We threw all kinds of ideas around and wondered where Pete would be today. Before long, someone asked, “What if Pete joined the Franciscans?” Instantly, the idea started to come to life. We found ourselves crafting new adventures for Pete and Sis—who is now a teacher—along with a whole cast of new characters.

Once we had the idea nailed down, our art director, Mary Catherine Kozusko, reached out to illustrator Bob Vojtko. Over the years, this magazine has featured quite a few of Bob’s cartoons. He began drawing, he says, when he was about 5 years old and watched his dad paint comic-book characters on their basement wall. “It looked like fun, so I grabbed a pencil and some paper, and I was off and running,” Bob recalls.

We’re excited to start this new chapter with you—and with Friar Pete and his friends. And while the images may look different, the challenge is still the same. Good luck!

When this beloved saint died, the Church lost a luminary. But her legacy shines brightly to this day.

In 1253, Clare’s health began to deteriorate. With August’s scorching temperatures, she was closer and closer to the end. As always, the late summer heat drove the papal entourage from Rome to the refreshing heights of Perugia. It would not be long until these dignitaries heard the news echoing from hill to hill in the Valley of Spoleto: Madonna Chiara was dying.

Pope Innocent IV understood the meaning of the moment. His nephew, Cardinal Rainaldo, accompanied him on the journey to the little cloister. This pope, whose attempt at a Rule for the women had been politely rejected by San Damiano’s sisters, arrived to see its famous abbess. She received him with utter respect and humble gratitude.

How wonderful was this? The successor of St. Peter was under her roof! He asked the crucial question: What was her deathbed wish? She was ready with her answer. Would he place his signature and seal on her Rule? No question would ever be raised about its force and power if he were to comply with this one wish. Her plea was uttered with all the force of a soul bent on completing its earthly mission.

What followed was a touching 24-hour drama. Cardinal Rainaldo gave his approval by signing the actual parchment upon which the text was inscribed. Normal protocol would have required that a new manuscript be prepared in the pope’s secretariat. However, it was clear that there was not enough time if the pope was to grant her wish before her final hour. His choice was to expedite the legal process.

Using the manuscript already signed by Cardinal Rainaldo, he added his own signature and date. To this was added his impressive seal. As he ordered it to be sent back to Assisi, he may have reflected that it would serve one monastery and one monastery only. No great harm done, therefore, in acceding to the dying wish of a respected abbess. Besides, it was a work of mercy that might win heavenly favor for him in an hour of need. Assisi’s newest saint would surely intercede for him after death.

A friar-messenger was dispatched to bring it back to Assisi with all possible speed. When the document was placed in her hands, Clare took hold of the beautiful papal seal, affixed with golden cords and hanging from the scroll. Later, an eyewitness would write on that parchment, “Blessed Clare touched and kissed this many times out of devotion.”

This elation expressed her utter relief and joy. She had succeeded in creating a perpetual witness to the first inspirations of the Poor Sisters and their covenant with Francis and his Lesser Brothers. Like her Divine Master, she could now say, “It is finished.”

Visions of the Vigil

The extraordinary papal about-face that took place in those August days was not the only miraculous event witnessed by the women keeping vigil with Clare in her final days. Those who were present would later recall other dramatic signs that they sealed in memory.

A nun in the Monastery of San Paolo shared an exceptional vision. In it she and her sisters were at the side of Clare, who lay in a beautiful bed. They grieved with the distraught sisters keeping vigil. Then a woman of great beauty appeared at the head of the bed and assured the sisters that Clare’s victory was assured and that she would not die without seeing “the Lord and his disciples.” The fact that nuns of San Paolo had such vivid experiences of Clare’s final days hints at a relationship that had blossomed over the years since her Eastertide sojourn in 1212.

