For or against?

Today's Gospel offers a real challenge in our polarized society. And I suspect that one reason Pope Francis makes some people very nervous is that he is actually demonstrating what that Gospel looks like in practice: "Whoever is not against you is for you."

This is so unlike the typical assumption (which we see in John: "We saw someone casting out demons in your name and we tried to stop him because his is not one of us") that anyone not in our in-group is an outsider at best--but more likely an enemy. Sad but true, I often find a variant of this attitude in myself. It can happen that when some "other" Catholic media enterprise achieves a goal my community has been struggling, perhaps for years, to reach, I may feel more regret (over our failure) than Pauline joy ("that Christ is being proclaimed").

Today's first reading, in its own way, speaks to that incipient depression, offering a vision of a restored and flourishing Jerusalem--an impossibility in the eyes of the prophet's audience, for sure. Because, in the end, isn't the polarizing "us or them" mentality a sign of a fundamental lack of hope? The kind of insecurity that is constantly taking stock of resources, operating on calculations rather than relationships? Francis, like Jesus, challenges that defensive posture--even though it makes his would-be handlers very nervous.

What would be different in your way of reading the news if you were convinced that "whoever is not against you is for you"?

More Roman tidbits

You never know what you're going to learn when you travel. This time I learned the Italian equivalent of "the floor is open" (for input from the assembly): "A voi la parola" (the word goes to you all). I also picked up a new, one-word way of saying "The question/comment I was going to raise has already been made by someone else": "assorbita."

So much for parliamentary vocabulary.

What about social vocabulary? Lots of people know that "ciao!" is the Italian all-purpose greeting (for hello or good-bye). Most may not realize that it is an extremely casual and familiar way of speaking. In all other circumstances, you can never go wrong with a "Salve" (this is a "hello" sort of greeting, but where you are just passing someone in a hall; the sort of situation that a nod of acknowledgement might work for in the US).

Little gossip bit? Cardinal Ruini (served as Vicar for Rome under John Paul II) is a race car fan, and waits each month for his Formula One magazine to arrive. That's probably because he's from the same province as Ferrari.

Italy photo of the week

Since I came back with hundreds of photos and don't exactly have free days, weeks or months at my disposition to sort through them all, I thought I would enlist this blog to do that for me, by featuring an Italy photo of the week for as many weeks as I ... get around to it. Join me in seeing how long it lasts, and enjoy the tour in the meantime!

In the "Castelli Romani" region near Castel Gandolfo, Sister Lucia Kim (the Chapter photographer)  aims her lens toward the sunset. A week later, we voted her onto our General Government, the first Korean sister at that level of leadership in our congregation.
This was taken on the property of the Regina Apostolorum Hospital, founded by Blessed James Alberione  as a place not only of medical and spiritual care, but as a  supernatural powerhouse where the "apostolate of suffering" could support all the media ministries and other services of the Pauline Family. (The hospital is now a regional hospital in the Italian health care system.)
Click on the image to see it in more detail.

Home, Sweet Home.

It's amazing how quickly I've adapted to speaking English all day; I don't even have to think about it first. After arriving in Boston Monday at midnight (the people in Boston thought it was only around 6 pm), I'm returning to Chicago tomorrow--and returning to a changed community. One sister is being transferred out (to Toronto) and another sister transferred in (from the motherhouse--after 20-something years). I'll show up in the afternoon to really stir up the soup.

Sister Margaret
already borrowed
one of the new
books!

What's on your wishlist?

Mail Call! All with
my name on them!

There were some surprises already waiting for me in Boston. Last Monday (17th), the Feast of St. Hildegard of Bingen, was declared "International Buy a Nun a Book Day" by Benedictine webmaster Sister Catherine Wybourne (@DigitalNun on Twitter). She was taking a page from the "Buy a Priest a Beer Day" meme. Bottom line: books trump beer any day of the week. I found five packages in the mailroom in Boston--and there are two more books waiting for me in Chicago, all from online friends who visited my Amazon wishlist on St Hildegard's Day and sent me a little literary love. A few of the gifts came with notes so I could thank the donors; some were anonymous. Yesterday I prayed a rosary for all of them.

