Author: ANTONINO

A friend of mine, who ended his Marriage some time ago, told me that «Divorce is a passport to poverty».

Ginny (not her true name) is divorced. I have known her for many years but I don’t know a lot about her life. However I know that she is divorced, jobless, has three children, and is very poor… on the border line of misery. Ginny has survived for many years under the care of “People Helping People”. In spite of her university studies she has failed in every job she has tried.

Her son has suffered from asthma since childhood; then drugs have been part of his young life. Finally he quit drugs and is taking medicine to help him in the recovery process. But another bad thing happened that is not common. At twenty one years old, he recently, had a heart attack.

The main point of the story is that Ginny is very poor and every day is a new day full of fear and surprises. A few weeks ago she got a bag of food from the Association People Helping People. One of her neighbours approached her asking if she had anything that she could share because her family had nothing to eat. A little while later, another neighbour did the same. Even knowing that Ginny was poor, she came to her with the same request: she had nothing for dinner and asked if she could help her with something.
Ginny did something that made me think. In the bag that she had received from People Helping People she found a big potato. Ginny took the potato, and cut it into three pieces. She kept one piece for her family and shared the other two pieces with her neighbours.

With something that they could still find, three families had dinner: with one potato, and lots of love transformed into service.

«Small things done by small people in small places change the world». (Mother Teresa).

Fr. Bernardino Andrade August 23, 2020

Roger and Tony were two brothers. They grew up together and since childhood they have always enjoyed a wonderful relationship: played together, shared their toys with one another, and helped one another with the household chores. Their parents were really proud of those two sons. When they finished school they found their jobs and moved to different cities. Finally they got married and built their own families. However, they never lost contact with one another, but they missed the physical presence of one another in their ordinary life.

One day Roger’s neighbour put his house for sale. He immediately called his brother Tony and gave him what he thought would be good news for their families. Tony consulted with his wife, both analyzed the risk of changing jobs and schools and it didn’t take too long before making a decision. Yes! The decision was made. Tony decided to put his house for sale and to be the next door neighbour of his brother. Everything was going very well. Both shared the same front yard and took care of each other’s lawn and garden. The two joined front yards became a common field for their children to play together. Things were going very well and both families felt very happy about being next door neighbours.

But one day something happened. It was something very small. Situations like this always start with small things. I learned a long time ago that the difference between a good and a bad relationship is the level of communication. These small things happen, are ignored, but the feelings stay there. With this «small thing» their relationship was not the same anymore. They started being cold to one another. Their children were advised not to play with their cousins and to watch more TV instead. This was before cell phones. Finally they stopped talking with each other and as it is obvious it affected the entire family.

One day, Tony, (the youngest) decided to do something very ugly. He hired a caterpillar excavator machine and opened a trench between the two houses. What had been a beautiful garden and a playfield for cousins was transformed into an ugly trench. Revenge was growing along with pain for both families. One day Roger was at home when somebody rang the bell of his house. When he opened the door a man introduced himself saying: «Sorry for bothering you. I am a carpenter and I do small jobs. I am wandering if you have something I can do for you. People say that I am a good carpenter and I don’t charge too much. And this is my way of making a living». Roger thought for a while and then had a devilish smile. «Yes. I have a job for you». And then he told the story of his relationship with his brother and how it ended in a trench. «Come and I will show you something. Do you see that wood? I would like you to come tomorrow morning and build a fence high enough. I don’t want to see that man anymore and I don’t want him and his family to see me and my family anymore».

The following morning, Roger went to work and left everything ready for the carpenter to build the fence. Roger spent the day «enjoying» the feeling of revenge. But when he got home he was shocked by a stunning surprise. Instead of a fence he found a beautiful and artistic bridge uniting the two sides of the trench. The children were already playing and crossing the bridge. Tony was already on his side waiting for him and ran to him with a big hug, apologizing for what he had done. «I am sorry Roger. After opening that stupid trench, you have built a bridge». The two families reunited again, ordered pizza, beer and Coca-Cola for dinner, and Roger, after talking with his wife, approached the carpenter and invited him to stay overnight. But the carpenter answered: «Unfortunately I have to leave because I still have many bridges to build».

