The Birth of the Neocatechumenal Way.

The Neocatechumenal Way did not start as a seminar talk among the middle class and the wealthy.  It was born in the slums of Madrid, Spain.  It was born among the poorest of the poor.  Kiko Arguello went to live in a wooden shack in the slums of Madrid with only a guitar and a bible in his hands.  It was in the Palomeras Altas neighborhood in Madrid, where Kiko decided to live as he searched for his purpose in life.

 In his book entitled Kerygma: In the Shantytown with the Poor, Kiko wrote: 

I had found myself in front of a human suffering that was unheard of, a sort of Auschwitz.  They say that after Auschwitz you cannot believe in God any longer.....Well, despite this I found a surprising answer in this environment.  I found myself confronted with the mystery of Christ crucified.  I understood that there is a presence of Christ in those who suffer, especially in the suffering of the innocents.  There are people who are innocent and who are carrying the sins of the others, that horrible sin of the alcoholic, of one who hits his mother, of a retarded son, of incest, etc. By means of this suffering, those people are bringing salvation to the world with Christ.

There is a true real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, but I thought that also the suffering of those innocent people was a real presence of Christ.  That impressed me so much that when I had to do the military service in Africa, I was already very restless.........This was so strong in me that I left everything and went to live amongst the poor. 

The first community of the Neocatechumenal Way was born in the slums of Madrid.  Kiko Arguello and Carmen Hernandez were the founders of the Way.  The changes and effects that the NCW brought to the gypsies living in the slums impressed the Archbishop of Madrid that he asked Kiko to bring the NCW into the parishes of Madrid.  And so began the journey of the NCW.  Kiko had no idea that this journey would lead him to Israel to build the "Domus Galilaeae" or to Rome where the first Redemptoris Mater Seminary would be instituted.  The Domus Galilaeae and the Redemptoris Mater Seminary became two of the many fruits of the Neocatechumenal Way.  See the video below to learn more about the birth of the Neocatechumenal Way.

Redemptoris Mater: Where seminarians are trained to stay in Holy Land

Neocatechumenal Way Center???

This post is in response to the following poster who made the following comment:

AnonymousJuly 22, 2018 at 10:19 PM

Off topic. Someone was asking if Archbishop Byrnes was informed that a Neocatechumenal Way Center was being set up in Asan. I said to him 'Why should the Archbishop be informed if no diocese funds were being used?'

Don't know if Archbishop Byrnes was informed or not. But this raises the question 'Do all activities of the local Catholic Church need to be forwarded to the Archbishop? Does he need to approve of these activities?'

So do all calendar of events of each parish and of each Catholic organization need to be sent to Archbishop Byrnes for approval? What about calendar changes? Do these need approval too? Retreats off island and on island, does the Archbishop need to approve of these? Do CCD bake sales need approval from the Archbishop?

First of all, the center is NOT the Neocatechumenal Way Center.  It is called the "Rainan I Langet" Center because it belongs to that Foundation.  According to its statutes, the NCW cannot own any property; therefore, the building is owned by the Rainan I Langet Foundation.  I do not know if Archbishop Byrnes was informed about the center in Asan, but I do not see why he needed to be informed about a building that does not belong to the Archdiocese or the NCW. I do not see why he should even be bothered by a building that is owned by someone else outside the Archdiocese.  The Foundation gave the NCW exclusive rights to use the center; therefore, people can see us taking care of the building. Also, the NCW is not using any funds from the Archdiocese or the parish to maintain and use the center.  The NCW will be using the center for its word celebration and conviviences.       

You ask if all activities of the Catholic Church need to be forwarded to the Archbishop.  I don't think activities such as bake sales need approval from the Archbishop so long as the parishes follow the established guidelines for fundraising and have the approval of the parish priest.      

Going Out

Father Emanuele De Nigris, Right, From St. Cecilia Church In Miami, Leads Singing Members Of The Neocatechumenal Way, Parishioners, And Youths Through The Streets Of Hialeah Before Beginning A Popular Mission On The Streets. LIZSANDRA TRASTOY Photo/Florida Catholic

GETTING OUT OF THE SACRISTY: A LOOK AT OUR PASTORAL PRIORITIES

BISHOP ROBERT BARRON

I do wonder whether, given the unique demands of our time, it might be wise to ask a few questions about our hyper-stress on the parish.

