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Georgie Seton
Church Mouse Building
up the common-wealth of charity we share at Seton
[original design by David Del Monaco of Elser & Aucone, Inc.] (originally appeared in Seton weekly bulletin) by Msgr. Thomas Sandi
The Diary of a Church Mouse - 2009 (click)
(Click on a underlined statement for more information)
After a funeral last week, our eldest triplets, Hughie Dewey and Louie and I hopped aboard a hearse on its way to the local cemetery, and overheard a casual conversation between the driver and one of our priests. The driver, a non-catholic, remarked how open and cooperative the pastoral staff was. He said, “Whenever our funeral home calls Seton, w know we and the grieving will be accommodated because in the midst of arranging dates and times for the wake and the Mass of Christen Burial, obituary deadlines, etc., the focus is kept on the family and their needs. Everyone knows about your parish; love and respect for people are hard to hide. When they think “pastoral care,” they think Seton!”
Our brood figured there would be bottles of wine and lots of food left over from the Volunteer Workers’ Dinner last Saturday night. Big disappointment! Not only had the 287 volunteer-leaders eat their fill—from cheese and crackers to three types of cake—the Dinner Committee had done an excellent job of cleaning up the kitchen and auditorium. Oh the pain of a backyard, Saturday night dinner with all those intoxicating aromas lingering in the spanking-clean auditorium.
While leaving the church last weekend, in the midst of another “snow Sunday,” a grandma-visitor said to her daughter, “There were so few in church today! How can you folks keep the parish going?” The wise daughter replied, “Just like we do at home, Mom-- tightening our belts, good maintenance, and better prayers!” Wisdom and a ready wit make for a brave parishioner and faithful Catholic. God bless you hardy souls!
Mother always said there’d be days like this! Last Sunday evening, word got out among our growing rodent family that a huge, rich, homemade chocolate cake was sitting pretty on the sacristy countertop. Since families of church mice rarely get such a delectable treat “on a silver platter,” so to speak, we sounded the alarm for our young ones and their friends. We dreamed about munching down the whole beautiful thing. The kid prepared an old summer camp blessing (“Rub-a-dub-dub; thanks for the grub; Yeaaa, God!” and we planned a midnight raid. We arrive at the stroke of midnight with hearts beating and mouths watering. My wife, Lisbeth helped everyone light our tiny lanterns, and saw . . . nothing!! The priest on duty had picked up the cake, while locking the church doors, and brought it to the rectory kitchen—its intended destination. So we settled down and as a family, stomachs growling—and began to weave the story about what might have been on “The Night of the Chocolate Cake Raid.” Our twins, Liam and Billy, overheard the following after one of the Christmas Eve Masses. A little boy shook hands with the celebrant as his family was leaving the church. The priest asked him, “Are you going to open your Christmas presents under the tree tomorrow?” The boy replied , “Yes.” The priest asked, “How do you know you’ll find presents there? He quipped, “Because I ordered them from the catalog!” Don’t know what those little ones will say!
File this under “How many priests does it take to change a light bulb?” Lisbeth was taking the triplets, Peter, Pete and Petie, for a walk above the rectory office when they witnesses a fun moment. Seeing one of the old table lamp light bulbs burned out, one of the priests picked up a brand-new container of two 25-watt bulbs, and proceeded to replace the old bulb with the new one. When that didn’t light, he took the other new bulb and screwed it in. No luck. He took the lamp into an adjoining room, and tried another outlet. Nothing! Frustrated, he was about to bring the lamp to an electrical store for repair, when the voice of one of our quick-thinking secretaries was heard through the wall, saying, “Father, did you try another set of light bulbs?” Of course, when he did, the bulb lit up beautifully, and everyone had a good laugh. Hmmmmmm! How about those refined, resourceful rectory
Jacques, our twenty-something reported hearing a parishioner suggest to one of the priests that the notices on the enclosed bulletin boards in our three vestibules be more “eye-catching” because a lot of parishioners zip in and out of church and don’t even see them. Her friend chimed in, “So true. I used to be one of those people before I got more involved in the parish and found so much more to help deepen my faith!” Let him who has eyes see!
I brought my second-grader to the Religious Education First reconciliation celebration last week. What a joy to see so many “angels” accompanied by their parents—all 99 of them—hold up their candles right after confessing their sins (“You are the light of the world!” The next day at the packed chapel “Meet the Real Saint Nicholas” event, one seven year old after greeting the pastor whispered to her mother, “Monsignor didn’t remember that I went to confession yesterday.” “Oh that’s a special grace given to the priest; he has to work very hard not to remember what he heard and who said it in the confessional. He may never reveal anything; his lips are sealed!” The little one was satisfied, and another believer is content that the seal of confession remains absolute.
Lisbeth and I were surprised by the unusually late spiritual activity in the church last Monday; lights burned till just after midnight. We rounded up the family and stared in awe from the ceiling seeing “Seton at prayer” in union with millions of other Catholics on the Night of Prayer for Life. Several parish groups took turns reading and listening to scripture, praying in silence and in common, and listening and singing hymns. At the stroke of midnight, during Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, we could see how strongly they felt humbly kneeling for innocent human life at all its stages and then unashamedly standing up for the most vulnerable among us. Awesome!