Sister Benvenuta of Lady Diambra and Sister Anastasia heard Clare speaking softly at one point but to no one in particular. Worried that Clare was trying to express a need or discomfort, they asked to whom she was speaking. The answer was, “I am speaking to my soul.” Later, the words they heard were recorded. Clare was, in fact, expressing the kind of hope that replaces fear with her trust in God to escort her over death’s threshold as a mother guides a frightened child. Sister Filippa reported that Clare made a final confession and she marveled at what was told by the dying saint.

Three days before Clare’s passing, Sister Benvenuta began to imagine the way Clare would be received in heaven at the point of death. The imagining morphed into a visionary experience in which she saw a group of women—dressed in white and wearing crowns—surround the bed. In the middle was one woman whose crown was larger and more ornate. The description implies that it was Mary, queen of heaven. The women brought a delicate, transparent coverlet to spread over Clare, a gesture reminiscent of women preparing a bridal bed.

In the dormitory of San Damiano is a bronze bas-relief on the wall of the room where Clare died. It shows friars who are clearly bereft kneeling at her side. Her biographer tells us that Brother Angelo was mourning and supporting the grieving sisters while Brother Leo “kissed the bed of the dying woman.” The placement of the sculpture is a reminder of the strength of that promise of care and solicitude that Francis made to Clare.

His oldest friends carried that promise with them as they shared the transitus of their sister. Did they, in the long hours, recall the time when Francis himself set about repairing the crumbling structure of the place? It was his first project as a newly recognized penitent, and he was offering his physical labor to the local priest.

One day, hoping to recruit helpers, he climbed a wall and called out to passersby. He declared that this rundown hospice would someday house holy women who would give glory to God. What was he thinking that day? Who could have imagined what had transpired in the hundreds of days since?

So it was that Clare breathed her last in the house of San Damiano on August 11, 1253. At her side were the women, seen and unseen, with whom she had established the Poor Sisters’ way of life and the men whose loyal friendship was precious evidence of the mutuality that bound them. Clare would now belong not only to these brave founding men and women but to all future generations of Francis’ followers.

From Sister to Saint

Once news of Clare’s death was reported in the city, the people gathered at the monastery expressing grief and wonder. Now their city boasted a second saint whose life would be that “light to the world.”

The funeral conducted in the city was a marvel. Since the whole papal entourage was nearby, its members accompanied Innocent IV to celebrate the funeral Mass. The pope startled his entourage by a proposal that the Mass of Holy Virgins be celebrated instead of a requiem Mass. That choice would, in effect, be a canonization, an affirmation that Clare was officially recognized as a saint.

The members of his court argued restraint. Was it wise to ignore the protocols so recently ratified to ensure the validity of canonization? Won over by these arguments, Pope Innocent offered the traditional Mass for the dead with its supplications and lamentations. However, his readiness to raise Clare to official status as a saint was on full display.

It was that argument that led to the investigation whose record is such an important source for our knowledge of her. She was buried in San Giorgio in the same crypt that had housed the remains of Francis until a tomb in his basilica was ready.

Unwilling to be separated from her even by death, four sisters relocated to the small cloister of San Giacomo de Muro Rupto to be able to keep prayerful vigils at her tomb.

Thus began the transition that would take Clare from the center of a living sisterhood to the center of a cult bringing multitudes to pray in her sanctuary. In only two months’ time, Pope Innocent directed the bishop of Spoleto to open the process for her canonization.

In November, Bishop Bartholomew arrived in Assisi to do his work. Over four days, he and his staff interviewed 15 of the sisters and five citizens of Assisi. Pope Innocent IV died the following month and was succeeded by none other than Cardinal Rainaldo, who took the name Alexander IV. To him would fall the happy task of “raising Clare to the altar,” which he did in 1255.

The Papal Decree of Canonization was a tour de force of verbal diplomacy. Poetic riffs on her name abound with synonyms for light. There are exclamations of astonishment at her miracles and a liberal use of wonderful metaphors: “a spring of water in the Valley of Spoleto,” “a candelabra of sanctity,” a “garden of humility.”

At the same time, the proclamation praises her fidelity to the hierarchical version of women’s religious life and downplays the originality of her Franciscan loyalties. Thus, even in declaring her a saint, Alexander signaled the kind of obedience to be expected of future followers.