For the past several days, I've been with my Word on Fire team, filming for the Flannery O'Connor and Fulton Sheen episodes of our "Pivotal Players" series. Our journey has taken us from Chicago to New York to Washington, DC, and finally to Savannah and Millidgeville, GA. At every step of the way, we have met numerous people who have been affected by Word on Fire materials: sermons, podcasts, YouTube videos, and the CATHOLICISM series. Many have told me that their exposure to Word on Fire started a process that led them back to the Church. Now I'm telling you this not as an advertisement for my media ministry, but rather as an occasion to muse about what I consider to be a needful change in the way the Church thinks about its essential work.

Throughout all the years of my involvement with the Church, the parish has been taken as the crucial ecclesial institution. Talk to almost anyone involved in Catholic ministry over the past fifty years and you will hear ample criticism of lots of aspects of Church life, but you will, almost without exception, hear praise of the parish. I think here of Fr. Andrew Greeley's lyrical evocations of the parish as a uniquely successful social and religious institution. Certainly within the context of diocesan priesthood, parish work is the unquestioned default position. Ministry outside of the parochial setting--hospital work, seminary work, teaching, administration, etc.--is acceptable, but it is generally seen as not quite what a diocesan priest ought to be doing. I think it's fair to say that the overwhelming amount of our money, time, energy, and personnel go into the maintenance of parish structures. 

Now please don't misunderstand me: I love the parish and believe in its importance passionately. Worship, instruction in discipleship, the building up of the community, formation for mission--all of this happens typically within the parish. I did full-time parish work for several years, and I've been involved in numerous parishes for the full thirty-two years of my priesthood. Now as a regional bishop in the largest Archdiocese in the country, I supervise and regularly visit roughly forty parishes. However, I do wonder whether, given the unique demands of our time, it might be wise to ask a few questions about our hyper-stress on the parish. 

Survey after survey has shown that the number of the "nones," or the religiously unaffiliated, is increasing dramatically in our country. Whereas in the early 1970s, those claiming no religion was around three percent, today it is close to twenty-five percent. And among the young, the figures are even more alarming: forty percent of those under forty have no religious affiliation, and fully fifty percent of Catholics under forty claim to be "nones." For every one person who joins the Catholic Church today, roughly six are leaving. And even those who identify as Catholic are spending very little time in and around parishes. Most studies indicate that perhaps 20 to 25 percent of baptized Catholics attend Mass on a regular basis, and the numbers of those receiving the sacraments--especially baptism, confirmation, marriage--are in noticeable decline. Furthermore, objective analysis reveals--and I can testify from a good deal of personal experience--that a tiny percentage of the already small percentage who attend Mass typically participate in parish programs of education, social service, and spiritual renewal. The point--and again, this is to say absolutely nothing against those who do wonderful work within the parish--is that perhaps we should reconsider our priorities and focus, above all, on active evangelization, the great mission ad extra.

Pope Francis memorably told us to "get out of the sacristies and into the streets," and to go "to the existential margins." Especially in our Western context, the streets and the existential margins are where we find the "nones." Two or three generations ago, we could trust that many people (Catholics certainly) would come to our institutions--schools, seminaries, and parishes--to be evangelized, but we absolutely cannot assume that today. But yet we still seem to devote most of our money, time, and attention to the maintenance of these institutions and their programs. Might it not be wiser to redirect our energies, money, and personnel outward, so that we might move into the space where the un-evangelized, the fallen-away, the unaffiliated dwell? My humble suggestion is that a serious investment in social media and the formation of an army of young priests specifically educated and equipped to evangelize the culture through these means would be a desideratum. But that's a subject for another column.

The last time Cardinal George addressed the priests of Chicago, at a convocation just about nine months before his death, he made a prophetic remark. He told the Chicago presbyterate that, at the beginning of the Church, there were no dioceses, no schools, no seminaries, and no parishes. But there were evangelists. He said that, in light of our present challenges, this is worth thinking about. He was right.

