The young, dynamic Capuchins took youths on bicycle pilgrimages, to summer camps, even formed a band. For Henryk, St. Anthony Church in his hometown of Nova Sol, Poland, became an oasis of freedom in a desert of totalitarianism. 

“In the gray landscape of a Communist country, the church was a bright spot,” recalls Brother Henryk, the eldest of three children who spent many hours at the parish he described as a home away from home. 

He likens his calling to that of the disciples Jesus called at Galilee. “Jesus didn’t tell them what would happen in their life. He somehow attracted them.” Similarly, “I was attracted by the Capuchins,” he recalls. 

“I didn’t know much about St. Francis’ charism,” Brother Henryk continues. “I knew the Capuchins. And that was enough for me.” Those stirrings of a vocation would lead him to join the order in 1986 at age 20, professing his perpetual vows in 1987. The journey that followed would take many twists and unlikely turns, leading Brother Henryk from a seminary classroom to a soup kitchen, from professor to advocate for the poor, and from Krakow, Poland, to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 

“I couldn’t imagine what would happen in my life,” he recalls of those early years. “I had my visions. But everything happened differently somehow.” 

From Krakow to Rome and Back 

After novitiate in a friary in eastern Poland, Brother Henryk continued his formation in Krakow for theological studies. He was ordained a priest in April 1993. At the time, the order planned to open a Capuchin seminary in Krakow. 

Brother Henryk loved adventure and travel but had assumed he would be giving that up when he joined the order. After he served for a year in a parish in Krakow, however, his superiors sent him to the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome. During seven years there, he studied languages in Austria and France, with a semester in Israel. 

Upon returning, Brother Henryk became a professor of New Testament at the seminary. He lived at a friary in Krakow. The fall of Communism in 1989 brought religious freedom to Poland. However, it also spurred “an explosion of poverty,” Brother Henryk recalls. During the Communist era, the people had little, but enough to survive; in subsequent years, many lost their homes and livelihoods. 

The shift was apparent at the friary in Krakow, where only seven or eight people had come asking for food in the past. “After 1989, we had hundreds. It was so many that we couldn’t enter our friary. They were blocking the door,” he recalls. 

One of the friars built a “barracks,” a separate building where the friars would serve tea and sandwiches in the morning and in the afternoon. At the time, Brother Henryk had little interest in serving the poor, but he’d always had an aptitude for technical issues. 

He noticed that volunteers heated the tea water in a large pot over a very small fire. At the time, everyone in Krakow boiled their water before consuming it. But the tea served to the poor was tepid at best. 

From Tea Brewer to Friend of the Poor 

“I was angry about that,” he recalls. “This was another ‘trap’ of the Lord, how he attracted me to the poor. It was not about my love for them, my desire to serve them. I wanted to improve the technical issue and make good tea for them.” And so he applied for a grant from the city and purchased a professional coffee and tea maker. “My first step toward the poor was as a tea brewer,” he recalls. 

Just as St. Francis had not intended to go among the lepers, Brother Henryk “never imagined my life to be connected to the service of the poor.” Yet, gradually, the friar who spent his days in a seminary classroom found himself drawn to the men and women he passed on his way back to the friary. 

A social worker who was a friend of the friars told them she appreciated their intentions but compared their approach to a “19th-century way of doing things,” Brother Henryk recalls. That sparked his ambitious side, driving him to convince his superiors to develop a professional center for assisting the homeless. 

Collaborating with an attorney friend, Brother Henryk spent his “after-work” hours making the dream a reality. The Capuchins built two centers for the homeless. In Poland and other European countries, taxpayers can designate one percent of their taxes to a nonprofit organization. The Capuchins raised $6 million in 2008 alone for the homeless shelter by creating a computer program that set up their nonprofit as a default option. “I’m really proud of what we did,” he says. “I created this organization. But this organization also created me. It was a way for me to approach the poor.” 

Before that, “I was afraid of the homeless people. I was polite to them. But I was keeping my distance.” As he became more involved at the center, the barriers gradually broke down and Brother Henryk grew to love the people and the work. He had begun working toward a new dream, a farm where the Capuchins and the homeless could grow their own food. 

A Ministry in Milwaukee 

Then came the unexpected. In 2017, his superiors transferred Brother Henryk to the parish in Krakow where he had begun his priestly ministry. His days were filled with celebrating Masses and hearing confessions—but he missed his ministry to the poor. Going from being a nationally known advocate for the poor to a parish priest was “humbling,” he recalls. It was also frustrating to be away from the ministry he had grown to love. 

In 2012, Brother Henryk had met the Capuchins in the Province of St. Joseph in Milwaukee during a visit to learn more about Capuchin Community Services (CapuchinCommunityServices.org), which operates the largest food pantry in the city. Two years later, the Milwaukee Capuchins had invited him to join them, but he was far too busy in Poland at the time. 

