1. From My Heart to Your Heart by Father Bernadino

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

The Power of a touch

I have never had a «good» reputation of being a strict follower of strict rules.

In my former Parish in California I always started my Sunday Masses with a little procession from the front door to the altar. The altar servers, the readers and Ministers of Communion were always very neat and very serious about their role. I cannot say the same thing about their Pastor who was supposed to give them a «good example» of a «sacred» behaviour. Sometimes I would tell somebody to sing louder, sometimes I would tell a lady to give a hug, in my name to her husband, when she got home after Mass or just tell him that was missing him, sometimes I would steal a baby from their parent’s arms and then they had no choice but go to the altar if they wanted their baby back. Well sometimes it was funny… especially when the baby would make everybody smile, before jumping to his father’s arms.

One of my «bad» habits was to gently touch people on their shoulders.

My Parish was very «white». If my Parishioners were not white they were Indians from Mexico or Central America, and a good number of Filipinos, but not Afro-Americans.

One Sunday I was following the entrance procession when I saw a very dark Afro-American man. Very well-dressed and polite. And as usual when I passed by him, I gently touched him on his shoulder.

The Mass ended and he got lost among the Sunday crowd. On the following Thursday, this same man appeared at the Rectory’s door. I gave him a hug as usual, invited him to come in and sit down. And then, during this informal conversation he told me that the reason why he was visiting me was because he wanted to be baptized. I expressed my joy with another hug. I called the lady in charge of the adults Baptism preparation and he joined the group of adult people who were in their journey to receive the Sacrament of Baptism.

Some people kept telling me that during their meetings, the man mentioned different times that the moment he decided to be baptized was the moment «when Fr. Bernardino touched me».

One day I was talking with him and I dared to ask him: «George, some people have told me that the moment you decided to receive the Baptism and become a Catholic was the day I touched you. Is there anything, any story that I said that moved you to make that decision?»

«Yes. You said some things that touched me, but the real moment I decided to receive the Baptism was one Sunday, when I was in church, and you were walking to start Mass and you touched me. I was new in the city, I didn’t know anybody and you didn’t know me and you touched me. You recognized that I was there. You didn’t ignore me. You made me feel at home». Then I thought: «Who would ever guess that under that neat suit there was a «baby» in need to be touched»?

On that day I confirmed, even more, what I already knew. The Church has more than seven Sacraments. The Church has eight Sacraments. The eighth Sacrament is the Sacrament of Hospitality. But one day I said this to a colleague from Brazil and his answer was. «No. Hospitality is not the eighth Sacrament. Hospitality is the only Sacrament. Without Hospitality the other Sacraments are good for nothing».

Today’s first reading (Gen. 18, 1-10) talks about the way Abraham welcomed three strangers. The Gospel (Lk. 10, 38-42) talks about the way Mary and Martha welcomed Jesus.

Many people will find Jesus and a meaning for their lives not through the Bible…. they don’t know, and don’t read the Bible. And not through Catholic activities, because most of those activities don’t attract them. They will find Jesus and his Church if we welcome them and love them. This is the Sacrament of Hospitality.

Love and Peace,
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

MY CAT’S SPIRITUALITY

I don’t believe that my cat has learned anything from me even if I have tried. However, I must confess that I have learned a lot from him…

It was one Friday afternoon. A child knocks on my door to tell me that my cat had an ugly wound in his head. When I saw it I was shocked. The wound was big, infected and horrible.

I called the veterinarian. A nice doctor was ready to see my cat right away. The gentle vet cleaned my cat’s head but left an open and even uglier wound. Then, she gave me some medicine to give him orally and told me to clean his wound daily and never let any dry skin cover it.

It seemed that the kind doctor was ready to let me go but I refused to believe that she was going to send me away without any ointment or even a bandage to cover that horrible wound. That’s when I interrupted her, “Doctor… are you not going to give me some medicine to put on that wound or at least a medicated bandage? That looks horrible.” She said, “No. You will not put anything on that wound not even a band-aid. Keep it uncovered, clean and give the cat the medicine I gave you. Healing comes from inside.”

In a few days the wound was completely healed. The doctor was right. Healing came from inside. No ointments. No band-aids.

One of the most beautiful and touching experiences of my life as Pastor in the USA was to baptize and welcome adults into the Catholic Church. The preparation would take two years. Scrutinies during Lent used to be one of the highest moments of their journey. The key words for the Scrutinies ceremony were: “to uncover” and “to heal”. The candidates are invited to uncover what is bad and sinful in them in order to get the healing they needed.