Bishop Robert Barron is the founder of the global ministry, Word on Fire, and is an Auxiliary Bishop in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles.

Elder Brother Or Parent?

This post is in response to an anonymous poster whose comments can be found here.  According to his/her comment: 

AnonymousJuly 18, 2018 at 12:36 PM

Diana, why does Giuseppe Gennarini, the catechist of the NCW in the U.S., call the Jews "parent" rather than "elder brother" as Pope Francis does?

His/Her comment is most likely in reference to the comments made in the jungle, which can be found here.  Mr. Gennarini was not the only one who felt that the Jews should not be called "elder brother."  Pope Benedict XVI also felt the same way.  According to an article in Culture Wars:

On the other hand, in his interview book Light of the World, Pope Benedict XVI recently explained why he thinks we should no longer call Jews "our elder brothers", stating that "the phrase 'elder brothers,' which had already been used by John XXIII, is not so welcome to Jews. The reason is that, in the Jewish tradition, the 'elder brother' – Esau – is also the brother who gets rejected." According to Pope Benedict even the Jews themselves do not find this title as complimentary as many think. 

Therefore, there was nothing strange at all.  Mr. Gennarini gave the same reason that Pope Benedict XVI gave.  The reason Mr. Gennarini used the word "parent" was because Abraham, the founder of Judaism, was called the "father of all believers" or the "father in the faith."  Even the Catechism of the Catholic Church (See CCC 2569) called the Founder of Judaism (Abraham) "our father."

Finally, there is no written law in the Catholic Church saying that the Jews should not be called "parent".  Neither is there any written law saying they should be called "elder brother."  Pope Francis and other popes who called the Jews "elder brother" meant no disrespect.  It was not their intention to offend them in any way.  Yet, for the sake of ecumenism, Mr. Gennarini and Pope Benedict XVI refrained from using the term "elder brother."  If our Jewish brothers find the term "elder brother" offensive, then perhaps the word "elder" should be dropped and simply call them "brothers".......or as Christ taught us, we can humble ourselves and call them "parent".      

The Calling From God

The priesthood is a vocation called by God.  Some of us wonder what this calling is like, and we often ask our seminarians and priests how they receive their calling. Guam's four seminarians whom Archbishop Byrnes have chosen to keep are Derek Delgado, Junee Valencia, Ronald Pangan, and William Mamangun.  You can read their stories in the Umatuna here and here. We pray for these young men as they continue their path toward the priesthood.  

It is always interesting to read how a seminarian is called into the priesthood.  Sometimes, God's calling is very easy to hear as in the case of all four of Guam's seminarians chosen by Archbishop Byrnes. All of them were already in the Catholic Church, serving as altar servers or in some Church ministry, and come from strong Catholic backgrounds.  Other priestly callings were much harder to hear because of the situation they were in.  But God's priestly calling was not only for those already serving in the ministry of the Church.  God can even call a priest in the violent streets, in the slums, or in a painful situation. 

Below is another witness to Christian faith.  It is the reflection from a newly ordained priest.  You can find his story here.
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Reflections of a newly ordained priest — Father Andrea Povero

Hello everyone!

My name is Father Andrea. I am originally from Italy and on May 19th I was ordained a priest for the Archdiocese of Boston after a long and beautiful journey of dialogue with the Lord. I use the word “dialogue” because, since I was very young, I came to understand that God is not a “concept” or a mysterious being up in the air, as many people today may think. On the contrary, in God I met a person or, more precisely, a Father.

Today, I am 30 years old and I can say that my personal “dialogue” with this Father started when an experience of suffering came to me and my family: the death of my earthly father, Franco. I was almost 8 years old, the youngest of 4 children: Mario, Valentina, Anna and myself. After several months of pain and going from one hospital to another, my father died “as a saint” in his bed at home with my mother and my brother at his side.

