Diaconia
Online

Volume XIX
Number 2
May 1999

A Director's Experience

Asked to look back to the mid-nineties and my days at the Diaconate Office, I reached for files and discovered that the journey went back much further. In the early seventies, I had written about this renewed ministry for a parish newsletter. In the eighties I had written more than a dozen columns or essays about the Diaconate in The Pilot. I had come to know about Diaconate through study of liturgical rituals and documents. But most of all I came to learn of Diaconate in the experience of the journey of Paul and Louise Markey when I was at Holy Family Parish in Rockland.

Several things stand out in that earlier memory: the sense of service ministry that had its source and strength from the gathered Christian assembly but that went out beyond into the world; the interrelationship of the sacraments of Holy Orders and Matrimony; the bonding relationship of deacons and deacons’ wives in area clusters; and the significance and importance of prayer in the lives of both deacons and deacons’ wives. Early on, I also came to appreciate the special call of the unmarried deacons.

These memories very much shaped my approach to the task when I picked up the baton from Frank Silva. As things turned out the transition was quick and immediate; my appointment was only a few days before he was leaving for Rome. But such was the well organized style of his tenure and the great staff he had assembled – Fran Ryan, Clare O’Keefe S.C., Bill Wildes, and José Corral – that stepping into the desk was quite easy.

Beyond the enclave of the office, the days ahead proved challenging as I began to meet nearly two hundred Boston Deacons, and many more throughout the region and the nation. The scores of candidates and applicants added to keeping my agenda busy.

Then, as earlier, the deepest impressions came from the spirit of community, the sense of mission and the rootedness in prayer. Mine was to be a brief tenure – having discussed at the outset a hope that a deacon would take on the role within a few years.

There were some memorable moments in the early days. I decided to meet the candidates and their wives at the rectory dining room table trying out different recipes with each meeting. It gave me a taste of the servant role. And it nearly exhausted my supply of recipes.

I raised some challenges with which some were not all that comfortable but which all received graciously. Limiting assignments to terms and moving beyond the home parish was not the least of these.

I left the role with unfinished agenda. For example, the value of academic degrees and the discipline of graduate studies as against the value of formation classes where grades and competitiveness were not on the front burner. The latter did tend towards a more relaxed learning atmosphere but the end result, without a graduate degree, did not have the measured categories which would have proven helpful to deacons and their wives in academic and secular circles.

The separateness of the Hispanic track from the Anglo track was another agenda that constantly faced us. At one level it was inevitable. But as with all the life of the church in the Archdiocese it presents a challenge that we should not avoid. It is easy to limit our outlook on religion and life to the familiar language and the culture of our own clan; we stay in our own circles. The Boston Archdiocese is gifted with a wealth of cultures and languages; the more we interrelate and keep in touch with one another in our journey of faith the greater is this gift.

Looking back to those days at the desk in the Diaconate office brings forth gratitude for good years and good friendships. Looking to the years since, it is good to see the diaconate continue to grow. My regular contact now is as pastor of one of the candidates and his wife. From both sides of the fence, things look good.

Rev. Richard J. Butler

From the Director’s Desk

In the late 70s, author Tom Wolfe wrote a novel called The Right Stuff. It followed the career of test pilot, Chuck Yeager, and the first astronauts of NASA’s Mercury space program. The "right stuff" referred to the traits shown by these daring men who began an era of exploration that would lead to the moon and beyond. Recently, Edna and I had the opportunity to participate in a retreat with many deacons and their wives who were members of the first class of permanent deacons ordained for the Archdiocese of Boston. When they began ordained diaconal ministry in 1976, they too were pioneers who would introduce the brand new concept of permanent deacon to the Church of Boston. Like the astronauts, these men and women shared many traits that constituted the "right stuff" and thus ushered in a whole new era of ministry. In addition to the obvious qualities of an active prayer life and a profound love of the Church, the following traits of these deacons and their wives were quite noticeable.

1. They are faith filled. Although most of the couples had experienced some sort of tragedy in the 23 years since ordination, it was most obvious that they had been tempered by their crises. They could see the hand of God, who loves them completely, even in the midst of excruciating pain and loss.
2. They are team players. Each of the deacons was able to express a profound respect and admiration for the parish staffs to which they belonged. They recognized the importance of collaboration.
3. Finally, they are in love. We found them more like newlyweds than couples of thirty years or more! It was plain to see that they nurtured their marriages as well as their love for the Lord.

It was a joy to be with these couples and a challenge for all of us involved in diaconal ministry to continue working to develop the "right stuff".