All of us are wounded and hurt. You and I deserve to be healed. The temptation is to cover with band-aids but my cat’s vet was right. Healing comes from inside.

God loves you and so do I,
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

« I CONFESS TO YOU… MY SON »

Every day of the year is very special. Every day is a special gift from God to be lived and to be enjoyed. But there are days that are more special than others. One of those days, for me, is the 4th of July. It was on the 4th of July 1965 that I said my First Mass in my home Parish, in Ponta do Sol, Madeira Island. I had been ordained in the Diocese of Quelimane, Mozambique, on the 12th of June and then travelled to Madeira Island to celebrate my first Mass in my home Parish where I had been baptized, made my First Communion and where my family and I have our deepest roots.

It was a celebration that mobilized the entire Parish. It is a day full of memories. I don’t know how good or bad my memory is, but I believe that if I wanted to recount every minute… from my arrival to my home in Ponta do Sol until my first Mass, and then until saying goodbye again, I would be able to remember every event of those glorious moments. Some of them were expected, and some were surprises.

However, there was a moment that, under no circumstances, I could expect or could even imagine. I still don’t know if it was seen or observed by anyone else. It was very private even if I didn’t try to hide it from anybody else. It was so natural like if it was something that was done every day. Nobody said «close the door» or be quiet because something very private is happening. But I have to confess that I was not prepared for it. And I was a little nervous.

We were almost ready to leave to Church when my mother called me to her bedroom and in a very natural way said: «Bernardino, please hear my Confession». She said that as if it was something that she had been doing regularly. It was like a normal parishioner asking her pastor to hear her confession before Mass, like it has happened to me maybe thousands of times since then. But she was the first one.

And here we are. I was seated on her bed and she was kneeling before me. Mother and Son. Two sinners celebrating the merciful forgiveness of a merciful God.

«Bless me Father for I have sinned»! I don’t know if she said: «Bless me Father» or bless me «My Son for I have sinned». What I know is that the Sacrament of Confession, or better Reconciliation, started making more sense to me. Since then she did that very often when I came on vacation and my father followed in her footsteps even after she had died.

I was the youngest of eleven brothers and sisters. Also some of them did the same. What a mystery to be a priest. What a privilege to have a father and a mother like them. They never went to school. They didn’t know how to write their names. They never read the Bible because they didn’t know how to read but without any doubt they are the greatest saints of my life. They didn’t leave me properties or money but they left me their faith in God and their human, their family and their spiritual values.

Love and Peace,

CRIES OF THE POOR

‘I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying for help on account of their taskmasters. Yes, I am well aware of their sufferings’. (Ex. 3: 7).

If the Book of Exodus is the heart of the 46 books of the Old Testament, we can say that verse 7 of Chapter 3 is the heart of the book of Exodus. It was the starter. It was the hurricane for all that movement of liberation of the Hebrew People from the slavery of Egypt. It all departed from a God who heard the pain and cries of His People. And one day, that God who saw the suffering, chose Moses to lead the whole journey of deliverance that took 40 years through scorching and troubled deserts until they reached the promised land.

The “People Helping People” Association was born of a group of people who heard these cries; who saw this suffering. No one can imagine that on this island of Madeira, so beautiful and so attractive, there is so much suffering and so much misery. There are people who go days without food. We know where they are. One mother confided in me that the only thing she had been giving her children for the past three days was boiled guava leaves. The insensitive and cruel bureaucracies of some institutions leave people on the floor of misery.

One mother, single and unemployed, went to an institution that was supplying her with milk and nappies for her baby. One day, she arrived there, for the usual routine. She was just going to pick up her usual supply of nappies and milk. She was met with a disagreeable “No more. This is over.” Her adorable baby was no longer entitled to nappies or milk because she had turned one year old a few days earlier. I thought it was a misunderstanding. I went there in person and asked if this was true. The answer was a cold and indifferent “Yes, it’s true”. I asked if there was no other alternative. The answer was an even colder and indifferent “No”.

There are people dying of curable diseases because after they go to the doctor they do not have the money to buy the medicines they need. Other people who are very sick cannot get a doctor’s consultation through the state hospital until years later. As they cannot wait that long, they decide they need to see a private doctor. But who will pay?

One day I was waiting for an appointment at the “External Consultations” of the Hospital. After a long wait, the receptionist came in and said, “The Doctor is not coming in to do any consultations today.” A lady who had been waiting for the same doctor as me, said: “I’ve been waiting for this consultation for three years.” The look of defeat on her face was shocking.

