This holy couple offers four lessons for your feast.

As we all know, Thanksgiving can also bring stress. Not enough time to get it all done, exhausting shopping and travel, messes to clean up, and back-burner tensions heating up all threaten to deplete your spirit during this week of celebration. This joyful but demanding week is the perfect time to invite into your lives two November saints: Philemon (fuh-LEE-mun) and Apphia (AF-ee-uh). November 22 is the feast day of this New Testament husband and wife, and it happens to also be the earliest possible date for Thanksgiving; however, November 22 more frequently lands on a Thanksgiving preparation day.

Saints Philemon and Apphia, a couple from Colossae (an unexcavated city in present-day Turkey), are the recipients (along with their probable son, Archippus) of a letter from Paul, which has been named the Letter to Philemon, but is usually referred to as simply “Philemon.” The biblical book of Philemon is so short that it doesn’t have any chapters—only verses, 25 in all. Despite being such a short book in the Bible, some very handy insights can be gleaned from Philemon and Apphia within the letter and, with some effort, can be applied to Thanksgiving get-togethers.

Lesson 1: Keep Your Home God-Centered

To Philemon, our co-worker, . . . to Apphia our sister, . . . and to the church at your house (Phlm 1-2).

We learn very early on in this letter (verses 1-2) that Philemon and Apphia had a house church at their home. Because there were no official church structures yet during this first century of Christianity, people’s homes were frequently used. This was a generous and impressive gesture on the part of Philemon and Apphia. Apparently, God was so important to this couple that they warmly welcomed the Christians of Colossae into their home so they could pray and worship as community. If you will be hosting Thanksgiving this year, try to remember Philemon and Apphia’s house church and see if you can work God into the picture.

Arranging for a home Mass would likely be rather difficult, but maybe you can come up with some other ways to weave God into the festivities: saying a particularly thoughtful grace, placing holy cards or scripted thankful-related Bible verses at each place setting, or having inspirational music playing in the background. These steps might help to keep the day—and your home—marked with the Lord.

If you will be visiting someone else’s house, consider bringing a God-honoring gift connected to thankfulness or a religious family game to play after dinner (just one example would be the Bible edition of Scattergories). See if you can somehow quietly, gently create some space for God within the day wherever you go!

Lesson 2: Pay Attention to Elderly Wisdom

I rather urge you out of love, being as I am, Paul, an old man (Phlm 9a).

Stop and be mindful of any elderly people at the Thanksgiving table. Perhaps they are not up-to-date with technology, clothing, or other current trends; however, they are living history and often full of classic wisdom. Rather than turning your head and rolling your eyes when they speak, maybe you should give them a listen for a moment or two.

When Paul wrote his letter to Philemon and Apphia, he referred to himself as “an old man.” The New Jerome Biblical Commentary asserts that Paul was probably 50-60 years old when he wrote the letter; in those days, 50-60 certainly was elderly. In this letter (verses 7-21), Paul writes about a runaway slave named Onesimus (oh-NES-i-mus). When Onesimus fled Philemon and Apphia’s house, he found Paul and converted to Christianity. The great (and elderly!) evangelizer offered some suggestions to the couple on how to manage their deserting slave. Although slavery was perfectly acceptable even among Christians at the time, the older-but-wiser Paul very gently nudged Philemon and Apphia to forgive Onesimus for having run away, and instead to accept him as a Christian brother.

It seems reasonable to assume that this couple listened to Paul, for it appears that rather than reacting with resentment and destroying the letter, the letter survived and was copied over and over, and was eventually selected to be placed in the final form of the Bible. If you tend to automatically disregard Grandma’s counsel or discreetly chuckle at Uncle Frank’s long-ago stories, try to make yourself pause and wait a bit, pray a bit. There just might be some surprising wisdom in their words which might, in turn, offer a healthy opportunity for true growth.

Lesson 3: Look at Others with New Eyes

Welcome him [Onesimus] as you would me (Phlm 17b).

Because Onesimus was a slave, he probably experienced a fair amount of snubbing and rejection. Paul’s encouragement to Philemon and Apphia to forgive and accept this person with such a lowly status may have been unthinkable to many in ancient Colossae. However, Paul’s urging to change their attitudes toward their slave could prompt us now to glance around the Thanksgiving table. Is there someone who tends to be disregarded, scorned, or discreetly (or obviously) ridiculed? Is there someone at the table whom you struggle to like or accept? If there is someone you have been impolite to, say a quick prayer, then try to look at him or her with fresh eyes, try to see Christ in that person, try to give that person a new chance in your heart.

Tradition tells that Philemon and Apphia did so with Onesimus. They chose to accept him as a Christian brother, which in turn allowed Onesimus the freedom to fully embrace and promote the faith. Onesimus, by the way, also ended up being counted as a saint; his feast day is February 15.

Lesson 4: Offer a Warm Welcome in Your Home

Prepare a guest room for me, for I hope to be granted to you through your prayers (Phlm 22).

In one of the last verses in this letter, Paul expressed hope to visit Philemon and Apphia and requested a room to be readied for him. If you will be hosting Thanksgiving at your house, imagine expecting a guest like Paul and prepare your home accordingly. Welcome your guests warmly; think of Christ’s command to love one another and serve with grace. Ponder what matters the most. Avoid prioritizing food or elaborate table settings and focus on people first.

If you will be going to someone else’s house, be a Christ-like guest. Be appreciative and helpful in any way you can. Treat your hosts with consideration and strive to help them enjoy the day, as well. Thanksgiving week can be a frenzied time, but try to remember that it’s about giving thanks to God.