Late Saturday night, our youngest were scampering around the cardboard boxes containing the old Word and Song Missalettes in the church vestibule. Mother and I were desperately trying to keep up. Whew! After the fun and games, I thought to myself, how many parishioners and visitors held, prayed, read scripture and sang god’s praises with these Missalettes throughout the past year! Al those heartfelt prayers and remembrances! Such love in God’s House! A wonder of grace.
Had the rodent relatives in for holiday dinner last weekend—you know one church mouse family entertaining another. Our Protestant and Orthodox cousins took the “overland route” through Mohegan lake, and our Jewish uncle and his wife motorcycled over. (Yes, there are synagogue mice!) everyone had a delightful time with the “mice meal.” (I’ll spare you the gastronomical details. ) We were bursting with pride (among other things) because, you know, it’s not every church mouse that has such a magnificent house of prayer and a world-class backyard . . . with a river for rafting, yet! Ah the pleasures of the good life at dear old Seton!
While Mother was doing some sweeping in the bell tower after the 5:30 Mass last Saturday night, she spied a little boy shake Monsignor’s hand as they stood just outside the church exit. He said, “So how come you’re out here “in the dark?” The second Scripture Reading from 1 Thessalonians had included the verse “ . . . brothers and sisters, you are not in darkness.” Great job, lector!
The leaf blowers were out in full force last Friday morning in our church backyard and our youngsters were singing “fly me to the moon,” while being tossed hither and yon. Of course mother and I insisted on safety glasses, ear plugs, helmets, and shin guards. It helps to have a mouse-daddy who knows a thing or two about shining armor and fire breathing dragons à la Saint George.
Before sunrise last Tuesday, I meandered over to the Shrub Oak Library to “watch democracy at work.” A line of twenty or so people snaked [Shudder!} around the porch waiting for the doors to open. You could see anticipation in the quiet ,if sleepy, looks on the faces of young and old alike about to elect the next US president. No doubt about it, something big was happening, and no one wanted to be left out. I saw it with my own beady eyes: “ . . . of the people, by the people, and for the people!”
Ask me No Questions and I’ll Tell You No Lies Last Tuesday, Lisbeth and I were walking the triplets, Peter, Peter and Petie, over the sanctuary when we came upon the conclusion of the Mass-in Slow-Motion for our Religious Education 2nd graders. Afterwards, Monsignor asked if any child noticed anything special. Three of the best answers (word for word) were: “What happened to the Profession of Faith”, [Monsignors asked, “You mean the Creed?” He replied, “Yep”] “Why didn’t we sing?”, and “Why didn’t we pass the basket?” {Monsignor said humorously, “Get that little man a set of envelopes!] They really do notice what we adults do . . . and don’t do. A word to the wise parent!
Ten days ago, I headed sleepily for the wall clock at the back of the church to do my pre-dawn jog, and behold a new large clock (there have been six duds) was in position, but it had no crystal Because of a faulty clip, it had come crashing down on the brick floor the day before, and the glass broke into a million pieces. I was so thankful; now I could do my jogging on the inside of the church clock. (It was getting really insane running at top speed on the outside of the clock, defying gravity after the 4:00 o’clock point.)
Recently a child asked her father what were the names of some our boy-mice. Well at last count, they were: Tiny Tim, Tom Tom and Big Jim.
Dogs and Cats . . . and a Tiny Hermit Crab Are you as excited as my family is about the “Blessing of (Us) Animals” on the feast day of Saint Francis? We’re expecting relatives and relations from around the area, even those who are not Catholic. Of course as we mice don’t ordinarily come out in the daylight, we’ll be watching at a safe distance from the bell tower. Remember the rules: all pets must be leashed or caged (No exceptions!) to protect them and their humans.
My family and I watched the menagerie of approximately 80 pets that was the annual “Gathering of the Creatures Choir” yesterday. Few noticed the infant wash cloth in the form of a mouse, propped up on a miniature traffic cone—a stand-in for yours truly. Now really, a wash cloth on a traffic cone! Oh well, it was a good looking rodent, on a clean traffic cone . . .and someone thought of me! (Thank you!)
Last Saturday night while I was using the giant, antique, giant bell over the front door of the church, I overheard a friendly threesome chatting about the Catholic Updates leaflets we have on the literature racks. One said, “I’ve learned so much about my faith this year just by reading some of these leaflets.” Her friend replied, “I guess you’re never too old to learn.” Now that’s an insight, for sure. Christianity is a living organism, and needs to be cared for and fed consistently. Otherwise, it can appear unappealing, and seem rather useless in the “real world” in which we all live.
