March
2003
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Mutual Heroes
By Kathy Funk| Photography by James Luning
 Blessed
are they who mourn,for
they will be comforted.
Matthew 5:4
Edward George Bulwer-Lytton
once wrote that "the pen is mightier than the sword."
Amanda Davio has proven that a kindergartner with a crayon is just
as mighty. Following the tragedies of Sept. 11, 2001, she did as
she was instructed - she made a construction paper card in support
of emergency workers, just like thousands of schoolchildren across
the nation. However, her card just happened to catch the eye of
a New York City police officer bringing comfort to his despair.
It was the beginning of a journey for the kindergartner and the
cop - a journey of faith that has proven good can come from something
so evil as the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11.
Their worlds came together at a place inappropriately
named Fresh Kills - the Staten Island landfill that was designated
as the site for sifting through the rubble of the World Trade Center
towers.
 It
was March 7, 2002, and Officer Steve Tarricone's job was to do just
that - sift through debris looking for anything that would bring
closure to the families of the more than 2,800 victims of the terrorist
attacks. It's not a job many would want to do but it was his
duty. That didn't make it any easier for him, though.
"Everyone (from the 106th precinct) took a turn at the landfill,"
explains Steve. After donning a protective suit and a special breathing
mask, he was sent into a tent with six or eight other police officers
to go through debris as it passed on conveyor belts - the top of
a cop's gun, identification cards, bones ... "Six months later
and it was just bone. I couldn't believe bones were coming off there;
it was like a graveyard.
 "I
was sitting there thinking, 'Oh, my God, stuff from the World Trade
Center is passing me by.'"
When things got to be too much, Steve found refuge in a tent set
up by the Red Cross. There, he was surrounded by thousands of cards
from schoolchildren from across the nation - all in support of the
work he and his fellow officers and firefighters were doing. He
stopped to look at them and he picked up the card in front. It said:
"Thank You. You Make Me Feel Proud." It was signed "Amanda."
He turned it over and there was a return address stamped on the
back - "St.
Martha School, Okemos."
This wasn't the first time Steve had been surrounded by cards.
When he was pulling 12-hour shifts at Ground Zero, cards of support
and encouragement were posted everywhere. Again, when he was dispatched
to assist at the crash site of American Airlines Flight 587 in November
2001, written sentiments surrounded the emergency workers.
 However,
at Fresh Kills, it was the first time he was able to really stop
and take it all in. "I wanted to say 'thank you' and Amanda's
card was the one (I chose)," Steve says. "Three weeks
later, I decided to write to her."
The only problem facing Steve was that he wasn't quite sure who
Amanda was - just that she was a kindergartner at St. Martha Catholic
School. That didn't stop him.
He sent a package to the school that included an NYPD baseball
hat, a badge, a cloth insignia, photos of Ground Zero and some police
membership cards - along with the construction paper greeting he
picked up at the Red Cross tent. His letter to the school, in part,
said: "I would like to thank Amanda, her classmates and the
staff at St. Martha School for all your support and taking the time
out of your busy day to thank all of us."
He asked that the items be given to Amanda. It didn't take
much detective work on the part of Helen Hillman, principal of the
school, to figure out who Amanda was. There was only one little
girl with that first name in the kindergarten class - Amanda Davio.
But Hillman decided that a special presentation was in order and
she had the perfect opportunity during the school's spring program
that, appropriately, had a patriotic theme. She called Amanda's
parents, Chris and Sherri Davio of Okemos, and told them they might
just want to videotape the spring program.
Chris and Sherri did just that. "It (the program) was just
incredibly moving," said Chris. Moving for her parents, maybe,
but Amanda actually thought she might be in trouble when Mrs. Hillman
called her name. "It scared me!" shares the first-grader.
It wasn't the first time she had been scared. It had been an in-service
day for St. Martha School when terrorists attacked the World Trade
Center. Amanda had been staying at her grandmother's house and saw
the events unfold on television. "I was kind of scared that
they (the terrorists) would come here and knock down our buildings.
... I didn't know who it was doing these terrible things. And I
was sad for the kids who lost their parents."
 One
good turn deserved another so the Davio family decided to thank
Officer Tarricone for his act of kindness. They sent him a copy
of the videotaped program along with a personal greeting from Amanda
that included a song and an introduction to her dog, Jasmine.
"I wasn't really expecting a reply," says Steve. "But
when I got her videotape, I must have sat down on the couch and
watched it 15 or 20 times. I was just crying my eyes out."
Soon the Tarricone and Davio families would become, Steve says,
"as close as any family can be."