Above the office door of the Swiss psychiatrist, Carl Young, hung a stone plaque inscribed with the words «Called or not, God is Present».

The dramatic story of today’s Gospel (19th Sunday A) is a parable of our lives. It is about «The Storm in the Lake» (Mathew 14: 22-33). It is about the storms in our lives.

Being born in an island in the time when the main means of transportation was by boat, without any comfort and any safety conditions I «tasted» a few «storms in the lake» or better… a few storms in the Atlantic Ocean that surrounds Madeira Island. I can tell that they are frightening and very uncomfortable. What today takes me thirty minutes to travel from my house to Funchal, in my childhood it would take about three hours. There were people who would start throwing up (vomiting) on the night before. Only the thought of taking the boat would make them sea sick.

Today’s Gospel talks about a scary storm in the «fourth watch of the night». Jesus came, walked on the waters and calmed them down.

This dramatic story brings to my mind an old and very well-known story called «Foot Prints in the Sand».
I have seen this story framed and hanging on walls and in different places. «Called or not, God is present».

—————————————————————————————–

FOOT PRINTS IN THE SAND

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene, he noticed a set of foot prints in the sand; one belonging to him, and the other to the LORD. When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the foot prints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of life there was only one set of foot prints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life. This really bothered him and he questioned the Lord about it.

«LORD you said that once I decided to follow you, you would walk with me all the way. But I noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why, when I needed You most, You would leave me.»

The LORD replied:

«My precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trials and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.»
– (Fr. Tommy Lane)
—————————————————————————————

But at once Jesus called out to them, saying: «Courage, it is I, do not be afraid». (Math. 14:27).

CALLED OR NOT, GOD IS PRESENT.

Love and Peace,
Fr. Bernardino Andrade, August 9, 2020

FROM MY HEART TO YOUR HEART by Fr. Bernardino Andrade
(bernardinodandrade@gmail.com)

I DIDN’T KNOW MY FATHER

Margarita, a 17-year-old Mexican immigrant from Mexico, was my parishioner when I was in California. One day, very worried, she approached me for comfort and guidance. Something very serious had happened in her life. Margarita was pregnant and confused.
When she shared her concerns and her fears with me, one of the first things I did was to congratulate her for being a mother and thank her for not having had an abortion. Her sister, Diana, and her brother in law were the only people who knew about her situation but they also were confused. How to tell her parents? Her father was one of those «strict and classic macho men» who smile very little. After some tears of desperation I told her: «Do you want me to tell your parents»? Her answer was an immediate «Oh yes, please».
I called her parents, her sister, her brother in law and also the father of the baby. We all got together in my Parish residence. I am not a straightforward person. Sometimes it takes me a long period of time to tell what some people would tell in just a few moments. Especially in dealing with sensitive issues I see the other people’s feelings as a «sacred land». After offering a warm cup of coffee I started going around until I broke the news. I still remember her mother interrupting me to say: «Do you mean Margarita? I thought you were talking about Diana». The shock was inevitable. The silence that followed took longer than I expected.
We kept talking but with lots of fear for her father’ response. Then he started talking with words of understanding for his daughter and how happy he would be by helping her to raise that child. I had mentioned adoption. But instead he also thanked her for not having had an abortion and adoption wouldn’t be an alternative. «We will take care of our baby», he said.

Everybody was shocked and in tears when all discovered that inside of that tough and «macho» Mexican man there was such a tender heart. And I never forgot the moment when Diana in tears said: «Oh my God! I didn’t know my father. My father was a tremendous surprise for me. He is such a good man and I didn’t know it».

In June the Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity.
The Mystery of the Holy Trinity is the fundamental mystery of our faith. The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit in intimate relationship with one another. They are three persons and one God.
When I was a child I learned, for my First Communion, that «a mystery is a truth revealed by God that we must believe but we can not understand». But I only fell in love with the holy Trinity when I discovered that a mystery is not something that I can not understand and period. I fell in love with the Holy Trinity when I discovered that a mystery is something that we can understand a little bit but that understanding will never be exhausted. The more I know about God the more I discover the immensity of God surrounding me with his unconditional love.

