Cardinal Law Celebrates
with the Diaconate Community
On November 5, 1997 at Our Lady Help of Christians Church
in Newton, Cardinal Law celebrated the annual Memorial Mass for deceased
members of the diaconate community in the presence of 150 deacons and
wives. His Eminence characterized the resurrection as a victory that swallowed
death once and for all, and offered this fact as a consolation for those
who mourn. The departed are in a better place and, though we are pained
by the loss of our dear ones, we rejoice with the gift of our faith.
Then Cardinal Law publicly thanked Deacon Leo and the
staff of the diaconate office for all their hard work. His Eminence began
his comments with an anecdote about Archbishop Dario Castrillon Hoyos,
who attended the recent meeting of the National Association of Diaconate
Directors in Milwaukee, and then came directly to Boston to visit the
Cardinal. Cardinal Law said all the Archbishop could talk about was deacons
and how exciting it is to see what God is doing in the world through our
vocation as deacons and deacons’ wives. The Cardinal echoed those
views and acknowledged all the hard work we do as a community. He then
offered several suggestions. First, he expressed how important it is to
strike a balance in our lives between our ministry, our prayer life, work,
family, service, and health. He cautioned us against feeling that we have
to "do it all" and reminded us that the Sacrament of Matrimony
has the first claim on our lives and it is to be lived to the full. Next,
the Cardinal talked about the importance of daily prayer and regular meditation
on the Word of God. He also enjoined us to be "out in front"
in our ministry to the poor and marginalized, and to express the Church’s
solidarity with them by our actions. The Cardinal also shared his concern
about declining Mass attendance in the Archdiocese. There is an appreciable
and growing number of people who wrongly believe the obligation has gone
away. He believes this to be a massive problem and asked us to think about
it and how to address it. His guess is that it is a deficiency of faith
that keeps people away which calls us to a an increased emphasis of our
diaconal role as teachers.
In conclusion, the Cardinal said that the deacon’s
liturgical function remains an important part of our ministry and that
he wants the deacons of the Archdiocese to be second to none in liturgical
proficiency. He reminded us of the recently issued update to the guidelines
for funerals, and urged us to become familiar with them and to help the
people in the parishes to understand them. Finally, he told us that he
is looking forward to hosting the 1999 meeting of the National Association
of Diaconate Directors at the Sheraton Tara in Braintree, and knows that
our diocesan representation will be first class.
Deacon Tony Rizzuto ’96u
From the Director’s Desk
During the summer vacation from studies, the most recent
class of diaconate candidates were asked to write about people they met,
they saw, or were associated with, who were "poor". They were
left on their own to define what "poor" meant. Their lists were
most insightful and covered a very broad spectrum from a homeless alcoholic
man lying in a downtown doorway to an elderly woman living alone in a
large old house in a middle class suburban neighborhood. One was wrapped
in the tentacles of addiction; the other a victim of loneliness, neglect
and what may be early Alzheimer’s disease. Both were very much alone!
Both were quite poor! Two very different people who shared one distinction:
in the eyes of many they were considered insignificant. In a very special
way, those who are poor belong to deacons because deacons are ordained
to service: to be ministers of charity and justice. This does not mean
that every deacon needs to work in a soup kitchen or a homeless shelter,
although many do. What it does mean is that deacons keep the poor in sight.
In this Archdiocese deacons quietly minister to those who are poor, in
nursing homes, in shelters, in neighborhoods, in prisons. and even in
our own parish families! Deacons are to be advocates for the poor by the
way we preach, the way we pray and by the way we see. Deacons are the
ones who are to ask the difficult questions in the marketplace, in our
city and town government, and even in our parishes. "Who are the
ones we are not including; who are the ones who are left out : who are
the poor in our midst?"
Leo Donoghue ’92
Thank
You For The Sacramentaries
We had an overwhelming response to our request for old
Sacramentaries. Thank you for your generosity.
 Class
of 1992 celebrates 5 years of Ordination with a day of recollection at
Miramar.
Charles
Gaughan Award to Deacon Buzz Taylor, ‘80
Recognizing individuals who best exemplify the spirit
of humanity and compassion, and those who have demonstrated exceptional
care to those in their charge, the 1997 Charles Gaughan Award was presented
to a man who epitomizes all of these things and more. Deacon Carroll Taylor,
or "Buzz" as he is known to most, was first appointed as a part-time
Chaplain at Northeastern Correctional Center in 1982. He then moved to
MCI-Shirley in 1983, becoming Shirley Complex Chaplain in 1991.
Extremely dedicated to his work in prison ministry; Chaplain
Taylor is the ultimate humanitarian. Whether recruiting community volunteers.
co-hosting the former prison ministry radio show, working with inmates
on spiritual issues and post-release planning, or simply lending a caring
ear to MCI-Shirley inmates, Deacon Taylor devotes his heart and his soul
to working in prison ministry. Deacon Taylor also takes particular pride
in his role as Chaplain to MCI-Shirley staff, always showing compassion
and concern for employees as well as inmates - making him a true asset
to the Massachusetts Department of Correction
The
Need To Be Loved
I had just completed my third year of formation and diaconal
studies and it was time for my internship to begin. Where would I be assigned,
prison, hospital, AIDS ministry, or homeless shelter? Tom McMorrow and
I were assigned to the David Jon Louison Child Center, a homeless family
shelter in Brockton. Armed with three years of lectures, books, reflections,
retreats, and evaluations, I was ready to go into the field and minister!
