liturgies—working with the local parish and other communities, to provide food, transportation, and sleeping quarters.

Most will be coming after the event, but as I write this, the week before World Youth Day, we are hosting the first groups—from Brazil, Nicaragua, Austria, and Belgium.

The other three groups came only for a day, but Fr. Stefaan Lecleir and six young men from Belgium were with us for more than a week. All the young pilgrims are bringing freshness, abounding life, and songs in their languages.

How to communicate with people of different languages and culture s? Music is a powerful way. Last Sunday, Trudy Moessner gathered a group of local musicians and several staff, to introduce the music written for World Youth Day. On the patio, looking out onto the river, scores of us sang and played instruments. Archbishop Raya even danced. It was a musical garden of delight!

The visual is another way. We just received an excellent 50-minute video entitled, Madonna House: People of the Towel and Water. It was produced by our good friends, Stephen and Richard Payne, and arrived just in time for WYD. The scenes, images, and faces, are so beautiful and true. They breathe our spirit.

The words are a plus, but not essential!

One of the most joy-filled events of the past month was the ordination of Bishop Richard Smith, as the seventh bishop of our diocese of Pembroke. We’ve been without a bishop for eighteen months, and so you can imagine our rejoicing!

The cathedral was packed to overflowing for his episcopal ordination, and as Bishop Richard moved through his people, blessing them, he received a standing ovation. It was a sign of encouragement for the Church that is so beleaguered these days.

With all these glorious events, and preparations for more glorious events, the St. Francis Garden-type news can easily be forgotten: We began our summer classes and seminars and hosted the now-annual picnic and baseball tournament. The latter gives everyone a chance to play.

For those of us no longer in the prime of youth, it is permissible to ask someone else to do part of the “job.” That means you can hit the ball (taking as many swings as is necessary!) and not run, or run and not hit. Or you can simply sit on a chair in the outfield.

We’ve been enjoying beautiful weather for our crops, as well as the flowers, and the harvests so far have been excellent. That prompts not only gratitude, but heartfelt prayers for those who are experiencing the extremes of nature—floods, droughts, and fires.

God’s lavishness in our summer gardens is simply breathtaking—all the varieties of flowers dancing together in a bed of beauty.

As we welcome our guests from so many different lands, we join in that dance, and give glory to our Master Gardener.

AN UNUSUAL RESPONSE

by Paulette Curran

During this time of sexual scandal in the priesthood, I have been thinking about something very beautiful that happened in our house in Moncton when I was there in 1987 and `88.

Two women, good friends of each other and of our house, often came together to talk with us. And at one point, the subject being much on their minds, the conversation often turned to priests.

These two ladies were very dissatisfied with their parishes and with the priests there. Oh, it wasn’t anything scandalous; I scarcely remember what exactly their complaints were. I think it was mainly that they wished their priests were holy and “fed” them spiritually.

We just listened. And always our director, Doreen Rousseau, said one thing: “We need to pray for our priests.”

I don’t remember how long this went on, but one day Doreen came to me all excited. One of these ladies had had an idea. She had asked Doreen if they could have a prayer day for priests once a week at our Madonna House chapel.

At this point I need to explain to you what this means. Madonna House Moncton had a custom which I have never seen or heard of anywhere else, a custom which I later learned had evolved in three or four different stages out of gathering together for a weekly hour of intercessory prayer.

And it was this: When someone was facing a major problem or suffering—when someone was facing open-heart surgery or terminal cancer, for example—that person’s family or friends could request a prayer day at Madonna House for him or her.

That day we would have exposition of the Blessed Sacrament, and all day long people would come to pray for that person. The person or persons requesting prayer would be responsible to see that someone signed up for each hour of the day.

This sort of prayer day had never been a regular thing. It had always been for one day only. Now these ladies were saying let’s have a prayer day once a week, for priests!

They agreed to take it on— to let people know it was happening, and to find enough people to commit themselves to an hour a week. It wasn’t long before they had a list of such people, plus a list of others who agreed to be substitutes when someone couldn’t come. And, to say the obvious, everyone else was welcome to come and pray as well.