In 2021, the Milwaukee Capuchins contacted Brother Henryk again. This time he said yes, though he warned them that he was older and had recently had knee replacement surgery. “But they wanted me anyway,” recalls Brother Henryk, who had longed to return to ministry with the poor. “I considered it a rescue mission.” 

When he arrived, Brother Henryk spent his days serving meals, sorting clothing donations, pouring coffee. “My pride suffered a little,” says the former CEO. However, soon he relished those simple interactions. 

In 2024, the Capuchins asked Brother Henryk to become director of Capuchin Community Services. The work has been challenging at times but deeply rewarding. 

A Source of Renewal 

Recently, he had a bad day, marked by administrative snafus and other issues. That evening, he joined the guests for dinner and encountered a man named David who had repeatedly asked him for a winter coat. Brother Henryk walked him over to the clothing closet. They found a recently donated green coat. 

“He was so happy. He started crying. He was hugging me, saying, ‘I love you, I love you so much,’” recalls Brother Henryk. All the stress of the day fell away. Looking back on his ministry, he has seen time and again how these simple interactions have transformed him. “Pope Francis said, ‘Be close to the poor’,” says Brother Henryk. “They are like a source of life.” 

When unaccompanied minors turn 18, they can no longer stay at US detention shelters. “If they don’t have anyone who can sponsor them, their lawyer or social worker will call us,” says Father Phil, a Conventual Franciscan who founded Posada Guadalupe. On a recent day, residents included men from Latin America and Africa—representing Angola, Ghana, Mexico, the Dominican Republic, Venezuela, Guatemala, and Honduras. 

Father Phil welcomes them all. He describes his as a “ministry of presence,” whether that involves delivering groceries, driving a resident to an appointment with US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or helping them navigate the medical system. 

“Francis welcomed everybody. He considered everyone a brother or sister—even inanimate life,” he says. “I believe that’s how we need to be, whether we’re Franciscan or not.” 

From El Paso to El Salvador

Raised in a Catholic family in Fort Wayne, Indiana, Father Phil is the middle child of five. He enrolled in college during the height of the Vietnam War, choosing to major in Spanish because he’d aced it in high school. He figured he’d be a teacher someday. But following a study-abroad experience in Colombia, time spent in Latin America with the Peace Corps, and, upon returning home and meeting a community of Conventual Franciscans near Fort Wayne, Indiana, he found himself on a different path: toward religious life. He joined the Franciscans in 1978. After completing his formation and theological studies, he was ordained in 1984. 

Father Phil’s first assignment took him to Carlsbad, New Mexico, where he served in parish ministry for seven years. He then became major superior of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Friary in El Paso. He also served at a Hispanic parish that bordered Mexico. 

There he ministered to gang members. “I found that fulfilling,” Father Phil recalls. “Just their openness and getting to know the life of these kids.” In 1994, his provincial asked Father Phil to go to Honduras. A year later, he moved to El Salvador. He served a parish there for six years, seeing up close the poverty and suffering that drives immigrants from their home countries. 

As a pastor, he helped oversee a project to replace a church building that consisted of “a metal roof held up by six columns. It was a good undertaking because we had different neighborhoods in the parish of various economic levels and educational levels. Trying to bring people together—as well as the evangelization retreats we put on—helped bridge gaps.” 

Yet violence was a constant backdrop in a country still reeling from a civil war that had pitted US-backed government forces against leftist guerillas. A civil engineer who had helped rebuild the church and become a close friend of Father Phil was shot to death on September 16, 1998. Two weeks later, Father Phil was kidnapped at gunpoint after leaving a bank. The kidnappers released him after taking his money. “People told me you should get on the next plane,” he recalls. “But I realized there was no way I could leave. . . . The people, they had all suffered similar things during the war.” 

His time in El Salvador, he says now, “was very enriching. It opened my eyes. I think it was probably the best thing I ever did in my life. To see what Church is: The people coming together as one. Even though [the people] were much poorer, the Church is far richer in other ways.” 

Welcoming the Stranger

On returning to the United States, Father Phil took a sabbatical in Angola, Indiana. He would celebrate Mass with immigrants from Mexico at a nearby parish. He then returned to San Antonio, where the idea of opening a shelter for immigrants took root. During his studies as a young friar, he’d met a family who had opened their home to undocumented immigrants. He received permission from the order to open a shelter. 

In 2006, the Franciscans rented a house for $300 a month, with room for 12 people. In 2015, the shelter found a permanent home—a former convent that can house up to 25 people. It opened its doors in early 2016. The shelter helps young men who arrived as unaccompanied minors transition from detention centers to living independently. “We offer them housing, food, room and board, and try to help them get acquainted with US society,” says Father Phil. Most work and send money home to support their families. 