First, Hillman and her family, coincidentally, had the opportunity
to meet Steve, his wife, Michelle, and 2-year-old daughter, Ashley,
during a trip to New York that she had won during an auction benefitting
the school. Steve rolled out the red carpet for Hillman's family.
"We just had the best time with him," says Hillman.
Next, the Davios and daughters Amanda, Angela, 8, and Alissa, 14,
journeyed to New York to meet the Tarricones. Again, Steve rolled
out the red carpet for his new friends from Okemos. "We went
out there with the basic intention of meeting Steve and his family,"
Chris explains. "We didn't know about all the things he had
planned for us."
For Amanda, just meeting her new pen pal was enough. "I was
really surprised that I got to see him in real life," she says.
"It seemed like we knew him already," adds Sherri.
 According
to Steve, it was "Amanda's show." She was featured
in the New York Post and on the radio where she informed listeners
that when she grows up, she wants to be a "police officer."
In the meantime, thanks to Steve, she was made an honorary member
of the NYPD - her badge number: 91101.
The Davios visited Ground Zero and had a special tour of One Police
Plaza, including a power point presentation into the investigation
of the terrorist attacks. New York Police Commissioner Ray Kelly
took the time to welcome Amanda and her family to the city. "He
told us that Amanda has come to represent all the schoolchildren
who sent cards," says Chris, "and that Steve has come
to represent all the police officers." One detective even came
in on his time off and brought his daughters to meet the Davios.
 A
trip was also made around New York Harbor in a police patrol boat,
including Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. The captain
of the patrol boat affirmed for the Davios what was gained through
the cards and letters that children sent following Sept. 11. "He
said, 'I can't tell you how important the cards and letters were
to us,'" says Chris. "Then he reached into his wallet
and pulled out a card he still carries from a child in New Jersey.
He said it was special that Steve took the time to answer."
"The coolest thing," reports Amanda, "was when we
went on the police boat and in the police van with the lights and
sirens."
The Davios were treated like family during a birthday party held
in honor of Steve and Michelle's daughter, Ashley. "There were
57 people there," Chris says, "and about half-way through
the party, we could hear bagpipers out in the street. The police
department's Emerald Society put on a concert for Amanda and Ashley."
And Steve's family brought gifts not just for Ashley but also for
Amanda.
"The whole experience has been important to the kids,"
Chris says. "I'm glad something positive has come out of Sept.
11. Just to see the reaction from Steve and other officers on how
important the cards were will always stay with us."
Next, it was the Davios' turn to play hosts to the Tarricone family.
Steve, his wife and daughter made a trip to Okemos this past November.
Even though he was hobbled by a broken ankle, Steve visited each
classroom at St. Martha School to personally thank all the students
for their support. He gave each one a folder containing all sorts
of mementos. The most important - and the one he asked them to hold
close to their hearts forever - was a police union bereavement card
listing the names of the 23 NYPD officers who lost their lives at
the World Trade Center.
 New
York may have been Amanda's show but Okemos proved to be Steve's.
U.S. Rep. Mike Rogers, who initially asked the school for the cards
of support, presented Steve with a special tribute from the House
of Representatives and a flag that was flown over the nation's Capitol
Building Sept. 11, 2002. "I had no idea what was going on.
It was just unbelievable," Steve says. "This is an honor
that I will hold close to my heart forever. I can't wait to get
it displayed!"
He also received a framed letter from someone who shares his Catholic
faith - Bishop Carl Mengeling. (Steve's mom, Linda Ciaffone, works
for the Diocese of Rockville Centre, New York.) And the Davios and
Hillmans treated the self avowed "hockey fan" to a Detroit
Red Wings game. In fact, playing hockey is how Steve had broken
his ankle just days prior to his visit.
"For four days, they honored me, my wife and my daughter,"
Steve says. "It was an incredible experience that I will never
forget. I told Mrs. Hillman the reason that we all get along so
well is that we all have the same heart."
"I'm just amazed by the power of God's love and how He can
bring a joy and blessing out of something so tragic," Sherri
explains. "Seeing the ripple effect of God's message of love,
compassion and kindness. We feel like we're examples of how the
nation became united (after Sept. 11). He (Steve) represents the
heroes and we represent families across the nation."
"We have family in New York now," Sherri continues. "It's
amazing how connected we are - and not merely by coincidence. It
was just meant to be
When Kathy and Pat Urbin rose the next morning
from a sleepless night: Pat voiced their fear for the first
time. "You'd better call the State Police," he said. "I
don't think our girls are coming home." How do you cope when
your worst fears come true? How were the Urbins able to forgive?
 a
parents worst nightmare
By Nancy Schertzing | Photography by Christine Jones
She woke that late September morning
in 1991 with a feeling of impending doom.