Tootsie, my grandfather’s sister, was practically run over by a six year old after Mass. Holding one of the plastic kneeler props, he was zooming towards Monsignor at the back of the church after Mass. Quietly, and yet very bravely, he said, “I am very sorry; I accidentally broke your pew.” Then with the plastic kneeler prop in his hand, he burst into tears. Mom and Dad were very moved at this tender sight and praised their boy for his owning up to his actions. Old Toots was a basket case and bawled all the way home.
“The sanctuary lamp has been lowered!” cried Granddaddy Beauregard, who finds reading from his tiny prayer book by flickering candlelight at our 3:00 AM devotions difficult. Since the slick, new tile went up and the tabernacle light was lowered for easier access, he doesn’t have to use his magnifying glass anymore. (We’re “all on the same page” now.)
Our diva-in-the-making, Isabella, attended the Parish Talent Show last Sunday. She told our family we missed something really moving. Tom Tom said, “The singing?” Yes, but when the basket was passed around for free will offerings, a little girl put in just two pennies—just like the Gospel story of the Widow’s Mite. Thank you darling, and thanks to Mom and Dad for teaching you charity.
Last Monday Aunt Myrtle was taking her daily afternoon walk, when she came upon a heart-touching scene. The pastor was at the outdoor Marian shrine reciting the “Blessing of Animals” from the Book of Blessings for a tiny, sick bunny. Peter, a Netherland dwarf rabbit, weighing in about two pounds, was on antibiotics for an eye infection. The family was very concerned, and invoking God’s name over one of his innocent creatures was enough to quiet the fears of the three children-caretakers. Myrtle opened her large-print, mouse bible and quoted Psalm 148:10, You animals, wild and tame, you creatures that crawl and fly, bless the Lord. And we all said, “Amen!”
Our perky triplets, April, May and June, overheard a former parishioner say, “What I miss most of all since we moved upstate is the spirit at Seton. There’s just nothing like it.” Seton, sweet Seton.
Just before sunrise today, our entire family got dressed in their “Easter best” (bowler or bonnet on their heads, cravats or scarves at the neck, knickers “down below,” and bows at the tail), made our traditional Easter parade around the church. Yes, we proudly strolled all around our church home, decorated so magnificently. We began at the St. George Portico (of course), and finished outside in our spacious hunting grounds (the backyard). How sweet Seton is and how blessed it is to be the mouse-in-chief. (Sigh!)
Just after our Maria finished playing peek-a-boo with her brother Liam, over the pastor’s office Thursday, she watched the pastor type an e-mail response to a parishioner concerned about the purchasing of altar flowers in these difficult financial times. Monsignor wrote, “You may be unaware, but we supplement the two floral pieces in the sanctuary with those of the 99 funerals and 18 weddings celebrated last year. Otherwise we use a variety of silk flowers. Additionally, we do not use flowers at all during the 10 weeks of Lent or Advent.” So that’s why those flowers Liam tried to eat last week made him sick!
On
Good Shepherd Sunday,
Yves and Eve were
going over their
French lessons with Mademoiselle Babineaux, when they overheard a
nine year old parishioner explain to his grandmother the
origin of the word
“shepherd.” He said, “You see, ‘shepherd’ is made up of two other words:
‘shep’ and ‘herd.’ The sheep heard
God’s word and they followed him.” Hmmmm! Add an “e” to “shep,”
and an “a” to herd, and you too can “get” the Gospel message!
At midnight last Tuesday, our whole family crawled underneath the red
covering and tickled the 88 shining keys of the new piano in the choir
loft. Our youngest played forte; our teenagers, fortissimo;
my grandma, decrescendo; our pre-teens fortepiano; our
elderly aunt Myrtle, pianissimo; and as for Lizbeth and me,
just mezzza-mezza! You might call it “cacophony”; we mice prefer
“modern rodent.”
We had a scare last Sunday, when we couldn’t locate our dear, little
Charlie. Last seen playing around one of the rectory air conditioners,
his playmates lost track of him. Someone heard pitiful cries of “Help!”
and looked under the air conditioner cloth cover and saw the little guy
stuck, spread eagle, to the air conditioner intake vent. (The air
conditioner covers had not yet been removed.) We got the switch turned
off and he was free. What a relief; he feels better too.
Last Saturday night while I was using the giant, antique, giant bell
over the front door of the church, I overheard a friendly threesome
chatting about the Catholic Updates leaflets we have on the
literature racks. One said, “I’ve learned so much about my faith this
year just by reading some of these leaflets.” Her friend replied, “I
guess you’re never too old to learn.” Now that’s an insight, for
sure. Christianity is a living organism, and needs to be cared
for and fed consistently. Otherwise, it can appear unappealing, and
seem rather useless in the “real world” in which we all live.
Great to be back after summer vacation—have three months gone by
already? There’s been so much information about the new Parish Year
(September – May) in our bulletin, I couldn’t get my usual boxed space
till the end of the month. [Thanks for reminding the pastor about me,
kids!]
Lisbeth and I were at the 12:30 Mass lat Sunday, admiring a cute
18-month old baby who was staking out her territory perched in her
mother’s arms before Mass. Just then, the brass bell rang out, signaled
the beginning of the procession, and she jerked her head around to see
where the blaring sound came from. She shouted, “OH, oh!” She was
probably thinking someone dropped something, or something important was
about to happen . . . and she was right! The Eucharist is the most
important thing we do as Christians. Bright gal.