We all agreed to Tuesday as the day, and so it happened. And what a special and beautiful day it became! The Blessed Sacrament exposed in our chapel filled our tiny house with a sense of holiness. People entering the house seemed to feel it, or else they were considerate of those upstairs praying. At any rate, their voices were generally quiet and conversation minimal.

All day long, from nine until five, people were in and out of the house. And often there was more than one person praying at a time.

The ten o’clock and four o’clock hours were different. We and whoever wished to come had been having a holy hour of intercessory prayer one morning a week, and this holy hour was moved to ten on Tuesday.

Doreen and I took the four o’clock, and during that time, we prayed a litany composed of three lists of names: of Madonna House priests, of Madonna House associate priests, and of the priests of the Moncton Diocese. We prayed for each by name.

“For Fr. Bob Pelton,” one of us would say.” And the other would respond, “Lord, have mercy.” On and on we would go, saying each name, praying for each priest.

And the prayer days for individual people in need? They were combined with the prayer day for priests, and brought more people in to pray.

For Doreen and me the day would end with a fast supper of bread and cheese. “Fast” as in penance, not as in “quickly,” or in “fast foods.”

For years it has been the custom in all our houses to fast for one supper per week for priests. Usually it is on Friday, but for our house in Moncton, it seemed fitting to move it to the day of prayer for priests.

Of course, as with every kind of organized praying, the prayer day for priests had its ups and downs, and its difficulties. Sometimes people canceled at the last minute, and it was hard or impossible to find a substitute. And, of course, once the novelty wore off, some people dropped out, and sometimes it was hard to find others to take their place. But the prayer day for priests continued.

There aren’t a whole lot of stories about such a simple thing, but knowing that the Blessed Sacrament was exposed in our chapel all day Tuesday and that they could come and pray meant a lot to people.

In one family, when their father was dying, for example, while some of his children stayed by his bedside, others came to our chapel and prayed before the Blessed Sacrament.

And as always when we pray and when we do something for others, we are blessed. A number of people said they themselves received blessings through their praying for priests.

Priests were very grateful. Doreen used to say to individual ones, “If you are having a hard time, just remember that every Tuesday we are praying for you.” No priest ever failed to say a heart-felt “thank you.”

The prayer day for priests continued until 2001 when the house in Moncton closed.

What are the fruits of all those hours of prayer? Which priests and how many priests received the strength to go on, the grace to resist a temptation, to remain in the priesthood, to become truly holy? Those answers are hidden in God, the God who says, Ask and you shall receive…. For the one who asks always receives (Mt 7:7, 8; Lk 11:9, 10).

We will know—each of us who ever, even for one hour, prayed in that chapel on Tuesdays—when we meet God face-to-face in heaven.

MH Toronto

COUNTDOWN TO WORLD YOUTH DAY

by Elaine Dalton

By the time you receive this newspaper, World Youth Day Toronto 2002 will be over, and in our October issue, we will be telling you all about it. But for now, here’s a little taste of what went before it from our house in the city where it will have all happened.

———-

June 9th: This morning Irene, Carol Ann, and I were up and out of the house by 7:30. We were going to St. Augustine’s Seminary to greet and process with the World Youth Day Pilgrim Cross—that holy and wonderful life-size cross which the Holy Father entrusts to the young people of the nation which will be hosting World Youth Day.

That cross, which is brought across the country with reverence, prayer and ceremony, brings grace and blessings to all along its pilgrim route. And now it was here in Toronto!

With the cross in front and flags held high—Canadian flags, American flags, Italian, French, World Youth Day, Irish, Polish, Jamaican and more,—we began our trek, escorting the World Youth Day Cross into the heart of Toronto.

The eight people required to carry the cross were changed smoothly and constantly giving everyone an opportunity to carry it for several minutes.

People of all ages and nationalities, from seniors to babies in strollers, teens and youngsters and all in between, took part in the procession. We sang as we walked and waved our arms and flags, and people in windows, doorways, and upper stories waved back.

When we passed St. Theresa’s Church, the pastor who had had someone on the lookout for us, stopped his homily and sent everyone out to greet the cross. Then several blocks further along, we passed an Anglican church, and the entire congregation, with clergy and acolytes vested and candles lit, sang “Lift High the Cross.”