Yet, like any other mother with children at home, Kathy Urbin had
to go on with her day. Pushing the fear down inside, she made breakfast,
readied her family for church and went about the normal pattern
of a regular Sunday.
When her daughters, Michelle and Melissa, asked if they could go
for a walk around 4 p.m., Kathy and her husband Pat said yes. They
knew the route the girls would take along their quiet country road.
They had walked it hundreds of times as a family. And now, at ages
16 and 14, the girls had walked it many times by themselves.
Whether because the feeling kept rising in her gut, or because
she knew the girls' walking route so well, Kathy became concerned
when her daughters didn't return at their expected time. She
and Pat got on their bikes and rode along the route Michelle and
Melissa had walked. As they rode on without any sign of their daughters,
the fear inside Kathy grew. Pedaling over a rough stretch of unpaved
road their girls had walked, Kathy and Pat stopped.
The fear that had haunted her all day welled up inside and a wave
of nausea swept over Kathy.
As they somehow sensed, Pat and Kathy did not see their daughters
again that afternoon. When they rose the next morning from a
sleepless night, Pat voiced their fear for the first time. "You'd
better call the State Police," he said. "I don't think
our girls are coming home."
That week Kathy hardly got off the couch. She never left the house
for fear she would miss a phone call from her daughters. Pat and
their family members and friends searched everywhere and called
everyone they knew, looking for the girls. Together, Pat and Kathy
prayed ceaselessly for their daughters' safe return.
The police initially thought Michelle and Melissa had run away,
but the facts of the case just didn't add up. Michelle's bank
account went untouched. The girls never came back for any clothes
or food. They never contacted any of their friends or acquaintances.
As the time stretched on, the police consulted a sex offender database
and an FBI database that tracks violent criminals across the country.
Still, nothing seemed relevant.
Friends and family continued to search and even formed a committee
called WAT (Where Are They). More than 400 WAT members searched
the area around the Urbin home. They hosted prayer vigils and raised
money so Pat and Kathy could hire a detective to find Michelle and
Melissa. Their efforts yielded nothing.
Gradually, Kathy and Pat stopped praying for their daughters' safe
return. Instead they simply asked, "Please, Dear Lord, let
us know where they are."
 Throughout
the fall, winter and into spring, the Urbins waited and prayed that
God would reveal their daughters' whereabouts. The week after
Memorial Day, 1992, that prayer was answered with a knock on their
front door at 2:00 a.m. A Michigan State Police detective stood
there in the dark telling Kathy and Pat they had a man in custody
who had confessed to murdering their daughters and two other teens
as well. The police were excavating a site they believed to
be Michelle's and Melissa's grave, he told them. They would let
Pat and Kathy know as soon as they learned anything more.
The killer, Leslie Allen Williams, was a convicted felon out
on parole seven years early - even though he had violated four prior
paroles by committing increasingly severe acts of violence.
He had been arrested on Memorial Day with another victim in the
trunk of his car. The woman he abducted was minutes from death when
an Oakland County Sheriff's Deputy opened Williams' car trunk and
cut the plastic tie from around her neck. Searches of Williams'
apartment revealed pictures of Michelle and Melissa Urbin along
with photos of his other victims. Around sunrise following their
2:00 a.m. visit, a police car drove into the Urbins' front yard.
An officer told Kathy and Pat the police had unearthed Michelle's
and Melissa's bodies from the Oakwood Cemetery in nearby Fenton.
That day Kathy was watching a TV interview of a member of the State
Parole Board. The reporter asked the man why he voted to grant Williams
early parole in light of his violent criminal record. The parole
board member stated unequivocally that he stood by his position
and he'd do it again if faced with the same choice. Suddenly, the
emotions she'd held in check for eight long months sprang to the
surface. Kathy couldn't bring her girls back, but she saw in this
remorseless man a way to take action to protect others from suffering
her girls' fate. She became angry, and turned her anger into
action.
Kathy and Pat knew now that Michelle and Melissa were with God,
and they hadn't suffered endlessly those long months. On Monday,
June 1, the sisters were remembered with an outpouring of love and
community support at their funeral service. On Friday, June 6, Pat,
Kathy and members of the WAT Committee hosted a press conference
to demand changes in Michigan's parole system.
