Author: ANTONINO

Brought to you by Fr. Bernardino Andrade

(bernardinodandrade@gmail.com)

Portugal celebrates Father’s Day every year on March 19 when the Church celebrates the Feast of St. Joseph, husband of Mary, Mother of Jesus. It can fall on a Sunday, just as it can fall on any day of the week. We thought that it would be a good idea to celebrate Father’s Day on the Sunday after the Feast of St. Joseph. That’s why… Happy Father’s Day.

«MEN DON’T CRY»

I had never left my country until I said good bye to my parents, my family and my Island, entered a boat called “Funchal”, and disappeared into the infinite blue of the Atlantic Ocean. The boat started navigating and I could see my parents standing on the harbour. At a certain point they looked so small and finally they disappeared, and I disappeared. I felt so lonely even if there were many people onboard. It was March 1st, 1964, when I went to Africa (Mozambique) for the first time.

Dressed in my black cossack from neck to toes, I knelt and cried and cried. I knew that I wouldn’t see them for a long time. It was then that I realized that being a missionary had always been a fascinating dream for me, but it was not as romantic as I thought it would be. It was really hard to leave my father and mother, brothers and sisters and go to a land I knew almost nothing about.

One day I came home on holidays. At this time, I already came by airplane. When I disembarked at the airport of Madeira, many members of my family were expecting me but there was one whom I really didn’t expect to be there. It was my father. Because I didn’t expect him to be there I ran to his arms and said: «Oh father… I didn’t expect to see you here waiting for me». His answer was: «I was missing my son so much». He didn’t say «I was missing you». What he said was: «I was missing my son so much…».

Maybe it doesn’t seem that different but for me «you» and «my son» seemed so different. We fell in the arms of each other and started crying, but then we stopped, turned our backs to each other and kept crying. We both were feeling a little embarrassed because «men don’t cry».

From that day on, I decided to break this myth. On that day I decided that it is OK to cry. And the most interesting thing I discovered is that tears can have more power to strengthen relationships than smiles and laughter. Thank you my father for all the times you laughed with me and all the times you cried with me.

Happy Father’s Day!
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

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

1.

My rural Parish in California, not far away from the city of San Francisco, was considered a quiet community. But, unfortunately, even in quiet communities, tragedies happen. One day a young man shot his wife in bed and then shot himself. The Police allowed me to enter their house. It was maybe the most horrible scene I have ever contemplated in my entire life. The Police just told me not to touch them and not to give information to the media about what I had seen. They had a one-year- old baby. When I came out of the house the baby came to my arms and «glued» himself to me as if he understood what was happening.

The following day both of us (the baby and I) made the front page of the local newspaper. Two days later, I baptized this baby during the funeral of his mother. The body of his father was shipped to Mexico where his Funeral was held. I thought that something should be done about this tragic event. The following Saturday a group of young boys and girls received the Sacrament of Confirmation during the 5:00 PM Mass. I took advantage of that sacred event to launch a campaign, in the entire community, to collect arms, rifles, pistols, guns and violent toys. Violent toys are so colourful, so attractive, so beautiful but the message is very ugly.

The campaign was a big success. All the weapons were destroyed and transformed into small crosses. The toy guns and weapons were broken into small pieces and glued into a piece of wood also in the form of a cross. All this process took a few days of course. What I didn’t know was that, exactly in that evening, another tragedy was going to take place in this «quiet and peaceful city».

2.

Just a few hours after Mass I checked my voice mail. A message of a parishioner was there with another terrible message: «Father, in such street and such house a man just committed suicide. Please go there». Even if it was at a walking distance, I took my car and «flew» to that house. When I stopped and left my car in the street, the first people I met at the front yard was a group of men drinking beer. Because I don’t believe that beer and guns make a good match, I was a little afraid. However I pretended that I was brave and started shaking the hands of each one of them.

All of them were respectful to me except Roberto, the oldest brother of the man who had committed suicide, and the owner of the gun that killed his brother. He refused to shake my hand and kept saying: «I don’t believe in God». «But even if you don’t believe in God it is OK to shake my hand», I said. Then I pretended that I was in a hurry, left them and «escaped» to the back yard where the tragedy had happened.

The body had been removed and there was a burning candle in its place. A group of women were talking, crying and praying. I also prayed with them and slowly left the place. I passed through the front yard again, trying not be seen but I was caught. I wanted to be with them but I was not feeling safe stopping in a place where beer and guns were mixed.