So let God guide your week and day, and on November 22, try to set aside a little bit of time to read the 25 verses that Paul wrote to Saints Philemon and Apphia. See if this holy married couple might prompt a tweak here or there for your Thanksgiving. Ask these generous and open-minded first-century saints to pray for your Thanksgiving; that it may be filled with genuine gratitude to the Lord, and that kindness and acceptance may be more plentiful than food.

It’s easy to view saints as distant, historical figures that we can only try to imitate. Pope Francis encourages us to consider as examples the quietly holy people in our lives who inspire us to a deeper spiritual life.

Do you live next door to a saint? Pope Francis thinks you do. And he thinks maybe your neighbor does too. Could your grandmother be a saint? What about your college adviser who encouraged you to follow your creative interests? Or your first boss who persuaded you that you had the skills necessary to apply for a new position in the company? Then there’s the person working two offices down the hall from you. Did it ever occur to you that he or she might be a saint?

Pope Francis takes the “cloud of witnesses” from Hebrews 12:10 far beyond what we normally think of as the “communion of saints.” In his latest exhortation, “Rejoice and Be Glad” (“Gaudete et Exsultate“), he writes: “These witnesses may include our own mothers, grandmothers, or other loved ones [cf. 2 Tm 1:5]. Their lives may not always have been perfect, yet even amid their faults and failings they kept moving forward and proved pleasing to the Lord” (3).

Notice he doesn’t say we need to be perfect to have a shot at sainthood. Nor does he give a list of rules and guidelines to follow. For Pope Francis, as it was for Jesus, it’s about continually moving toward our place in the kingdom of God. We are the living stones that make up that kingdom. It is through small steps and faithful love that we fulfill our destiny.

The title “Rejoice and Be Glad,” taken from the beatitudes, refers to the Gospel call to recognize the often unexpected and surprising ways that our lives help build up the kingdom. The beatitudes are as revolutionary today as they were at the time of Jesus. It’s not the movers and shakers of society who are blessed by God, but those who quietly and humbly seek out God’s will and put it into practice. The pope reminds us that this doesn’t mean we’re all called to be superheroes. We’re called to become saints in the very ordinariness of our human lives.

The pope writes: “I like to contemplate the holiness present in the patience of God’s people: in those parents who raise their children with immense love, in those men and women who work hard to support their families, in the sick, in elderly religious who never lose their smile. In their daily perseverance I see the holiness of the Church militant. Very often it is a holiness found in our next-door neighbors, those who, living in our midst, reflect God’s presence. We might call them ‘the middle class of holiness'” (7).

Meeting at the Crossroads of Life

We can all think of people who have made a significant difference in the major decisions and directions of our lives. It may or may not have seemed dramatic at the time, but looking back we can see that words of encouragement or admonition changed the path we were on and set us toward a new life.

Pope Francis suggests that these people, too, are part of our personal communion of saints: “Certainly the most decisive turning points in world history are substantially codetermined by souls whom no history book ever mentions. And we will only find out about those souls to whom we owe the decisive turning points in our personal lives on the day when all that is hidden is revealed” (8).

Sometimes we don’t have to wait until that final day. It’s good to take a few moments from time to time to look back at our lives and reflect on those turning points and the people who helped them happen. I think of the English professor I had during my freshman year of college who pushed me to realize I couldn’t coast through college the way I had in high school. I think of Molly, my roommate in graduate school, who told me that my singing voice was timid, not flat. This led to several delightful years singing in my parish choir. I think of the many people who listened with compassion through years of working through the ordinary problems of growing into independent adulthood.

For some people it might be advice about marriage and a family. For others it could be a daring change of career or the decision to enter religious life.

Inspiration, Not Imitation

One obstacle many people encounter when they hear this challenge to become holy is thinking they have to imitate the lives of the canonized saints. They mistake the particulars of another person’s life for those traits essential to holiness.

Martin Buber recounts this Hasidic tale: “A rabbi named Zusya died and went to stand before the judgment seat of God. As he waited for God to appear, he grew nervous thinking about his life and how little he had done. He began to imagine that God was going to ask him, ‘Why weren’t you Moses, or why weren’t you Solomon, or why weren’t you David?’ But when God appeared, the rabbi was surprised. God simply asked, ‘Why weren’t you Zusya?'”

It is in this spirit that Pope Francis reminds us God has a plan for each of us. He writes: “We should not grow discouraged before examples of holiness that appear unattainable. There are some testimonies that may prove helpful and inspiring, but that we are not meant to copy, for that could even lead us astray from the one specific path that the Lord has in mind for us. The important thing is that each believer discern his or her own path, that they bring out the very best of themselves, the most personal gifts that God has placed in their hearts [cf. 1 Cor 12:7], rather than hopelessly trying to imitate something not meant for them” (11).

This should excite and encourage us to give our all and to embrace that unique plan that God willed for each of us from eternity: ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.'” Jeremiah 1:5

Mother Teresa told her admirers that instead of coming to Calcutta they should stay in their own homes and towns and do small things with great love. And St. Francis said to his brothers at the end of his life: “I have done what is mine to do. May Christ show you the work that is yours.”

While we all know people who are doing extraordinary things, Pope Francis reminds us that we can grow in holiness by living our daily lives well: “We are all called to be holy by living our lives with love and by bearing witness in everything we do, wherever we find ourselves. Are you called to the consecrated life? Be holy by living out your commitment with joy. Are you married? Be holy by loving and caring for your husband or wife, as Christ does for the Church. Do you work for a living? Be holy by laboring with integrity and skill in the service of your brothers and sisters. Are you a parent or grandparent? Be holy by patiently teaching the little ones how to follow Jesus. Are you in a position of authority? Be holy by working for the common good and renouncing personal gain” (14).