Looking back on their crusade, Kathy and Pat smile shyly and shake
their heads in disbelief. This quiet couple could never have imagined
themselves as advocates before their daughters' disappearance. "We
would never ... " says Kathy, her voice trailing off as her
thoughts move to her younger self. Then she looks up and smiles.
"You don't know what you can do, until something like this
happens to you."
 With
the help of WAT, they quickly collected 20,000 signatures supporting
parole system reform. By July they presented the signatures
to Gov. John Engler and the Director of the State Department of
Corrections. They took their cause to the public, granting interviews
with newspapers, radio and TV programs. The legislature quickly
drafted bills to abolish the existing seven-member parole board,
whose members held life-long appointments. The bills then replaced
that board with 10 members appointed to staggered terms of four
years. The legislation also established new guidelines for reviewing
and granting parole - including increasing minimum time served for
life sentences.
On Sept. 2, 1992, the governor appeared on a TV program to sign
The Parole Systems Reform Act into law as Kathy and Pat Urbin looked
on from the studio audience. In one summer they had reformed the
state parole system. In one year they had evolved from very private
individuals to a couple adored by the media and respected by policy-makers
across the state. Spurred by the ending of two short lifetimes,
they had transformed their grief into action and their action into
peace.
Over the course of the next few years, the Urbins found deeper peace
through another means. They forgave Leslie Allen Williams despite
his unspeakably evil acts.
"It's probably hard for people who haven't gone through it
to understand," Pat admitted in a May 29, 2002, article in
the Livingston Daily Press & Argus. "We're both religious
people and we've left it up to God. He'll have the final word,"
said Pat.
For Kathy, forgiveness became a matter of survival. "I
don't think I could live if I had so much hate for Williams,"
she states. "How can we NOT forgive him? The hate and anger
would have eaten away at us, and hurt only us."
Pat explains: "We don't live in a paradise here. We live in
an evil world, and we have to live and work to make it better."
Kathy agrees. "God gave us all free will," she says. "Williams
was in town. He was going to get somebody. Would that family have
had the strength (to survive such a loss)?" Kathy shakes her
head. "Maybe there's a greater good."
The Urbins live in the same house, work the same jobs, even wear
the same hairstyles they did when their daughters disappeared. Yet
their lives are profoundly different now. Kathy and Pat share
a marriage strengthened and a faith deepened by the events of the
past decade. They point out that, in addition to their marriage,
their entire family life has become richer. "We appreciate
each other more, now," Pat says. "And we understand each
other better."
"We see the hand of God in all things now," Kathy
adds. She remembers back to the morning their girls were found.
The Urbins' home was filled with family and friends awaiting news.
Despite all the cars and people, two deer wandered into the Urbins'
front yard and grazed peacefully on the new shoots of green grass.
They calmly watched the gathering as an officer arrived to deliver
the news that Michelle's and Melissa's bodies had been found. "The
deer came and stood at the foot of the hill and just looked at the
house," Kathy recalls with a hint of wonder in her voice.
Similarly, Kathy and Pat credit God and some special guardian angels
with their son George's miraculous escape from death or serious
injury in a severe car accident. George totaled his car but walked
away unscathed, saying prayers of thanks for his sisters, whom he
believes protect him every day.
God's hand has guided both Kathy and Pat into roles they never
would have adopted before. For example, in 1999 they spoke about
forgiveness before audiences at four diocesan conferences on reconciliation.
They've continued to grant interviews, from appearing on the Phil
Donahue show and being featured in various newspapers and magazines,
to collaborating on a book about their daughters' murders. Pat has
become more outspoken and says he now "understand(s) how important
it is to be informed in government." His name has regularly
appeared on the "Letters to the Editor" page over the
past decade. Kathy has counseled other parents who've lost their
children under tragic circumstances. She listens and lets them know
they can survive.
One of the clearest examples of God's hand moving through the
Urbins' lives appeared on Michelle's and Melissa's grave two years
ago. During one of their graveside visits, Pat and Kathy discovered
an anonymous letter addressed to "Michelle, Melissa and Your
Parents." A young woman wrote that she was 13 at the time the
Urbin girls disappeared. Back then she was failing in school, had
a drug habit and very little hope for the future. She wrote that
Michelle's and Melissa's deaths had inspired her to take control
of her life. She kicked her drug habit, reapplied herself at school
and even went on to earn straight A's in college. Now she works
in the medical field and leads a happy, productive life.
As they talk about this stranger, both Kathy's and Pat's faces shine
with wonder and delight. "I'm so proud of our girls,"
says Kathy. "They might never have affected so many others
if they had lived."