Since part of the work of a Chapter is communicating the decisions and basic thrust to the rest of the sisters, I'll fulfill some of my immediate commitments in Chicago next week, and then return to Boston to work with the other delegates in preparing the presentations for the roughly 130 sisters who didn't spend the last month in Italy. Since I already registered for the Catholic New Media Conference (Boston, Oct 19-20), all I have to do is change one plane ticket. (Maybe later.)

Bet you can't find
all the patches*; some
are pretty clever.

When I come back, I'll also be able to pick up the new habit that is being made for me. When I was here in August, my already patched summer habit began to shred along the seams. I tried darning the holes, but there wasn't enough fabric for the thread to cling to. So while I was away, the seamstress added some creative new patches to provide me with a work dress that I won't have to worry about messing up. When Pope Francis' new encyclical on poverty comes out (presumably on Oct 4, Feast of St. Francis of Assisi), maybe I should wear this habit (even though...it's kind of embarrassing). (That thing Jesus said about patching an old cloak with unshrunken fabric? I hope that won't come into play here.) Meanwhile, the weather has changed enough that my winter habit will be pressed into service.

By the way, a little FSP habit trivia: The blue that you may know as "Daughter of St. Paul blue" has a real name, avion. The dye of my habit (photos) has long been bleached by the sun to a muted greyish color. I'm not sure there is a name for that, though.






* Give up? The edge of the button panel is really a patch over some really frayed fabric. The pockets are also patched, inside and out.

Rome: Body parts and works of art--sometimes in works of art

During my free time here in Rome, I've spent a good part of the day visiting churches, rapt in works of art that museums in the US would long to have (see my earlier post today on St. Matthew).

A surprising number of the churches are pretty laid back about photography, as long as you don't use a flash. I was disappointed to find a "no photos" sign by the Caravaggios in Santa Maria del Popolo, but having to restrain my trigger finger kept my eyes trained on the art itself.

This visit, I was especially taken by the Crucifixion of St Peter. It was so vivid, I expected to hear grunts of exertion from the executioners who were struggling to raise the laden crucifix to an upright position.

St Catherine of Siena (but not her
head) lies in state in a  marble
sarcophagus under the high altar.

I've also been surprised by the body parts that I've been finding. Thursday it was heads. The tiny skull of the young St. Agnes, in a silver reliquary behind the tabernacle in a dingy side chapel. The mummified, shrunken head of John the Baptist in an ornate reliquary, likewise in a dingy side chapel. The Precursor of the Lord has the misfortune of being positioned opposite a larger-than-life (and very colorful) statue of Mary at the foot of the Cross. During my short visit, Our Lady's statue got way more attention than the saint's remains.

Across the piazza from the Church of San Silvestro (John the Baptist's resting place), the Church of San Claudio was closed, so I missed out on the head of St. Peter Julian Eymard. But it was there last time I was in Rome.

I also visited a saint whose head was not in Rome, but in her native Siena. Despite the testimony of the marble sarcophagus which depicts an intact Catherine, the "sacra testa" of this Doctor of the Church was long ago claimed for the Siena Cathedral, where it awaits reunion with the rest of her body in the universal resurrection.

Another (creepy) head; from
Santa Maria sopra Minerva.

Yesterday was a day for arms. The first arm bone I came across was in the parish Church of Our Lady of Loretto, ground zero for the Padre Pio prayer groups of Rome. In fact, there was a priest stationed in the center aisle with a reliquary containing one of Padre Pio's distinctive cut-off gloves, and he blessed all comers with it, laying it on one's head as he said a prayer. The Padre Pio shrine includes a habit, vestments and other relics of the saint. But the altar next to it was devoted to St. Jude, and that was where the arm bone was: a large relic, said to be that of the Apostle himself. Since one of my brothers has Jude as his middle name, I lit a candle for him there.


I continued on my random, self-guided pilgrimage and finally made it to the Gesu, the mother-church of the Jesuits and burial place of St. Ignatius. This Church has a famous relic of the arm of St. Francis Xavier, who had once written about how his arm had become almost paralyzed from weariness after thousands and thousands of baptisms. But in a side altar there was another relic in a golden box. In case one was to wonder what might be in it, there was a bas-relief of a muscular arm and hand. It contains the arm of St. Andrew. So I prayed there for our Sister Andrew.