My father was a man who did not grow up in the Church. In fact, he had fallen far away from the Church, especially after the sudden death of his first wife after only 5 years of marriage. He suddenly found himself alone with a 5-year-old child, my brother Mario. But God was very merciful to him. Shortly after the death of his first wife he met my mother, who had recently come back to the Church herself.

She invited him to go to listen to the same catechesis that she had listened to only a few months earlier, the catechesis of the Neocatechumenal Way. Through this experience, my father started a long journey of faith that helped him to discover the love of God and to find the meaning of his existence and the answer to his suffering. (I am sharing some of the experience of my father because it is essential to understand the inheritance of faith that he left to me through his death and the root of my priestly vocation.)

The reason that I say my father died “as a saint” is because on the night he died he reconciled with everyone, asking for forgiveness and receiving forgiveness. The last words he spoke were addressed to my brother, who at that time was 23 years old and in the midst of a period of rebellion against God and the Church. My father told him, “Mario, open the windows, Christ is coming!” Shortly afterward, he passed away.

My father’s experience of finding God in his life, along with his last words, made a great impact on me. They marked me immensely. They became like a shield that protected me, especially as I was growing up and faced different experiences that would lead me to doubt God.

I thought about becoming a priest for the first time when I was 13 years old. That idea scared me, and I decided not to share it with anyone. Like most teenagers in today’s society, I had plans for my life that did not include the priesthood.

I was a very sociable kid; I had a lot of friends, I loved to play sports, and I was in love with “the mountains.” I spent many weekends hiking and climbing the Alps. In addition to all this, my mother made it possible for me to attend an excellent school.

Humanly speaking, I had everything that a young man could hope for in life. Nevertheless, inside of me there was always a deep tension. I knew that the death of my father had left a great sense of insecurity inside of me. Many times, I felt I did not really have someone to rely on. This was exacerbated by the fact that, after the death of my father, my older brother left the house and went to study in another city.

Anxiety became one of my worst enemies. I had friends and I had the desire to study and build my life, but yet there was always an internal turmoil that stayed with me. In the school, the beliefs of my friends were constantly contradicting the faith that I saw in my house. For many years, I lived with one foot “in the world,” trying to fit in with the lifestyle of my friends, and another foot in the Church. At one moment, though, this duplicity broke.

When I finished high school, I found myself very confused. I had dated a girl for a while until she found someone else. Life suddenly seemed as if it was a huge mountain standing before me, and I felt I was not able to climb it. I missed my father very much and the friendships I had built throughout the years were no longer enough. I began university, but a few months later I decided not to continue. I always wanted to study, and I never would have thought it was something I wouldn’t succeed at.

I fell into a time of deep sadness and anger, the relationships within my family became very difficult and I entered into a “fight” with God. I felt that God was creating a desert around me. I was angry at Him, yet I could not completely close the doors of my life to Him. And this was because of the “inheritance” left to me by my father. His last words, addressed to my brother — “Mario, open the windows, Christ is coming!” — were inscribed in my heart. In a way, what my father had told us was that Christ was the only truth. So, as much as I would try to put God aside, I could not do so completely.

It may sound absurd, but it was in the midst of this period of conflict with God that I felt very strongly that He was calling me to the priesthood. That thought, which I first had when I was 13 years old, came to the surface again and refused to leave me. God appeared to me like a father looking for his son. I found myself surrounded by people who were constantly reminding me of God’s unconditional love for me — even in those moments when I was angry, lashing out and in conflict with everyone. I experienced that God knew my life and understood my suffering in a way that no one else could. Little by little, I began to see God as my father and the death of my earthly father as a blessing, and not as a mistake.

It was during this time that I attended the wedding of one of my cousins, whose brother was a young priest. In the middle of the reception, he walked up to me and said, “Andrea, what are you waiting for to enter the seminary?” I hadn’t told anyone — not a soul — what I had been thinking, and yet he said this to me. I couldn’t believe it. I felt that that was a clear word of God for me.