Five years later, a new basilica in her honor was ready, and her remains were interred there. The old San Giorgio Church, once the place of Francis’ early education and the temporary crypt for both saints, was incorporated into the new structure. The sisters, now led by a new abbess, departed the San Damiano Monastery and took up residence in the large cloister attached to the basilica. It would be known as the Proto-Monastery—the first of the monasteries of Poor Clares in the world.

Our Common Humanity

As with St. Francis, the crypt of her burial was lodged deep in the lower recesses of the church, far from the nave where pilgrims would venerate the high altar that surmounted the hidden tomb. In the late 19th century, a project to exhume her remains and excavate the crypt was approved. This modern innovation was taking place in each basilica. It was a way to afford pilgrims more direct proximity to the remains. For centuries, medieval fears of kidnappings of a sarcophagus had kept the actual tomb secret and remote. Now the pilgrim would be able to approach the resting place at arm’s length.

Today, the visitor to Clare’s basilica will see a sculpture that represents her body, behind which is a vessel with her actual remains. Carefully renovated for her 1993 centenary, the image represents the body, which would have been placed there in 1261 and which was glimpsed fleetingly by those present at the exhumation.

Nearby is a museum display that holds memorabilia of importance including her habit, the alb long thought to have been made by her, the parchment of the Rule, a breviary of St. Francis entrusted to Sister Benedetta by Brother Leo, and many other items that excite curiosity as much as they inspire reverence. If truth be told, many a pilgrim brushes past the documents and clothing to catch a glimpse of a glass vase containing her golden curls.

It is a badge of our common humanity that the evidence of papal connections and holy devotions interests us less than the sight of her feminine adornment, her lovely hair covered for decades by a nun’s veil.

This article was adapted from Light of Assisi: The Story of Saint Clare by Margaret Carney, OSF (Franciscan Media).

Inspired by his Catholic schoolteachers, Wilton Gregory dreamed of becoming a priest. Last year, Pope Francis named him the first Black US cardinal.

As a sixth-grade student at St. Carthage Catholic School on Chicago’s South Side, Wilton Gregory, a non-Catholic, was inspired by the priests and nuns who served the parish school. He announced that he wanted to be a Catholic priest.

He received his first Communion at the Easter Vigil when he was 11 years old. “I wasn’t born a Catholic,” he explained recently to a group of second graders. “I was very excited because I really wanted to be a Catholic. I’m still trying.”

Late last year, Pope Francis elevated Archbishop Wilton Gregory to the College of Cardinals, making him the first Black cardinal in the United States.

Climbing the Ladder

In the years just after the close of Vatican II, the future cardinal went through the seminary system in the Archdiocese of Chicago, including Quigley Preparatory Seminary South, a high school; Niles College of Loyola; and St. Mary of the Lake Seminary in Mundelein, Illinois. As one of few Black students in the system, life was not always easy, and he “took some guff,” recalls a classmate, Father Dominic Grassi, now retired from parish ministry.

After ordination as a priest in 1973 at age 25, Father Gregory earned a doctorate in sacred liturgy at the Pontifical Liturgical Institute (Sant’Anselmo) in Rome and later returned to Mundelein as a professor. The future bishop handled adversity “with such grace and kindness,” Father Grassi says. “He’s a kind man. He overcame a lot more than anyone could expect.”

Cardinal Gregory was the youngest bishop in the country when he was appointed auxiliary bishop of his home archdiocese in 1983. He later served as bishop of the Diocese of Belleville, a mix of urban and rural areas in southern Illinois (1994-2005); archbishop of Atlanta (2005-2019); and since May 2019, as archbishop of Washington, DC. He was elevated to the College of Cardinals on November 28, 2020.