I have one more free day (or at least morning) in Rome. What else will I find?

St Matthew's Day

Keeping Up with Francis

Here in Italy, Father Spadaro's interview with Pope Francis was the topic du jour, as I am sure it was in Catholic settings everywhere else. I don't have to tell you to read the real thing and not the tabloid-headline summaries that were already all over the place yesterday. This was a wide-ranging interview that spanned three sessions, not a collection of sound bites prepared for a press conference. The questions went all over the place, and so did the Pope.

Some first impressions:
Pope Francis is a man of prayer. A good Jesuit, he lives by the principles of discernment, "finding God in all things" and especially in the present moment. He spoke at length about what discernment means, and about the "risk" of faith (and the danger of an "unquestioning" faith that has no room at all for doubt). He prays the breviary in Latin; he makes an Hour of Eucharistic Adoration every evening.

He admits that his early approach to government in the Church was too authoritarian. He explains how he learned from his mistakes, and what his plans are in that regard now that he is "the" authority in the Church. That group of Cardinal advisors? He expects real advice from them.

Interestingly, Pope Francis commented that people seem to attribute too much authority to the Vatican dicasteries. He indicated that they receive a ridiculous number of reports of heresy in Rome, when that is something that ought to be dealt with on a local basis (where, one suspects, the fuller picture is better known anyway).

Do not expect to see rapid, drastic systemic change. He made it pretty clear in the interview that he is only making initial steps, preparing the ground: "I believe that we always need time to lay the foundations for real, effective change."

He also acknowledged that he has been "reproved" (one suspects that this has happened even recently) for not being forceful enough in his teaching. (Who are these people?) Francis is not changing Church teaching one iota. Everything he says presumes that Church teaching remains valid and intact. What he is doing is shifting the focus in the popular mind from teachings to persons. Teachings, doctrines, dogmas: all important. But God's focus is on people. God sent his Son, Truth Incarnate, to "be like his brothers in every way." So Francis is trying to teach us to be like God and put people first. Even in the "hard cases," he holds on to the truth of the teachings while keeping the person front and center. This is where he spoke of the Church as a "field hospital." Those alleged dismissals of Church teachings in the area of sexuality? In the interview, the context is pastoral care--he presumes that the person is bringing everything to the sacrament of Penance--on a regular basis. Even in the confessional, Pope Francis does not condone rigorism that sees sin everywhere, or laxism that can't recognize sin in anything at all.

What about celibacy? Pope Francis is a Jesuit, so he has been living not only with a vow of celibacy like other priests, but with the three religious vows of poverty, chastity and obedience--plus that fourth vow of obedience to the Pope (which must be really tricky for him now). He sees the vow of chastity as a vow of "generativity": a vow of "fruitfulness"; of supernatural paternity. The last thing the vow of chastity or celibacy is meant to do is turn the person who professes it into a sterile, self-contented bachelor or "old maid." So expect to see Francis responding to people in a fatherly way--a way that also gives an example of fatherly responsibility.

Today's Gospel is a short passage from Luke about the women who accompanied Jesus and the Apostles, providing for their needs from their own resources. Pope Francis also spoke about the role of women in the Church in a way that some might find provocative. Men and women, Pope Francis said, are different. And yet often, the role of women in the Church is spoken of in masculine categories: "what I hear about the role of women is often inspired by an ideology of machismo. Women are asking deep questions that must be addressed. The church cannot be herself without the woman and her role." And this can only be done when we have articulated a real "theology of woman."

Something I thought helpful relates to preaching. Every homily, Pope Francis said, ought to begin with a proclamation. That sounds just like, well, "preaching," but it means a bit more. Think of the word as a pro-clamation; a resounding statement of something positive and directly life-giving. That is where the

I just happened to pass by one of Pope Francis' favorite
pieces of art yesterday: Caravaggio's "Call of Matthew."

homily begins. The Pope remarked that preachers who rarely "pro-claim" may not really know the Good News yet in a personal way.

Finally, Francis is an art critic. When asked about his favorite music and art, he mentioned Mozart ("of course"), as well as Beethoven, Bach, Wagner--but he specified particular interpretations of his favorite works. He grew up on Italian films, and especially loves Fellini. In paintings, his tastes run from Caravaggio (whose "Call of Matthew" he visited often when he stayed near San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome) to Chagall.

