The Easter Itinerancy

(An old post updated)

Every year on this holy night I reflect on the grace of itinerancy that the Holy Spirit has given me; only twice in my whole baptism have I been in the same place for the Easter Vigil for more than two years in a row. When I think about all the places I've been for the Vigil, it puts me in awe of God and in a state of gratitude for my journey.

Here's my Easter Vigil history:

• 2026: Sacred Heart, Yonkers, NY (concelebrant)
• 2025: Sacred Heart, Yonkers, NY (celebrant)
• 2024: Sacred Heart, Yonkers, NY (concelebrant; first time in charge of RCIA)
• 2023: Annunciation, Crestwood, Yonkers, NY (concelebrant)
• 2022: Our Lady of Sorrows, White Plains, NY
• 2021: Our Lady of Sorrows, White Plains, NY
  
  
• 2020: (COVID-19 pandemic, prayed what is provided in the Liturgy of the Hours for qui sollemni Vigilæ paschali non interfuerunt)
• 2019: Basilica of St. Teresa of Ávila, Rome
• 2018: Basilica of St. Camillo de Lellis, Rome
• 2017: Basilica of St. Camillo de Lellis, Rome (in the 25th year of my baptism)
• 2016: Capuchin General Curia, Rome (concelebrant)
  
  
  

RIP: Fr. Raphael Iannone, OFM Cap.

Homily for the funeral Mass of +Fr. Raphael Iannone, OFM Cap.

This is a humbling task. Certainly there are many of you, friars and otherwise, who knew Fr. Raphael better than I did. I mostly knew him as our postulant director at St. Michael’s, and as I reflected on what to say today, three memories of Fr. Raphael came to mind from that time.

First, let me tell you how I hit it off with Fr. Raphael at the beginning of the postulant year. Before this, when we were candidates, we had many of our discernment weekends at the old St. Francis friary in Garrison. Taking it all in on those stays, I noticed, among many other things, the images of the Capuchin saints in the hallways of the place. Often they had a crucifix. That’s easy, I said to myself, I have a crucifix. But they also often had, on a desk or somewhere around, a skull as a memento mori. That I didn’t have. So before entering the postulancy program, I looked in a science teacher supply catalog and ordered myself a realistic-looking plastic skull.

Then, when I was moving into St. Michael’s, Fr. Raphael saw the skull on my desk and asked me about it.

I replied, “I saw the skulls in the pictures of the Capuchin saints and I thought you needed one.” He looked at me, I looked at him, he looked at me, and then he just burst out laughing. I felt accepted right away. Fr. Raphael had the gift of making you feel that, accepted.

Here’s the second memory. Early on in the postulancy year my mother came to visit the friary. Now my family isn’t Catholic, so this whole friar thing that I’ve done with my life was a curious unknown to them. But this has never been a concern; the friars have always been friendly and hospitable, regular people. (This in itself taught me something about this group, about its generosity and openness.)

So my mother came down to St. Michael’s to see the place and have supper with us postulants and the friars. A few days later I called her to check in about it. How did she find the visit?

“Oh,” she said, “it was delightful. Everyone was so nice, they gave me a glass of wine, and both Fr. Bill (the other postulant director) and Fr. Raphael gave me a kiss. But I think Fr. Raphael meant it more.”

You can see it, right? Fr. Raphael just had that classic, Franciscan, earthy goodness.

My third memory is from closer to the end of the postulant year. I was walking by Raphael’s room, which was a sight in itself–the huge desk in the middle of the room, placed at a curious angle to the rest of the space, what he called his ‘rock collection’ over in a corner, and the World Wrestling Federation throw rug adorning the floor.

But that day there was an unusual sight: Fr. Raphael sitting behind the desk, looking uncharacteristically subdued and pensive. Was he ok? Should I ask? Maybe that’s not my place. He’s the director and I’m a postulant. He’s the guardian and I’m not even a friar yet. Maybe I should get one of the friars to see if he’s ok?

By God’s grace, the courage came, and I went in and asked Fr. Raphael if he was ok. For his part, he just opened up. He was upset because he had to tell one of the postulants to go home.

See, Fr. Raphael loved us, postulants in his charge, he really loved us. And it gave him great pain to have to tell one of us it was time to depart from the formation program.

As I’ve reflected from time to time over the years on this brief encounter between me and Fr. Raphael, I’ve come to realize that it was an important moment in my initial formation, in my learning about our Capuchin charism of evangelical fraternity, gospel brotherhood.