While taking a breather on a mini-marathon around the rectory ceiling
last Tuesday, my eldest son, “Big Jim” and I found ourselves above the
pastor’s office. I spied a little yellow piece of paper sticking out of
one of those red-bordered Financial Crisis envelopes. It read, “I would
like to help by giving $224 [the suggested amount] for me and my family,
as well as another $224 for a family who may not be as fortunate as
are we.” Wow! That one sentence speaks volumes about that generous
family and so many other parishioners who go beyond the call for
our parish. It’s really true, “The charity of Christ compels us
[our parish motto]”, and we are among the most blessed of all parishes.
And the Children Shall Lead Them
Two Sundays ago, I was peering down from our church ceiling, right after
the pastors’ Finance Crisis talk, and I saw a seven-year old dressed in
his blindingly white First Eucharist suit lean over to his mom and say,
“I want to give some of my Communion money to the church.” I wiped a
tear away from my eye and thought, responsibility for the “common
wealth” of our faith community goes way beyond monetary concerns, and
involves everyone. How inspirational it is to see youth so moved!
Lisbeth and I were doing a bit of spring cleaning in our church entrance
opening onto Lakeland High (the St. George Portico), last Sunday
morning, when I overheard a couple talking about the pastor’s sobering
talk on parish finances. He said, “Boy that’s quite a challenge; how
are we ever going to meet it?” She answered, “Well, we’ll do our
part, and so will everyone else. We’re in God’s hands. We’ll survive;
we always have. Remember this is Seton!”
Lisbeth and our brood of little mice were so proud to have our little
scampers watch so many Seton senior citizens last night at the elegant
Seniors’ Prom. Pointing to the bronze plaque with the likeness of our
founding pastor, Monsignor Arthur Nugent, at the back of the auditorium,
one elderly gentleman said to a much younger person, you know, if it
weren’t for him, we would be dancing in an open field! He went
on to tell a few stories about the many sacrifices Seton Founders made
during those pioneer day of the 1960s. Several teens listened in. From
time to time, it really makes a difference for our youth to hear about
the parish giants on whose shoulders we stand. What a great parish
family
Last Sunday, while anxiously observing our Girl Scouts’ bake sale,
raising funds for their art sale, we thought only of the tasty crumbs
we’d collect, I overheard the “sales pitch” of one of the bright,
uniformed youngsters. She said, “We have it all—food for the mind
(auction tickets) and food for the tummy (baked goods). True; so true!
Great job, kids!
Our teen-age church mice and their chaperones hopped on the Dunwoodie-bound
bus last Saturday afternoon along with mice from the surrounding
parishes to see Pope Benedict XVI. It was pandemonium. When the pope
mobile approached they waved their tiny banners and screamed their
hearts out for the pontiff, which wasn’t easy because they had to watch
out for the giant feet of the 32,000 human teens. But the most touching
event of the afternoon had occurred just before the outdoor rally. His
Holiness visited with individual disabled children, their parents and
caregivers in the seminary chapel. I saw the Shepherd tending his
little flock . . .and all was well.
Lisbeth and I were scampering around the church ceiling with our horde
last Tuesday evening, and came upon the Religious Education First
Communicants practicing genuflecting in front of the Blessed Sacrament.
Looking down to where his knee was meeting the kneeler, one boy was
particularly intent on genuflecting perfectly. His mom whispered don’t
look down; look up and keep your eyes on Jesus. How simple a
suggestion . . . and how wise! Keeping our eyes on Jesus is the
only way to live upright.
I was doing some home repair above the sacristy recently when I
overheard one parishioner encouraging another to be more optimistic
about another critical fundraising goal. “Don’t worry,” he said, “Seton
people will come through; we always do. It’s Lent, so pray, fast
and give of yourself.” Now that’s what I call gospel thinking.
Optimistic souls in our faith community truly sustain us, and through
prayer and fasting, things do happen . . . or should I say “Church”
happens.
Lisbeth and I were exercising above the Usher’s room after Morning
Prayer on Good Friday, when I heard two women remarking on the very
early date of Easter this year. One aid, the last time Easter was so
early was 1913, and we’ll all be dead before it falls so early again.”.
“Well,” the other one said,” I guess we’d better enjoy this one then.”
Wise words indeed. We should all make the most of the only real time
we have—the present.
Just before sunrise today, our mice family got dressed in their
Easter best—bowler or bonnet o n heads, cravats or scarves at the
neck, knickers down below, and bows at the tail—did our traditional
Easter Parade. Yes, we proudly strolled all around the church,
decorated so magnificently. We began at the St. George portico(of
course), and finished outside in our spacious hunting grounds the
back yard). Suddenly our littlest one got away from us, and ran
around to the front of the church. We found Tiny Tim inside, on the
wooden vestibule bulletin board. Sighing with relief, we huddled
together and once again read the beautiful sign, “A Very Seton
Welcome.” Quoting a letter from Mother Seton to one of her sisters,
It reads, “The front door, the back door, the side door that leads
to the chapel, the windows upstairs and down--all open at
your coming! Ah! “Home, sweet Seton” Ad the whole family
said, “God bless us, everyone!”
