Author: ANTONINO

by Fr. Bernardino Andrade

My niece, Ana, lived with me for some time in my Parish residence in the suburbs of San Francisco, California. Once in a while, when we had some free time, we enjoyed going to San Francisco, and spend some time in the Fisher Men’s Warf where we could eat a clam chowder from a bowl that was edible. The bowl was made of a round loaf of French bread which had a large portion of the middle cut out. It was really fun to stand or sit outside eating the clam chowder and throwing pieces of bread to the doves that were flying by or walking around us.

Ana was very creative. One day Ana told me that she would like to go to San Francisco, but get lost in San Francisco. No plans, no maps, no schedules. Just walk without any destiny.

But one day it was my turn to suggest something very different. In the same city, and walking through the same streets, I suggested:

«Ana, I would like to bring you to San Francisco to walk through the same streets, but during the night. I would like you to see San Francisco at night. I can tell you Ana, to see San Francisco at night is very depressing. The sidewalks of certain streets are full of human misery. We can see homeless men, women and children. Some are sleeping on pieces of cardboard, some are begging with babies on their laps; some are drunk, and others, slowly getting destroyed by drugs. The lack of hygiene is repugnant. This is what you are going to see in some «beautiful» streets of San Francisco. Ana… it is very depressing.» It was then, when Ana with her angelic voice told me: «Don’t worry uncle. I will put my blinders on and I wouldn’t have any problems».

On one of the Sundays when the Gospel was about the rich man and the poor Lazarus (Lk 16:19-31), I asked Ana’s permission to tell the story of us walking through the streets of San Francisco during the night, and the episode of using the blinders not to see the misery and avoiding feeling depressed. When I thought that she was going to feel embarrassed about her approach, she came to me after Mass and said: «Uncle! Next time you tell that story about the blinders, please be stronger».

In this story, Jesus doesn’t say that the rich man had caused any damage or pain to Lazarus, or that he had stolen anything from him. It simply shows the indifference of a rich man before the suffering of the poor. Some time ago I found this sentence that made me think:

«That man was so poor that the only thing he had was money».

In this story, the rich man has no name. He was only the rich man. The poor man had a name. His name was Lazarus. In the Gospel, for the followers of Jesus, helping the poor is not optional. It will be for each one of us the difference between heaven or hell.

The opposite of love is not hatred. The opposite of love is indifference.

< Love and Peace Fr. Bernardino Andrade

The lost son: This has been called ”the greatest short story in the world.” It speaks about the deep effects of sin, the self-destruction of hatred and the infinite mercy of God. This is a story of love, of conflict, of deep heartbreak, and of ecstatic joy. The scene opens on a well-to-do Jewish family. With the immaturity of a spoiled brat the younger son demands impudently of his gracious father, “Give me the portion of goods that falls to me.” Demanding inheritance while the father was alive was equivalent to treating the father as dead. Under Jewish law, when a father divided his property between two sons, the elder son had to receive two-thirds and the younger one-third (Dt 21:17).

In Jesus’ parable, the younger son offends his father again by selling out his share of the inheritance and then squandering the money in a faraway city. The land was sacred to the Jewish people because it was the Promised Land given to the Chosen People. Hence, each bit of land was considered holy, and no Israelite could lawfully sell his property (Lev. 25:23, I Kg. 21). Ancient “social security” basically consisted in sons farming their father’s land and taking care of their parents until their death. Thus, in selling his land, the prodigal has sold his parents’ social security.

The conversion, return, and confession: When he becomes bankrupt, the prodigal son ends up feeding pigs, a task that was forbidden to a Jew (Leviticus 11:7; 14:8). Having sunk to the depths of economic, spiritual and moral depravity, the prodigal finally “comes to his senses” (v. 17). So he decides to return to his father, to ask his forgiveness and to beg for the status of a hired servant.