The mood was light and yet there was a deep, general awareness of being part of a huge, holy event.

There was a lunch stop at St. John’s Church, and as we continued on our way, an ever -increasing number of people joined us—the papers reported we were 600—until we reached St. Michael’s Cathedral. There one of the WYD leaders told us to “get ready to surf the cross.”

The portageurs (the official cross carriers) raised it up and over our heads and eager hands passed the cross above the surface of the crowd, which had by now swollen to 3,500 according to later reports. The cross surfed its way over the entire sea of people and back to the front of the stage where it was replaced in its stand and a program began.

Cardinal Stafford, president of the Pontifical Council for the Laity, expressed his delight at “discovering a new expression to bring back to the Holy Father—“surfing the cross.”

June 17th: There is a new addition to our morning routine of quiet time in the chapel, going for a walk, starting the cereal, boiling water, and bringing in the newspaper.

Every morning, if the weather is favorable, one of us slips both the yellow and white Vatican flag and the multi-colored World Youth Day flag into brackets fastened to the white pillars on either side of our front porch. Our house is certainly an impressive sight!

Today there was a celebration—the World Youth Day Cross for Lay Movements and Groups. The cross arrived last night and an all-night vigil was held. Today after Mass and the rosary, each group was given a half hour to honor the cross according to its particular charism.

Groups sang, prayed, played music, proclaimed the Scripture, witnessed to conversion —in a word, portrayed a multitude of the facets of the Church. (Madonna House and Global Beacon Community gave a joint witness.) And all day long a never-ending line of people filed up to venerate the cross.

In the evening after Mass, over 1200 people—the overwhelming majority members of various lay movements and groups in the archdiocese of Toronto—processed with the cross through the neighborhood. We sang, prayed, and carried flags and lighted candles. The church remained open throughout the night and many stayed for an all-night vigil.

July 3rd: Two of the lead singers in the World Youth Day official music CD, along with Julie Leahy, the director of a major performance for World Youth Day, came to our house and spent time before the Blessed Sacrament praying for World Youth Day.

Another friend with the permission of her pastor faxed a letter to every parish in the archdiocese requesting each pastor to ask his parishioners to pray for the Holy Father and for World Youth Day.

Today the cross was being carried throughout our “zone.” Once again we joined in the procession. And all day long, from 7:45 A.M. until 7:30 P.M., wherever it went, enthusiastic crowds welcomed the cross.

Among other places, we processed to St. Joseph’s Hospital where staff, patients, onlookers, and pilgrims greeted the cross, and we ended up in St. Pius X Church where Mass was said.

The church was overflowing and despite the stifling heat, not a person left before Mass was over.

Ever since its arrival, the pilgrim cross has been brought many places and the entire archdiocese of Toronto has been experiencing an outpouring of grace as a result. Our encounters with it have been profound, and our words are not sufficient to express it.

July 9th: World Youth Day is barely two weeks away and the excitement is mounting by the minute.

Our director Trudi Cortens ordered 25,000 “Spread the Love” buttons to distribute for World Youth Day, and 15,000 have arrived already.

The day’s other event, and the one for which we had been preparing for weeks—cleaning the house and yard, and preparing bundles of MH literature in French and English —was the welcoming of twenty-four French young people from a suburb of Paris. They had come early for World Youth Day because they wanted to do some volunteer work.

It took a lot of work on our part and the part of others, but finally all the arrangements for their trip and time in Canada were made.

For their visit to our house, our director, Trudi Cortens, had considered ordering pizza but then realized it would be too expensive. However, yesterday, when I was delivering to a soup kitchen extra vegetables from our weekly pick-up of donations, one of the Brothers there asked me if we eat pizza, and offered me a few!

“Of course! Thanks! God must have told you that 24 young people are coming to our house tomorrow.” With that, he gave me another dozen pizzas, plus a crate of juice —plenty for everyone.

We had invited a few friends to help with translation. And on our porch, the wide colorful World Youth Day and Vatican flags were flapping and snapping in the wind, catching the eyes of passersby and clearly marking our house for any WYD pilgrims.