At the Helm during the Sex-Abuse Crisis

From 2001 to 2004, then-Bishop Gregory served as president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops during a particularly difficult time for the Church. In response to the child sexual abuse crisis, he shepherded the conference through approval and implementation of the Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People and the accompanying “Essential Norms for Diocesan/Eparchial Policies Dealing with Allegations of Sexual Abuse of Minors by Priests or Deacons.”

Paula Gwynn Grant, who served as director of communications for the Archdiocese of Atlanta under Cardinal Gregory and is now secretary for communications for the Archdiocese of Washington, was working in county government public relations in Georgia at that time. She recalls watching the bishops’ Dallas meeting on TV and seeing Bishop Gregory: “I watched that on C-SPAN with our 1-year-old and 5-year-old and my husband and I asked, ‘What’s going on in our Church?’ . . . The pain of all of that and trying to process and understand all of that, you know, was a lot for all of us.”

At that point, she had no idea that she would be working for the Church one day, would meet that particular bishop, and would work with him. “He listens so well, and he’s very intentional about what he does after he has heard,” she says. “He doesn’t just hear from people from any one group. He listens to all of the various opinions. . . . We know many people who don’t have the gift of listening. I recognize that I’m watching a gift.”

The Church’s work on the charter, begun in 2002 in the shadows of the Boston Globe report on clergy sexual abuse, remains an important topic for Cardinal Gregory. He acknowledges that it’s a long process. “We won’t do enough until people feel listened to and healed,” he said in an early 2021 interview.

He related a recent conversation with his sisters in which one recalled that she had asked him in 2002, as the charter was being crafted, when the scandals would be over. “And my response then and my response now is: not in our lifetime, because we really do have to take it seriously,” the cardinal says. “We have to prepare and then sustain environments where children and vulnerable young people are safe.

“I think we’ve done a lot. I would be less than honest if I did not applaud the hard work that my brother bishops have engaged in and, in many places, have provided wonderful programs of protection and respect. But we have to do more.”

The abuse crisis is particularly painful in Cardinal Gregory’s current residence, the Archdiocese of Washington, DC. He picked up the reins from his predecessor, Cardinal Donald W. Wuerl, after another former archbishop, Theodore E. McCarrick, was removed from the College of Cardinals and laicized after revelations that he had abused young seminarians and priests as well as at least one minor during his rise through the clerical ranks.

The Vatican’s McCarrick Report—specifically examining how a priest with allegations of misconduct and other warning signs could have risen to the rank of cardinal—was released just 18 days before the consistory in which Cardinal Gregory received his red hat.

“I left for the trip to the consistory as the archbishop [of Washington]. And when I returned, I was still the archbishop, and my priests and deacons and laypeople need to know that that’s what brings joy to my heart,” the cardinal says. “I’ve only been here not quite two years . . . but I’ve grown to love this community deeply and to see its great legacy and its heritage and also to experience its embarrassment, its anger, its disappointment, [and] sorrow over the events that involved former Cardinal McCarrick.

“But I also see the goodness of this diocese and its people. And my responsibility is to build on that faith heritage and to acknowledge and ask forgiveness for that which has so damaged the credibility and the trust of people in Church leadership. I have to try to the best of my ability to reestablish trust, and that’s a long process. Trust takes a long time to establish, and it can be lost in the twinkling of an eye.”

A Leader Who Listens

Msgr. James Margason, pastor of Corpus Christi Parish in Shiloh, Illinois, and St. Joseph’s in Lebanon, Illinois, believes the cardinal is the right man for the job in Washington. Msgr. Margason served as vicar general for then-Bishop Gregory when he came to the Diocese of Belleville; the two had met while they were both studying in Rome.

“He had some things to learn. We were in the middle of the sex-abuse crisis. But he came from Chicago where Cardinal [Joseph L.] Bernardin had set the bar for how to handle it,” Msgr. Margason says, referring to the Archdiocese of Chicago’s policy in the early 1990s for handling allegations of sexual abuse by clergy, one of the first of its kind in the nation.