Leo Donoghue ’92

I Cried to the Lord and He Answered Me

I’m not quoting the psalmist. In the depth of the night, in the throes of post surgery pain and labored breathing from pneumonia, I called on the Lord to embrace me. I felt His presence and the pressure of His arms around me. He answered me with love and His healing touch.

As I make progress in my recuperation here in the Florida sunshine, I feel His light in the warmth of the sun and the continual presence of the Spirit in the gentle breeze surrounding me. This is truly a retreat par excellence. I read scripture, reflect on the goodness of all the people who have touched by life and those who I have been privileged to serve. My reading companion has been Sabbatical Journey by Henri Nouwen. He provides wonderful material for reflection each day. In my pre-ordination readings (in the 70’s) I read Nouwen’s Wounded Healer. I reflect on it now and realize that I can be a more effective hospital minister out of my experiential learning. It reminded me how I was able to bring a new dimension to grief ministry after my wife Rita’s death. No experience is lost if it is offered to, and touched by the Lord.

My sense of community has always been strong. I preached and practiced it in the parish and in the Diaconate. But true community embraces all God’s people. The power and strength of community in the family, in the parish, in the clergy, in the religious, in the laity, and in the world at large transcends time and place; we are one and together in His peace.

As I move through this Lenten period I keep my eyes on the glory of Easter and give thanks for the presence of God in each of you, my precious and beloved sisters and brothers in Christ.

Deacon Bill Wildes ‘77

A Refugee's Reflection

I remember when I first came to the United States. My family had left Cuba in search of religious and political freedom. We left everything we had, and became refugees to escape Communism. I still remember my first grade teacher's name, Mrs. Campbell. She was very kind, and made me feel like I belonged. Although I could not understand a single word she said to me, I understood her kindness and her love for me. The first day of school, the kids in the class just looked at me, not knowing what to say or do, and I was petrified. Because of the language barrier and because I was different, most of them pretty much just ignored me the rest of the school year. The teacher assigned this little girl to lead me around the school and make sure I was doing something and following the class the best I could. She gradually became my friend. With time and a lot of effort on the part of the teacher, the little girl, and myself, I began to understand this strange language everyone around me spoke. As if by magic, one day I found I was able to understand and communicate in English. The strange language began to shape my thoughts and understanding. It became a part of who I am. I was no longer a stranger, I really belonged. It was the patience of my teacher, and this little girl, which had really made the difference.

I believe this experience has made me particularly sensitive to the plight of the refugees, the new immigrants, the poor, the homeless, and the lonely. I will never forget having been a stranger and a refugee in exile from my country of birth. I will always be able to draw on this experience. Knowing in a concrete sense, how much of a difference it can make in the life of a stranger in need to have someone reach out or to just be there with me even though we couldn't understand each other. How important it was for me to receive a welcoming kindness and friendship in this new terrifying land my family and I would now call home.

We are all strangers on this earth until we reach out in the love of Christ towards others

Ricardo Mesa, '00

JUBLIEE

The year of the Great Jubilee draws near, and as we prepare for this joyous celebration it is good for us to recall the words given by God to Moses at Mount Sinai:

And you shall count seven weeks of years, seven times seven years, so that the time of the seven weeks of years shall be to you forty-nine years. Then you shall send abroad the loud trumpet on the tenth day of the seventh month; on the day of atonement you shall send abroad the trumpet throughout all your land. And you shall hallow the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants; it shall be a jubilee for you, when each of you shall return to his property and each of you shall return to his family. (Leviticus 25:8-10; RSV)

The Gospel of Luke, generations later, describes the coming of Jesus to the synagogue in Nazareth, where he had been raised. As was the custom on the Sabbath, Jesus stood up to read, "and there was given to him the book of the prophet Isaiah. He opened the book and found the place where it was written, ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.’ " (Luke 4:17-19)

With these words, Jesus inaugurates in Nazareth the fulfillment of the hopes of the words of Leviticus and the actualizing of the meaning of Jubilee. The word Jubilee stems from the Hebrew yobel, meaning a ram’s horn, the trumpet used to herald the year of the Lord’s favor. (Isaiah 61:1-2; RSV)

The Jubilee year proclaims several elements:

• Liberty from work...the land was to remain fallow
• Liberty from debts...they were to be forgiven
• Liberty from enslavement...release of prisoners
• Liberty from future enslavement...the land returned to its original owners

All of these hopes and dreams were a foreshadowing of the coming of the Messiah and the Church has received from Christ the commission to preach the Gospel to the whole world, and so must prepare to render an account of its fidelity to Christ’s charge.

