Posts tagged archbishop timothy dolan
During our recent meeting, it was reported that 46 million people (15%) now live in poverty in the United States. This report follows dismal unemployment figures in recent months. For us as bishops, these numbers are not statistics, but people suffering and wounded in their human dignity. They are parents who cannot feed their children, families that have lost their homes and jobless workers who have lost not only income, but also a sense of their place in society. For us, each of these persons is a child of God with innate human dignity and rights that deserve respect. […] We discussed how best to respond to this urgent pastoral challenge. The Administrative Committee wanted something more than a public statement. Instead, they asked me to write to all the bishops and ask you to continue do all you can to lift up the human, moral and spiritual dimensions of the ongoing economic crisis. […] I hope we can use our opportunities as pastors, teachers, and leaders to focus public attention and priority on the scandal of so much poverty and so many without work in our society.
When we admit our faith is weak, when we admit our faith is shaky, when we admit that our faith isn’t what it should be, actually we’re exercising it, and we’re making it more and more firm. Something tells me that’s why we’re (at World Youth Day). Our faith is weak, our faith is shaky. We want to be with a million other young people from around the world who love their faith and are trying to make it strong.
Pope John Paul II’s Heroic Sanctity
By Archbishop Timothy Dolan It’s said you just sort of know when you’re in the presence of sanctity. You don’t need much proof or clinical verification; nope — our “gut,” our hearts, our souls just sense it. Holy Mother Church doesn’t stop here, of course, and I’m glad she doesn’t. She requires some “proofs,” such as widespread public veneration, miracles and a scrupulous study of the holy one’s life. I suppose she has been burned enough to know you always can’t trust your “gut.” In the case of Blessed Pope John Paul II, we’ve got both. My heart, soul and (rather considerable) “gut” can testify, from the vantage point of a box seat for at least seven years of his remarkable pontificate, that this was a man of remarkable, extraordinary, heroic sanctity. As rector of the North American College from 1994-2001, I saw plenty. I had the honor of “watching him up close.” What did I see? We would wait … and wait. His silent prayer, with his face in his hands, in front of the Blessed Sacrament, the crucifix, the icon of his beloved Lady of Czestochowa, could not be rushed. He had been kneeling there since 6am, we found out. Occasionally, you could hear from him a groan, or a sigh (like Jesus let out in his prayer). And crammed into the kneeler would be notes, cards, envelopes — all with intentions he had received from all over the world. I would tear up because I knew the name of my little niece, Shannon, suffering from bone cancer, was among the hundreds of scraps of paper, as the Holy Father would bring them all to Jesus. Read the rest Here. I am soooo excited about Sundays beatification ceremony. I didn’t get up early to watch the wedding, but you can be sure that I will get up and watch the beatification!
For one, I beheld a man of mystical prayer. For example, at least a half dozen times, I had the privilege of concelebrating his daily morning Mass. When our small group would arrive, we would vest, and then be ushered into his private, cozy chapel. And there he would be, kneeling at the prie dieu, “locked in prayer.”
One of my heroes, Archbishop Timothy Dolan of NYC on 60 Minutes
An Airport Encounter by Archbishop Timothy Dolan
As I was waiting with the others for the electronic train to take me to the terminal, a man, maybe in his mid-forties, waiting as well, came closer to me. “Are you a Catholic priest?” he kindly asked. “Sure am. Nice to meet you,” says I, as I offered my hand. He ignored it. “I was raised a Catholic,” he replied, almost always a hint of a cut to come, but I was not prepared for the razor sharpness of the stiletto, as he went on, “and now, as a father of two boys, I can’t look at you or any other priest without thinking of a sexual abuser.” What to respond? Yell at him? Cuss him out? Apologize? Deck him? Express understanding? I must admit all such reactions came to mind as I staggered with shame and anger from the damage of the wound he had inflicted with those stinging words. “Well,” I recovered enough to remark, “I’m sure sorry you feel that way. But, let me ask you, do you automatically presume a sexual abuser when you see a Rabbi or Protestant minister?” “Not at all,” he came back through gritted teeth as we both boarded the train. “How about when you see a coach, or a boy scout leader, or a foster parent, or a counsellor, or physician?” I continued. “Of course not!” he came back. “What’s all that got to do with it?” “A lot,” I stayed with him, “because each of those professions have as high a percentage of sexual abuse, if not even higher, than that of priests.” Read the rest here.
We’ll take any kid. We don’t educate them because they are Catholic. We educate them because WE ARE.
Archbishop Timothy Dolan
I love this man. He is an inspiration to me as a teacher. What a shepherd.
Memento Mori - Story by Archbishop Timothy Dolan
When I was doing graduate studies in Church history at the Catholic University of America in Washington D.C, I used to drive back to St. Louis at Christmas and summer for a visit him. The midway point on that fourteen-hour drive was Zanesville, Ohio. Except for its ‘Y’ bridge and the Zane Grey Museum, it was not worth much of a stop, but I enjoyed spending the night with the Dominican Fathers at their parish right of Highway 70. I always relished a visit with a crusty but wise old Dominican assigned there, and we would usually chat for a half-hour or so after supper. The frugality of his room always amazed me: one room, which served as his bedroom and study, one closet with at his clothing, one bookshelf, a desk, a crucifix, a few religious and family pictures, a reading chair, and a lamp. That was it. On one visit I remarked, “Your room is so plain. Where do you keep the rest of your stuff?”
“This is it,” he replied.
“But it’s so simple,” I countered.
“Well, if I walk down to your room all you’ve got is your suitcase!”
“Well, sure, but, after all, I’m just passing through.”
Never will I forget his reply, “Aren’t we all?”