Free dental medicine is only available after you’re 60 years of age. I think most people, even after 60, are unaware of this privilege. I only came to know about this at the age of 81. There are unemployed people who are able to find employment, but when they arrive to start working, they are sent away because their missing or damaged teeth “project a bad image of the company”. And image in today’s society is not the “most important thing.” Image in today’s society is the “only important thing.”

The People Helping People Association was born from this. It was born of a group of people who heard the cries of other people, and saw their suffering. This happened after the floods that destroyed part of Madeira Island on February 20th, 2010. The main objective of “People Helping People” is to “mobilize a lot of people to help a lot of people”. It is not to change people, but to alleviate their suffering, whatever the cause. It is not taming people, but helping them to free themselves from poverty.

We have always felt that helping people should be a way of life, with preference for the most vulnerable, the excluded, the discarded… and not an institution. Then, for various reasons, we decided to make People Helping People an official institution. Today, People Helping People is a non-profit association with the same objective of mobilizing many people to help many people. We would like it to always be an open door when all the others close.

However, even though we have a working group, mainly because of the limitations of committed people and financial possibilities, and due to the lack of a venue for meetings that have to be moved from one place to another and from one day to the next (which destabilizes the group), the coordination of family support is being provisionally handled by a wonderful lady called Dalila Oliveira. She has no headquarters (office), nor set working hours. Most of the contacts are made by phone and from there, Dalila schedules a meeting time and a place (usually in a cafe or restaurant) to listen to the pains and needs of each person, and with sometimes only a few possibilities, she is doing her “miracles” to alleviate their sufferings.

All this is done around a cup of coffee, a plate of soup or a meal, and according to the circumstances and our limited possibilities. There are hundreds of phone calls that Dalila regularly receives. But in addition, she also receives many SMS text messages. Some of these messages, we thought would be a good idea to publish in English in the newsletter of the Chapel of Penha de França. These messages, sometimes quite dramatic and desperate, we have given the name of “Cries of the Poor”, which we will start publishing on a regular basis from now on (on the last page of this newsletter). In the messages of the Cries of the Poor, all stories are true but the names of the people who are helped, out of respect for their dignity, will be fictitious.
Love and Peace
Fr. Bernardino Andrade

A few weeks ago I was walking with my two nieces towards a coffee shop where they can find their favourite chocolate bars and I can find my friends from a poor section of the area, and also a small cup of coffee. Inês is 4 years old and her sister, Maria, is 7 years old. It was such a wonderful feeling to hold those tiny childish hands inside my stronger and older hands. I don’t know who was enjoying the most. It was not mainly for safety but for the feelings of tenderness those two little angels were transmitting to me.

All of a sudden, without any previous warning, Maria tells me that her father, Énio, had told her: «When you give something to other people always give them the best of what you have». And I thought «What a father…». And I thought «How lucky Maria is to have a Christian father like that and a Christian mother who shares the same values!». «Always give to others the best of what you have». That means that her father is trying to break the shell of selfishness that covers all the children’s hearts and is trying to enlarge her heart to be able to hold God and all the world inside of it.

I was fascinated with this kind of message a father is trying to instill in a 7-year-old daughter. I think that the message Énio is trying to transmit to his daughter is that helping people is not an association or an activity, but a way of life. Maria’s mother, Alina, was still a young student of podiatry when she would spend long periods of time assisting the pilgrims to Our Lady of Fatima, taking care of their feet because all of them were walking and of course hurting their feet badly. Some were walking with their bare feet.

But… no more than three minutes later, Maria surprised me again with a poignant statement saying: «My Catechist said that we should never give money to the poor because they will spend it to buy alcohol and drugs». I thought that Catechists were supposed to teach about the project of Jesus that is: «to bring good news to the poor» (Luke 4: 18).

I could see that inside of that little head, with apparently small brains, there was a struggle between the «Give the best» from her father and «Don’t give money to the poor».

I tried to explain to Maria that the poor need money to buy food, medicine, transportation, clothes, doctor’s appointments, glasses to help with their sight, to take care of their teeth and so many things that are needed to live like human beings and children of God.

Then… I felt like crying! In this battle between Maria’s Catholic parents and a Catholic Catechist who is going to win? Who is going to lose? Then I remembered the words in a wonderful book written by a couple who spent two years living among the homeless, not to change them or help them but only to live the experience of being homeless. The name of the book is «When the excluded are the chosen ones». And their strong words that affected me deeply were: «The poor are always ACCUSED, JUDGED and CONDEMNED without being HEARD.»

Love and Peace
Fr. Bernardino Andrade