And finally they came: 24 back-packing young men and women, ages 16 to 23, bright, eager, fresh, and alive.

We told them a bit about Madonna House and showed them a short video about it. Then we all took our pizza and juice outside and visited in the bright sunshine. We were all struck by their naturalness, genuineness, and concern for one another.

One of our friends enthralled our visitors with her impromptu and informal catechetical lesson.

Then back in the house, we sang together. They sang the WYD song in French, and we sang “O Canada” in French and in English. Fr. Duffy sang and Irish blessing and blessed them with his relic of the true cross. Then when they left, we gave each of them a large envelope of MH literature and of course a Spread the Love button plus a bag of 500 more for them to trade with.

Once outside, they told us to stand still and several of them took our picture. Then they left leaping and waving good-bye vigorously all the way to the subway stop on the corner.

Everyone was deeply pleased and grateful for having met these young people, and for the whole afternoon. It was a truly blessed event—and a strong infusion of the spirit of World Youth Day.

And every day there are fewer days, hours, and minutes left until World Youth Day 2002! Our excitement keeps mounting by the minute!

MH in England and Edmonton

Our Mission Technique

by Mark Schlingerman

I spent a number of years in our mission house in Edmonton, a large Canadian city, where our main work was to provide food, clothing and hospitality for the poor on “skid row.” Then I was assigned to a house which is a pastoral center in a wealthy vacation area on the seacoast of England.

Both these kinds of mission are encompassed by one of our favorite prayers: “Lord, give bread to the hungry and hunger for you to those who have bread.”

What is our mission technique in those houses dedicated to the service of the poor? In 1957, in one of the first letters Catherine wrote to those workin these missions, she said:

“What are you to do? Ask the Lord to open your eyes to the millions of little services that are right there to be performed in love. They don’t need to be scheduled… Love sees the obvious.

This “mission technique” is no different when we work among those who are not materially poor.

In that same letter, Catherine also said, “I remind you that each house is only as strong as the love, openness, obedience, and joy that reign among its members. The work of the house must always be the fruit of spiritual growth. For unless the foundation of a community of love is present, the works will be shallow.”

Our mission “technique” could be stated in the words apparently said about the early Christians: “See how they love one another.”

Our main work, wherever we are, is to form a community of love, first among ourselves, and then with whoever comes, rich or poor.

This often happens through what Catherine called the “chitchat apostolate”, which just means spending time in conversation with others.

It’s as simple as that, and it’s just as important as giving food or clothing. The chitchat apostolate builds relationships, and the community of love is built on relationships.

Loneliness is the greatest affliction of the western world. Hospitality, listening, and a non-judgmental attitude are valuable qualities we can offer others to assuage this loneliness.

And as the Lord sends all sorts of people into our lives, he sends all sorts of people to join a religious community. Many of us, when we join such a community, expect that the other people will be mature, well-formed, and well-trained, and without too many personal problems or outstanding sins. But in MH, we are ordinary people, that is, poor sinners with obvious weaknesses and fragilities.

Because we live so closely with one another, it is often our MH brothers and sisters who are the greatest challenge for us to love. But it is precisely these brothers and sisters whom it is our first call to love. In fact, Catherine felt so strongly about this that she told us that, if we could not love one another in a given house, then we should close our doors, no matter what we are doing and no matter how important our work is.

Catherine always wanted our mission outreach to be in an area which was not being served by others. That means listening and praying to discover current needs. So, in the 1980s, in Edmonton, the decision was made to close the soup kitchen which was serving 300 people a day. This seemed to be against all reason, but in fact by that time, there were many other places serving food, and we were so busy cooking and begging for food that we had no time for the more personal chitchat apostolate.

After we closed the soup kitchen, we had nothing concrete to give—only a cup of tea, our time, and a listening ear. So we were now able to address the simple need of a person to have someone listen to his or her story. Loneliness was assuaged, if only briefly, and relationships were developed.

Then I was assigned to our Madonna House in England. Robin Hood’s Bay in Yorkshire—a setting as different from the soup kitchen in Edmonton as it could possibly be. There are no materially poor people there. But our work is exactly the same as it is in Edmonton: to form a community of love among ourselves, and then to welcome anyone who comes with a cup of tea and a listening ear. In short, we give them Christ.