The interview is a long one, and each section deserves attention, consideration and prayer. I hope you are able to devote some time to reading it in its entirely!

Pope Francis: the Voice of the Shepherd

Where's Waldo? Can you spot the Swiss Guard,  standing
behind the first block of seats in St. Peter's Square?

Yesterday's Papal Audience was an incredible experience. I lived in Rome for over two years, during the time of the Great Jubilee. The only times I saw St. Peter's Square filled to capacity was during extra-special events, like the canonization of St. Faustina. Most of the time, even on major feasts, there were at the most 30 to 50,000 people. Basically, up to the obelisk. Max.

At yesterday's ordinary, everyday, mid-September general audience, the piazza was filled clear to the back. Bernini's colonnade couldn't hold all the people who had come to see and hear Pope Francis. And so Pope Francis went out to them.  The Popemobile took somewhere in the vicinity of 25 minutes to make the rounds of the piazza.


From the front rows where I was, even though I was (blush) standing on a chair, it was impossible most of that time to tell where the Pope was at any given moment: I could not hear the roar of the crowd, or even see their hands waving as they reached out to touch the Pope. This didn't exactly make it easy to train my camera on him when his little white zucchetto did come into view.

The experience reminded me of the passage in the Gospel where "the crowd was pressing in on Jesus to hear the Word of God" (Lk. 5:1), or that other passage, from John (Chapter 10) where Jesus explains that his sheep listen to his voice; they recognize the voice of the true shepherd and they follow him.

While we were waiting (hour after hour) in the morning sun for the program to begin, a young man in a cassock made his way across the front row, over the legs and feet of the elderly people seated in those very first chairs. He slipped around to the edge of the barricade at the center aisle and positioned himself there, assuring everyone that he would crouch down and not block their view. When one elderly lady protested, "We have been here since six this morning!" he reproached her: "If that is how you think, you have come here with the wrong attitude." No amount of remonstrating could convince him that he was acting inappropriately, so the old folks made enough of a fuss to bring a plain-clothes Swiss Guard over. The matter was taken care of expeditiously. Last night, and again today, I prayed for that young priest/seminarian (actually hoping he was a fraud). This is the sort of thing that sends Christ's sheep running out of the pasture; to have so young a person assuming such an overbearing clericalist sense of entitlement made me feel ill. Of the 100,000 or so in the square yesterday, I hope that this young man managed, somehow, to grasp Francis' message: ministry means being at the service of others.

I'm glad that for now Pope Francis is kind of a superstar. Even if his words are often taken out of context or completely misunderstood by people who until yesterday paid no attention at all to the Catholic Church, there is a chance that the message will be heard by those who have been waiting for the voice of the shepherd.

Catching up: Arezzo and Rome!

Our Chapter ended on Saturday with a final (8-second) electronic vote: it was unanimous, and the Chapter dissolved itself as a legislative body. Already about half of the members are back in their home countries. I am staying in Rome for a few extra days, taking advantage of the opportunity to visit the historic sites and get photographs for NunBlog and other Pauline initiatives. In fact, that is just what I have been doing since we got back to Rome on Sunday.

Monday, Sister Vanda (from our Montreal community) and I took a (very slow) train north to Arezzo, a medieval town just this side of Florence. The Pauline community there welcomed us, as they
would (hours later) welcome my provincial superior, Sister Leonora, who was coming to visit one of the sisters she had spent years with in Moscow. Sister Vanda was visiting the same sister, and I was there mostly for the art. I couldn't take as many pictures as I wanted (too many of those Vietato Foto signs greeting me), but those I managed to get will give you some idea of this incredible Tuscan town.  In a way, it was also to our advantage that we took the inexpensive train. It stopped in so many little villages along the way that I was able to see a lot of the countryside.


Today a large group of us went to Pope Francis' Wednesday open-air talk in St Peter's Square. Sister Vanda (my companion from Arezzo) had made arrangements for several of us to get tickets from a Sister of the Divine Master (our sister-congregation, founded by Blessed James Alberione). We had to meet her at quarter to seven. Or maybe seven. Or seven-fifteen.