The Holy Father outlines the best way to do this as a "renewed commitment to apply, as faithfully as possible the teachings of Vatican II to the life of every individual and of the whole Church". (Tertio Millennio Adveniente, No 20) The hope of John Paul II is that the Jubilee year 2000 will be expressed in celebrations by all Christians; Catholic, Protestant and Orthodox, and that this preparation requires "the promotion of fitting ecumenical initiatives so that we can celebrate the Great Jubilee, if not completely united, at least much closer to overcoming the divisions of the second millennium". (Tertio Millennio Adveniente, No. 34)

In addition to ecumenical efforts, and resonating with the words of Jesus in the proclamation of his mission, the Holy Father declares that a "commitment to justice and peace is a necessary condition for the preparation and celebration of the Jubilee." (Tertio Millennio Adveniente, No. 51) One way of actualizing this would be in "reducing substantially, if not canceling outright the international debt which seriously threatens the future of many nations".

The joy of any Jubilee, according to the Holy Father, must be based on the forgiveness of sins, penance, and reconciliation. He reminds us that, "On the threshold of the new millennium, Christians need to place themselves humbly before the Lord, and examine themselves on the responsibility which they too have for the evils of our day." (Tertio Millennio Adveniente, No. 36)

John Paul reiterates his frequent admonition in his book, Crossing The Threshold of Hope, "at the end of the second millennium, we need, perhaps more than ever, the words of the risen Christ: ‘Be not afraid!’"

Leo Martin, '77

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Book Review
(This article did not appear in the print version of Diaconia)

Boston Catholics
A History of the Church and Its People
Thomas H. O'Connor
Northeastern University Press Boston, MA
1998, 357 pages
ISBN 1-55553-359-0

One of the more difficult tasks a writer may face is to chronicle a period of history that is contemporary. That is to say, it is very challenging to put together an historical account of an interval of time in which some people involved in the account, or as observers, are still available to read the story. The inherent risk is that there will be some difference of interpretation in the telling of events. And that introduces the real difficulty in writing history - the difficulty of knowing which events to detail, which events to skim over lightly, and which persons to focus on with care and precision.

Thomas H. O'Connor is an historian of some repute in the Boston area. He has taught at Boston College in the department of history and published several niche style books on the history of Boston. Boston Catholics is his latest work and provides for the general reader a sweeping account of the events and people interleaved in the development of the church of Boston from the time of the first public mass (Nov. 2, 1788) up to the Archdiocesan convocation in March of 1998. O'Connor assumed an inordinately difficult task and has produced a book that is as difficult to review as it might have been to write.

There is much in the book to be commended. O'Connor traces the building up of the Archdiocese through the sequential accession to the office of Bishop from Jean Lefebvre Cheverus to Bernard Cardinal Law in a careful and comprehensive way. He provides detail about the nature of the population and its ethnic diversity that changed in nature and quantify over the two centuries. He illustrated the differences in temperament, style, skill, and perspective of the eight men who have been designated as Bishops for Boston. He offers succinct connections with the status of the church as a religious entity of its own and the perception of it over the historical era of the larger society in which the church existed. O'Connor does inform and sketch a credible story.

Alas, there are some alarming errors that taint this book and cast some suspicion on the totality of the history as chronicled. Further, from a rhetorical point of view, the writing is uneven and, occasionally, lapses into unwarranted prejudice. Occasional spelling errors also diminish the quality of the book.

For us who lived during the recent era, it must be noted that certain events that took place these last twenty-five years were not covered accurately. O'Connor alluded to the Diaconate (P. 293) in an all too brief account that did not describe events as they were. The beginnings of the program were not at all as O'Connor described. Key people were not mentioned at all.

Also, O'Connor mentioned in two places the setting up of regions in the Archdiocese. His specifics again are not accurate. And, as he described the changing pastoral scene in Boston, O'Connor spoke of the 1998 convocation at which Cardinal Law challenged the diocesan leaders (Clergy and lay) to plan for the future with fewer priests available to serve the parishes. This would have been an appropriate place to provide data for 1998.

At the outset, I mentioned how inordinate the task was that O'Connor undertook. He did so with some success. I mention some glaring problems as one of those having lived through part of this remarkable history and lived under three of the eight Bishops who have led the church of Boston. On the edge of a pastoral precipice, with 195 of the 385 parishes in Boston now having but one priest assigned, and with only a handful of men to be ordained as new priests, an appendix to O'Connor's book would be invaluable.

Deacon Mike Iwanowicz '76

Diaconia Editorial Staff

Coordinator of Publication: Sister Clare O’Keefe

Editors: Charles A. Cornell, Leo Martin, Carolyn S. O’Neil, Richard F. Radford,

Members of the Diaconate Community are encouraged to submit ideas, articles, photography that might be of interest to the Community. Submit by mail to the office or by email to cac@stisidorestow.org.