The Most Ordinary Path to Holiness

Few popes have been better than Pope Francis at putting his advice into concrete, ordinary examples. He continues to do this, writing: “This holiness to which the Lord calls you will grow through small gestures. Here is an example: A woman goes shopping, she meets a neighbor and they begin to speak, and the gossip starts. But she says in her heart: ‘No, I will not speak badly of anyone.’ This is a step forward in holiness. Later, at home, one of her children wants to talk to her about his hopes and dreams. And even though she is tired, she sits down and listens with patience and love. That is another sacrifice that brings holiness. Later she experiences some anxiety, but recalling the love of the Virgin Mary, she takes her rosary and prays with faith—yet another path of holiness. Later still, she goes out onto the street, encounters a poor person, and stops to say a kind word to him. One more step” (16).

When we get impatient with what seems like one step forward and two steps back in our spiritual lives, Pope Francis is there to remind us that small steps can carry us forward on our journey just as far as great leaps. It might take a little longer, but we’ll reach our destination all the same. And he reminds us that we’re never alone on this journey, no matter how far we have to go or how long it takes.

Do not be afraid of holiness. It will take away none of your energy, vitality, or joy. On the contrary, you will become what the Father had in mind when he created you, and you will be faithful to your deepest self. To depend on God sets us free from every form of enslavement and leads us to recognize our great dignity” (32).

Carry these words of Pope Francis with you as you reflect on where you’ve been and where you’re going: “May you come to realize what that word is, the message of Jesus that God wants to speak to the world by your life. Let yourself be transformed. Let yourself be renewed by the Spirit, so that this can happen, lest you fail in your precious mission. The Lord will bring it to fulfillment despite your mistakes and missteps, provided that you do not abandon the path of love but remain ever open to his supernatural grace, which purifies and enlightens” (24).

We may not be officially recognized by the Church through beatification or canonization. But the feasts we celebrate this month remind us of the many saints who have devoted their lives to God but have no special feast day on the Church calendar. All Saints’ Day on November 1 celebrates all those who have lived according to the beatitudes. All Souls’ Day on November 2 reminds us to pray for those who continue their journey after death.

But the pope assures us that the quest for sainthood is a worthy venture for us all: “Do not be afraid to set your sights higher, to allow yourself to be loved and liberated by God. Do not be afraid to let yourself be guided by the Holy Spirit. Holiness does not make you less human, since it is an encounter between your weakness and the power of God’s grace. For, in the words of Le√≥n Bloy, when all is said and done, ‘the only great tragedy in life is not to become a saint'” (34).

Who Are the Saints in Your Life?

When I think of saints in my life, it’s ordinary people who are doing amazing things to help others. John drives to several stores every day picking up food that would have otherwise been thrown out, and he keeps several food pantries supplied. Sue and Bill own a rental house that they lease well below market value to tenants who need a break. They’re setting aside some money from the rent their current tenant pays because they’re planning to sell the house, and they want to give him a deposit for his next place.

Amy lost her son two weeks after his graduation from college and set up two scholarships at his alma mater for students in sociology and photography. She also volunteers once a week at the mental health unit of a local hospital because of the care they gave her son during his struggles with depression. Steve and Becca lost a baby to a heart defect and went on to foster two at-risk children to give them a chance at a better life.

Katie spent several weeks in South Sudan with the Comboni Missionaries helping deliver equipment for simple hand-drilled wells and water purification to the sprawling refugee camps there. Paula crochets sleeping mats for homeless individuals out of plastic grocery bags. John owns an electric company and believes it’s important to donate a percentage of professional services to various groups and individuals. These are only the first examples that come to mind. I’m sure you could come up with a similar list.

None of these people would think that they were doing anything out of the ordinary or anything that anyone else wouldn’t do if they saw the same need. And all of them think that they could be doing more. They understand the words of St. Francis, when he said to his brothers at the end of his life, “Let us begin to do good, for until now we have done nothing.”

At the Franciscan Renewal Center in Arizona, veterans find a place to work through traumas that damaged their minds—and their souls.

In Assisi, there’s a statue of St. Francis like no other. There’s no tonsure, no brown robe, no birds, no halo. Many visitors and pilgrims don’t at first recognize this bronze of an armored soldier on his horse as the saint at all.

The statue depicts a turning point in the year 1204. Francis was on his way to fight in the Crusades. He was young, about 23. Two years earlier, he had fought in a battle between his hometown of Assisi and neighboring Perugia and was captured and imprisoned for a year until his father paid a hefty ransom. Afterward, Francis suffered a long illness. Scholars believe he was left hurt and broken, possibly suffering physical ailments as well as what we know today as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). By joining the Crusades, Francis might have wanted to prove he was a worthy soldier, but on his ride there, he received a divine message and came to realize that his aspirations as a knight were not to be accomplished by the sword. He turned around and headed back to Assisi.

Today, military veterans are finding a compelling and relatable figure in St. Francis. The story of the soldier who became the eminent figure for peace and humility has been especially transformative for those involved with veterans programs at the Franciscan Renewal Center in Arizona.

“I consider him my 800-year-old friend,” says Terry Araman, a combat medic in the Vietnam War and a leading advocate for veterans in Arizona. “He’s still very much alive to me.”

Desert Oasis

Located in metro Phoenix on the site of a former dude ranch, the Franciscan Renewal Center has long served as an oasis, a place to reflect, heal, and learn. It was established by Franciscan friars in 1951 under the name Casa de Paz y Bien (Home of Peace and Good). To many, it is simply known as the Casa (TheCasa.org), an integral part of the local community attracting members and support from the surrounding area.

One of those drawn to the center’s charisms—spiritual growth, healing, transformation, and service to others—is Dean Pedrotti, a 30-year veteran of the Phoenix fire department. Now both retired, Araman and Pedrotti are part of a small group that facilitates the Casa’s outreach ministry to veterans as well as to the families of veterans.