Sister met us outside the Porta Santa Anna (we had just gotten out of the 7:00 Mass there), and led us with some other people right past the Swiss Guard and behind the colonnade. We made a slight left and walked by the Swiss Guard's chapel, and then kept going, in through a door in the great Leonine wall itself.

Note the halberd-style grate.

NunBlogger casts a long
shadow after passing through
 the Bronze Doors.

There was a kind of bank-style teller desk, behind a grate with little halberds at the top. We continued around a corridor and made a left where a Swiss Guard in dress uniform was posted, facing out. We were heading out, too: out of the great Bronze Doors themselves, and into St Peter's Square, where we were admitted into the front section.

Clear image of Babushka-Man in front of me.
He had a great view.

I ended up in the second row (right-hand side), second from the end, behind an elderly gentleman from Portugal. Once the morning grew hot, he donned a light blue scarf and wore it like a babushka. That scarf was kind of hard to get around, so many of my photos have a pale blue tinge toward the left side. Babushka-Man wasn't the only one who felt the sun was a bit too strong. Up on the "sagrado" (the upper level, even with the Papal chair) there was a bishop with a similar idea.

Babushka-Man was here

I had hoped to catch more images of the Holy Father on his way out of the Square. In fact, my group left for pranzo at the nearby Pauline student community, where the affable Sister Rosaria had invited us all to dine. I told them I'd catch up with them, but wanted to wait for the Pope to leave, in case he was going to pass our way. In fact, he would, but only after greeting the bishops (that group above seemed to include the Bishops of the Middle East making their ad limina visit), a Vietnamese government ministry delegation, and each and every person in the front rows of the sagrado area, plus all the newlyweds, the Italian canine organization whose members were there with their dogs.

 I waited 35 minutes, and there were still the canines and their masters lined up along a row of another hundred people.  Ah, Francis! I went for pranzo.

No wonder things are going so well. Plus: our new International Leadership

Our newly elected general government, as of yesterday around 6 pm: 

Sister M Lucia Kim (Korea); Sr Shalimar Rubia (Philippines); Sr Samuela Gironi (re-elected; native of Italy, missionary in Africa); Sr Karen Marie Anderson (USA, until yesterday our vice-provincial); Sr Anna Maria Parenzan (Superior General, former Vicar-General); Sr Anna Caiazza (re-elected; native of Italy); Sr Clarice Wisniewski (Brazil). 

Sr Anna Maria told me that it was the first time in our congregation's history that all six council members have been elected in one day. What makes that even more amazing is that this is also the most "diverse" Chapter assembly ever, and the first time we have native-born delegates from Pakistan, Madagascar, Congo and Kenya. A real sign of the Spirit!

Speaking of the Spirit, besides your prayers, we have the powerhouse backing of a whole list of cloistered communities who promised their prayers--in addition to the Poor Clares in Palos Hills, IL (whose assistance I requested months ago). Our Mother General-Emerita, Sister Antonieta, had written to the cloistered communities of pretty much all of Italy with a  prayer request. We have two binders filled with the responses from prioresses and Mothers Superior and abbesses. Some of the letters (like this sample from the Augustinian Monastery of Jesus and Mary in Bologna) could have been written by Blessed James Alberione himself: 

Through your work in the footsteps of St. Paul, and through the media of communications, may you spread the Word of God and reach to the ends of the earth. Announce-Sow-Spread [the Word]: Do not be afraid! The Lord makes use of little deeds to accomplish his miracles: HAVE FAITH!For our part, we will be spiritually present at your Chapter starting now, to call down the Light of the Holy Spirit so that every choice, every decision may be according to the will of God and for his greater glory.

And from the Passionists in Asti (yes, that Asti, though a bit in the countryside!):

May the experience of the Chapter prove to be an extraordinary event of GRACE in the context of the Year of FAITH. We know how precious is your MISSION for the spread of the GOSPEL, and so we call upon the Spirit of the Lord, that he may point out the persons who are the most suitable [for the general government]: persons noted for their interiority and the missionary spirit.

Finally, here's another letter (this time from the Poor Clares in Alcamo) that could serve as the basis for an entire retreat:

May the Spirit 'animate' the chapter sisters so that they can find new and fitting ways to offer everyone the gift of the Gospel. May they also have an experience of God so that anyone who meets a Daughter of St. Paul will not walk away without having met Him and experienced Him, too.

