Take Care of Her, Dad!

          As part of my priestly ministry, I try to visit those members of our parish community who are sick or homebound, the large majority being elderly.  I’ve asked all of those who do home visitations to give me a list so that I, too, can accompany them (when I’m able).

          On one of those visits – last Friday, in fact – I met a sweet lady named Divolda.  Seventy years old, Divolda was diagnosed earlier this year with cancer, and unfortunately the treatments didn’t really help her very much.  When I met her she was in her bed in a very simple house located in one of the favelas of the parish.  A small, hot bedroom had become the extent of her world since it hurt too much to get out of bed anymore.  Because her children often had to work, the small whir of the fan in the corner was the only noise she would hear for many hours.  But she held on to her rosary and she enjoyed looking at a nice statue of our Lady the Mystical Rose.

          As I sat down at her bedside, she grasped my hand and tried to smile.  We talked a little bit about her family, about where she had grown up (in a little village in the forest on the banks of a tributary river to the Amazon), and she told me all about how much she loved Jesus and Mary.  I was touched to the depths of my being how this suffering woman was very concerned about her children and the nieces and grandchildren that she had raised.  “I can’t go, Father.  Who will take care of them if I’m not here?  Who will look after my autistic grandson?”

          When the conversation quieted down and the only sound in the room was the whir of that fan in the corner, I asked her if she wanted to receive the sacrament of reconciliation.  “Father, that would make me very happy.”  I was humbled by the simplicity of her confession and the great devotion she shared with me.  Here was a bed-ridden widow who, with simplicity of heart, made one of the most loving confessions I think I’ve ever heard.

          After celebrating absolution, we invited the rest of the family members in to celebrate with us the sacrament of anointing of the sick.  Divolda was so happy to receive the sacrament, and she participated very actively.  When she received communion a single tear rolled down her cheek.  I asked her why she was crying, and she said very simply, “I love Jesus.”

          Together with the visitation team and the family members we talked a bit more and, in its simplicity, the conversation was actually quite happy.  I left feeling very grateful to our loving God for having had this opportunity to share these sacraments with this lovely lady.

          On Tuesday morning I decided to check in on Divolda… I’m not really sure why.  I called up the visitation team and together we went to visit Divolda and her family.  Though poor themselves, the visitation team put together a basket with basic foods and coffee to help out Divolda’s family during this trying time.  We arrived at Divolda’s home and her neice told me that unfortunately her aunt really wasn’t up to receiving a whole bunch of visitors today… she was still sleeping and had been since the day before.  We talked for a few minutes and I let the niece know that I understood her concern for her aunt, but asked if I might just go in for a moment to say a prayer for Divolda and give her a blessing; the niece consented.

          I entered the room and the first thing I noticed was how hot it was in there, and how silent it seemed with just the whir of the fan.  I went and sat beside Divolda’s bed and reached for her fragile hand.  Holding it gently, I began to stroke her forehead and I asked her if she could hear me.  She didn’t respond nor did she open her eyes, but it seems to me that her hand every so softly tried to squeeze my hand.  In the silence I noticed that her breathing was quite labored and irregular.  I said a prayer for her… and then something inside of me took me back to my own dad’s bedside nearly 18 years ago.  And I remembered something that a very special cousin of mine had told me I needed to do as my own father was preparing to enter into eternal life.

          “My dear Divolda, you’ve run the good race and you’ve fought the good fight.  You shared your love not only with your own children but even with other people’s children, raising them to be good people.  You’ve done everything that God put you here on earth to do.  Now you can go home.  Jesus is there waiting for you with his arms open, ready to give you a great big hug when you arrive there!  And Jesus is just waiting to show you happiness and joy without all of the pain that accompanied this illness.  My dear Divolda, you’ve done all that you possible could, and your family will be fine.  They’ll be sad, but they’ll be happy that you don’t feel the pain in your body anymore.  Divolda, when you are ready, feel free to go home to be with Jesus and that beautiful lady that you’ve been admiring, the Mystical Rose.  When you’re ready, don’t be afraid!”  I gave her a kiss on the forehead, gave her a blessing, and I left.