“I learned when I was a paramedic that one out of every four homeless men was a Vietnam War veteran,” Pedrotti says. “At about the same time, I was a member of the Franciscan Renewal Center, and I came to realize there’s a spirituality piece to the veteran’s experience that was not being addressed.”

The Casa’s own study on the subject showed a “lack of available spiritual programs in the Valley [metropolitan Phoenix] to meet the needs of service members, veterans, and their families.” The study said that one aspect that is typically “overlooked or conflated” in a veteran’s experience is that of moral injury.

Moral Injury

Hampshire College humanities professor Robert Meagher, who studies and writes about the moral injuries of war, released a compendium of essays on the topic earlier this year. War and Moral Injury: A Readercalls moral injury the “signature wound” of today’s wars, but also says it’s as old as the human record of war. Meagher defines moral injury as “the transgression, the violation, of what is right, what one has long held to be sacred—a core belief or moral code—and thus wounding or, in the extreme, mortally wounding the psyche, soul, or one’s humanity.”

Other scholars and Christian counselors say war experiences can lead to spiritual injury, especially for those who have been taught that human beings are made in God’s image to serve and love God. Attacking a person in war means attacking the divine within that person, a moral transgression that can lead to spiritual brokenness.

Unabated feelings of guilt and shame are among the signs of moral or spiritual injury. In 2010, Pedrotti and others from the Casa met with veterans’ groups and began to ponder how faith communities could respond to the lack of programs addressing these issues. They eventually connected with Father Michael Lapsley, an Anglican priest from South Africa, and his Institute for Healing of Memories.

Sharing Stories

Father Lapsley was gravely disfigured in 1990 by a letter bomb during his work against apartheid. Battling his own demons and those of a country fractured by racial division, he went on to found Healing of Memories workshops in South Africa.

The workshops invited people to share their personal battle stories with others who had similar experiences, promoting healing and the restoration of human dignity. The aim was national reconciliation in a country divided by race, social class, and ethnicity. With success in South Africa, the workshops moved into other countries including the United States, where they have been offered to veterans at the Franciscan Renewal Center, as well as other places in Arizona, California, Hawaii, New York, and Minnesota.

“Whether a war has been a totally unjust war or a justified war, war damages human beings,” Father Lapsley says. “And the fact that people get ill because of what they’ve been part of is not a sign that they’re crazy; it’s a sign of the fullness of their humanity.”

Father Lapsley discovered tremendous potential for healing when people with similar experiences are able to relate their painful stories to each other in an environment that is safe and nonjudgmental.

Finding Healing

US Army veteran David Campbell suffered a traumatic brain injury in an explosion during Operation Desert Storm, the 1991 coalition forces’ attack on Iraq. The combat engineer also endured PTSD and problems with his bones and joints. One of his legs had to be amputated. The US government told him he had been exposed to a mustard agent and depleted uranium in Iraq.

Campbell recounted his story to Catholic News Service a few years ago. He said he “spent 20 years drinking and drugging” to get by, to avoid nightmares and thoughts about the war. “My way of coping was [using] alcohol and drugs.”

In 2010, Campbell made a decision not to continue on a destructive path. He began Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy to help with his PTSD symptoms and through his therapist came into contact with the Casa’s Pedrotti and Michael Wold—a Navy veteran who coordinates the Healing of Memories workshops in Arizona. In 2013, Campbell attended one of the first workshops given at the Casa. Now he is a Healing of Memories facilitator, and he and his service dog, Caleb, work with the Mesa Police Department helping officers identify signs of PTSD and the best ways to approach veterans in crisis situations.

One figure Campbell was introduced to at the Casa was St. Francis.

“I love to hear his story,” Campbell says. “He was an injured soldier. He was a combat vet. He also was a prisoner of war. He dealt with his own demons, the same demons we [veterans] all deal with. . . . I like that guy. . . . I like what he’s been through; I like what he’s come through.”

Campbell’s number-one message to hurting veterans is: “Healing is possible.”

Unknown Injury

Sharyn Conway served in the Navy for nine years and was at the forward operating base in Kuwait in March 2003 when US Marines began their march toward Baghdad at the start of Operation Iraqi Freedom. She suffered a head injury, but to this day does not know how it happened. The injury revealed no external damage, only internal bleeding. The trauma left her with memory loss and problems speaking and standing. PTSD took its toll as well. She had horrifying flashbacks, which she says have diminished with therapy.

“I’ve been suffering for a long time,” says the veteran, now a middle school educator who teaches English to sixth graders in Goodyear, Arizona.

“Those of us who have been to war, we suffer from survivor’s guilt,” Conway says. “We suffer from doing things that our parents taught us were wrong. . . . Most of us have committed the unforgivable sin. . . . We know forgiveness is out there, but we feel unworthy to accept it, to receive it.”

Conway says she has never been a particularly religious person, but a few years ago, she got an unusual call. Someone offered to pay her way to Italy for a pilgrimage. “I remember thinking, This sounds like a scam.”

The call was from the Franciscan Renewal Center, where Conway once gave a presentation with her service dog. There was a donation available to pay her way and half her husband’s way to go to Assisi with other veterans.

Like many who travel to Assisi, Conway saw that equestrian statue of St. Francis with his head hung low for the first time. “I could feel those emotions he’s expressing, those emotions of coming home and not quite fitting in. I understood that,” she recalls.

The veteran, who knew little of St. Francis in the past—”He’s that guy you see with all the animals, right?”—says she now firmly believes that because St. Francis overcame his anguish, she will too. “I just need to keep working at it.”