Whoa! Talk about “competing storms!” Last weekend, all hell broke
loose, when
a) Saturdays torrential rains and hurricane-like winds battered
the clergy on the way to dinner via the Bear Mountain Parkway.
[Vicar General, Bishop Dennis Sullivan, on an informal visit to our
parish said “I should have driven an ark instead o a car!”]; b)
all heaven broke loose on Sunday, as 1,249 Setonians “stormed
heaven,” signing postcards and petitions against that horrible New York
state abortion bill., and c) representatives of Seton’s Midnight
Run and the Cardinal’s Annual Appeal held their ground in the icy winds
blowing ferociously outside the church. Whew! I think their storm of
commitment—seen in their determination and tenacity-- won. That’s
Seton again!
I was outside in the beautiful, crisp air last Saturday, when I heard
two-year old mention to his mother that he really enjoyed seeing the
girl carrying the cross on a stick. I think he was referring to the
altar server carrying the bronze processional cross. (at least I hope
so.). The hymn said it all, “Lift high the cross!” The children are
watching!
Unbelievable! Last weekend I snuck into one of the Seton coaches’ cars
to attend the spectacular CYO basketball championship games. They won
big: 5th grade boys, Class A; 5th grade boys,
class A, 6th grade girls, class A; 8th grade
girls, class A. Congratulations, boys and girls, coaches and parents.
The Name of the Games is Sharing
Last Monday, I was wandering around the rectory waiting room, and
noticed a mother speaking with one of the priests. She had a three-year
old in tow. As is the rectory custom, the toddler was offered a small
lollipop. He studied the tray full of brightly colored wrappers for a
good twenty seconds before he finally chose one. As the tray was being
put back on the shelf, he motioned to his mother as if to want another
lollipop. Offering him the tray again, the priest said< “Oh! . . . for
later?” Unfazed, the toddler relied, “No, it’s for my brother.” The
charity of Christ compels even the little people!
When I heard about the God’s TYM fundraiser (for the Seniors’ Prom) last
weekend, I made a mad dash for the vestibule, where delectable treats of
all sorts were being sold after masses. Wouldn’t you know, I gave up
chocolate for Lent! So I really felt the pain of the many faithful
parishioners who passed up the tables of sweets with long faces and eyes
cast away from temptation. Oh why did Easter (and therefore Lent) have
to come so early this year? [You have to go back 96 years to see Lent
begin so early.]
Scurrying around in the pastor’s office, I noticed a letter from one
“Sean,” who wrote how happy he was to pick up a bulletin each Sunday and
read about “Georgie the Church Mouse!” He said my adventures were
exciting and he wanted the pastor to have his original, color portrait
of me in my silver armor. How touching! Thanks, Sean, and Mom and Dad
too, who bring him to experience Jesus and brothers and sisters in
community every Sunday.
St. Elizabeth in a
Child’s Eye
With all the excitement connected with the
Masses, Volunteer Dinner and other participation opportunities
during our annual “Seton weekend,” I was tickled when I heard one of
the priests at Mass describe a portrait of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton
he had been given. He held up a purple piece of construction paper
containing the masterpiece with long curvey lines, one eye, and
askance lips. He said, “This one looks just like a Picasso [the
Weeping Woman, I think.].” Why not? Just imagine the beautiful
little mind that took the time to illustrate Mother Seton as he
“sees” her. . He’s certainly is a Setonian, and we’re proud of him
As I was passing the Ushers’ Room on an especially cold and windy day, I
overheard a conversation between one of the priests and a little girl.
Seeing the little one with an open coat, the priest said, “Better button
up or you’ll catch a cold!” Not missing a beat. she said, “That’s all
right; I already have a cold, but the church warmed me up.” Oh the
wisdom of children!
Heard it with my own itty bitty ears, not once, but twice last
Saturday. As they left the church after mass, two parishioners
approached Monsignor and said rather sheepishly, “Father, forgive me; I
stole the Thomas Merton payer we were using in the Missalette to prepare
for the upcoming Lenten Mission.” Now that’s what I call a revoltin’
development. Ah the exquisite joys of Setonians—a praying people!
Passing by the beautiful Seton indoor crèche last night, I heard a child
speaking with his mother about the length of the liturgical Christmas
season. “Boy, this year Christmas lasted long!” I guess it takes a
long time to explain how such a “big” God could become such a little
baby.
Little Acts of Charity
Go a Long Way
Stowed away on a Seton Helping Hands visit just
before Christmas, and saw and heard how deeply their presence and
homemade meals affect parishioners recovering from birth, surgery,
death or some other life-altering event. A round of applause to a
sterling parish group who quietly and consistently embody our parish
motto, The Charity of Christ Compels us!