          The visitation team invited me for coffee since it was mid-morning.  They shared their plans for their community with me and we talked about politics a little bit.  As we were finishing, we said a little prayer together.  And at the end of that prayer I said, “Dad, whenever she decides to come home, please take care of Divolda!”

          Later that afternoon I received a phone call that shortly after our visit Divolda passed from this life to the next.  Just as they are right now as I write this, goosebumps appeared on my arms and legs and my eyes welled up.  I thanked God for having given me the honor of celebrating – quite by chance! – the last days and the last moments of Divolda’s life here on earth.  I thanked God for the privilege of having had that one last moment to “give her permission” to go home.  And looking up into the sky I said, “OK, Dad.  Now it’s your turn.  Take care of her, Dad!”

From 1998: Dad celebrating as Deacon at my first Mass.

Mom, Dad, Michelle, my nephew Matthew and I at a family barbecue in 1998.

"I'm telling the Bishop!!!"

Picture with the "12 Apostles" after the Children's Holy Thursday Mass.

            One of my FAVORITE homilies that I’ve given so far here in Brazil was DEFINITELY “the one with the cell phone”.

            [Mass began as normal.] “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  The Lord be… hang on my pocket is vibrating… oh this is important.  The Lord be with you (and with your spirit).  Hang on just a minute – I really need to reply to this message.”  [I spend the next minute tapping on the screen of my phone.]  “Thanks for waiting, it was an important message.  Today we are celebrating…”

            [During the second reading I again pull the cell phone out of my pocket and, pointing at it, I show the screen to the two altar servers on my left.  We are all laughing.]

            [After the Gospel I begin my homily.] “I need to admit that I really loved today’s readings.  In the first reading we see God speaking… to… hang on a second.” [Reaching into my pocket and taking out my cell phone, I look at the screen surprised.] “Oh, this is an important phone call, just one second.”  [I turn around with my back to the people, and “forgetting” that my microphone is on I speak into the phone.]  “Hey Fernando!  What am I doing?  I’m celebrating Mass, but that’s ok.  What’s up?  Spaghetti?  No I had spaghetti for supper yesterday.  Pizza?  Well sure, I’ll have pizza anytime.  Sure, noon is fine.  No, I’m not sure who is coming for baptisms next week at Sacred Heart, probably the deacon.  Ok, sure.  Yeah.  Give your mom a hug for me!” [Putting the phone on the corner of the altar, I continue my homily.]  “Now where was I?  Oh yeah…”

            Can you imagine how angry and really turned off people were?  BUT DON’T BE ALARMED!!!  It was all a part of the homily to show people how attached we are to these electronic methods of communication, how we send so many messages and write so much that we are actually communicating very little at times!  We spend time glued to the screens of our cell phones that we are losing the desire to sit face to face and get to know each other, and to really communicate about important stuff.  We’re so used to having what we want so instantly that many times – even when we are sitting talking face to face – we don’t know how to really listen.  And this can cause problems in our communication with God.  This also causes us to refrain from communicating with those who are less fortunate (in our case, I was speaking of the street people who sleep in the plaza in front of the mother church every night).  The homily was really about social ministries (visiting the jails, visiting the hospitals, visiting the homebound, etc.).  For these ministries to be successful we need to re-learn how to communicate on a human level and not just on a digital electronic level!

            After explaining the readings for that Sunday, I asked the people how many of them were upset that I was receiving messages – and answering them! – during Mass?  Some hands went up.  I asked them if they were distracted by my showing the altar servers internet images during the second reading, and more hands went up.  When I asked how many were really bothered and upset that I answered a phone call during my homily nearly all the hands went up!

            Each time that I “received a message”, was “looking at something on the Internet”, or “talking with Fernando” I made sure to show the altar servers the screen of my cell phone.  Before Mass I showed them that my cell phone was actually turned off!  So at the pre-determined point of my homily I asked them what they had seen on the screen of my phone, and they said “nothing, Father, your phone is turned off!  You told us before Mass what you were going to do”.

            Most of the people liked how the homily turned out and I received quite a few congratulations.  And I gave the same homily at all four Masses that I celebrated in the mother church that weekend.  Here’s the good news: the women’s group has decided that they want to begin offering soup to the homeless in the plaza in front of the church every Thursday morning.  Others have asked if they could start vising the homebound, and still others asked what they needed to do to be able to visit the people in jail.  All in all, a very successful homily!