Because at that moment it was less a meeting between a guardian and a brother in the house, between a director and a postulant, and more just an encounter between two disciples of Jesus Christ, one who was bearing the cross of that day–that is to say the intersection of love and suffering in his own consecrated life–and this is also important, willing and vulnerable, like the Lord himself in the gospel we heard, to be seen in that intersection of agony and love–and another disciple given the grace to witness and give reverence to that embrace of the cross.

In this I learned that part of our charism, our mission as lesser brothers, is just that, to encounter, witness, and revere the intersections of love and suffering among ourselves and in the people and places we live in and serve, for this is to encounter and revere the Cross of Jesus Christ, the Cross which is the Sacrifice that saves the world.

Thank you, Fr. Raphael.

For the obituary, click here.

RIP: Joe Zepf

The other day I happened to see that Joseph R. Zepf had passed away at the age of ninety-nine. He was the best spiritual director I have ever had. He was wise, practical, and funny.

For his obituary, click here. I had no idea he had led such a rich life.

I connected with Mr. Zepf at some point in the later 1990s, during the period in between my times in religious life. In those days the Archdiocese of New York had a very neat spiritual direction matchmaking service. You went somewhere in Rye, New York and met with this sister. She asked you about your prayer life, its forms and rhythms and so on. She asked about your favorite saints and what spiritual books had most influenced you. Then she said, well, give me some time to pray and reflect on this. In my case she called a couple of weeks later, said that she was confident she had discerned the right director for me, and sent me to Mr. Zepf.

I met with him at a parish office in Port Chester, New York. I don't remember what parish it was. It was a bit of a drive from West Haven, Connecticut where I was living at the time, but very much worth it.

Those soon became the days when I was thinking about applying to the Capuchins. I had left the novitiate of the OFM at Christmas 1995 and though I continued to desire Franciscan religious life, the difficulties and confusions surrounding that experience had left me skittish about trying again.

One time I asked Mr. Zepf directly, did he think I should join the Capuchins?

"How should I know? If it's going to help you get closer to Jesus, then do it."

I entered the Capuchin postulancy in the summer of 2000. From where we were in East New York, Brooklyn, I was about the same distance to Port Chester as I had been in West Haven. Unfortunately, however, my Capuchin formators wouldn't let me keep Mr. Zepf. In their estimation, he didn't have the right credentials in spiritual direction. This annoys me a little bit to this day.

Lux æterna luceat ei.

RIP: Fr. Christopher Dietrich, OFM Cap.

Fr. Christopher Dietrich, OFM Cap.

Fr. Chris was one of those friars who kept to himself and did his own thing, so I probably would never have gotten to know him at all except that he was parochial vicar at Sacred Heart in Yonkers when I was sent there for my first assignment. I became the second parochial vicar, the 'junior' one I suppose you could say. He was very attentive to me when I was new, taking me on walks around the parish boundaries and telling me about the history of the neighborhood (he was a native), introducing me to different parks in the area that were good for walks (he was a great walker), and so on.

As a new priest with a head full of theory and theology but very little sense of what the sacred ministry looked like in day-to-day practice, I was careful to observe the priests around me in those days. I noticed that Fr. Chris was very much appreciated by the people as a confessor and preacher. He had a gift for the sort of folksy preaching that has long been associated with Franciscans.

Having gone to Fordham for college (where he came under the influence of Avery Dulles), Paul -- as he was known in the world -- entered the Order when he was twenty-two, making him a 'late vocation' by the standards of his time. I always got the feeling that this left him with a hint of alienation with regard to the brothers, as if he were an irregular member. It was something I began to identify with in my developing understanding of the particulars of my own vocation to consecrated life.

He was one of the few friars of my province who kept his religious name after permission (and encouragement, I suspect) was given to return to use of one's baptismal name. He liked to joke about how his patron saint had been removed from the general calendar, and disputed the allegation of non-existence by producing a relic of St. Christopher that was in his possession.

Fr. Christopher was also an ordination classmate of the late Fr. Benedict Groeschel, something I didn't realize until we had a celebration for Chris's fiftieth of priesthood and Benedict showed up.

Perhaps in your charity you could offer a prayer for the eternal rest of this friar and priest, my first colleague in the sacred ministry.

Requiescat in pace.

Some Things I'll Miss

On the Monday after Pentecost in 2012 I got on an airplane in Boston and the next morning the guardian of the Capuchin General Curia fraternity and the Secretary General of the Order collected me from the airport in Rome. Now, in the first week of Advent 2019, I'm going home. It's the longest I've been anywhere since growing up.

These seven and a half years have been a remarkable time in my journey as a Christian and a religious. I have had the opportunity to get to know the Capuchin Order at the international level and have lived and worked with friars from all over the world. Twice I had the opportunity to meet Pope Francis.