For Father Phil, extending welcome to these men reflects the values of St. Francis and the Gospel call to feed the hungry and welcome the stranger. He sees his ministry of hospitality as integral to his identity as a Franciscan and a follower of Christ. “If we’re Christian and we go by the Gospel, it’s right there,” he says. 

To support Father Phil’s ministry and learn more, visit PosadaGuadalupe.org. 

For Sister Mary Gemma, her call to religious life as a member of the Franciscan Sisters, TOR (Third Order Regular) of the Penance of the Sorrowful Mother, is very much a love story. A childhood piety nurtured by her devout Catholic parents would grow deeper when she attended Franciscan University in Steubenville (Ohio).

“I find it beautiful and mysterious how the Lord formed my heart for great love, and then slowly revealed that he is that great love,” she says.

That love would draw her to religious life and find expression in a community modeled aft er the example of St. Francis. “St. Francis knew the tension between the life of contemplation and the urgency of preaching the Gospel for the salvation of souls. He found peace in imitating Christ, and he lived both with just as much zeal and passion.”

Sister Mary Gemma brings zeal and passion to her prayer life and ministries, whether serving the poor with novices at a homeless shelter, counseling students as a campus minister, creating social media content, or cleaning and cooking in the community kitchen. More recently, her Franciscan spirit has found creative expression in music. The connection to music makes sense, given that Francis was known to sing and dance, even using two sticks to mimic a violin and a bow. “I imagine it was a way to express his very full and passionate heart,” says Sister Mary Gemma.

Encouraged by her community, she began songwriting early in her postulancy. After playing her music at a live-streamed benefit, a production company offered her studio time. The result is Go Forward, an album of original music released on the feast of St. Francis, October 4, 2021. The album is available on platforms including Spotify, Amazon Music, Apple Music, and Pandora. More information about Sister Mary Gemma’s music can be found at FranciscanSistersTOR.org/News/Music.

Sister Mary Gemma says: “Music has always been an expression of my heart. It’s such a gift we have as human beings to give glory to God not only with our souls but also with our bodies. I feel most fully alive when I’m playing and singing for the Lord—even when no words are involved.”

‘An Old-Fashioned Girl’

Sister Mary Gemma’s musical and religious roots go back to her childhood, where she grew up “an old-fashioned girl” in a small rural town in the Columbia Basin of Washington State. She loved books, paper dolls, and classic movies. “My siblings and I would learn musical numbers and perform them for our parents and extended family,” she says.

“Music was an integral part of my childhood, from piano lessons to choir and community theater.” Her family life revolved around their Catholic parish. Her mom homeschooled all six children and would often take them to daily Mass; summer beach trips were always scheduled around vacation Bible school.

“My childhood piety was formed at our little home devotional corner with its statue of Mary and a bowl of rosaries,” she recalls.

She had rarely encountered women religious. That changed at Franciscan University, where she met the TOR sisters for the first time. From the start, she was struck by their “joy and authenticity.”

During a discernment weekend her junior year, she fell in love with the community.

“I could clearly see how joyful and free the life could be. The sisters were down-to-earth and relatable, and I could easily see myself there with them.”

The Rhythm of Religious Life

After graduating and working for about 16 months, Sister Mary Gemma entered the Franciscan Sisters, TOR of Penance of the Sorrowful Mother, on August 14, 2011. Founded in 1988 in Steubenville, the congregation is described on their website as “Franciscan contemplative penitents committed to works of mercy and evangelization. We strive to make known God’s merciful love through the rhythm of our life of prayer, work, and ministry.”

“Our founding sisters received a grace to renew the contemplative dimension of the life of the early Franciscan friars and sisters,” explains Sister Mary Gemma. “Concretely, that means we spend a good deal of our day in both silent and communal prayer, and we work only part-time.”

In her current ministry, she is a “sister servant” of novices. In that role, she helps plan their formation classes and meets with them one-on-one, essentially walking beside them as they discern. This past year, she and the novices have worked in a thrift store and a homeless shelter in downtown Steubenville.

“Basically, I’m here to be an encourager—to see the good in each novice, witness the process of growth, and not get in the way!” says Sister Mary Gemma. In turn, she has found encouragement in St. Francis, whose “radical love for God always inspired me. He set aside so many of the good things of this world in order to love Jesus and follow him more closely,” she says.

She carries with her the memory of Mt. Subasio and has felt the presence of St. Francis many times since. “I have felt Francis’ friendship, almost as if he walks ahead of me, taking my hands and pulling me forward.” Wherever that may take her next, she is prepared to follow with a wide-open heart.

Followers of St. Francis appears monthly in St. Anthony Messenger.