The pastor says Cardinal Gregory’s acceptance of the appointment to Washington in the wake of the McCarrick scandal reveals his character. “If the Church is going to ask him to do something, he’s going to respond in a positive way. . . . My sense is that he is working really hard at serving the people of the archdiocese [to] bring some healing to them after what they have experienced. He’s very focused on serving the local church.”

Though he is not afraid to face difficult situations head-on, Cardinal Gregory is energized by and passionate about people—especially young people. He loves visiting Catholic schools and celebrating Confirmations. Grant, who works with Cardinal Gregory in Washington, DC, notes that the cardinal “lights up” when he has a chance to be with young people.

She says, “If he’s going to one of our Catholic schools, you see him light up because of the students and teaching and talking about the faith and hearing their point of view, and saying Mass. ” She emphasizes that the cardinal’s dedication to education—especially Catholic education—comes from the fact that he was inspired to become a Catholic and a priest in a Catholic school and that he is a teacher himself.

Deacon Dennis Dorner, chancellor of the Atlanta Archdiocese, worked with then-Archbishop Gregory. He says: “We had a relationship where he expected me to speak what was on my mind. Even if we weren’t in agreement, when you left the room, you were OK with the decision.”

Grant emphasizes the cardinal’s attentiveness to others. As the cardinal takes in other points of view, he is keenly aware that he cannot make everyone happy, but he shows respect by hearing people out, she notes. “As a woman working in the Church, I want to say it is very nice to work for an executive who asks me what my thoughts are and what my guidance is on various matters, even those matters that fall outside of my specific responsibility of communications. He listens. And then he weighs it.”

‘Our Encounter with the Lord’

Cardinal Gregory emphasizes that the Church follows the same pattern of evangelization from its earliest days—lived witness of the teachings of Jesus Christ. “We witness to what we proclaim; we live the faith in our outreach to those who are in the mission field. So it’s a combination: Evangelization and the lived witness of the faith are indispensable,” he says.

“The doctrine of the Church is sacred. It belongs to the legacy of faith, but the magnet that draws people is the experience of seeing good, loving, generous Catholic men and women working in the mission field, being engaged in caring for the poor, educating young people, taking responsibility for the common good. That’s the attraction. And then the teachings follow that. . . . What animates the way we live is our encounter with the Lord Jesus.”

While in Atlanta, Cardinal Gregory was fortunate to inherit a successful Eucharistic Congress from his predecessor, Archbishop John F. Donoghue. The annual congress grew under Archbishop Gregory’s tenure, eventually drawing 30,000 to 35,000 people from Friday evening to Saturday evening.

“It gave a platform for the teachings of the Church, obviously for the spiritual legacy of the Church. But it also allowed the people in Atlanta to see the multicultural composition of the one Church that is the Archdiocese of Atlanta, ” says the cardinal. Deacon Dorner noted that then-Archbishop Gregory would spend the congress days hearing confessions and mingling with people.

Asked whether he might plan something similar for the Archdiocese of Washington, DC, Cardinal Gregory responded with a laugh. “At this point, we’re just trying to open our churches; we’re trying to get our people back in church,” he said in early January, just as vaccines against COVID-19 became available and people began to entertain hope to return to some kind of normal life in worship, work, and commerce.

“That’s a real challenge, because the longer our people are away from active presence in the celebration of the Eucharist and in spiritual moments that bring them together, it is going to be more and more difficult,” he says.

The Church must reengage the faithful and remind them that active, face-to-face participation is important. “We need to make sure that they realize what they have been missing,” the cardinal says. Priests, deacons, and parish ministers have found creative ways to provide livestreamed Mass and other opportunities for prayer, “but I don’t want it to become so popular and so attractive that the real thing is now in competition with the virtual thing,” he asserts.

Cardinal Gregory believes laypeople need to step up to inspire others, just as the nuns and priests did in his grade school days. “In a past era, past generations, people might have said or at least behaved as though ‘Father’ and ‘Sister’ will take care of this. Well, now we have to say, in very direct ways, what the baptismal rite says [for] the Baptism of infants, that moms and dads, you are the first teachers in the ways of faith for your children.”