Some months later, I decided to attend a youth meeting with Pope Benedict XVI. There, God made clear to me that my way of happiness was through the priesthood. After a time of discernment, helped by my Neocatechumenal community, my catechists and my parish priest, I decided to enter the seminary. I was invited to attend an international retreat of men from the Neocatechumenal Way who were thinking of entering the priesthood, and within two weeks I was sent to study at the Redemptoris Mater Archdiocesan Missionary Seminary of Boston.

In the seminary, I have really experienced that God is my father. I have found my place, and I don’t feel like an orphan anymore. I no longer feel abandoned.

If I have ever felt an absence in my life because of the death of my father, now I have a presence of God the Father in my life. It is because of my loss that I experience God the Father in a deeper way than I think many people do. I feel precious to Him. I realized that my whole life was a preparation for this mission.

As for my first assignment, I was assigned by Cardinal Seán as parochial vicar of the Jamaica Plain/Roxbury Collaborative of St. Thomas Aquinas Parish, Our Lady of Lourdes Parish and Mary of the Angels Parish.

So far it has been a great assignment with many challenges and lots of work. In the short time that I have spent here, I have already seen the action and the power of the Holy Spirit and I am sure that God sent me here to learn how to live not for myself, but for others.

I pray that God will keep me always faithful to what I have received and that He may give me the strength and the wisdom to be a faithful shepherd!

Pray for me,

Father Andrea

Congratulations To Paul O'Reilly!

Paul O'Reilly was a former RMS seminarian in Guam who was walking in one of the NCW communities.  He was recently ordained a deacon by Archbishop Eamonn Martin, Archbishop of Armagh, Ireland.  He was supposed to be ordained a deacon in Guam on June 4, 2016, but that never happened.  Congratulations to Deacon Paul O'Reilly.

A Witness To Faith

The following article was contributed by an anonymous poster who goes by the name of "Lou."  It is about a woman named Natasha Sanna.  Sanna walks in the Neocatechumenal Way.  She was paralysized as a result of a mistake her doctor made.  However, she did not file a lawsuit against the doctor despite that she could have.  

St. Pope John Paul II said that the world needs holy people.  Holy people are needed because these holy people are the witnesses to the faith.  These kinds of witnesses to faith are much more convincing because anyone (including the Jews, Muslims and even atheists) can feed the hungry and help the poor.  But how many can forgive?  How many can forgo the opportunity of a lawsuit to gain money?  Their light shines so that others may see and praise God's glory.  The light and spirit of Christ is manifested through them.  Below is Natasha's Story. 
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A paralyzed young mother asks the Lord for a sign to carry her cross. This is what happened.

The story of Natasha Sanna, the wife of Simone and the mother of Ilaria, Gabriele, and Maria Giulia, might make you angry and might bring you to tears, but it will also leave you amazed, joyful, and hopeful. Natasha has lived with a severe disability for six years, and in this interview she tells us with generosity and humor about her (mis)adventure and how she had to start all over again to continue living and loving.

Natasha, tell us your story.

I went to see the doctor over a menstrual problem— I had the feeling that the blood was staying coagulated in my belly instead of going out and flowing well. My doctor, who is a gynecologist, prescribed the pill for this problem and reassured me that everything would be solved in a few months. She prescribed it to me without running any tests beforehand. Unfortunately, I had a genetic problem of coagulation which had worsened. I took the pill and I got a cerebral thrombosis.

I already had my three children then. And I had six others in heaven. I suffered from recurrent miscarriages, but no one was alarmed. I started taking the pill.

About a month later, shortly after my nephew’s birth, we went to Mass on Saturday night. (My husband and I are part of the Neocatechumenal Way.) When we returned home, I remember that I fainted. When I came to in the hospital, I was completely paralyzed on my right side. I was no longer able to speak and my mouth was all bent to one side. It’s much better now and you don’t notice it so much unless you stare at my lips, but my right eye unfortunately does not see anymore.

At first, they told me I would recover, but the hemiparesis soon became hemiplegia. I did a lot of speech therapy and a lot of physiotherapy for my face. In intensive care, I didn’t realize how bad I was. I thought I was speaking correctly but those who listened to me didn’t understand what I was saying, because I was moaning. But in my mind I thought I was expressing myself normally. Only when they brought me a little blackboard one day did I finally understand. After a series of visits, they screened me for thrombophilia, and diagnosed the causes of my pathology.