Yesterday afternoon I was jogging around the vestibule, and overheard
one college freshman (home for Christmas) say to another, “How do you
like the new clock at the back of the church?” She quipped, I like it
very much . . . and if you stand in just the right spot, in the church
you can tell what time it is.”
Zipping along the first floor rectory ceiling last Sunday, I found
myself brushing away a tear, as I saw a member of the St. Matthew’s
Guild (the money counters) opening up an envelope of one of our
children, beautifully decorated with skinny flowers. Emblazoned in
giant print on the back was, “I love you God!” He loves you too, little
one; he loves you too.
I saw a seven-year old doing a little dance before Mass last Sunday. He
told his father he was “tap dancing for God.” Dad reminded him it was
time to pray. HE said, “see the red lamp (candle) next to the
tabernacle—god is there!:” The boy said quietly, “And when it goes out,
does God disappear?” Dad took the opportunity to teach his son about
the Real Presence, and the fact that God never leaves us by ourselves.
[And aren’t we fortunate to have attentive parishioners who make sure
that the candle is replaced every seven days . . . just before the
Sabbath rest?
Whew! What a weekend. I took in the annual Christmas fair [What a
showing!], scampered amidst the snow flakes, and spent a lot of time
watering at the mouth while looking at those sealed cans of
candied popcorn the Boy Scouts were selling,. Well I’ll get a crack at
them in the rectory where one or two cans always seem to show up after
Sunday Masses. [Of course the priests–and deacons--rarely leave the
cover off!]
Coming to CYO basketball game early Sunday afternoon, one parent saw all
the activity and said to another parent, “Look at all the life in this
parish!”
Last Wednesday, I was giving some rodent friends a tour of the new
rectory siding and windows, when I heard a new mother arranging a
baptism. She used my favorite expression, “christening.” There really
is a naming aspect of the sacrament beyond the given name. In a sense,
we take on the name of Christ we thereafter call ourselves
Christians. Impressive, eh? And so true!
A week go, “after hours,” I was wandering around the cardboard boxes
congaing the old plastic Missalette covers,. I started to imagine all;
the people who worshipped here and left invisible fingerprints on the
books throughout the past year. I thought of children, moms, dads,
aunts and uncles, grandmas, clergy, religious, friends and the sick, the
joyful, the newly married, the First Communicants, the Confirmandi,
the troubled the young, the elderly, the peacemakers, those who bear
unusually heavy burdens, the lonely, the carefree and the unloved. The
Irish poet, James Joyce put it best when he described the Catholic
Church as “here comes everybody”—the good and the bad alike, all
beautiful in God’s sight. And just think . . . He knows each of us by
name!
Thanks to Those Who Fight For Freedom
Took in the seventh annual Shrub Oak Veterans Day Parade and ceremonies
last Sunday. What a turnout—the Lions Club served over 700 hot dogs!
Seton Scouts (with big banners) marched proudly, and Monsignor too in
his old Air Force battle dress uniform! On the way home, a 7¾ [!] year
old Brownie (according to her calculations) stopped Monsignor, offered
her little hand, and said quietly “Thank you!” Her mom said her teacher
had suggested she thank a soldier when she saw one. God bless
her little heart, her wise teacher and our precious nation!
Power of Anointing of the Sick
As I was rattling around above the ceiling over the sacristy, I
overheard a parishioner expressing his gratitude to one of the priests.
He had been anointed with the Oil of the Sick before a serious medical
procedure. He said, “In my heart, I could feel the prayers and support
of all Seton parish when I needed it most.” The Sacrament of the Sick
is always available to anyone (over the age of reason) who is seriously
or chronically ill, (in body, mind or spirit), faces a serious medical
procedure, or is weighed down by many years. Just see one of the
priests; it’s positively life-affirming! You’ll see.
A tiny girl standing with her mother in the rectory waiting areas, was
spelling out the 40-point lettering on the signs in the literature
rack. I like God’s house, she said quietly, everything is so easy to
spell here . . . and I get a lollipop too! May we always be a parish
which “reads” the needs of our parishioners, especially thec young, and
responds with God’s love.
I hopped a ride with the pastor to attend the Archdiocesan Catholic
School Teachers Institute at Kennedy Catholic High School last
Thursday. When the Superintendent of Schools announced the name of the
recipient of the St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Teacher’s Award, Seton’s whole
faculty jumped to their feet and cheered our own school principal (for
40+ years), Sister Gabriel Miriam, SC, with such enthusiasm it startled
the whole assembly of teachers . . .and Cardinal Egan too. Now that’s
what I call Seton enthusiasm for a true winner in every sense of the
word.
All you Creatures,
Bless the Lord
My family and I went to the Gathering of the
Creatures Choir last Saturday morning. Of course we mice kept
our distance from the 30 or so dogs and cats, assembled near the
tree line, fronting east Main Street. What a treat it was!