Which would you choose to suffer?

The other evening at supper, I sat with a sister from Argentina, one from Montreal, one from China and one from Kenya. Somehow or other the conversation turned to the staple foods in the area.

Turns out (unsurprisingly, I suppose), corn has become a basic item in Italy (polenta) and Kenya, as well as (of course) Latin America. The sister from Kenya told us that in some areas, the people subsist on corn, beans and potatoes. And in these regions, diabetes is a growing threat.

One sufferer told Sister, "I would rather get AIDS than diabetes. If you get AIDS, the medicine is free. But I can't get medicine for diabetes."

Update from Rome: our new Mother General.

This morning we elected a new Superior General* 
for the Daughters of St. Paul.
Sister Anna Maria Parenzan is from northern Italy, and has served in our Generalate (world headquarters) for many years, first as a spirituality researcher (and practitioner! she's our leading expert in the spiritual theology of Blessed James Alberione), then as the Secretary General, then as a General Counselor and Vicar. I have known her for about 15 years, and have always seen her as a wise and humble woman, ready to be of service.

After the election, she took an oath of office and general merriment ensued, with the sister from Congo supplying some enthusiastic ululating. Sister Anna Maria did not wait to receive the sisters one by one, but left the podium area returned to the assembly rows to greet us. (The Congolese sister did a little celebratory dance around her at that point.) At supper, the different language groups offered songs. The English speaking group (US, Great Britain and Australia--India and the Philippines had their own cultural offerings) didn't quite know what to sing, so we just gave a rousing version of "She's a jolly good fellow." The French-speaking sisters were at a real disadvantage: there are only two of them (although several of the sisters from Africa-Madagascar speak French). So it was "Alouette" from Montreal and France. Earlier, a group of the Italian sisters jokingly sang "E qui comando io" to the meek new Mother General.

Tomorrow we begin to elect her closet collaborators, the members of the General Council.





*A word about the wording: In the religious life (even in the Jesuits!), the word "General" has no military resonance at all. It simply means "overall"; as in "General Electric." So the Superior General is simply the superior with overall responsibility for the order or congregation. 

Stories from Rome (a few little inside scoops)

One thing about being at a significant meeting in Rome...the speakers who address us often have anecdotes that never make it to the press. So I've picked up a few new insights into Pope Francis from people who knew him in his former life. I've also been impressed at the freedom, openness, clarity and sheer honesty of those who work day after day in the offices that from the other side of the ocean can seem so calcified and sanctimonious.

Our meeting this afternoon with the "Cardinal Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life" was one of those impressive events. First of all, the imposing title: doesn't it conjure up an image of a dour, scarlet-clad prince of advanced age shaking his finger at all those wacky nuns who want to be priests? Instead,João Braz de Aviz came to the Chapter Hall wearing a white clerical shirt and black jacket. "Wooden cross," one of the Italian sisters observed of his pectoral cross. "Good sign." The jovial Brazilian (who still carries 130 bits of shrapnel in his flesh after surviving a violent robbery), was transferred from the Archdiocese of Brasilia to his post in Rome by Pope Benedict (on the recommendation of Cardinal Bergoglio).

Brazilians are big huggers. Even the Cardinals.

He proceeded to give us the most inspiring talk we've had all month. He both encouraged and challenged us at the same time--and in the same sentence (actually in the same words of the same sentence). "A half-Christian culture has in some way taken the place of the Word of God as if to suffocate it...but the Word has to take its central place again so it can release all its power": at least, that's what I managed to scribble in my notes, translating as I wrote--so the words are definitely not exact, but you get the drift. "We were not made for the works [of our congregations]; we were made for God." You'd be surprised, but nuns do not hear this kind of thing often enough!

He spoke of community life and the spirituality of communion as inculcated by Pope John Paul. "Who is the other for me? One who can bring God to me so I can love him." He told us how St. Basil had commented that the eremetical life (hermits living alone) could not be the perfection of Christian charity because there was no one with them whose feet needed to be washed. He spoke of the "gratuitousness" of charity in community, as rich as it is challenging. He even dared to speak of authority (in a room filled with superiors!), gently assuring all that domination, even in the name of "God's will," makes fraternal living vanish. The Trinity, where diversity and unity are in perfect communion, has to be more clearly the source and model of our life in community: even in God it is only love that is the binding force!