The sense of doom Kathy felt that fateful morning a decade ago
has been washed away. Now, as she and Pat look back on all the
good their daughters have inspired, their eyes shine with very different
emotions. Their gentle, quiet faces glow with a sense of peace and
purpose and the absolute knowledge that a greater good can come
from unspeakable loss.
ministry focus
Catholic
Social Services Profesional Counseling
Grief can get the best of us. If you or someone you know is in
need of counseling, consider talking to your parish priest or contact
the Catholic Social Service Agency in your area for one-on-one counseling.
Fees are flexible and religious affiliation is not a factor. For
more info, call Bob Smith at (517) 342-2562
Mike and Sandy Puro knew they lost their baby. What they
didn't know was the effect the loss would have on their lives. How
did this couple cope with their loss? "Remember you are not
alone," Sandy says.
how did they cope after miscarriage
By Carolyn Smith | Photography by Christine Jones
 Positive
thinkers with healthy, happy lives hardly ever think bad things
will happen to them. Sandy and Mike Puro of Grand Blanc certainly
didn't. They never doubted they would have a second healthy child.
In fact, Sandy's first pregnancy was so easy, she felt sorry for
other expectant women who complained of discomfort. But the couple's
good fortune was to change.
Three months along, Sandy's doctor told her he could not confirm
a viable pregnancy. Ultrasounds showed no baby at all, and the
doctor wasn't sure of a pregnancy or a miscarriage. After three
agonizing weeks of doctor visits and blood tests, the couple learned
they had lost their baby. What they didn't expect was the distressing
effect the loss would have on their lives.
Sandy, who had never been ill before, was an optimist: "I went
into (the hospital) thinking I was going right back to work. But
I had to call and say I'd be gone for three weeks. As a teacher,
that's a big stress. I didn't have things prepared."
Sandy admits she was down physically and emotionally. She
had a severe case of endometriosis, which is like relentless menstrual
pain. And hormonal changes played tricks with her emotions.
"Once I lost the baby, I prayed for peace and strength,"
Sandy says. Mike admits, "We didn't share the loss with too
many people. We had a lot of
support from our friends at church and the immediate family. Meanwhile,
I just tried to stay positive and to be there for Sandy."
The Puros are members of St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church,
Davison, where Mike sings baritone in the choir and Sandy helps
the choir director with the children's choir. In their spare time,
they love to sing together.
 Married
nine years ago at St. John Catholic Church in Hartland, they met
at a choir camp in the Davison/ Goodrich area. "Neither
one of us was looking for anyone at the time," says Mike. "We
just hit it off." Sandy, 31, is a first-grade teacher for Flint
Community Schools. Mike, 42, is an estimator for Skaff Carpet and
Furniture, a local family-owned business.
Following the loss of the baby, Sandy recalls: "At our church
they bring in unwrapped baby items for the poor. They would bring
in diapers and other things, and I remember bawling and bawling
and bawling. How I needed to get through it!" Sandy acknowledges
there were strong feelings of anger and guilt. "You see other
people with babies. Some are unwed mothers. You feel like everyone
around you is pregnant. There is such a mix of emotions."
Her doctor encouraged the couple to try again very soon to have
a baby. They succeeded. As Sandy recalls, "The pregnancy
was not a good time. I was so nervous and afraid. At first, they
thought there was a twin. Then I was bleeding and taken to the emergency
room. There, they told us I probably didn't have a viable pregnancy,
AGAIN!" Just recalling this, Sandy's voice rises. "On
Monday, the doctor's nurse said the same thing." Mike continues
the story: "On Tuesday, they scheduled an ultrasound. And lo
and behold, there was a heartbeat! Less than nine months later,
there was Andrew!"
The couple's second child, Andrew Stanley, is 2 years old. His
older brother, Michael, is 7. According to the Puros, the two
kids enjoy "hanging out on the couch" with them and going
on family outings.
During the two years since the birth of Andrew, the couple shares
a different perspective on their children. "We took Michael
for granted a little," Mike says. "I don't think I cherished
him as much as I did Andrew. Now, we stop and appreciate them for
how special they are. You don't realize how short the time is between
being a tiny infant and being a toddler. They are such gifts."
 Sandy
and Mike have strong roots in the Catholic faith. But Sandy
admits to some
rebellion in her teen years. "I refused to be confirmed and
to go to (religion) classes. When I got older and was planning my
wedding, I realized that I needed that Catholic foundation. I was
very grateful to my parents for having prayed for me. Today, the
Church is a very important part of our family life," she says.