            HOWEVER….

            Other stories were brought to my attention that day.

When I was answering a text message one gentleman become quite agitated and yelled out, “you’ve got to be kidding me.  I’m telling the Bishop!”  (Here in Brazil the people have this habit of running to the Bishop whenever they dislike ANYTHING – even the most minimal – that a priest does.  Sometimes they don’t even point it out to the priest; they just go straight to the Bishop or the Diocesan offices!!!!)

Another gentleman left during the homily while I was talking on the phone during the 7:30am Mass.  He returned for the 9:00am Mass, and when he saw it was me in the back of the Church before the procession he said, “Are you serious?.  That priest again?  I came from the other side of the city to be here for Mass and this guy talks on the cell phone the whole Mass!”  Luckily one of the Eucharistic Ministers (who had also been at the 7:30am Mass) took him aside and explained to him that I wasn’t really talking on my cell phone; it was just an illustration for my homily.  She convinced him to stay, and after Mass he came up and asked me to forgive him.  Not knowing what had happened, he explained it to me and said that he should have understood something was up.  I gave him a hug, and he is now signed up to take the two-day course to begin hospital ministry!

Finally, at the 7:00pm Mass Sunday evening another man was leaving the church during my homily, quite offended.  Luckily at the same time the parish treasurer was arriving in order to drop off some paperwork, saw the man, and asked what was wrong.  His timing couldn’t have been better – that man is a quite faithful and generous contributor to the parish!  The treasurer (who had been at Mass the previous evening) explained that it was just a visual illustration and the guy returned (thank goodness).  He was one of those who congratulated me on the homily!

Yes, I still do the “fluff” homilies (you know, the “let’s all feel good” kind) from time to time.  The majority of my homilies are still very catechetical.  But now I’m at a point in my life where I think my homily and our faith needs to challenge us – perhaps now more than ever – to be “different” than everyone else, to be willing to “go against the flow” when necessary, to be “more human” than society is at times.  Yes, I believe that homilies need to make us think and examine how we are living our faith.  And if that makes people uncomfortable at times, perhaps that is what needs to happen.  If it means conforming our lives a little more each day to that of Jesus whom we call the Christ, then I’m willing to take my lumps along the way to bring people to Him.

Celebrating Mass in Sacred Heart Church (one of the 12 which make up my parish of St. Benedict's).

In conclusion, even after that homily, this past Wednesday there was still a woman in the third row who during the brief weekday homily of that Mass had the courage to sit there and talk on her cell phone!!!!  My mom once told me of a priest who, when someone was talking on the phone during Mass, said, “that’s ok, we’ll wait for you to finish your call before continuing Mass so we don’t interrupt you.”  Do you suppose they’ll go to the Bishop over that?

God bless!!!

"Rainy days and Tuesdays..."

Off to the "Big City"

Giving a blessing to the people at the end of Stations of the Cross on Good Friday

            Many of you already know that at the end of December my beautiful experience working in the small city of Parintins – located on the banks of the Amazon River in the middle of the forest – came to an end.  I was asked by my PIME superiors to move to the city of Manaus to take over a parish on the outskirts of the city from an older PIME priest who was hoping to retire.

            Manaus, a city made famous for the rubber trade during the beginning of the last century.  Manaus, a city which sprang up in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest and has (unfortunately) continued to expand, destroying thousands of acres of virgin rainforest every year in order to make way for “progress”.  Manaus, a city which has grown exponentially over the past 30 years from 250,000 to more than 2 million today.  Manaus, the city to which people flock hoping to find work and prosperity, only to be relegated to the margins of society… poorer than ever.  Manaus, one of the great industrial poles of Brazil, where all raw materials arrive via ship and all finished products leave the ports via ship.  Manaus, my new home.

            Paróquia São Bento (St. Benedict Parish) is located north of the city of Manaus in an area known as Cidade Nova (New City), and consists of houses and businesses that began as a shanty town and squatter’s village 35 years ago and has been “progressing” into buildings of concrete and steel, homes of brick and mortar, and streets lined with shopping centers and small restaurants ever since.

People outside of the mother church as they prepare for a procession for peace on January 1st of this year.