When he sees his son returning, the ever-watchful father runs to him and gives him a cordial welcome along with a new robe, a ring and new shoes. Symbolically, the robe stands for honor; the ring for authority (the signet ring gave a person the power of attorney) and the shoes for the son’s place as a member of the family (slaves did not wear shoes). The father also throws a great feast killing the “fatted calf’ reserved for the Passover feast so that all may rejoice at the wanderer’s return.

The “Prodigal Father” and the self-righteous elder brother: The parable illustrates the wonder of God’s love and unconditional forgiveness. God seeks out the sinner and forgives him unconditionally. Jesus recounts the story of the elder brother as his response to the accusation by the self-righteous Pharisees that he was the friend of sinners. The elder brother represents the self-righteous Pharisees who would rather see a sinner destroyed than saved. He reflects the Pharisees’ attitude that obedience to Mosaic Law is a duty, not a loving service. Like the Pharisees, the elder brother lacks sympathy for his sibling and levels accusations against him. As a self-righteous person, he refuses to forgive. Thus, his grudge becomes a sin in itself, resulting in his self-exclusion from the banquet of his father’s love. That is what we all do when we sin. We exclude ourselves from the banquet of God’s love.

– Source: Father Tony Kadavil

Love and Peace
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

Brought to you by Fr. Bernardino Andrade
(bernardinodandrade@gmail.com)

I have tried, but I have to confess that I have never been able to watch a football game from the beginning until the end because of the agony I feel and see, not only among the football players, but also around me in the people who are watching it in person or in TV. It is uncommon to see people really «enjoying» the game. It is common to see the watchers agonizing over each movement that is done inside the field. I don’t see too much concern about the players. What I see is a big concern about winning or losing. And what I find strange is that in the same moment and in the same place, I have seen people yelling and screaming of joy and excitement, and at their side there are people crying, feeling defeated, sad and frustrated.

It was during a Marathon at the Special Olympics. A group of ten Special young boys and girls were running, competing with each other to arrive first and to be the first; to be the winner. Some of them were Down syndrome, some Autistic and others with other special challenges. There were thousands of people watching from the balcony.

They were running and running. People were roaring with excitement, with applauses and words of encouragement and support for those they expected to be their heroes. Of course some were faster than others, and consequently some were ahead of others. This was the purpose of the marathon. And of course the winners would be rewarded with special expensive medals. The losers, well… too bad. Nothing could be done about that. This was a competition and rules are rules.

At a certain a point of the race, a fifteen-year-old girl fell on the ground. It was obvious that not even the adversaries enjoyed that moment, but that fall, helping her to lose, would be helping others to win. That’s part of sports. That’s part of competition. Some have to lose in order that others can win. Rules are rules.

But something happened that completely changed the atmosphere. They were ten young people running and doing what they had been taught to do. They had been taught to run faster than others and to be ahead of others, because they were supposed to win. All the techniques had been taught and learned properly. But seeing their colleague in pain, all of them forgot that they were supposed to win. All of them stopped and came to her aid. One of the boys kissed her knee that had been scratched and told her. «This is going to help you feel better». Then all of them joined hands and kept running and arrived all together at the same time.

According to the story there was not one dry eye on the balconies. True human life is not about competition. True human life is about helping one another. True human life is about People Helping People.

Love and Peace
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

Brought to you by Fr. Bernardino Andrade
(bernardinodandrade@gmail.com)

I went to Brazil for the first time in 1983 when I was working full time with the Portuguese Community of the Diocese of Oakland in California.

Fr. José Marins, a great Pastoralist and Theologian, who had been an expert during all four sessions of the Council Vatican II had told us in California that Latin America was the laboratory of the Church of the future. I was anxious to learn about the Church of the future. Before leaving to Brazil I asked permission to stay there for three months exploring the «laboratory» of the Church of the future.