3.

When I was leaving, a man knelt in the middle of the street and asked me for a blessing. I put my hands over his head, prayed and traced the sign of the cross over him. In this moment, Roberto the one who had more beer and had said a few times that he didn’t believe in God, asked me also for a blessing. Meanwhile he kept saying «I am a murderer». I never knew why he was repeating that but I suspected that he had been involved in the war of El Salvador or Nicaragua and had committed lots of atrocities.

Then I told him: «Roberto, when God created you in the womb of your mother he put a label on you. Do you know the name of that label?» The answer was: «Yes! Murderer». Look Roberto, if you think that you have that label maybe it was you, or the government, or other people who put that ugly label on you. For sure it was not God. I will tell you the name of the label God put on you. The only label God put on you was «MY SON». You are a Son of God. Then he knelt in the middle of the street and asked for a blessing. A little solemnly I made a little prayer and traced, over his head, the sign of the cross. Then he stood up and started repeating «I believe in God… I believe in God…». I confess that because I am not used to those quick conversions, I was still wandering if that quick conversion was a result of faith, or beer.

4.

The next step was as follows. He went to his house and gave me a big and (according to the experts) «beautiful» rifle used in the Second World War. The pistol used in the suicide had been taken by the Police. I took the rifle with me, put it together with the violent toys and other arms that had been collected and put them by the altar. All were put in a basket and offered during the Mass offertory. Instruments of peace and instruments of war were the theme of my homily.

Now I think this would be the punch line of this story:
From that day on, every time I met Roberto, in streets, in supermarkets, in parking lots, in empty or crowded places we greeted each other always the same way. Instead of me saying «good morning» I would yell: «What’s the name of the label?». His answer, louder than mine, was: «MY SON». Can a murderer, a prostitute, a homeless person, a liar, a beggar an abuser say the same? Yes! The only label put in each one’s «package» when conceived in the womb of our mother was: «MY SON»… «MY DAUGHTER»… Since then all of us can sit in His lap, be hugged by Him and smile, or cry on His shoulders. He is my ABBA passionately in love with each one of us.

Love and Peace,
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

Brought to you by Fr. Bernardino Andrade

(bernardinodandrade@gmail.com)

A SIN OF A CUP OF COFFEE AND A PASTRY

Ricardina is one of the poorest ladies that is being helped by the People Helping People project. She is a walking skeleton especially after her husband left her after years of physical abuse. Even if she has a job in a cleaning business, with a very small salary, she owes money to the bank and a substantial part of her salary is taken every month. Ricardina takes lots of psychiatric pills, has a house rent to pay, two daughters to feed and other basic necessities. There are days when she has made between twenty to thirty phone calls to Dalila from the People Helping People project (PHP), even if she has been told many times to relax, that the help she needs will be given. Then another phone call to say «I am sorry but I am calling just to remind you…».

But one day, Ricardina was caught committing a terrible sin. Somebody saw her in a coffee shop drinking a cup of coffee and eating a pastry. What a terrible sin! … A few people approached us saying that she was a cheat; she was not poor because she had been seen in a coffee shop enjoying a cup of coffee and eating a pastry. And, according to them, a cup of coffee is not a basic necessity. It is a luxury. The coordinator of People Helping People was present at the time and she was the one who intervened in Ricardina’s defense just saying: «If Ricardina has been seen drinking a cup of coffee it was because either Fr. Bernardino or I paid for it». I am glad nobody told Ricardina to go to Confession. Then I was the one who tried to explain the difference between judgment and love. «When you start by judging you have no time to love»

A SIN OF BEAUTIFUL FINGERNAILS

Dulce is another divorced lady with two teenagers. Divorce, in the words of a friend of mine who experienced that tragedy, is a passport to poverty. Her husband is living in England and she is living in Madeira with her two children in the country side, away from Funchal. Her son is taking pills for psychiatric health problems. It is amazing to see the quantity of children and teenagers who are taking pills for psychiatric reasons. This kind of medication, that is very expensive, is entirely paid by the users. The government doesn’t give any kind of subsidy for this.