Catherine taught us about the “rich poor.” They can be even lonelier than the materially poor.

“Lord, give bread to the hungry and hunger for you to those who have bread.”

Bread and soup and clothing for the materially poor. And for the rich? A realization that the emptiness in their lives is an absence of God. A realization that the poorest person in the world is the man or woman who thinks he or she can get along without God.

And when a person discovers this hunger for God, he needs someone to talk to. This is our work.

So, for me, in the words of our Little Mandate, the way to “do” mission, is to “go to the poor, to be one with them”, whether the poor be the materially poor, the “rich poor” or my brother or sister in my community.

Adapted from Living Fully in Our Times, pp. 152-164, available from MH Publications.

A WELL-KEPT SECRET

by Fr. Emile-Marie Brière

We Christians have forgotten to tell the truth and to live it. We have simply forgotten. Perhaps we have heard it so little that we have never really grasped it.

The truth is that God is love and that the essence of religion is love. And in order for this life on earth to be endurable and joyful, this truth must be lived.

If parents loved their children properly, there would be far less need for psychiatrists, doctors, and hospitals. Crime would diminish considerably, and also the need for correctional institutions, law courts, and jails.

If employers and employees made a serious attempt to love one another (to consider the other fellow’s point of view, for example), and if nations loved one another, gradually solid solutions would be found to our vexing economic problems.

For without love, it is impossible to see reality as it is. Without love, the most brilliant plans of the most brilliant minds fail.

Too rarely do we remember that God is love and that every practice of religion has as its end a deeper union with God. Too rarely do we remember that by loving others, we assuage their pain and Christ’s pain in them.

No one is to be blamed specifically by us for all the evils in the world. Not even you and I. Our poor sins have been confessed and lavishly forgiven by God. But what we need to do is to shift our emphasis to love. If we love, the Spirit will renew the face of the earth.

Christ’s words are so clear: You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind…. You must love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang the whole Law and the prophets also (Mt 22:37-40).

Adapted from The Power of Love, pp.34-36, available from MH Publications.

The Pope’s Corner

Entering Into Love

by Pope John Paul II

The following is from the Preliminary Message for World Youth Day Paris, 1997.

———-

Break down the barriers of superficiality and fear! Recognize that you are new men and women, regenerated by the grace of baptism. Talk with Jesus in prayer and while listening to the Word. Experience the joy of reconciliation in the sacrament of penance. Receive the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.

Welcome him and serve him in your brothers and sisters. You will discover the truth about yourselves and your inner unity, and you will find a “Thou” who gives the cure for anxieties and for the unbridled subjectivism that leaves you no peace.

“Come and see.” You will meet Jesus where men and women are suffering and hoping: in the little villages scattered across the continents and seemingly on the fringe of history, as Nazareth was when God sent his angel to Mary, and in the huge metropolises where millions of human beings live, often as strangers. In reality, every human being is a fellow citizen in Christ.

Jesus is living next to you, in the brothers and sisters with whom you share your daily existence. His visage is that of the poorest, of the marginalized who, not infrequently, are victims of an unjust model of development in which profit is given first place and the human being is made a means rather than an end.

Jesus’ dwelling is wherever a human person is suffering because rights are denied, hopes betrayed, anxieties ignored. There, in the midst of humankind, is the dwelling of Christ, who asks you to dry every tear in his name, and to remind whoever feels lonely that no one whose hope is placed in him is ever alone (cf. Mt 25:31-46).

Jesus dwells among those who call on him without having known him; among those who, after beginning to know him, have lost him through no fault of their own; among those who seek him in sincerity of heart while coming from different cultural and religious contexts.

As disciples and friends of Jesus, become agents of dialogue and collaboration with those who believe in a God who rules the universe with infinite love. Be ambassadors of the Messiah you have found and known in his dwelling, the Church, so that many more people may be able to follow in his footsteps; their way lighted by your fraternal charity and by the joy in your eyes that have contemplated Christ….

The more you cling to Jesus, the more capable you will become of being close to one another; and insofar as you make concrete gestures of reconciliation, you will enter into the intimacy of his love.