Did you report the doctor?

No, I didn’t. Even though the doctors told me I could. I think she made a human error. A serious one, but still an error. How often I make mistakes, too. I didn’t want to judge her. One day the Lord will do it. It’s said that sin generates sin, so I surrendered her to God’s will and keep her in my prayers.

How did you feel after the stroke? Who was particularly close to you?

Before getting sick, I was a chef and I earned good money and helped my family. I suddenly found myself in an unfamiliar world. I was catapulted into a reality that is difficult to explain and with which I had to learn to live.

Illness and suffering are scary, and in fact my family of origin grew a bit distant after the thrombosis. I always pray for them. My husband Simone has always been close to me, which is priceless, and also my community. The pain didn’t damage our relationship; instead, it united us even more. I didn’t choose it; God allowed it for me and it could only be a good choice. We have been together since I was 17 and he was 23: 20 years have passed! In August we will celebrate 16 years of marriage, and I’m still in love with him.

Are you in a lot of pain?

I remember that at a certain point in my illness, when I had difficulty doing things for my children, the housework that every mother does, I prayed and asked God: “If all this is in Your will, you must send me a sign. I don’t want a sign like a breath of wind coming into the house, a leaf that flies, a sun beam. I want something that is almost a slap because otherwise I can’t keep going. The disease is breaking me. I can’t carry this cross.”

Then I met with a speech therapist, and I remember that the first exercises were really difficult, because I was ashamed. I couldn’t do what she asked, even though she treated me with incredible sweetness. I had to learn how to write with my left hand, and I had to start over as if in kindergarten. She told me that if I set a goal I would learn right away.

At that moment in my heart, I decided I wanted to write to Pope Francis. It’s been four years since then. I remember that it was hard to write with my left hand, but I didn’t want to send him one of those letters typed at the computer or on a machine. So, I wrote by hand on lined paper torn from my son’s notebook.

What did you write to the pope?

I wrote to him that illness had come to my family and that absurdly, it had healed me. I had understood that this suffering was making me see life from another angle: the perspective of a wheelchair. And I remember that I also told him that my family of origin had distanced itself and that I was praying for them. In the post-script, I left him my cell phone number: “I know you like to make calls to people, so I’ll leave you my cell phone number. Do what you wish with it …”

I gave the letter to a friend of mine who works in St. Peter’s because he knew where to send it and who to direct it to. I remember that I went to the community and told them about what I’d done, and the priest (Don Luca) told me: “Listen Natasha, if the pope doesn’t answer you, don’t be upset. He has so many things to do.” My husband poked some fun at me and told me: “Okay, let’s see if the pope writes to you.”

Did the letter reach the Holy Father?

The letter arrived in the Vatican in the care of Cardinal Comastri. He wanted to know everything about me and my story. I was told that he deposited my note in one of the boxes full of mail that the Holy Father reads personally. Then my parish priest called to tell me that a package had arrived for me from Cardinal Comastri: there was a book about the Virgin Mary with a dedication for me. I showed the gift to Don Luca who immediately said to me: “See, the cardinal sent you this gift, but now don’t ask for the impossible.” I replied: “Nothing is impossible for God, right?”

And then what happened?

It was the Sunday of Christ the King; I remember that we had been to my in-laws’ house and then came back to our house. It was about eight o’clock in the evening when the phone started ringing. Simone told me to go and answer, but I had to remove my brace and all the straps—I’m a bionic woman and it takes me some time—so I answered: “You go!” and he said: “And what the hell! You never answer this phone!”

I thought it was the usual annoying sales call but then I heard my husband say, “Yes, yes, Natasha. I’ll get her on the line.” He brought me the phone: “It’s for you, someone with a strange accent.” I took the phone all ticked off and said: “Hello!”  and on the other side a voice said: “I was looking for Mrs. Natasha.” I interrupted him all irritated and said: “That’s me!” and he responded: “I’m Pope Francis.” I looked at Simone and I told him, “Simone, it’s not a sales call—it’s the pope!”