And it is in little stories like what happened between Diana and her father that I learn about my relationship with the Holy Trinity. Diana thought she knew him until the day she had this profound experience of a loving father that she didn’t know. God is a loving and daily surprise. But I need to be open to that surprise especially by spending time in long periods of prayer and service to others.

Love and Peace,
Fr. Bernardino Andrade,

Guy is a 17-year-old young man. This covid 19 affected his studies like it did to everybody else. He has been investing the best of his time studying for his tests, which are going to have a decisive impact on his access to university and probably to his career.

Yesterday (July 21, 2020) Guy took his last test. Before leaving for school he was not able to hide his anxiety, his fears, and how nervous he was. Of course mothers are experts in detecting those kinds of feelings especially when they sense discomfort and pain. Because his mother wanted to support him, she volunteered to give him a lift to school. But Guy preferred to walk. He thought that the physical exercise would function like a therapy in that moment of anxiety. When he said he wanted to walk to school, his mother decided to walk with him. I am not sure if they talked or if the walk was done in silence. What I know was that the presence of his mother filled him with self-confidence. She was not a «normal» lady. She was his mother. The hardest moment was when they had to say good-bye and separate. Cecilia confided to me that she had never heard about the «Sacrament of the Presence». John Paul II created this expression about the need we have of the presence of one another. She had never heard about this expression but she felt the reality of this expression. Being present is being a sacrament to one another.

In that moment, Cecilia created her own Sacrament that became a presence to her son. She took her watch from her wrist, offered it to her son and said: «Take it, my son. This is a piece of me. Put it in your pocket. When you feel more anxious or maybe a little lost, just insert your hand in your pocket, touch it and remember that you are touching me and I am touching you. I am there with all my energy and my prayers to help you. »

After Guy had finished his test, he was the one who sent me a text message saying that everything had been all right.

The best things that I have learned about God have been learned through my spiritual journey: the Bible, retreats, prayer, Holy Mass, working with the poor and seeing Jesus in each one of them… but my biggest catechists about God have been mothers. And very often when the Bible wants to emphasize the care and tenderness of God towards us, it compares with the care and tenderness of a mother.

«As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you» (Is. 66:13)

«For it was You who formed my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made» (Ps. 139:13-14)

I highly recommend that as Guy carried his mother’s watch in his pocket, that we always carry a material symbol in our pockets or around our necks as a symbol, like a cross, a medal, a rosary, which will be a reminder of the presence of God in our lives. But there is no doubt that the best reminder of the presence of God in our lives is to celebrate the Sacrament of Reconciliation (Confession) and receiving Holy Communion, which will be transformed into service to others.

Very often during the day God tells us: «Take my hand. Do not be afraid. I am walking with you». (Is. 43).

Fr. Bernardino Andrade, 26-07-2020

FROM MY HEART TO YOUR HEART by Fr. Bernardino Andrade
(bernardinodandrade@gmail.com)

My sister, Agostinha, was thirteen years older than I. In descending order, she was the fifth of eleven brothers and sisters. I was the youngest. I don’t know if she ever attended school but I know that she could read and write a little bit. Her husband had emigrated to Brazil, then Venezuela, and finally to Aruba where he spent about thirty years. Besides being my brother in law, he was also my godfather.

I finished my four years of primary school when I was 12 years old. No more school ahead. The poor were not allowed to dream and to plan their lives. They just followed in the footsteps of their families and neighbours. I belonged to a poor farming family where nobody had a job to make money. Like all the neighbours, family worked on the farm to feed the family. No running water, no electricity, no toys and no time to play.