One day, Dulce’s daughter received the Sacrament of Confirmation. Her mother decided to give her a little party and committed a «terrible sin». We gave her a small and inexpensive cake, but Dulce went to a manicurist and painted her fingernails. She went to church and took some pictures. That day was very special for her and her children. What a scandal. The news went around. I think that half of the island decided that Dulce was a «cheat». She was receiving help from People Helping People (PHP) but she had had money to paint her fingernails! Another big sin of the poor. Some people stopped helping our project PHP because we were “wasting money” with people who didn’t «deserve» to be helped. If you are poor you have to be, and to look poor, twenty four hours a day. You have no right not even to take care of your fingernails at least once in your lifetime.

A SIN OF BUYING A «LUXURY» ITEM WITH FOOD STAMPS

A grocery store check-out clerk once wrote to advice-columnist Ann Landers to complain that she had seen people buy «luxury» food items like birthday cakes and bags of shrimp – with their food stamps. The writer went on to say she thought all those people on welfare who treated themselves to such non-necessities were «lazy and wasteful». A few weeks later, Lander’s column was devoted entirely to people who had responded to the grocery clerk: «I am the woman who bought the 17 dollars cake and paid for it with food stamps. I thought the check-out woman in the store would burn a hole through me with her eyes. What she didn’t know is that the cake was for my little girl’s birthday. It will be her last. She has bone cancer and will probably be gone within six to eight months».

THE «VIRTUES» OF THE RICH

About two weeks ago, the newspapers published this «modest» news about the most famous football player in the world, who happens to be Portuguese, born in Madeira Island:
«One more car in the garage. He bought a new Rolls Royce Cullinan for 700.000 Euros». He was applauded and praised.
I believe that we have many «sins of the poor» because we have many «virtues of the rich».
«Poverty exists not because we are not able to feed the poor, but because we are not able to satisfy the rich». (Anonymous)

Love and Peace,
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

HER HEAD DOESN’T WORK LIKE OURS

The project People Helping People was trying to help a lady living in extreme poverty. The first time we visited her cave (no resemblance with a house) we had to climb 80 steps to see her. This happened in Funchal. In an attractive and touristic city. Cindy (not her true name) had lived in the USA most of her life where she was involved in high criminality. Cindy was born in Azores from a relationship between a Portuguese mother and an American soldier who had been deployed to Azores.

Cindy was two years old when she went to the USA. Unfortunately she never became an American citizen. She grew up in a very bad family environment. It was very common to see her mother being «visited» regularly by strange men.

After being arrested and doing her time in horrible prisons she was deported to her country that was Portugal.

According to her, she had a university degree in landscaping. After the tragedy of February 20 of 2010, when part of this Island was partially destroyed by a terrible storm, she decided to come to Madeira in hope that she would find a job in her area. Cindy spent many years in Madeira and never found a job (or maybe she never accepted a job offer).

She slept on the streets and one day she showed me the «best» garbage cans where she used to find her «meals». Drugs, alcohol and cheap prostitution were part of her life. We paid rent in different houses but it never worked. She wanted to go back to the USA but every time we tried, her Visa was denied. We were completely lost without knowing what to do. We really loved Cindy. People Helping People is not about judging and domesticating people but about loving and helping people until the last consequences.

Cindy was rejected and mistreated by some «wonderful» institutions with their cruel rules. One of the institutions that «helped» Cindy has been named, at different times, by some people like Cindy as being like concentrations camps. I have been there a few times and I’ve never had a good experience.

One day, after so much effort, prayer and love for Cindy, we convinced her to see a psychiatrist who admitted her into a mental institution. However, after a long period of time, Cindy didn’t want to stay there and the psychiatrist told us that she could not be forced to stay against her will.

We (Dalila and I) never forgot what the psychiatrist told us in the parking lot of the hospital. That was an epiphany for us. His words changed our way of looking at the poor and are still in our minds and our discussions when we deal with those who really rebel against our work and our efforts. His words were very simple: «Her head doesn’t work like ours».

Every time we deal with people who prefer wine rather than milk, prefer cigarettes rather than bread, prefer to sleep on the streets rather than to have a decent job, who prefer begging rather than working, we repeat the words of the reputable psychiatrist Dr. Luís Filipe: «Her head does not work like ours».

But my concern is that Dr. Luis Filipe did not tell us that our heads work better than hers. Actually I have my doubts. I believe that if our heads worked better than hers, maybe now we wouldn’t be grieving and crying for Cindy.

Cindy committed suicide and I presided over her funeral. We are still grieving for Cindy and for all the Cindys of the world who are accused, judged and condemned without being heard and loved. «When we start by judging we have no time to love».

Love and Peace,
Fr. Bernardino Andrade