            The actual “mother church” of the parish was built in an area which was surrounded by forest when built on the extreme end of the city; today it is quite far from the end of the city!  There are 130,000 souls in the territory of the parish… so you can imagine that I keep quite busy!!!  The majority of the people live in the areas which are known as “favelas”, or what we would call “slums” in English.

            My parish is made up of a whopping twelve churches (!) each with very large congregations!  In fact, if there were enough priests in the Archdiocese of Manaus, 8 of those 12 churches could be their own parish!!!!  It’s kind of ironic… When I was pastor in Detroit, the only thing I asked for was to please NOT be made pastor of a cluster parish… and here I am pastor of not two or three churches, but of TWELVE!!!!!

            These past few months have been spent meeting with the community council (like parish council) of each church so that I can understand the challenges and gifts of each community, its needs and what it can offer, and how they are striving to build up the unity of our parish community.  I’ve met with all the different pastoral groups within the parish.  I’ve had the opportunity to celebrate mass in each of the churches as least once, and I’ve made a point of being present at as many events as possible.  I’ve begun visiting the religious education children (approximately 700!).  These first three months were spent – more than anything – just observing and attempting to understand the reality.  No big changes, no big decisions… just status quo for now.  Observe, take note, study, try to understand, analyze.

Beginning of Good Friday devotions.

Presentation of the Cross during Good Friday devotions.

Presentation of the cross at Good Friday devotions.

            Now I have begun the “work” stage.  I am trying to follow Pope Francis’ example of “de-centralizing” a lot of the mundane everyday tasks, leaving those decisions to the local community (of course, under the guidance of the pastor) in order to eventually free myself a bit more for pastoral work.

            The pastor before me – a great and holy servant of God to be sure – was not much of an organizer, and consequently everybody basically did whatever they wanted, conflict between competing groups for the same parish resources and spaces was the order of the day, and the parish finances also went “into the red”.  So I have spent a lot of time and energy putting some semblance of order back into the administrative side of the parish.  It has meant a lot of mediating between different groups with opposing ideas, and a lot of explaining to different groups as to WHY they can’t just do whatever they want anymore.

            I’ve also had to put a lot of time and energy into confronting some abuses which were occurring liturgically, such as lay people giving blessings with the monstrance when a priest wasn’t present (!), people celebrating Eucharistic adoration my going up to the altar and hugging the monstrance and cradling it like a child (!!), and some people even opening the tabernacle to give themselves communion (!!!).

            The Archdiocese, upon my entering in as pastor, asked us (well, ordered us, actually!) to implement their centralized and computerized parish accounting system; obviously wanting to obey – and being new so not having any point of reference – I obviously said yes.  It was a bumpy road getting all the 12 churches on board (Brazilians don’t like change very much, especially if it means leaving behind bad habits!), but we’ve done it!  It hasn’t been an extremely smooth transition, and I had to do a lot of coddling and encouraging, but the system is in place and seems to be working well.

            On a more personal note, the house (rectory) and office were in very poor shape.  Poor lighting, cockroaches EVERYWHERE, furniture with bugs coming out of it, a refrigerator held closed with a rope (!), grey institutional-colored walls everywhere, lots of accumulated “junk”, and just a very depressingly sad atmosphere.  PIME gave the parish a $5000 loan so that I could at least paint the walls inside our house and get some decent lighting and furniture.  I used my own money to buy a decent bed (and sheets and pillows), a small tv, a comfortable chair for reading, a dresser, and some items necessary for my office.  Now, finally, the rectory house is CLEAN and feeling like a home.  The same is true of the pastor’s (my!) office.

At the back of the mother church (sacristy entrance) with some of our Missionaries of the Immaculate sisters.

            So, that’s what my life has been like for the past three-and-a-half months.  Most days I am up and around by 7am and finally in bed and asleep close to midnight.  With twelve churches I am often “out of the office” visiting one community or other.  The unfortunate result is that I haven’t been in touch with all of you as much as I would have liked… But now I plan to take every Monday as my “day off” (as do the rest of the priests here in the Archdiocese) and to use that time in order to catch up with everyone… and to try and write at least one blog entry!

            Please PLEASE keep in touch: I really love to hear from all of you!