Thursday’s soaking rain had been followed by a Friday of amazing
winds, and Saturday was very brisk and clear. One little boy
remarked to his father, “It’s a good thing God used his leaf blower
yesterday; otherwise, this would be a very muddy blessing!:”
I happened upon the third annual American Doll Fashion Show last
Saturday afternoon. My mouse friends and I had “ceiling seats” (It’s
hot up there!). We thought the young girls and supportive moms did a
fabulous job. Perhaps someday thee will be a Just Like Me mouse
doll. Anyway, responding to her young daughter’s questions about the
building, a visiting mom said, “This is Seton Parish; you know, the one
with the terrific school and that great CYO basketball program.” We
Setonians have so much for which we are thankful, among which are our
generous parents and children
Just the other day I heard a very active parishioner remarking on all the meetings, conferences, rehearsals, classes, etc. that go on here at Seton. She said, “Once in a while I escape to the chapel for quiet meditation during Eucharistic Adoration. I can sit there inn perfect calm in the Lord’s company, while everything is swirling madly around me.” Well expressed. Why not stop by yourself, any weekday, noon to 3:00 pm? Spiritual refreshment is probably just what you need.
I heard two of our parish moms talking about the recent funeral mass of Luciano Pavarotti in Modena Italy. One said to the other, “How could the church publicly celebrate the funeral of someone who didn’t exactly live an exemplary Christian life?” One of their children, a second grader, piped up, “But mommy, maybe he went to confession. “Out of the mouth of babes.” (Psalm 8:2)
I am so glad to be back home after a restful summer with my family. I hope you had an enjoyable time yourselves. Did you notice the new rectory windows and siding? Many of you suspected there were “bats in our belfry,” but actually, that’s not true . . . anymore. They were evicted from the rectory attic by workmen who installed the exhaust fans last month.
I noticed a few parishioners reading the Sunday scriptures in the Missalette before mass last week. It’s a very good idea, you know. If you put more into hearing the Scriptures, you’ll get a lot more when you hear them being proclaimed---guaranteed! I suggest more of us take the time to do this every Sunday. By the way, if you must speak before and after mass, please do so quietly, out of respect for your fellow parishioners who may be praying.
I was touched deeply by a comment a preschooler made to her dad immediately after he received the Eucharist and was heading back to her pew. Holding on to his steady hand, she said in a stage whisper, “I want Jesus too!” “Dad said, “Soon, honey; soon.” Don’t we all want Jesus? If only more of us would think about the God who comes to us and sustains us in this singular way! After all, in a beautiful sense,, since Jesus has us “in the palm of his hand,” we have him too!
Doing a little spring cleaning exercise in the rear parking lot, recently, I noticed that the familiar bees who like to squeeze through the rectory window cracks and shingle holes can no longer do so because of the new air-tight windows that have been installed (as a part of Seton’s Bicentennial Capital Campaign). Swatting of flying pests or enduring unwelcome wintertime breezes, wafting through the edges of the windows onto sleeping priests is also a thing of the past. Soon vinyl siding will permanently seal the rectory walls and the energy savings will be palpable. That’s very good!
Just the other day I was zipping around the school entrance after a first Friday liturgy, wehen I heard one of our parochial school eighth graders remarking to a classmate, gee, there are only 32 days until graduation. I’m going to miss the “old place.” Fortunately, they will soon discover you can take the child out of the school, but you can’t take the school, out of the child . . . nor would you want to! For forty-one years our excellent faculty has been immersing young parishioners in the richness of our catholic culture, and that will provide an invaluable context for everything they do in life. What an enduring treasure they have received and will surely pass on to all they meet. Now that’s the best thanks any teacher can receive. Isn’t it?
Let my Prayer Rise Like Incense Caught the yearly school Crowning of the Blessed Mother ceremony last Friday at the end of which monsignor offered Benediction with a liberal use of incense. Afterwards, amidst all the pleasantries exchanged among him and the kids, as the classes filed out of the church, one third grader said, “Nice smoke today!”
On the weekend after Easter, I opened my rooftop windows and I overheard two Religious Education children talking in the parking lot about the beautiful sanctuary flowers one said the church smells like a funeral home, but there’s no body . . . after all, Jesus is risen from the dead! Hmmmmmmm. I guess there are many ways of talking about Jesus resurrection . . . some more creative than others. Rejoice; Jesus has risen, risen indeed!
A middle School boy stopped Monsignor at the school exit of tye church last Saturday night and, admiring his white vestments with very faint, light blue and gold vertical stripes, said, “I see you’re wearing Yankee pin stripes, and just in time. The way things are going this season, they are in serious need divine intervention!
I was doing a bit of autumn cleaning (!) above the main vestibule the other day, when I overheard two young women speaking after a Funeral Mass. Both graduates of Seton school, they were reminiscing, and one said, did you know sister Gabriel is still principal here! She was such an influence in my life I never knew I was capable of so much. Remember how hard we had to work? What an education we got. I wish we lived here now so my girls could go to the school! What a testimonial to our own “Mother Seton,” now serving us for over 41years; and to our dedicated faculty members.