On the other hand, this assignment hasn't always been easy; there have been times of darkness and difficulty for sure. As my first counterpart for Portuguese (I was secretary for English) put it, the best things in Rome are pasta, vino, e Fiumicino! meaning that, ok, the food here is good but what's best is to go home.

Nevertheless, this has been a time much blessed by God. A lot of that grace I can already discern, but I'm sure much more will be noticed over time.

There are plenty of things I won't miss about my existence in Rome and Italy. In order to avoid getting negative as I was finishing up my Roman period, I began to cultivate a list of some of the stuff I will miss:

• probably more than anything else, up to date Roman-Franciscan/Capuchin liturgical texts and books
• going to Assisi for the day
• confession available every day, morning and afternoon
• the Capuchin Sisters of Mother Rubatto and the 6 a.m. walk through Villa Borghese when it was my turn to celebrate weekday Mass for them
• visits to the Libreria Editrice Vaticana and the Libreria La Leoniana
• St. Peter's Basilica early in the morning
• the Italian Bishops' Conference Liturgy of the Hours mobile app
• not having to remember the name of a local bishop at Mass
• multicultural Christmas eve suppers with the handful of friars left 
• cappuccino e cornetto
• pizza al taglio

Deacon Ron

Deacon Ron baptized me:

Our Lady of Perpetual Help, Quaker Hill, Connecticut. Summer 1992.

A few days ago I heard that Deacon Ron was nearing the end of his journey in this life, and since then the friars and I have been praying for him and his family. Today I see that he passed away on Thursday.

My initiation into the Catholic faith was rather irregular; I dare to say that I was born out of order like St. Paul. (cf. 1 Cor 15:8)

I was a dumb kid. I thought I was very smart, as young people often do after they have learned a little bit of this or that. But I was quite innocent, and, as the saying goes on the worst kind of ignorance, I didn't know what I didn't know.

But nevertheless, God was at work and I knew I wanted to become a Catholic, even though I had no idea what I was getting myself into -- and this is divine mercy; if it was all revealed to us, we might be overcome with fear. I have told my conversion story elsewhere -- light version here -- and how I came to be in the pastoral care of Deacon Ron.

He and his wife received me into their home with great kindness over that summer of 1992 when I stayed at school in New London and was employed by the reference department in the library. I must have seemed on odd figure to them, with my good old 8-hole ox blood Docs and I shudder to think what t-shirts ill-suited to the occasion, with a lot of book-learning about the faith (or so I thought) but quite short on any practical sense of such a Church being made up of actual people.

Nevertheless, Deacon Ron and his wife were extraordinarily gentle and welcoming, and from their example I learned more than I realized at the time. Deacon Ron was the first person I met who had a real personal devotion to a saint -- St. John Vianney -- and I observed how that fit into someone's ministry and prayer.

After Deacon Ron baptized me, while I was straightening up from leaning over the font, I heard him say, quietly but audibly,

"Beautiful."

It has always stayed with me; I think because I could understand, even somewhat at the time, that he wasn't exactly saying that it was beautiful that this random kid from up-at-the-college had been baptized, but that in this he was able to see through to divine beauty.

That is to say, in theological terms, that a sacrament had happened.

When Deacon Ron let out about the divine beauty he glimpsed in that moment, I learned something -- even if in such a way as to not be very aware of it at the time -- about the spirituality of the sacred ministry, the ministry which, some fifteen years later, the Order would assist me in discerning as my own path in religious life.

It was a very special joy for me when, still a very new priest, I had a chance to return to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, where Deacon Ron had baptized me, and celebrate the Sunday Mass with Deacon Ron's assistance. And not to forget the particular service of being the wife of a permanent deacon, Ron's wife helped me out with the particular 'volunteer from the audience' shtick that I used in my homily that day.

You have passed away from us for now, Deacon Ron, but the fruits of your ministry and your good example remain. May St. John Vianney welcome you to your service at the Heavenly Altar.

Requiescat in pace.

Obituary here.

Silver Jubilee of Christian Initiation

(An ongoing post, updated)

Today is my anniversary of baptism; I am twenty-five years old. It's my Silver Jubilee! When I think of the adventure that began that day at Our Lady of Perpetual Help in little Quaker Hill, Connecticut, I cannot but confess that one of the most abiding graces has been the 'cloud of witnesses' that has guided and supported me along the way. So today in my gratefulness I pray in special way for everyone the Lord has given me to accompany me in this journey.