Chaplain Conrad

In Assisi, Conway also found an understanding friend and confessor in Franciscan Father Conrad Targonski, the pilgrimage host, who had served 22 years as a chaplain for the Marines. Father Conrad retired from the Marine Corps Combat Center in California in 2010 and now works as a university chaplain. He leads Assisi pilgrimages for veterans and holds St. Francis retreats at the Casa and elsewhere for veterans unable to travel there.

Father Conrad was a supervisory chaplain during Operation Iraqi Freedom and served soldiers on the front lines in the “very bloody and long-standing” battles in Fallujah, Iraq.

When he looks at the statue of St. Francis on his horse, he also knows well what Francis’ “dazed look” is about. “That’s how I was when I got back from Iraq,” he says.

“When I came back, my superior asked me what I wanted to do next. I said that I wanted to be a greeter at Walmart—I wasn’t kidding. I wanted to do something to process this whole idea of war and to see people as people once again.”

Another Fighter

Maria Gastelum is a fighter—a rather quiet and reflective person, but very much determined. In 2003, while serving as an Army medic in a Baghdad military clinic, Gastelum fell ill from a preexisting condition and was set to be sent back to the United States for treatment. Before returning, however, she attended a party with other members of her unit where she was sexually assaulted and raped by a serviceman. Gastelum received an honorable discharge for medical reasons in 2005 and moved to Phoenix, where much of her family lives. PTSD stemming from the assault weighed heavy on her, and in 2009, she sought help from the Veterans Administration. A few years later, she heard about the Healing of Memories retreat for veterans, and she immediately called for information.

Gastelum attended two Healing of Memories workshops and two Walking with St. Francis retreats at the Franciscan Renewal Center. She says counseling had helped her with her interpersonal relationships and with her behavior, but at the retreats, she discovered healing for her spirit.

“They provided a genuine and safe place for [veterans] to tell our stories,” she says. “That’s so important. To heal you have to feel understood and safe. I realized that my spirit was damaged. We have a physical body we have to take care of, but also our spirit, our soul, needs care.” After attending Healing of Memories, she says she “felt like I had left something behind. I felt more grounded.”

Gastelum is now a certified chaplain pursuing a master’s degree in divinity. Her goal is to form a nonprofit organization that helps veterans with healing from an evangelical perspective.

Veterans Know

Araman knows well the struggles veterans face coming home. When he returned from Vietnam, he didn’t have friends or family to go to. With discord in the United States over the Vietnam War, he says many people looked at servicemen returning from the war with anger and cynicism.

“It got down to the point where I had 37 cents in my pocket,” he remembers.

Homeless for a time, Araman eventually got back to school and worked in the medical field. After college, he worked in the corporate world. When he retired, he went to work with homeless veterans. He helped establish MANA House in central Phoenix eight years ago. The residential facility—its acronym standing for Marines, Army, Navy, and Air Force—at first took in five veterans. MANA House now is a full-fledged transitional living program and outreach center that falls under the umbrella of Catholic Charities. This year, MANA House relocated to a new facility with 76 spaces for veterans, getting them off the streets and helping them back into mainstream life.

Araman works with many veterans’ groups and organizations, including the Casa’s veterans ministry. In 2016, he was inducted into the Arizona Veterans Hall of Fame Society for his dedication to “making homeless veterans whole again.”

He says part of the inspiration for his work comes from St. Francis.

“He’s one of my lifetime heroes,” he says. “I really need to make sure I’m doing something positive with the time I have left here on earth.”

Just Listen

Although healing workshops and St. Francis retreats are at the core of the Franciscan Renewal Center’s veterans ministry, it is a multifaceted program. The Casa ministry also provides household goods and support to homeless veterans as they are placed into permanent housing, moral injury education for those who are not veterans, and community engagement events, such as an annual Veterans Day picnic and social gatherings for veterans who have attended Casa programs. There are new spiritual companionship groups for male and female veterans, and Dean Pedrotti and others continue to speak to first responders about moral injury and reach out to other faith communities to share the Casa’s veterans ministry story.

They also work to bring in funding so that veterans can attend programs without cost to them. Catholic Charities is funding two Healing of Memories workshops at the Casa in the spring.

When people approach Pedrotti and ask how they can help, he tells them, “Engage and just listen.” He says civilians need to ask veterans: “What was it like? We welcome you home. Please tell us what you did on our behalf. Don’t hold back.” Then, he says, we need only to listen.

“When veterans speak, that is a sacred moment,” Pedrotti relates. “Part of our responsibility as civilians is to become good listeners. There is grace and healing each time a veteran speaks.”

As the new year draws closer, let us be a light in the darkness for others.

This year didn’t start off well. On January 3, US President Donald Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong-un Twitter-taunted each other over their respective nuclear capabilities. The world braced itself as the Doomsday Clock inched closer to “midnight.” Humanity hadn’t been so close to collapse since the Cold War. Cooler heads prevailed, thank God, but 2018 was just getting started.

In February, we faced the mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, where 17 people were killed, becoming the deadliest high school shooting in US history. In April, it was discovered that some 87 million Facebook users were hacked by Cambridge Analytica. In May, the country faced a humanitarian crisis (and worldwide scorn) when more than 2,300 children were separated from their families after crossing the US southern border. The images of crying children in detention camps are emblazoned on our hearts still.

The rest of the year brought us no shortage of the unfortunate, from plane crashes to sex scandals to Roseanne Barr. But we’re still grateful. We have to be. In this season of gratitude, as a staff looking back at a tumultuous year, the following events gave our hearts a lift.

#MeToo at 1. It would be inaccurate to say that sexual misconduct in Hollywood started (or ended) with Harvey Weinstein. The vulnerable have been targeted in Tinseltown since silent films. But in 2017, a band of brave and righteously angry female actors took a simple hashtag and elevated it to a global movement and a rallying cry for equality. Male executives in the industry and beyond were put on alert. The rest of us are still in awe.