But I didn't promise you a sermon. I promised you some little scoops. 

Cardinal Braz de Aviz told us that he only learned the back story of his appointment a month or two ago--from Pope Francis! About the Pope, he said "He is really governing the Church. He calls me every week asking what I think about something, or he sends me a little note.... This makes a person feel really responsible!" The Cardinal hinted at the changes to come as the Pope continues to set his own tone to the services the Vatican offers him in his governing role.

He also gave a fun, first-person perspective on the papal motorcade in Rio for World Youth Day. The Pope insisted on riding in a mid-sized Fiat, while the rest of the entourage (including Cardinal Braz de Aviz) followed in cars provided by the Brazilian State Department. As they continued through the city, once the Pope's little car passed by, people turned away from the imposing government vehicles. "Next time I have to be in a papal motorcade," the Cardinal resolved, "I'm going on a motorcycle!"

Another little insight into Pope Francis comes from a priest who has spent many years in Latin America, and so was quite familiar with the Cardinal Archbishop of Buenos Aires. "I never saw him laugh," the priest remarked. "He was sociable, but just a serious person." He had occasion to meet Pope Francis recently, and took the opportunity to ask a personal question. "What's going on? We never saw this side of you before." The Pope admitted that when the crucial 77th vote was announced, "I felt something come over me, and it hasn't left."

We were disappointed that our request for a private audience with Pope Francis did not receive the answer we had all hoped for (such audiences used to be fairly typical for General Chapter groups, but Pope Benedict had put a halt to them); maybe Cardinal Braz de Aviz can ... pull whatever strings are left (next time Pope Francis calls his office!). My own conclusion today is that the Church in Latin America is giving the universal Church some wonderful gifts in these bishops, and God deserves some thanks and praise!

The Pope's anguished plea for peace

Yesterday's Angelus in St. Peter's Square brought us a very different picture of Pope Francis. Instead of the jovial pastor among his flock, he was serious, even grave in demeanor. "I make my own the cry [you could also translate it "scream"] which rises up with increasing anguish: it is the cry for peace." (Read the full text Pope Francis' appeal for peace on the Vatican Radio site.)

There is a judgment of God and of history upon our actions which are inescapable! Never has the use of violence brought peace in its wake. War begets war, violence begets violence.

The Pope, of course, is not the only Catholic concerned with peace in Syria. From Syria itself, from a Trappist convent in Aleppo, comes another strongly worded appeal:

You see the beauty of these hills, the smile on people’s faces…. And then you remember that they have decided to bomb us tomorrow. … Just like that. Because “it’s time to do something,” as it is worded in the statements of the important men…. 

Will they make us breathe the toxic gases of the depots they hit, tomorrow, so as to punish us for the gases we have already breathed in?

The people are straining their eyes and ears in front of the television: all they’re waiting for is a word from Obama! 

A word from Obama? Will the Nobel Peace Prize winner drop his sentence of war onto us? Despite all justice, all common sense, all mercy, all humility, all wisdom?

It does appear as if the "important men" have lost their minds, contemplating a new war when we have already had a millennium's worth of wars in just 13 years. (It does occur to me that perhaps the Nobel Peace Prize has lost its usefulness.)


The Pope asks all Catholics, all Christians, all religious believers and people of good will to join in a day of intense prayer and fasting for peace (Sept. 7). That evening there will be a nighttime vigil in St. Peter's Square as well.

Our "General Chapter" community here in Rome started a Rosary Novena for peace last night, to end on the day the US Congress is set  to vote on the question of whether or not to initiate military action (i.e. start yet another war) in Syria. We'll also accept the Pope's proposal to observe Saturday as a day of fasting for peace. (It was already planned into our calendar as a day of prayer.)

What about you? Can you think of ways to invite people with no religious convictions to join with us in fasting in an act of solidarity that is the opposite of war (as well as solidarity in the experience of those whose lives and livelihoods have already made the search for "daily bread" a daily challenge)? What do you propose as a way to invite non-Catholics and non-believing people to accept the Pope's recommendation?