Jogging above the vestibule last Friday, I overhear a woman speaking to a friend. “I love coming to Mass at Seton; there’s just something special about this parish!” An old liturgical axiom says it all. They way we worship indicates what we believe. It can’t but be noticed, and with God’s grace, it gives life to all whom we come into contact.
A I was making my way home after Palm Sunday Masses for a well-deserved afternoon snooze, lo and behold, I happened upon a dedicated band of young parishioners in the auditorium kitchen, painstakingly filling up those 2,000 small bottles of Easter water we distributed on the Feast of the Resurrection. Thank you for a 3½ hours of love and community service! Three cheers for the unique Setyon spirit, alive and well among our youth and the rest of us old fashioned folk—all for God and his People!
I had a chance to jump onboard the Parish Midnight Run van on Friday night. Over 75 homeless souls were minister to on that night under rainy conditions. As usual, there were very appreciative of the “real” sandwiches—turkey, ham, bologna--by our school children, rather than the usual fare of peanut butter and jelly. As well, they truly treasure the little bags of toiletries put together by our Religious Education students. Four times a year, our beautiful children and their parents make the Run very personal, and they should be showcased (even if modesty prevents it.) Good going, kids!
In the hustle and bustle of the 11:00 AM “Mass exodus” from the church last weekend, I overheard a very small boy speaking tenderly to another girl about the Haitian girl Sr. Pauline mentioned in her Propagation of the Faith appeal. [If you remember, the poverty-stricken youngster had been give a rag doll after a long time of pining for it. She loved it and played with it so much that the soles of the doll’s shoes were worn right off. The Seton girl said, “My mommy can fix anything, and then the little girl can have her doll back.” Her mother didn’t share the fact the little girl had actually died. With a tear blurring my vision, I saw one of Seton’s littlest parishioners being naturally generous!
We have a talented origamist in our congregation! {No, that’s not a typo.] Our St. Mathew’s Guild (collection counters) occasionally have found amidst a pile of envelopes and cash, creatively folded dollar bills in the manner of origami (the ancient, Oriental practice of artistic paper folding). Some of the more interesting shapes have been: miniature bow ties, tri-cornered hats, triangles, squares, airplanes [!}, a rectangle with an internal design, and what we think is a an exquisite finger-fortune-teller!! We thank the unknown artist fior smiles around the Sunday and Monday counting tables.
Our priests are hearing the confessions of hundreds of our children during March. One day, as I was stealthily making my way along the church’s eastside suspended ceiling, I saw a Religious Ed seventh grader walk into a Reconciliation Room and say (humorously) to the confessor, “Is this the conscience cleaner?” Although the priest was not amused at the time, that’s actually not a bad description of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. We bring ourselves to a designated place and ask god to remove the stains of sin from the cloth of our souls, and refresh us by means of sacramental absolution. Hope you will take the time to make a good confession before Easter . . . and bring the kids by all means.
I overheard another “only at Seton” stories at the Parish Council last Tuesday. It seems that a car of one of our homebound parishioners, (Seton’s Homebound Minister] Sr. Edmund visits, recently died. It her inimitable and calm style, Sister reassured the heartbroken couple, “Don’t worry yourself, dear; another cat will show up. A few days later a beautiful, golden feline scratched at the door! The couple was overjoyed, and named him Spike(!). Doggedly showing up for three meals a day, Spike also appears when Sister Edmund visits. He makes sure he’s there and sits dutifully at her feet. How fortunate we are to see quiet miracles among us!
Turn Away from Sin and Believe Overheard lots of conversations about the large turnout for Ash Wednesday on the First Sunday of Lent. Many regulars were happy to see so many visitors. Why do they come in such numbers on the first day of Lent? Well, they opined, some come because they want to return to the practice of the Faith. Others, unconsciously seek a sign of their own mortality. Others come to help their children, please their spouse, or to be marked (for the day) as a Catholic. Finally others come because that’s what they have always done. God’s grace moves people in many and diverse ways. Se we rejoice that they experienced the call to repentance among us, and we pray that they will stay with us and with the Lord mort often.
Lizbeth was jogging behind Fefe’s stroller in the school auditorium a
few weeks ago, when she overheard some of the sleepy Seton School 4th
graders talking about their favorite sandwiches. Most were the ordinary
delights, such as
peanut butter and jelly. But one boy said he knew someone who
made one with jelly, peanut butter, peanuts, onion, and garlic.
Everyone said in unison, “Ewwwww!” Smiling wickedly, he shot back with
the coup de grâce. “Then he put everything in a blender and made
a smoothie.” Feeling faint, Lizbeth quickly made an exit.
Saw that the Seton Building and Grounds Committee is
experimenting with more efficient lighting for the church. A
couple of new bulbs were too bright, and a bunch of us old
timers used it as “stage
lighting,” and tried out some wildly different
dance steps: jig, waltz, flamenco, tango, polka, and
Lisbeth’s elderly second cousin, Tomasso, not to be outdone,
demonstrated a proper tarantella. Our kids were, as you would
imagine, “mortified.”
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