He adds: “I do believe that the Lord may be using the reality that we’re dealing with to invite more active participation of the laity in the work of evangelization. Our children still need to be formed in the faith, both in the family environment but also in the educational and catechetical activities. We need more vigorous youth ministries, young adult ministries that bring young people together in ways that energize them. And so, our laypeople . . . are an indispensable component in the work of evangelization.”

Looking Ahead

It’s not lost on Cardinal Gregory that he is the first African American cardinal, and he hopes that will have a positive impact. The US bishops have addressed racism in this country before: in a 1979 pastoral letter about racism, “Brothers and Sisters to Us,” and more recently with “Open Wide Our Hearts: The Enduring Call to Love,” a 2018 pastoral letter against racism—a semantic difference between simply addressing racism and clearly standing against it. And that was before 2020, which saw the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and others at the hands of police officers.

“We have made progress—and we have not made enough progress. The current moment . . . gives me hope because it has staying power,” Cardinal Gregory says, noting that we see more faces of people of color on TV and in movies, and that the corporate world is making a sincere effort to diversify workforces.

“I’m not a Pollyanna saying that all we have to do is talk about it. There’s much more that we have to do. But I am encouraged by the continued interest in this public concern, because it’s serious and you have to do something more creative and more effective,” Cardinal Gregory says.

“I’m hopeful because it hasn’t been pushed to the back burner. It’s still on the front burner. We Americans have a notoriously short attention span. And so, things that seemed important on Monday are forgotten by Thursday, but this doesn’t seem to have followed that pattern,” he adds. “The social justice and racial equality mantra that has seized the public agenda continues. And there’s much more we’ve got to do.”

_{Photos Courtesy Catholic Standard/Andrew Biraj}

Recently I discovered an icon I can appreciate. In the image, created by Franciscan Brother Robert Lentz, St. Clare of Assisi cradles a cat in her arms! Neither Clare nor the monastery’s cat is smiling broadly, but no one feeling the vibration of a robust purr can keep from smiling for long!

This is a Clare I can embrace. I want to honor her guidance in my prayer life. This is the saint who is followed with great joy by women in monasteries. No one ever suspected I was called to an enclosed life. If you are, bless you. But all of us can find in Clare some markers on the path to communion with the divine.

Biographers describe the youthful Clare as beautiful. The Clare who spent decades bedfast yet bold in leadership, gentle in guidance, and stubborn in poverty, is less physically attractive but more courageous and inspiring. Two episodes from her life—one small and private, one big and brave—exemplify her confidence in divine guidance.

Let Your Jar Go Empty

Francis and his brothers begged on behalf of the sisters. In a tale reminiscent of Elijah and the widow (1 Kgs 17:8‚ 16), the women ran out of oil. Clare washed a jug and left it out for one of the brothers to use in begging for more. When the brother came, he found the jug was already full.

In this early story, I have found a parable of the poverty to which Clare was dedicated. The emptiness which the sisters promised is my need also. Clare knew that with spiritual clarity. Some days I share that vision. More often, however, my jar requires extensive scrubbing, rinsing, and reexamination before anyone—however divine—could bear to share the “oil of gladness” with me. It takes freedom from desire and freedom from fear to place the jar out to receive what I need. Many times, I don’t even know what I need. Probably not oil. I am more in need of emptiness. Clare has given me a concrete example of what that could bring me.

Freedom From Things

If Pope Francis gave me an order, I’m pretty sure I would bend. Four popes told Clare that the sisters needed financial security. They counseled her against the “privilege of poverty,” even discouraging the friars from caring for the sisters. Perhaps they wanted to scare them. But Clare was adamant. She persevered through her long illness until she was assured of her claim to nothing. Then she died.

It’s possible to have things and yet be free from them. It’s also possible to give things away but long to have them back. More than 50 years ago, I gave my best doll to the Red Cross, dressed in her green velvet coat. I would welcome an assurance that some other girl loves her as much as I did. That’s not the idea.