Mike was born in Oregon, lived in New York, and settled in Michigan
- the roots of his parents - in 1966. "I grew up in the Catholic
Church. I went to Catholic grade school and the first part of high
school. My mom and dad were active. My mom played music for the
church and my dad sang in the choir. Because of his influence, I
joined the choir at school and joined the church choir after I graduated."
The couple expresses a fondness for Fr. Andy Czajkowski, pastor
of St. John the Evangelist in Davison, and for a church community
that is "large, warm, friendly and great for families."
This very positive couple, who lost one child but gained another,
has some encouraging words of advice to other couples struggling
with the pain of losing a baby. Sandy says, "Remember,
you are not alone. People understand the emotions and the grieving.
And it is a grieving process to lose a child, no matter how far
along you were."
Mike adds: "As hard as it is, just try to be positive.
You have to be patient with nature. Sometimes, it's a struggle to
be positive. But if you deal with what you are given, the positive
will come, as it did in our case in the form of Andrew."
Ministry focus
Have you or has someone you know had a miscarriage?
There is help:
1. Talk to your parish priest. Many parishes have a listening
or BeFriender Ministry 2. Support Groups especially for miscarriage
are available at some local hospitals 3. Catholic Social
Service Agencies offer grief counseling
St. Joseph's Table
A miracle from the Middle Ages
inspires us to feed the less fortunate
By Patricia Majher | Photography by Philip Shippert
 Legend
has it that St. Joseph - patron of fathers, carpenters, social justice,
and the Universal Church - also had a hand in saving Sicily from
a terrible drought.
It was during the Middle Ages that the drought occurred, killing
the crops and putting the people of this Italian island in peril.
Only the lowly fava bean, then grown as animal fodder, survived
and became the sustaining food of the farmers and their families.
But the Sicilians knew they couldn't go on with just one thing to
eat. In desperation, they prayed to St. Joseph for help; as protector
of the Holy Family, he was thought to be the most appropriate saint
to intercede on their behalf. Shortly thereafter, the rains came
down and the harvest was saved.
In thanksgiving, the people gathered the first fruits and grains,
had them blessed, and offered them to St. Joseph on his feast day,
March 19. Every year since, Sicilians in Europe and around the world
have repeated this tradition by preparing a tavola di San Giuseppe
(St. Joseph's table) in the great saint's honor.
You can join in this tradition at your church or even in your home.
To prepare for it, you need to set up a three-tiered table (symbolizing
the Holy Trinity). Then cover the table with a white cloth and decorate
it with a statue of St. Joseph and symbols of his craft: hammers,
saws, and other woodworking tools.
The flower of choice for a St. Joseph's table is a lily, though
other seasonal blooms may be used. Candles of varying heights may
also be placed on the tiers, to help to illuminate the display.
Then comes the food - and lots of it. Since St. Joseph's feast day
falls during Lent, the table's dishes are often meatless. Fish,
pasta, and vegetable dishes are common; stuffed artichokes are a
particular favorite. So are breads fashioned into a variety of sizes
and shapes including monstrances, chalices, crosses, staffs, and
wreaths. Bread crumbs or mudica are often sprinkled on the food
and on the table to symbolize the sawdust from St. Joseph's workshop.
Pastries also have their place at this celebration; among the most
popular are sfingi (cream puffs flavored with lemon and orange rinds)
and a fried shortbread sweet filled with jam or almond paste.
The display, though beautiful to look at, is meant to be shared
with others; in Sicily, the foods are blessed and distributed to
those less fortunate in the community.
If you visit a traditional St. Joseph's table, you'll likely walk
away with a gift of fava beans - the food that saved the Sicilians
from starvation.
Following is a recipe that incorporates this famous bean in a savory
broth that blends garlic, cloves, coriander, and peppercorns.
Fava Bean and Vegetable Soup
 Yield:
6-8 servings
1 1/4 lbs. shelled and skinned
fresh fava beans, or 8 oz.
dry fava beans
3 stalks celery, washed,
tops trimmed and saved
and stalks cut into 1/4-
inch slices
6 large garlic cloves,
crushed with skin
12-18 black peppercorns
2-3 sprigs fresh coriander,
oregano or Italian parsley
 1
bay leaf
8 whole cloves
8 cups water, chicken stock
or beef stock
2 Tblsp coarse salt
1 onion, peeled and cut into
1/4-inch cubes
1 carrot, peeled and cut
into 1/4-inch cubes
1 potato, peeled and cut
into 1/4-inch cubes
2 Tblsp chopped coriander
or Italian parsley
In a stockpot, place the celery tops, crushed garlic cloves, peppercorns,
coriander, oregano or Italian parsley, bay leaf, cloves, water or
stock, and salt and bring to a boil. Lower the heat, cover the stockpot,
and simmer for 30 minutes. Remove from heat and strain through a
fine sieve. Measure the broth. You should have 6 cups. If not, add
enough water or extra stock to make 6 cups.