Natasha, what a thrill! What a gift to receive a phone call from the Holy Father. What did you tell him?

I was really happy, and I said to him: “How wonderful! I’ve been waiting for your call for a long time,” and Simone scolded me from the door: “You don’t speak in the informal ‘tu’ to the pope!” Whenever I think about that scene, I find myself chuckling.

The Pontiff told me that he had my letter in front of him … and I interrupted him, saying: “Yes, I wrote to you to say that God gave me a gift with the disease, because I’m experiencing humility, the strength of forgiveness, the power of prayer that reaches everywhere.”

And he answered: “How nice to talk with you! How nice to hear you say these things. Thank you.” I couldn’t believe it and said: “It is I who thank you. I’m a drop in the sea and you called me.” And then he said: “No, Natasha, you’re very important, and do you know why? Because in you there is everything that the Passion of Jesus Christ represents.”

I’ll always remember these words. I replied that I didn’t feel so important, but since he was the pope, I was nobody to contradict him.

“Listen Natasha, here I read that you have three pearls,” he continued. I refer to my children that way because each of them has his and her own nuances and personality. The pope said the names of the kids.

I had him on speaker and then they called out: “Hi, Pope Francis!” And he answered, “Hi, pearls! Hi, pearls!” This will always remain in my heart, the pope who said “Hi, pearls” to my kids.

Then I passed Simone to him, otherwise I would have risked a divorce request from him! While they were talking I could see that he was bending his head whenever he said “Your Holiness,” as if the pope could see it. Scenes we laugh about!

Before ending the conversation, I thanked him for the call and he told me something that remained in my heart: “I called to console you, and I was consoled.” Simone was literally walking on air. Then I asked him: “What did you and His Holiness say to each other?” He said, “I don’t remember!” He had talked on the phone with the pope and didn’t remember their conversation because he was so excited.

This was the sign I was waiting for from God, the strong caress I was waiting for.  From that moment, I completely entrusted myself to the Lord, I accepted His will, I found consolation. But it’s often hard. It would be even harder if I didn’t have the community, the faith, and a husband who preaches at me whenever he sees me down, and to whom I say, “Okay, okay, you’re right,” just to get him to stop.

The disease has taught you humility, you said. Explain this to me.

When I was well, I worked, I earned money, I went out, and I thought I could decide everything. But illness humiliates you, and that’s why it teaches you humility. And humility is a gift. One thing I didn’t tell you is that I told the pope on the phone: “I would like to carry this cross as Christ carried his. Christ fell and got up three times, but in the end, he kissed his cross. And I too, with Christ’s same dignity, want to carry mine.”

To do this, I need to see the disease with fresh eyes: I have to look at it as if it were something that saves me, that makes everything more beautiful and true. I don’t want to have the heart of someone who gives up and gets trampled by events.

What are the difficulties of your everyday life?

Since September, I can’t leave the house anymore. I live in Gallicano, and the municipality hasn’t removed the architectural barriers. I was also removed from the housing where I had the electric wheelchair. I had to bring it home. I can’t go out alone anymore, except with Simone. When I could go out and take the children to school, the people who met me always told me: “Every time I see you, a weight is taken off my shoulders, every worry, every thought.” Life is life.

The first thing I did when I came home from the hospital was to prepare pasta sauce for my children. Simone wanted to go to my mother-in-law’s house to get something to eat, and was amazed that I had cooked. But I told the kids: “Look, your mother is not a half mom. She used to do things with the force of her strength, and now she is forced to do them with her heart, because she doesn’t have strength anymore.”

Natasha together with a brother of the community at the 50th anniversary of the Neocatechumenal Way

50th Anniversary of the Neocatechumenal Way in Rome - Wynnum Pilgrimage ...

Below is a video of the Rome Pilgrimage by the Wynnum Pilgrims in Australia.  Their pilgrimage started a few days earlier than Guam.  Guam started its Rome pilgrimage on May 1st.  On May 5th, all the pilgrims from around the world gathered together at Tor Vergata.