Survivors of Clergy Abuse. When US Catholics learned in August of a Pennsylvania grand jury’s report documenting priestly abuse of over 1,000 minors, it was like Boston revisited. Only a few shards of light could be found at that time: among them, the survivors who came forward and the angry religious who spoke out against the sins of the Church they love. As Jesuit Father Patrick Gilger wrote in a Vox article after the scandal broke, “I actually don’t feel that the bishops betrayed my trust, because they’ve never had it,” a sentiment shared by many.

First Responders. From the mass shooting at Texas’ Santa Fe High School in May to Hurricane Florence in September, our first line of defense has always been the brave women and men who face these unimaginable disasters head-on. Such bravery can only be described as God-given. Let us give thanks to the first responders who run into a crisis, fighting the very human instinct to run from it.

Young Activists. School shootings have become a political land mine, but this is so much deeper than a constitutional amendment. At its heart, it’s a right-to-life issue. The young people who survived the Parkland shooting, in particular Emma Gonzalez and David Hogg, helped to organize the March for Our Lives rally in Washington, DC, for gun control earlier this year, and dared our elected officials to do more than pray. Although they were crudely labeled “crisis actors” by conspiracy theorists, the indignation of these young people is no act. They breathe life into 1 Timothy 4:12: “Let no one have contempt for your youth, but set an example for those who believe.”

Catholic Charities. The Rio Grande branch of Catholic Charities started Humanitarian Crisis Relief to address the influx of immigrants crossing our borders. Located at Sacred Heart Church in McAllen, Texas, the center provides, according to its website, “a place for the countless men, women, children, and infant refugees to rest, have a warm meal, a shower, and change into clean clothing, as well as receive medicine and other supplies, before continuing onto their journey.” At a time when the immigration crisis has divided our nation, we are humbled by the work of Catholic Charities. Their numbers are stunning: As of 2015, they have assisted over 23,000 individuals.

Our Audience. Where would we be without the readers of our printed products, such as Franciscan Media books and this magazine? Even beyond our print family, those who engage with our social channels, our websites, and our e-newsletters, such as Minute Meditations and Saint of the Day, make up a vast, rich tapestry for which we are proud and grateful. From the smallest tweet to the most robust of web features, we have you in mind as we share the spirit of our founder.

The Franciscan Family. In this opulent and often grotesque century, living a life devoted to poverty and caring for the “least of us” must be a challenge. But the men and women who have given their lives to this calling still inspire us. Sts. Francis and Clare were revolutionaries—and they started a fire. It burns still. Their charism has become our charism.

A quote often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi is, “All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”

There’s no evidence he wrote those words, but they are so integrally Franciscan that it doesn’t matter. As we look back on the year—and as we move closer to the next—let us be a light in the darkness for others.

“Food is my connection,” says Lidia Bastianich, a cooking show star and restaurant owner. But it was her faith that spurred her on her journey.

Take a stroll into Felidia on Manhattan’s Upper East Side and you will find a tasteful d écor. What strikes the visitor is how small the place is: just a few tables, like a space for a family get-together.

It’s 3 p.m. and the only patrons are European tourists occupying a table, engaged in a long repast complete with loud discussions. The Americans will be here for dinner later. The staff is getting ready behind the scenes.

Unlike many other Manhattan restaurants, there are no photos on the wall featuring celebrity patrons. But at the cash register are copies of My American Dream, the autobiography of cofounder Lidia Matticchio Bastianich, known to television viewers as Chef Lidia. The quiet restaurant, a place for well-off New Yorkers and visitors to enjoy exquisite, authentic northern Italian fare since 1981, is the product of a sometimes turbulent past, born out of sweat, tears, and near-bankruptcy.

But today those troubles seem to be in the distant past. Chef Lidia owns this restaurant, hosts her own PBS cooking show (Lidia’s Kitchen), and is the author of a series of popular cookbooks. And now her autobiography, released in April, describes her story, from Cold War refugee immigrant to successful food entrepreneur and philanthropist.

Tasting Freedom in America

At a table for two, Chef Lidia, 71, describes why she decided to write her autobiography.

“I want to put it down for my children,” she says (she has two, Joseph and Tanya, both contributors to the family business). She also wanted leave a record for her five grandchildren as a way for them to relate to her struggles and understand that her success came with much heavy lifting.

The autobiography developed from her popular cookbooks. While it contains a wealth of personal details and a compelling narrative, it is itself a kind of cookbook. For Chef Lidia, no recipe is simply a collection of ingredients. Each one has a story behind it.

Food permeates nearly every scene of the book. She recounts the meals she smelled and ate at her grandmother’s farmhouse in the former Yugoslavia, a country wracked by World War II and the imposition of a Communist regime. Her book covers the politics that affected her family, but the details are of the ricotta and other fresh cheeses, and warm milk from the family goat, complete with the foam it created. And there was the sausage from a freshly slaughtered pig, as well as olive oil.

Lidia describes her wide-eyed New York arrival in 1958, when she was 11. The Empire State Building towered over the skyline, well beyond anything she had ever seen in Europe. The food in 1950s America fascinated the newly arrived refugee. She marveled at Horn & Hardart’s, where the Automat produced food in abundance, seemingly out of nowhere, for a bedazzled Lidia and her younger brother. Put a few coins in a slot, and out popped Jell-O, a phenomenon she could never have imagined in Europe. The young Lidia grew to love baking cakes with Duncan Hines mixes and, later, eating 1960s-style TV dinners. Like a composer recognizing soundtracks, Lidia recounts food as the accompaniment of her life.