Working for justice “is part of the Franciscan DNA,” says Friar Mike. “Catholic social teaching for us is not a list of rules or a way to make the world better. Catholic social teaching is a way for us to live in the world, proclaiming that Jesus is Lord.” Friar Mike, 49, is president of the Washington, DC-based Franciscan Action Network (FAN), described on its website as “a collective Franciscan voice seeking to transform US public policy relating to peacemaking, care for creation, poverty, and human rights.”

He runs the Justice, Peace, and Integrity of Creation ministry (JPIC) of the Franciscan Friars Conventual in the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Ireland, and Australia. He also directs Little Portion Farm in Ellicott City, Maryland, dedicated to serving the poor and caring for creation through sustainable farming methods.

In these capacities, Friar Mike works alongside friars and “Franciscan-minded” people to serve the poor and effect change. “Francis seems to be one of those unique figures in history who breaks down barriers to embrace all people. People can buy into him from all faiths and all walks of life in the secular world.”

One example is Shamokin, Pennsylvania, a coal town where Franciscans have joined church, business, and government leaders to revitalize the region. He likens the effort to the oft-quoted San Damiano experience, when Francis heard God say, “Rebuild my house, which has fallen into ruin.”

Many people interpret “my house” to mean “the people of God,” says Friar Mike. “I say, ‘No, he meant that church. He meant real stones and mortar.’ What I find is that in manual labor, shared manual labor, you form a common mission, then we can look to rebuilding in larger ways, together.”

The friars’ ministry in Shamokin “is an example of what it truly means to be Franciscan,” says Friar Mike. “We’re able to look around us, and everybody is an ally and a friend and is invited to that table.”

Indeed, the table is what drew Friar Mike to the Conventual Franciscans, whom he had first encountered at

Archbishop Curley High School in his hometown of Baltimore. “Hands down, without batting an eyelash: It was the food,” he says with a smile. “The friars ate together at table, and they lingered. There was something that just felt right about that. It was family.”

Today, as president of FAN and director of a Franciscan JPIC ministry, he helps young friars prepare for ministry by interacting with those they will serve. “For us Franciscans, it’s not ‘the homeless.’ It’s that homeless person. It’s not ‘the poor.’ It’s this poor, marginalized person with a name and a story,” says Friar Mike. “And we want to get to know the names and their stories, and we want them to get to know us.

Because we’re stronger together, in relationship.

“And where is relationship built?” asks Friar Mike, reflecting on the food that continues to sustain him 25 years after becoming a Franciscan. “It’s built at the table.”

“Followers of St. Francis” is a monthly column in St. Anthony Messenger.

It took three years to obtain the necessary permits for the project, which involved transforming a large, high-ceilinged room built in 1584 into a soup kitchen that meets modern building codes. The friars hope to open Soup Kitchen OFM Valletta by Easter.

The rooms next to the refectory will be turned into a kitchen, storage, bathrooms, laundry, and office. Father Marcellino and volunteers representing the building trades find inspiration in the words of Pope Francis, who said in December 2016: “I encourage you to address your resources to those who ask you for help: Listen to them, hear their story, learn from their experiences, and try to understand their needs.”

Homelessness, once hard to imagine, has increased because of the rising costs of housing. The city also has seen an influx of refugees from Libya, Syria, and other countries. “Our Mediterranean Sea has become the largest cemetery in the world,” he says. 

The soup kitchen will also serve “mothers, elderly people, those who have low income, those suffering from mental illness, men who feel like a failure, couples and families going through marital and financial crises, and poor families,” he says. The friars will offer meals to 80 people five days per week.

Guests will also have opportunities for reading, meditation, music, computer classes, and discussion groups. In the near future, Soup Kitchen Valletta OFM will provide training for women in preparing healthy food for their children. The friars also plan to work with the unemployed and partner with the United Nations Refugee Agency to assist immigrants.

“There is no need of another church from where one can talk about the Gospel. People need to see the Gospel,” according to the soup kitchen’s vision statement. Explains Father Marcellino, “They need to meet and touch ‘homeless Jesus’ in their neighbor.”

It is a vision inspired by St. Francis, he says. “Francis was not a person for the people, but he was with the people. The best university in the world—the university of the street!” St. Francis has been a part of Father Marcellino’s life since before he was born. His childhood home was in the shadow of the belfry of the Franciscan church in Rabat, where he served as an altar boy and sang in the choir. The “enthusiasm of the young brothers in the friary” attracted young Marcellino to religious life. Father Marcellino became a Franciscan in 1976.

As he cares for the poor, Father Marcellino himself has been no stranger to hardship. His father died at a young age, leaving his mother to raise nine children. “My mother was an inspiration for me because she had to take all the responsibility for her family alone,” says Father Marcellino. Yet she attended Mass daily and “never gave up on her faith and always trusted in God.”

Her faith continues to inspire Father Marcellino as he carries out the mission of Francis—saint and pope.

“Followers of St. Francis” is a monthly column in St. Anthony Messenger.