Farming in Madeira Island was a very tough job. The entire mountainous island is made up of very small pieces of land sustained by small man-made rocky walls with rocky steps. Everything was carried by the people on their shoulders. I don’t remember of thinking about my future. Like most of the children, my future was already destined. My future and the future of all the other boys and girls, was supposed to be farming the small pieces of land and possibly emigrate to another country like everybody else. I remember questioning myself about going to school. But anyway my parents sent me to school and no questions asked. However, “secondary school” and “university” were words that would never cross the minds of country children or their parents. That would be just for a small elite who worked for the government.

I was 12 years old. I still remember the place. My mother, my sister Agostinha and I were in our kitchen when my sister surprised me with a surprising and unimaginable question: «Bernardino, wouldn’t you like to be a priest?». My answer was simply «Yes». My mother started looking around for information, and on October 15th, 1950, I entered the Minor Seminary in Funchal. What still surprises me the most is that I didn’t go to the Seminary to study my vocation. I went to the Seminary to be a priest. I was ordained in the Diocese of Quelimane, Mozambique on June 12, 1965 and celebrated my first Mass in my home Parish (Madeira Island) on July 4th of the same year. This happened 55 years ago. One day an American journalist interviewed me and asked me: «But when you were 12 years old what did you understand about being a priest?». My answer was: «I am sixty nine years old and I still do not understand».. Priesthood is a mystery that God has been slowly revealing to me through my ministry, especially through the Sacraments and through my relationship with the poorest of the poor. I don’t know if I have been a good priest but what I know is that I have been a very happy priest.

My sister, Agostinha, besides being my heroine who planted the seed of my vocation into my heart was also my mentor. Very often she, like my father and my mother, took advantage of my holidays to come to me for Confession. She always reminded me to be poor and live for the poor. That was the kind of life she lived. Where there was suffering, she was there. I always tried to walk in her footsteps, knowing that they were the footsteps of Jesus.

Fr. Bernardino Andrade 19-07-2020

by Father Bernardino

«Be open to be surprised» is a sentence I heard a few days ago. «I found God by surprise» is the refrain from a touching Thanksgiving hymn that has been sung many times by the Soprano, Cátia Marques, here at the English Mass at the Chapel.

Last Sunday (July 5th) after Mass and after the cake, professionally baked by Manny, and coffee generously offered at the Moynihan’s Irish Pub, I had an unexpected surprise that has been bothering me ever since.

I don’t know how Marta (not her true name) found out about us; how she was informed about the English Mass and about People Helping People. What I know is that when I was getting ready to enter my car, this very nervous lady, with an expression of profound pain, approached me, pleading for help. Unfortunately I was not as hospitable as I wanted to be because the first thing I did was to ask her if she had a mask. She said yes, but she kept talking and getting closer to me, expressing her agony. Politely, but with no hesitation, I kept telling her that we could not talk until she put her mask on. She put her mask on. I suspected that she had been carrying the same mask for many weeks. That’s when I better understood what I had read in the beginning of this pandemic. What I had read was that this corona virus was going to be a genocide among the poor. They have less access to the information and because they don’t feel any pain they don’t understand why they have to wear things like masks, that don’t even look good, when what they really need is food and medication.

In a few moments she showed me her neck and her shoulders, completely full of scars. Her husband, with the help of his mother, had burned her with hot water, leaving a big part of her body full of scars. Then, in her words, he left her and their six children and chose a young girl.

Marta has six children. The oldest girl is thirteen years old and is mentally challenged. They were very hungry with no food to eat and no place to go. They lived on the other side of the city but they lost the place where they were living and presently are living in a garage on the other side of the city.

The first thing I did was to go to an ATM machine to withdraw some money using Carla’s card. But first I checked to see how much money People Helping People had available. Four euros was all that was available in the account. Any way I borrowed fifty euros and with that money I was able to help Marta a little bit. But after buying a bottle of gas how much money would be left for her to feed her family?

I asked her if she had a telephone. She said no. I volunteered to give her a lift and she was very happy to accept. After our arrival, she asked me to leave her there, said good bye and I came home.

This has been the nightmare that I have been living with during the last week. How to find her and her six children and offer her some more help? I hope she comes back to Penha de França Chapel to find us again. Maybe God will provide and together we will be able to alleviate her suffering.

Fr. Bernardino Andrade