“The freedom of America kicked in. I couldn’t get enough of it,” she recalls while sipping mineral water at her restaurant more than six decades later.

While she marveled at the abundance of her new country, she still longed for home. Remembering her grandmother’s kitchen helped her cope with the separation. In her cooking, she tried to recreate that home-and-hearth experience.

Food Means Family

Food is more than a soundtrack for her life or a way to connect with memories. It is also a spiritual experience for Lidia that echoes her Catholic roots. “Getting together at the table with the family, it is a very special place, not unlike the Last Supper,” she says. It is a eucharistic image consistent with a Catholic worldview.

As recounted in her autobiography, Lidia prays regularly. She writes that, every night, “I spend a few minutes reflecting on my day and have a conversation with God. I thank him for all the good things that happened on this day.” Included are prayers of thanksgiving for her survival through a harrowing refugee experience and for the gift of her 97-year-old mother.

“Food was my connection,” Chef Lidia says. “God calls everyone to the table.”

Born in 1947 in what is now Croatia, Lidia was buffeted by the currents permeating postwar Europe. Her family was ethnically Italian. Her father, Vittorio, owned a small business fixing trucks and cars. Erminia, her mother, was a teacher, uncomfortable with the allegiance she was expected to show to the new government. That combination proved a target in the new Yugoslavia, intent on settling scores from the war and instituting Communism.

There was no room for her family in that new scheme. With her father, mother, and brother, Lidia left for Italy, residing for a few years in a makeshift refugee facility. “When you have to flee, you have to for a reason,” she says.

The relocations proved difficult on them all. The adversity and dependency created strains. Her parents weren’t happy attempting to fight back against a regime that marginalized ethnic Italians. For a short time, her father was imprisoned by the Yugoslav regime.

Help from the Church

Once relocated to Italy, Lidia attended a Catholic school in Trieste. She had the support of a teaching nun, Sister Lidia de Grandis, who befriended the 9-year-old. With her guidance, the young Lidia grew in confidence and spiritual strength. She learned about her Catholic faith, a subject not available back in Yugoslavia.

“We persevered because of the goodness of others,” she recalls, noting how the family relied on agencies such as the Red Cross, Catholic Relief Services, and, when they arrived in the United States, Catholic Charities. Her mother kept track of the money the family received from Catholic Charities, and, after working and saving $1,500, she offered to pay it back. Their social worker would have none of it. Just keep reporting back about your progress in your new country, the family was told.

And there was much progress to report. The family relied on the informal Italian immigrant network when they settled in northern New Jersey. Lidia’s mother and father were able to land jobs, often with the help of their children, who learned English and were able to interpret for job interviews.

Her mother eventually learned the language and began to thrive in her new country. It was a different story with her father. Beaten down by the lower-status work he was forced to do in the United States, he was never comfortable with the language and often longed for home.

They relocated again, to Queens, New York, settling in next to the rumblings of the subway tracks in the Astoria neighborhood. There, Lidia attended public school, and upon high school graduation, enrolled in Hunter College. To earn her way, she took jobs in restaurants, carefully taking mental notes of how food was prepared and the way the challenges of small businesses were met. One of her early jobs was with a bakery owned by the family of film star Christopher Walken, which employed both Lidia and her mother.

Marriage Partners, Business Partners

Then she met Felice, also an Italian immigrant who came from Yugoslavia, who undertook an intense courtship. Her mother disapproved of the match with the older man, but they were married in 1966, when she was 18 and he was in his 30s.

They honeymooned in Yugoslavia, as their old country at the time was gradually becoming more open to the West. After reconnecting with family, the couple returned to New York intent on establishing an American life for themselves.

As a new bride, and while raising two children, Lidia continued to explore a restaurant business career. She and Felice opened a restaurant in Queens, with herself as the chef and her husband as the food supplier and front-of-the-store presence. The neighborhood restaurant became a hit, and soon they opened another establishment. At the time, Americans associated Italian food with heavy sauces from southern Italy combined with American ingredients. The northern Italian fare from their new restaurants was initially unfamiliar to American palates, but it quickly took off.

After a few years of neighborhood success, the couple took a gamble. They sold the two Queens restaurants to create a new establishment in Manhattan. It was a jump of only about 6 miles, but it meant breaking into the potentially lucrative yet highly competitive world of Manhattan eateries. The move almost bankrupted the couple, as they discovered that their new restaurant, Felidia (named for the two of them), required extensive structural repairs. When they opened, months later than planned, the first night included old neighbors from Queens and the immigrant community they both relied on.

The restaurant took off, helped by a favorable review in the New York Times. Without intending to break through barriers, Lidia became known as a prominent female chef in what had been a male-dominated field.

Famous Clientele

Through it all, food remained more than a business commodity. Lidia sees it as a connection, both to her family ties in Europe and to her television audiences. The television show, now taped in Connecticut, began after she appeared with Julia Child on a show in 1993. Chef Lidia soon began taping her own program out of the family home in Queens. Although nervous at first, she honed her television persona by looking into the camera as if it were a friend coming over to watch her pull together recipes.

Besides Julia Child, she became friendly with James Beard, the late food writer. But the most famous people she has met are Pope Francis and Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI.

Through her charity work, Lidia connected with the papal ambassador to the United Nations before Pope Benedict came to the city in 2008. She was asked to oversee dinner for the visiting pontiff and many bishops and cardinals.

The accent was German for Pope Benedict, whose own mother had worked as a chef. On the menu were sauerkraut, goulash, and strudel. It was the pope’s birthday, and Lidia helped him with the American custom of cutting the cake, guiding the pope’s hand and carving out a slice.