If I’m to be truly prayerful, I must let go of not only my doll, but also Mom’s china, a bulging collection of bath towels (in search of the perfect hue), and my dream of a pergola with wisteria. Clare slept on a straw mat, but she was happier than I am: less laundry, no insurance bills, plus a cat. I find it a different emptiness than the jar for oil—my inner self.

The privilege of poverty, as much as I can embrace it, is an outer simplification. Advancing age reveals it to me, but Clare shows me how to maximize its revelations.

Mirrored in the Monasteries

Back in the ’80s, I stayed one Saturday night at a Poor Clare monastery in the Bronx. The neighborhood seemed downtrodden. The Poor Clares were bright lights in brown habits. While I worshipped in the body of the church, the sisters attended Laetare Sunday Mass behind a curtained grille.

While we ate breakfast, I found all the sisters in shades of Laetare pink—scavenged from castoffs donated for the neighbors all around. It was theirs only for the day. Some outfits were amusing, others classy, and some looked suspiciously like bathrobes. Clare had taught them well.

When I visited the monastery at San Damiano, I saw two small bouquets of wildflowers: one at Clare’s place in the dining hall, the other at the site of her pallet. She seemed so real there, more than any icon could reveal. Happy women had picked and placed those flowers. A happy woman had fought for the privilege.

To become more prayerful, start to smile at the ways you are rich and smile at the ways you are poor. That smile might break into laughter. That’s what happens to the followers of Clare.

Tips: In the Spirit of St. Clare

1. Give something you love away. Pray to let go both before and after.

2. Place an empty jar that once held oil where it will call you to be open and empty.

3. Poor Clares often offer spiritual direction and guidance. Search for a monastery in your area—or see if virtual visits are possible.

Prayer of St. Clare

St. Clare wrote four letters to St. Agnes of Bohemia. While medieval in style, they offer insight into Clare’s own prayer.

With swift pace, light step,
[and] unswerving feet,
so that even your steps stir up no dust,
go forward,
securely, joyfully, and swiftly,
on the path of prudent happiness.
—Second Letter to St. Agnes

Click here for more on St. Clare!

Usnavi (Anthony Ramos), a bodega owner in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan, tells a group of children about Abuela Claudia (Olga Merediz), who helped raise him, Kevin (Jimmy Smits), and Benny (Corey Hawkins). He also introduces his cousin, Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV), and the ladies who run the beauty salon. Finally, we meet Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), his girlfriend, who wants to become a fashion designer. Then Nina (Leslie Grace), Kevin’s daughter, comes home from Stanford and tells her father they cannot afford her tuition. Tension and joy are evident in the Heights over a hot summer.

The neighborhood is made up of people who came to New York from the Dominican Republic, Cuba, and Puerto Rico, and their US-born children. People get excited when they learn that someone bought a winning lottery ticket from Usnavi’s bodega, and they each hope they win. But things are changing in the Heights.

The beauty salon is moving to the Grand Concourse in the Bronx because rents in Manhattan are rising. Vanessa’s rental application for a small apartment in the garment district is denied because her credit is not good enough. Abuela sings “Paciencia y Fe” (“Patience and Faith”), a song about virtues she learned as a new immigrant long ago. Then the lights go out due to a power outage. As Abuela lights candles in the darkness, the people sing a song of being powerless, with its double meaning of no electricity and their struggles as citizens in the community.

In the Heights is a Broadway musical adapted by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Quiara Alegría Hudes. Making its debut in cinemas and on HBO Max, this film is a slice of life unfamiliar to many, characterized by joyful, energetic dancing and rap songs, Miranda’s specialty.

Though the cast is almost entirely made up of Latino characters, some have criticized the film for not including Black Latino actors, something that Miranda and director Jon M. Chu have vowed to remedy in future projects. The themes of family, community, immigrant struggles, and racism are handled in ways that create awareness and uplift at the same time.

A-3, PG-13, Mature themes.