Always With Me

Today is a big Franciscan feast, that of Our Lady of the Angels of the Portiuncula, when, also for all the faithful, according to a certain tradition by the request of St. Francis himself, the Pardon of Assisi or Portiuncula indulgence is available at your local Franciscan church or oratory, or at your parish church, visited to honor Our Lady and the Angels, and according to the normal conditions for the gaining of indulgences, of course.

Today I'm thinking of the little holy card of Our Lady of the Angels, which I've had with me since, as best as I can reconstruct the timing, since the morning of Friday, April 23, 1993.

Saint Mary of the Angels/pray for us

A Prayer For My Dead Confessors

One of the standard activities of a visit to our place in Yonkers is a trip to the friars' cemetery to remember and pray for our dead.

This is the section where the friars have been buried since I joined the Capuchins. When I was a postulant we were on the back row. A few others who have died since then are buried elsewhere.

I prayed a special gratitude for those friars who had been ministers of the mercy of God for me in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. That is to say, my confessors.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord
And let perpetual light shine upon them.

Requiescant in pace.

Blessed Solanus Casey

Today in the daily Bulletin of the Holy See Press Office there has appeared the awaited news that Pope Francis has authorized the publication of the decree to recognize the miracle attributed to the intercession of our own Fr. Solanus Casey.

Of course I'm happy about this as a Capuchin, and as a member of one of the Provinces of the Order that descends from the one that Solanus, then called Bernard, had joined back in 1897. But I'm also grateful in a personal way.

At the beginning of my postulancy with the Capuchins we made a visit to Fr. Solanus's tomb in Detroit. I remember praying for his intercession as I began this new, Capuchin phase of my Franciscan journey.

More recently, I have been happy to be helpful on the peripheries of his cause for beatification. I have translated emails and been a communication go-between for our friars in the USA and the office of the General Postulator here at the Capuchin General Curia in Rome. Though I must confess that I wasn't a great success at this, I did some translating of pathologist's reports from English into Italian with regard to the investigation of the miracle attributed to Fr. Solanus's intercession.

Today I am happy to see that things are official, and the way forward to Fr. Solanus's beatification has been set. And I'm grateful for having had the chance to help in some small way.

Blessed Solanus Casey, pray for us!

Twenty-Four Years of Brothers and Sisters

[an old post, updated]

Today is my twenty-fourth anniversary of baptism. I don't think I had any idea what I was getting into that Saturday midday when I walked up out of the basement of Freeman Hall at Connecticut College, made my way out the Williams St. gate and went down to Our Lady of Perpetual Help in Quaker Hill. Perhaps it's part of the mercy of God that I had little idea. In any case, the Holy Spirit knew what he was doing and that's what matters.

As always, this anniversary reminds me to thank God and pray for all the people he has given me along the way, those who have been bearers of the graces God has willed in his generosity towards a lukewarm disciple like myself.

Begotten in the Only Begotten

I always appreciate when St. Irenaeus's Against Heresies comes up in the Office of Readings; it's one of a handful of books given me to read in theology that I think improved my understanding of Christianity in a basic way. The passage given for Pentecost begins this way:

When the Lord told his disciples to go and teach all nations and baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, he conferred on them the power of giving men new life in God.

Reflecting on that, I found myself, as I do sometimes, praying for all of those who have been my spiritual parents along the way.

RIP: Fr. Benedict Groeschel

In  the quiet of the afternoon of the feast of St. Francis I got the news that Fr. Benedict Joseph Groeschel, CFR, had passed from this life.

I met Fr. Benedict a few times over the years: a couple of times at Capuchin events, once on the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe at the CFR novitiate in Newark, and once at a celebration of Confirmation at The Children's Village in Dobbs Ferry, New York, at which Cardinal Dolan presided.

As I prayed for Fr. Benedict's eternal rest last night, a couple bits of gratefulness came to mind in particular. The first was for a television series he had on EWTN in the early 90s. If I remember rightly, it was called The Truths of Salvation. I don't remember if I was watching it while still a 'seeker' or if I was already baptized, but that show provided a lot of my early catechesis. The other thing I thought of was Fr. Benedict's book, The Courage to be Chaste, which was a great help to me at one time.

Requiescat in pace.

A Couple of Joys

It's been almost a month since the move to town, and I find myself just thanking God for some of the joys of the new situation. Here are a couple of them:

After lunch and supper we friars do the dishes. Maybe it doesn't seem like a big deal, but it's something plain and wholesome and honest that wasn't part of our life during my two years at the Collegio. Most days it has fallen to me to do the drying at the end of the pots and pans line. I enjoy the conversation or pray if there isn't any. I often think of St. Teresa: Mirad que entre los pucheros y las ollas anda Dios. "See that God walks among the pots and pans."