She also cooked for Pope Francis on his visit to New York in 2015. Pope Francis is from Argentina, but Lidia focused on his culinary connections to his ancestral home in northern Italy. On the menu was fresh fish. She was told the pope was being careful about his diet, so the fare was lean. What she remembers most about the meal was that Pope Francis spent 20 minutes of his visit in the kitchen talking to the staff. At the end of his visit, he blessed a rosary and asked the workers to pray for him.

Cooking for two popes caused her to see food once again as a great equalizer. By sharing her special gift of food, she sensed a closeness of spirit with the two men.

Hardship Softened by Charity

While her life has many such highlights, Lidia notes in her autobiography some low points as well, such as her father’s difficulty to establish connections in a new land, the struggle to open her Manhattan restaurant, and the intensity and long hours of the restaurant business that often prevented her from participating in her children’s school activities.

After 31 years of marriage, she and her husband divorced in 1997. She briefly describes a marriage falling apart because of the pressures of the food and restaurant business, something that consumed her at the time, and something her older husband wanted to leave behind.

After the divorce, Lidia focused on forgiveness, which she describes as a potent medicine. “In forgiving, you liberate yourself, and I was ready to be liberated,” she writes. Felice died three years after the divorce at the age of 70.

Since then, Lidia has devoted much of her time to charity work and her family, including watching the development of her grandchildren. All, except one who opted for Harvard, graduated from Jesuit colleges, including Boston College and Georgetown. Lidia has connected with Jesuit charities that reflect her own interests, including Jesuit Refugee Services, which works with migrants around the world.

Jesuit Father Stephen Katsouros, president of Arrupe College in Chicago, befriended Lidia when he was president of Loyola High School in Manhattan, at a time when her granddaughter was a student. “You are the most entrepreneurial person I know; you need to be on our board,” Father Katsouros pleaded with his friend. After praying to Mary for guidance, she accepted.

Arrupe College is a two-year school, focused on serving the poor and immigrants. Lidia was attracted by the mission, particularly in educating immigrants like herself. At school events in Chicago, Lidia has raised money through her cooking, helping to pay for reduced-price meals for students, and has shared her immigrant experience.

“She talks about how her family was uprooted,” says Father Katsouros, noting that the chef makes a connection with a new generation of immigrants. He says Lidia feels a need to give back in gratitude for the help her family received from the Church in both Italy and the United States. “The Catholic Church came to the rescue. They found shelter and support. That became fundamental and life-giving for her family,” he says.

Room for All at the Table

These days, there’s an increased fascination with celebrity chefs such as Gordon Ramsay, not to mention the massive increase in television shows devoted to cooking contests and behind-the-scenes looks at restaurant kitchens. Chef Lidia’s celebrity status might appear to be simply riding this crest of culinary interest. But that apparently overnight success was decades in coming, beginning with an immigrant’s tale of postwar America, when the country opened itself to newcomers fleeing the horrors of World War II Europe and the Cold War strife that followed.

“The reality is that my story parallels what is going on today,” says Lidia, noting the headlines about immigrants and refugees still struggling to make their way in what is arguably a less-welcoming America. She points out that, while she is a Catholic, she affirms the beliefs of others. Everyone, she says, needs to discover God where they are. For her, that includes an approach to cooking and eating.

She sees both her world and the realm of spirituality through the prism of food. Whether it’s in her Upper East Side Manhattan restaurant, at parties with her family, or via her autobiography, Lidia wants the world to know that “faith and spirituality took me through the hard times.”

As a refugee whose family struggled to find a home, Chef Lidia Bastianich wants to create a world where food is appreciated and, more importantly, so are people of all backgrounds. If life is a feast, she wants everyone to partake. It is a vision that animates her charitable work and a message that she hopes can be helpful to others going through similar experiences.

“Food was my connection,” she says. “God calls everyone to the table.”

Laurie Neary, RN, of the St. Joseph Parish Nurse Program, hosted this faith-based weight-control program for parishioners several years ago. Light Weigh is a Scripture- and faith-based program to lose weight. It is just one of the ways Neary helps parishioners with their minds and spirits—as well as their bodies.

She and other parish nurses give witness to the healing mission of Jesus to individuals, families, and the community. Their work is rooted in the deep religious belief of the Catholic Church.

Parish nursing programs across the country advocate a holistic understanding of health—that physical wellness is connected with spiritual and emotional well-being. These programs also stress that faith com- munities should serve one another by providing access to a health ministry in their own parish.

What Does a Parish Nurse Do?

According to St. Joseph’s website, parish nurse duties include:

Health educator: promotes an understanding of the relationship among lifestyle, attitudes, faith, and well-being by offering educational programs or information to the parishioners.

Health counselor: discusses health issues and problems with parishioners. Neary also visits parishioners who are homebound or in long-term care facilities. Hospital visitation is currently done by the deacons and priests.

Referral liaison: acts as a liaison to other congregational resources.

Volunteer coordinator: recruits and coordinates volunteers within the congregation.

That’s why Neary offered the 12-week weight-loss program. Taking care of our bodies is a fundamental part of being good stewards of God’s creation—us! She also holds “Lunch and Learn” meetings, where health speakers address a group; helps dispense annual flu shots; holds health fairs; and coordinates an anointing Mass on All Souls’ Day.

Faithful Medicine

We take good care of our cars and our lawns, but we often neglect something more precious, more critical than any vehicle or landscape design: our bodies.

According to Neary, “The role of the parish nurse is to be a health counselor and educator as well as a resource who can help facilitate referrals of resources to parishioners.”

Parish nurses take their ministry seriously. They blend health with spirituality. And that’s faithful medicine!

Questions to Ask

• Does your parish have a nurse?
• Can you ask your parish board about starting a nurse ministry?
• What programs could enhance your spirituality and health?

Next Month: The Gift of Giving