I visited Parishes, talked with priests, with people, Bishops, visited shanty towns (favelas) and especially talked with the poorest of the poor that I could find around me. At a walking distance from the place where I was staying (my sister’s house), there was this super-miserable and filthy shanty town, one of the famous «favelas» of Brazil. No running water, no electricity; the walls of the «houses» were made of cardboard and pieces of plastic. Right on the corner of that «favela» there was a room under construction by the Parish, where people could have meetings. It was in that room with little mountains of sand and wood that I was asked to talk about God. It was in that room under construction that a little five-year-old girl, Sandra, changed my spirituality when she taught me that God is our Mother.

There was a Bible group made up of women who used to meet on Wednesdays to share the word of God. I don’t think that any of them had studied beyond their primary school; not even my sister, Matilde, who was the leader of the group. I found interesting that usually a reading was given and there was always one of them who would say: «Can you please read it again»? Sometimes the same text of the Bible was read two or three times. Then they would start sharing. Not an intellectual discussion but a simple sharing from their heart. «What word or sentence or verse touched me most?».

They were aware that the Word of God is the «salt of the earth and light of the world» (Math. 5; 13, 14). That’s why the biggest challenge was «What does this Word have to do with the reality where we live». I had no idea that in that small room, under construction, a group of almost illiterate «subversive» women were building something more powerful than the atomic bomb.

One day I saw a group of women walking in the direction of the city hall. Again, Matilde was leading them. They had posters in their hands upon which were written their requests to the President of the city. They were asking for three things only: Water, Electricity, and Safety without violence. This last one was referring to police assistance in that surrounding area to avoid crime. But they added «non-violence». The reason was that in general, to avoid violence, it was normal for the police to use violence. Sometimes they would kill in order to prevent killing.

These same women would visit the street markets and would ask for vegetables that were not good for sale, like potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and green leaves that had been damaged. They would bring those products with them and cook big pots of soup, especially for the children. Those big pots of soup were able to transform every day into Christmas day.

This was one of the many things that I saw in Brazil before returning to California.

Years later, I visited Brazil again. It was very hard to believe my eyes. That filthy, dark and violent shanty town was completely transformed. In the place of the shanty town there was what looked like a little city with beautiful and attractive houses, a school and a church where I said Mass and baptized babies.

The Bible in the hands of a small group of «crazy» Christians is more powerful than an atomic bomb. Love is more powerful than indifference.

Love and Peace
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

It happened 36 years ago, during the month of August. Actually it was August 15. I remember not because I have a good memory, but because it was the day when the church celebrates the Feast of the Assumption of Mary. Another thing I remember very well was that it was during the peak of the Summer’s heat.

I was standing at the altar celebrating the Eucharist. In my home Parish it is the Feast of «Nossa Senhora do Monte» (Our Lady of the Mountain). I was facing the people. The Church was packed. Many people were standing. Among the standing people there was Gina holding her four-year-old daughter, Irene, in her arms. I assumed that no matter the child’s weight, she was not a light weight for Gina.

At a certain point of the Mass I saw Gina lifting her daughter to the level of her face, and she deposited a very gentle kiss on her sleeping daughter’s forehead. Very naturally. Very normally. Very gently. Then she kept looking at the altar. I confess that this was a little epiphany for me.

In that moment I thought: «That sleeping child will never know that her mother kissed her today. She will never know how much her mother would always find ways to express her love for her, even when she is asleep». Yes. It was an epiphany for me. Besides the Bible, mothers have always been for me the best teachers about God’s love and my relationship with God. I fell into contemplation and started thinking and I still think that Irene was asleep and she would never know that her mother kissed her in that moment. It was a gentle and secret kiss.

I believe that the majority of expressions of love that mothers have for their children go unnoticed. During that day I fell into deep contemplation thinking of how many times God kisses me during the day and during the night without being noticed by me. Then I discovered that God is a permanent surprise. He always holds me in His arms and always kisses me, performing so many miracles in my life even when I don’t notice it. God is a permanent surprise. The only thing I ask God in this moment is that He will help me to be open to his gentle and secret kisses. To his gentle and secret surprises.

Love and Peace
Fr. Bernardino Andrade