Walking up the stairs that first evening I felt a funny
feeling in my "gut". You know, the one you feel when your headed
out to an important meeting and you just know you've left something important
at home. I prayed, "Jesus help me not to judge. Help me to see you
in the poor, and help them to see You in me." So many questions raced
through my head. How can I relate to mostly unmarried young women? Will
the color of my skin be a wall that separates us? What do I bring to this
ministry? Lord, you called me and I have responded in faith. I took a
deep breath and walked in.
Tom and I met with the Director, Deacon Richard Radford.
who suggested we start with Evening Prayer. Great, something I can handle.
The reading was from Romans 8:26 -27, "The Spirit helps us in our
weakness." Just what I needed. I prayed "Pour out your Spirit
on me Lord. Help me to lift up all those in need". A calmness came
over me.
I visited the shelter twice a week and spent 3 to 4 hours
a day with the staff and residents. There are 33 beds, mostly occupied
by children, and always at 100% capacity. A typical resident of the shelter
is, female, l8 to 24, not married, pregnant with 1 to 3 children, and
no job skills. Their understanding of love is limited to the man that
fathered their last child. "He must love me, I'm having his baby.
I spent most of my time listening, trying to build up
their self respect and earn their trust. It surprised me how quickly I
was accepted and trusted by the residents and their children. I was afraid
my color would be a wall separating me from the truth, but I have become
colorless. Thomas Merton said, "To really love is to be involved
in human struggles." Every day is a struggle when you are homeless.
It doesn't get any more real than this: "Rich, I
had an abortion. My boyfriend made me do it. I thought he loved me so
I did it. I know it is murder, and I will never get over killing my baby."
No class will prepare you for this honesty, this trust. I saw the pain
in her eyes, her need to be forgiven. She needed to know God loves her.
Sitting in my car that night before I left for home I realized that for
a brief moment, I was Christ for her. The feeling was overwhelming. Isn't
that what being a deacon is all about? It is not who Rich is; it's what
God chooses to use in me for others to see. Every now and then we are
graced to witness the mystery of Christ in us, to understand that sometimes
all it takes is listening with that Christ in us, and gently speaking
His words for healing to begin.
There were many happy stories there too. Some of the
staff members were once residents and have come back as models for others
to follow. Deacon Radford and his dedicated staff live as Jesus has taught
us to, by serving the poor, they serve Jesus. You may think the greatest
need for these women and their children is a home of their own. But I
believe their greatest need is to be loved.
Richard G. Monroe, ’98
In Memoriam
Please remember in prayer our loved ones who have died and
those who mourn their loss.
Norman Brogan, mother of Susan Rumley '98
Robert J. Cuoco, brother of Richard T. Joy
'98
John D. Harrison III, son of Deacon & Mrs.
John D. Harrison, Jr. '76
Robert F. King, brother of Deacon Clifford
King, '86
Katherine MacDonald, sister of Deacon Joseph
P. MacDonald,'83
James A. Manzi Sr., father of James A. Manzi,
Jr. '98
Lorraine O'Brien, wife of Deacon Donald O'Brien
'76
Ethel G. Vitello, mother of Deacon Joseph Vitello
'90
|
 Class of 1977 celebrates 20 years of Ordination to the
Diaconate
Recognizing
The Lord In the Breaking of the Bread
I came upon the little Irish lady in the nursing home
one Sunday morning, as I brought the Eucharist to the patients following
Mass. She was filled with energy, and as I entered the room she engaged
me in conversation at once. "Well good morning young man, she said,
as the nurse was finishing combing her long hair. "Aren't you the
nice person to come over here this morning." She began to ask me
if I knew a certain Mrs. O'Brien who lived over in Emerson Park, and if
I knew the Dolans on Perkins Street. On and on she talked, in a litany
of names, most of whom I did not know and told her so. "Well",
says she, "who do you know?" I told her that I had only lived
in the town for a short time and didn't know too many people yet. She
brushed the nurse away quickly and put herself in the presence of the
Lord as she prepared to receive the Eucharist.
It was about three months later when I again visited
her with Communion. As I walked down the long hallway and looked into
the room where she had been before, I realized that she had been moved
to a room across the hall. I entered quietly and there she was, seated
in a chair. Her hair was unkempt and she was staring into space seemingly
unaware of my presence. Her hands held the ends of the arms of the chair
tightly, white knuckles gripping the wood. She was trembling slightly
and her mouth was open as if she was having difficulty breathing. I was
struck with the difference I found in her condition since my last visit.
"Good morning Mary", I whispered, as she continued to stare
ahead. Opening the pyx, I lifted the host and began to pray. I was about
to say the words Mary always loved to hear on Sunday morning, "This
is the Lamb of God who comes to take away the sins of the world, when
she looked slowly toward me and with no change in her expression, her
clear blue eyes gazing upon the Lord in the form of bread, she uttered
her question. Her voice was hoarse and weak. Time seemed to stop as I
met her glance of faith. She spoke to me. "Do you know me?"
She had put emphasis on the word know and I was held fast by the
moment. It was, I was sure, the Lord posing the question to me. "Leo,
do you understand that I wait for your visit in this suffering member
of my Body, and as you have brought me to her, so also, I greet you now
through her." I had met Him, that Sunday morning in the breaking
of the Bread.
Leo A. Martin, ‘77
|