Another joy is that now that we are in town, I'm able to take some Masses outside of the house. This week I'm going to the Capuchin Sisters of Mother Rubatto. It's good to have to preach at daily Mass, even if it's with my very few words of Italian. It's also a nice walk to the sisters--through the Villa Borghese park and around the zoo, where I hear some of the animals getting up in the morning. It's also good to pray and be with women, even if Mother General gave me a translation project to do!

One other note about the sisters: Since I would be going all week, I left my alb at the convent. Sister Sacristan, perhaps regarding my paper-clip zipper pull as undignified or inadequate, replaced it with a loop of cord.

Landing

A couple of months into my third year in Italy I have landed in my fourth--and presumably final--location. First was a month in Assisi as a student at the Accademia Lingua Italiana Assisi then three months in the Roman neighborhood of Garbatella while a student at the funnily named Torre di Babele (Tower of Babel) language school here in Rome. Then almost two years in the back section of the Collegio Internazionale San Lorenzo da Brindisi in the outskirts of Rome with the rest of the displaced fraternity of the General Curia, where it was staying while the Curia in town began renovations.

And now, even though the renovations aren't quite done, I've moved with the rest of the fraternity of the General Curia back to its proper home in the middle of Rome.

The new building is very nice. For the first time since I was parochial vicar in Yonkers, I have an office that isn't my room, which is a good boundary between work and life. I'm reminded a lot of the beginning of my post-novitiate formation, which was the last time I lived through a building renovation. One of the things that isn't done is the church, so we have been going around the corner in the morning to pray Morning Prayer and Mass with the Montfort Missionaries at their little church dedicated to Our Lady, Regina Cordium. (Queen of Hearts). I don't mind at all. Sometimes in religious life I have missed that feeling of 'going to church.'

Mostly I'm grateful for the landing.

Presentation of the Lord

Thus says the Lord God:
Lo, I am sending my messenger
to prepare the way before me;
And suddenly there will come to the temple
the LORD whom you seek,
And the messenger of the covenant whom you desire.
Yes, he is coming, says the LORD of hosts.
But who will endure the day of his coming?
And who can stand when he appears?
For he is like the refiner’s fire,
or like the fuller’s lye.
He will sit refining and purifying silver,
and he will purify the sons of Levi,
Refining them like gold or like silver
that they may offer due sacrifice to the LORD.
Then the sacrifice of Judah and Jerusalem
will please the LORD,
as in the days of old, as in years gone by.
(Malachi 3:1-4)

I love the feast of the Presentation of the Lord. It's one of those days that just seems so mystical. Falling on the cross-quarter between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox, it recalls that the Light, born at Christmas and adored by the wise men, born away from any home, now arrives in his historical home, his Temple.

The Crown Sister Ida Gave Me

My departure from the novitiate of the Order of Friars Minor, Holy Name Province (New York), on Christmas Day 1995, quickly became one of the most significant events in my spiritual journey. The prayer and spiritual attitudes that came out of it served me well then and have continued to serve and form me as a Christian and as a religious. I am more grateful to God for few things, and remain grateful to my novice master for having the courage to let me go when it was the right thing for my vocation.

21st Anniversary of Baptism Ramble

Well, there I am, twenty-one years ago today, receiving one of the anointings from Deacon Ron at little Our Lady of Perpetual Help in Quaker Hill, Connecticut. It was a Saturday.


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One Year In Italy Post

There's still a week left to go until I will have been here in Italy for a calendar year, but in liturgical time the anniversary has come. It was the Monday after Pentecost, the first day of the greater stretch of Ordinary Time, that I left the USA.

RIP: Jeff Hanneman

I had known about his unfortunate illness, but I didn't realize how serious it was.

For better or for worse, Reign in Blood--much of the music for which Hanneman wrote--changed my life. I still listen to it sometimes. One time a while back I found myself listening to it on my little old iPod (which I have thanks to a gracious Yonkers bride who gave me an iTunes gift card) as I walked the path around the Collegio Internazionale San Lorenzo da Brindisi here in Rome. I stopped as I recalled how, twenty-one years before, my decision to become a catechumen had come out of a brooding daily routine that often included a nocturnal walk around the outer path of Connecticut College while Reign in Blood played in my Walkman. Maybe I'm boring. Maybe I know a classic.

Though at times the devil has gotten into it to stir up a vainglory that made me forget other, more important graces, it's still true that the music epitomized by what Jeff Hanneman gave us was indeed a remote preparation for greater graces God has given me, by making me realize that the ordinary thing, in this case the music that everybody else was listening to, wasn't what I really wanted.

Requiescat in pace. May his family and friends have strength and comfort in these days.