Summer of Soul (…Or, When the Revolution Could Not be Televised)

This new documentary, directed by musician and writer Questlove, is a journey to Harlem in 1969. It is about the Harlem Cultural Festival, a series of concerts held in Mount Morris Park on Sundays during the same summer as Woodstock. And though the concerts were taped, only small portions were televised late at night. After 50 years in someone’s basement, footage of these concerts show some of America’s greatest musicians in concert at last.

The series was the brainchild of promoter Tony Lawrence, who created it out of almost nothing. Only one sponsor signed on, Maxwell House Coffee. The concerts were free. An audience of 300,000 attended peacefully, despite social issues that could have upset everything. Heroin use was at an all-time high in Harlem, Vietnam War protests were increasing, and racial tensions were everywhere. But with this concert film, we see Harlem’s rich culture and the people who created it.

Some of the acts included B.B. King, the 5th Dimension, Gladys Knight & the Pips, David Ruffin, Nina Simone, Sly Stone, and Mahalia Jackson. The concert also included music performed by Ray Barretto, representing Spanish Harlem as well as Afro-Cuban and Afro-Puerto Rican music. Some performers, such as Nina Simone, had a strong message for the people: “We are young, gifted, and Black—and that’s a fact.”

Though it has taken over 50 years for what is called “the Black Woodstock” to go mainstream, it is indeed a gift for us now. What’s sad is that so little has changed for members of the Black community, which still struggles with homelessness and voting rights. This music and its message are as relevant as ever.

Not yet rated, PG-13, No objectionable material.

Building a Bridge

This documentary follows Father James Martin, SJ, at home, at America Media in New York, and as he invites LGBTQ members, their families, and the Church to dialogue and accept each other as children of God. Father Martin explains his ministry to the LGBTQ community and their families because, as Pope Francis says, it is the overlooked person we’re called to pay attention to. The film’s title is taken from Father Martin’s 2018 book that he wrote in response to 2016’s Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, Florida, when almost no bishop reached out to comfort the victims or their families as they do after other mass shootings.

This documentary, executive produced by Martin Scorsese and directed by Evan Mascagni and Shannon Post, is gentle, strong, and hopeful. The juxtaposed scenes with one of Father Martin’s most hostile critics, Michael Voris of Church Militant, come off as more dialogic than antagonistic.

It is very revealing when Father Martin tells a Catholic audience that the highest suicide rates among young people who identify as LGBTQ come from the most religious of families. Fordham University’s Father Bryan Massingale comments throughout the film on moral imperatives about the inclusion of LGBTQ people, both in society and in the faith community.

Not yet rated, Mature themes regarding sexuality.

Servant of the Poor, Man of God

Louis “took the cross” for a crusade when he was 30. Though admired as a crusader, he deserves greater credit for extending justice during his reign. Louis was always devoted to his people—founding hospitals, visiting the sick, and, like his patron, St. Francis of Assisi, caring for people with leprosy.

St. Louis was a founder of the Secular Franciscan Order. He also united France, as well as lords and townsfolk, by force of his personality and holiness.

For many years, the nation was at peace. Disturbed by new Muslim advances in Syria, St. Louis led another Crusade in 1267, at the age of 41. However, the army was decimated by disease within a month, and Louis himself died on foreign soil at the age of 44. He was canonized 27 years later.

Personal Qualities of St. Louis

Although Louis could be a strong-willed man, his word was trusted completely, and his courage was remarkable. What was more awesome was his respect for everyone with whom he dealt, especially the “humble folks of the Lord.”

To care for his people, Louis built cathedrals, churches, libraries, hospitals, and orphanages. He dealt with princes honestly and equitably. He hoped to be treated the same way by the “King of Kings,” to whom he gave his life, his family, and his country.To add a final note, Louis welcomed 13 special guests from among the poor to eat with him every day, and large numbers were served meals near his palace. During Advent and Lent, many hungry people received free meals, and Louis often served them in person. May we all show the same care and concern for the poor as this great saint did!