In a saucepan, add the broth, onion, carrot, sliced celery, and
potato and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and let simmer for 8
minutes. Add the fava beans and continue to simmer for another 5
minutes or until the beans are barely cooked. Remove from heat.
Season with more salt to taste. Serve hot, garnished with coriander
or Italian parsley.
note: If you prefer dry fava beans,
soak them overnight with enough cold water to cover, then drain
and use as you would the fresh beans.
From the Blessing of St. Joseph's Table (The Book of Blessings)
All-provident God,
the good things that grace
this table remind us of your many good gifts.
Bless this food, and may the prayers of St. Joseph, who
provided bread for your son and food for the poor, sustain us and
all our brothers and sisters
on our journey towards your
heavenly kingdom.
We ask this through
Christ our Lord. Amen.
 Is
Space Travel Worth It?
By Fr. Charles Irvin
The shock of the seven astronauts perishing Feb. 1
reminds us that our space program has, aside from the costs, very
significant risks. For the second time in 17 years we have had dramatic
proof of those risks. Is it worth it to continue our space program?
The pollsters will measure their public opinion, but perhaps we
should not look at the results of polls but rather whether or not
it is intrinsically moral and right to continue our scientific and
exploration endeavors in outer space. Clearly, our Church and our
Holy Father, Pope John Paul II, find no inherent conflict between
faith and reason. We have nothing to fear from science, we have
only to fear what we do with the results of our scientific research.
While some folks may question what science has given us, the resultant
problems are found in the prudential judgments we have made in employing
the results of scientific efforts. It seems to us that the conditions
and standards of living in which we live have been vastly improved
by the efforts of scientists and explorers.
Many times these efforts have been continued in the face of detractors.
There were those who claimed the efforts of the Wright brothers
were useless, that Henry Ford was but a dreamer, and that Queen
Isabella was foolish in equipping Christopher Columbus for his adventure
into the Unknown. No doubt this will always be true, along with
questions as to the amount of money we should be spending on scientific
research in space as well as exploration of space. Whenever this
sort of argument develops we ought to ask ourselves what it would
cost us if we did not pursue this effort.
There are builders and there are bashers. It's easy to bash, detract
and to abandon. It is hard, and many times courageous, to build,
seek, explore and discover.
God our Father is a builder, not a basher. He sent His Son, Jesus
Christ, to empower us to be what God dreams we can be and to bring
to completion and incomplete world. To allow fear to overcome us
is the opposite of faith. The opposite of faith is not in questioning,
for questions involve quests, and God has made us to seek and to
find. For in seeking and finding Truth we are on a voyage of discovery
that eventually takes us to God. Such is our human odyssey, a journey
of faith that we should not stop.
On the Value of Tears
By Doug Culp
'Blest too are the sorrowing; they shall be consoled.' Matt
5:4
'Blest are you who are weeping, you shall laugh.' Luke 6:21
What can these words of Jesus possibly mean? Are
they simply a reassurance to those who are suffering in this life
from disease, injustice, and loss that a better life awaits them
in the hereafter? Or is it an invitation to a deeper experience
of life with God in this world?
 In
pondering the answers to these questions, I am reminded of a book
I recently read about a different "religious" tradition.
In the book, Black Elk Speaks 1, a version
of the Lakota Sioux Nation's vision quest is described. Interestingly
enough, the vision quest is also referred to as "lamenting"
and is akin to what we might call a process of self-emptying. After
going through purification rituals, the vision seeker must literally
cry for understanding as additional rituals are performed.
The Bible, likewise, is full of instances where a person
or entire community is described as crying out to God for understanding.
Additionally, we find a parallel to lamenting in the instruction
given by Evagrius of Pontus, a fourth century Christian monk, on
prayer. In The 153 Chapters on Prayer, Evagrius tells the reader
to pray first for the gift of tears so that the request will find
a hearing. He then goes on further to say that nothing so gratifies
the Lord as supplication offered in the midst of tears.2
So what is the wisdom inherent in this practice of crying
and why would Jesus make this curious statement about the value
of weeping? We know that babies cry because they simply
cannot communicate in any other way. They do not have words to rely
on and yet they have to express their needs. They then have to trust
that their parents will be able to discern the particular meaning
of their inarticulate tears and cries.
But why would the Lord find supplication offered in the
midst of tears more gratifying than one offered in words alone?
Words can manipulate. Words can be double-edged with multiple meanings.
Words, in short, often signify control because we are the ones who
choose the words. We are the creator of words. Words can also be
a source of great pride. Our society values and praises those who
are never at a loss for words. We reward those who eloquently command
the powers of speech and writing. We are moved by talented writers
and inspired by our great orators.
Some would argue the same thing can be said of tears.
We have all seen actors produce tears on screen or have know someone
who uses tears to elicit the sympathies of others in a manner that
can be construed as manipulative. However, these "manufactured"
tears are not the tears of which I speak.
On the contrary, genuine tears are the recognition of limits;
that we are no longer in control. Tears come when words
fail in their ability to communicate. In this way, tears are pure
because they come from the depths of a person's being to express
a need and desire that cannot be expressed in words. The tears that
originate from a deeply felt hurt/affliction or need leave no doubt
in the hearer as to the existence of the pain or need. In this way,
true tears hide nothing; they have no hidden agenda.
The act of crying also affirms our dependency on something
other than ourselves -- a message that many of us would rather not
hear. Like a baby, we must trust that God will hear our
cries and will understand their meaning. We must trust that God
will penetrate through the tears to the underlying need, i.e. reconciliation
or removal from all that seeks to separate us from God, whether
we are aware of this or not.
Consider Black Elk's cry on one of his vision quests, 'O
Great Spirit, accept my offerings! O make me understand!'
3 Black Elk wept as he thought about the
fate of his people with the accompanying pain and destruction of
their culture. He lamented his own failure in not: being worthy
of a vision he had received in his youth; in not being able to save
his nation. He wanted to know, 'Why?' Why did his people suffer?
Why had the Great Spirit allowed the destruction of his nation?
Why was he powerless to stop it?
Why? This question is born from the heart of one who truly
does not know. It is the question of one who has exhausted
every possible explanation and is at a loss. It is the question
of one who is emptied of all projections and notions of the Divine,
all pretense of knowing the answers. This 'Why?' reduces one to
a silence and attentiveness that comes from reaching the limits
of understanding; from the inability to explain away suffering.
However, this 'Why?' also predisposes us to receive what we really
need from our Heavenly Father who knows us better than we know ourselves.
Only the one who is empty is able to receive the true answer to
the question.
Simone Weil, a 20th century French writer, provides an interesting
insight into the value of such suffering and questioning.
She once remarked that only affliction and beauty have the power
to compel one to ask the question, 'Why?', and only the person capable
of sustained crying and listening will hear the answer. 4
Black Elk likewise articulated this sentiment when he said that
truth comes into the world with two faces; one sad with suffering
and the other laughing. 5 It is this insight
that Jesus' Beatitude seems to point towards when He calls the sorrowful
and weeping blest.
Lamenting, praying for tears, and indeed weeping seem to
position one for receiving a vision, a revelation from the Divine,
or the fulfillment of a deep need. It creates the necessary
conditions for such an encounter and the person's ability to receive
it should it occur. Tears come when we no longer have control. We
can do nothing; we are powerless and then, and only then, are we
open to be seized by the Divine, which is the source of all blessedness.
Tears stand as a testament to the wisdom and ways of the Spirit
that transcends any particular cultural expression and invites each
one of us to a deeper relationship with the Divine, with ourselves,
with each other, and with creation. Blessed indeed are those who
mourn and are sorrowing, for they can be penetrated by the source
of all joy and consolation.
Douglas Culp is a graduate theology student at Catholic Theological
Union and the Assistant Director of M.B.A. Career Services at The
{University of Chicago Graduate School of Business in Chicago, IL.
He currently resides with his wife, Yvette, in Oak Park, IL.
1 Black Elk, Black Elk Speaks, as told
through John G. Neihardt by Nicholas Black Elk (Lincoln and London:
University of Nebraska Press, 2000).
2 Evagrius, The 153 Chapters on Prayer, Chapters 5&6.
3 Black Elk Speaks, 140.
4 Simone Weil, Simone Weil Reader, 'The Love of God and Affliction,'
edited by George A. Panichas
(Wakefield, Rhode Island & London: Moyer Bell Limited, 1977),
466.
5 Black Elk Speaks, 145.
Bibliography
Black Elk Speaks as told through John G. Neihardt by Nicholas Black
Elk. Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.
Weil, Simone edited by George A. Panichas. Simone Weil Reader. "The
Love of God and Affliction." Wakefield, Rhode Island &
London: Moyer Bell Limited, 1977.
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