Mensaje de Pascua/Easter Message

(Scroll further down for the English Version)

Pascua de la Resurrección, 2013

Tengo bonitos recuerdos de las bellas reuniones familiares que celebrábamos en el Domingo de Pascua. Quizá ustedes también tengan  guardada en su memoria escenas semejantes,  preciosas, cálidas, matizadas de alegría y comunión.

Llegaban a la casa de mi abuela todas las tías, los tíos, los primos y cuñados para festejar la belleza del día. De hecho, era la casa de mis papás, pero como ella siempre estaba con nosotros, era-- en sentido familiar-- la casa designada para las reuniones de fiesta. Los hombres se encargaban de asar la carne, y se enfocaban con cierta seriedad a la gran labor de preparar la comida. ¡En realidad se sentaban en el solar para platicar, y de vez en cuando se asomaban al asador! Hablaban de guerras, y de trabajos, de deportes y política. También  revivían puntos de honor que habían defendido en otros tiempos.

 Las tías se sentaban en la cocina, pelando papas y amasando para tener listo el montón de tortillas para la hora de la comida; preparaban los pasteles de postre con un gozo que no se duplicaba durante todo el año. Era una maravilla como ellas pudieran manejar los asuntos de la preparación sin perder el ritmo musical de la plática. Contaban cuentos de personas que habían conocido de chicas, historias de bailes y de bromas, de tragedias, y grandes dolores. Hablaban de quien se iba casar, y de quienes entre las casadas estaban esperando dar luz a un niño. Fueron momentos para revivir la historia de la familia, y anticipar la historia que aún no se manifestaba.

 Nosotros los chicos jugábamos en el solar alrededor de la casa, subiéndonos a los árboles, asomándonos detrás  de las macetas para buscar las cáscaras de huevo que habían escondido los primos de mayor edad. ¡Siempre resultaba un pleito entre nosotros sobre quien había descubierto primero el último huevo de Pascua!

Al reflexionar sobre los recuerdos, aprecio aún más lo que significaban aquellos momentos divertidos y alegres. Fueron tiempos llenos del sentido pleno de la vida experimentada como un regalo abundante, precioso y fuerte. Se percibía palpablemente la belleza y la bondad de la vida. No teníamos mucho dinero, pero si sabíamos en lo más íntimo de nuestras entrañas que lo que más valía en la vida no se compraba con el dinero. Fueron momentos para regocijar en la luz de la esperanza de la vida. Como toda familia habíamos vivido días de dolor y tristeza, de pérdida y derrota, pero en esos momentos de comunión y vida sabíamos que el dolor no iba perdurar; al contrario, sentíamos en los huesos que en la alegría vivida en común encontrábamos la experiencia más propia para nosotros. Fueron, en realidad, momentos en que se anticipaba aquella plenitud de vida sin fin que nos regala el Señor Jesucristo por medio de la sobreabundante gracia de su resurrección.

Con la reflexión sobre los recuerdos nos damos cuenta de que sí no fuera por la esperanza que nos ofrece Cristo Jesús, ese flujo  de sonrisas y comidas, juegos y recuerdos no hubiera sido posible. Hubiera sido imposible saborear tan intensamente el momento de común alegría si no tuviéramos la certeza de que Cristo había resucitado, y que había rescatado todo lo bueno de la vida. Por la gracia de la resurrección  lo noble del ser humano ha sido vindicado y salvado.

Mis queridos hermanos y hermanas en Cristo resucitado, ¡Dios nos ha visitado y redimido y nos ha orientado hacia un banquete familiar sin fin! La muerte cae tumbada delante de la vida que nos regala el Señor; amor, comunión y alegría triunfan sobre las tristezas y las pérdidas. El Señor nos ha abierto el camino; él va por delante para prepararnos un banquete eterno.

Ya no quedan muchos de los grandes antepasados, los que nos preparaban un día familiar tan especial. Han pasado de este mundo. Pero no cabe duda de que ellos nos enseñaron como festejar como Cristianos. La cultura cristiana empieza en la familia, donde el ambiente de la fe inspira grandes gestos de alegría y festividad. Hoy en día es más difícil para las familias festejar a la manera de antes. Estamos muy ocupados; vivimos alejados de nuestros familiares. El trabajo y las preocupaciones invaden hasta el espacio sagrado de las grandes fiestas de la religión. Eso quiere decir que a nosotros los adultos nos pertenecen unas responsabilidades aun más grandes para hacer el esfuerzo necesario para manifestar a nuestros hijos lo que realmente tiene valor en la vida.  Nos corresponde enseñarles a nuestros hijos que la fe en Cristo resucitado es la causa de  la alegría que compartimos.

Les deseo toda la alegría posible en estos días de la Pascua de la Resurrección. Le pido al Señor que les otorgué  innumerables momentos de risas,  de juegos y de  comunión familiar durante estos días de fiesta, y durante todo el año. Son momentos que el Señor nos regala, invitándonos a saborear y anticipar lo que el mismo Señor nos ha dado por su Cruz y su Resurrección.  Amén.

+ + +

I have fond memories of the lovely family reunions that we celebrated on Easter Sunday. Perhaps you also have similar memories; warm and beautiful scenes tinged with joy and communion.

All my aunts, uncles, cousins and in-laws would arrive at my grandmother’s house to celebrate the beauty of that day. Actually, it was my parents’ home, but since she was always with us, it was— in a family sense— the designated home for family reunions. The men were in charge of the barbecue, and would focus their diligent efforts on the preparation of the food. In reality, they would sit on the yard and look at the grill once in a while! They would talk about wars, and work, sports and politics. They would also relive points of honor that they had defended in other times. 

My aunts would sit in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and kneading the dough to get the pile of tortillas ready for the meal; they would prepare pies for dessert with a joyfulness that was not duplicated any other time of the year. It was wonderful how they were able to manage all the preparations without losing the musical rhythm of their conversation. They would tell stories about people they had met as children, stories of dances they remembered and jokes, tragedies, and great sorrows. They would talk about who was getting married, and who among the married was waiting to give birth. These were moments to relive the family history, and anticipate the history yet to come.

We children would play in the yard around the house, climbing on the trees, and peeking behind potted plants to look for the egg shells that were hidden by our older cousins. We always ended up arguing as to who had found the last Easter egg!   

As I reflect on these memories, I now appreciate even more the meaning of those fun and joyful moments. Those were times filled with a full sense of life, lived as a plentiful, precious and strong gift. The beauty and kindness of life was perceived tangibly. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we knew in the deepest part of ourselves that the most valuable things in life were not bought with money. Those were moments to rejoice in the light of the hope of life. Like any family we had lived days of pain and sadness, of loss and defeat, but in those moments of unity and life we knew that the pain was not what was going to last; on the contrary, we felt in our bones that the joy we lived together was the experience most proper for us. Those were, in reality, moments in which we anticipated the fullness of the eternal life that our Lord Jesus Christ gives to us through the superabundant grace of His resurrection.

Reflecting on memories makes us realize that if it were not for the hope Jesus Christ offers us, that flow of smiles, food, games and stories could not have been possible. It would have been impossible to savor so intensely those moments of common joy were we not certain that Christ was risen, and that he had rescued all the good things of life. By the grace of His resurrection, what is noble in a human being was vindicated and saved.

My beloved sisters and brothers in Christ Risen, God has visited and redeemed us, and He orients us to an everlasting familial feast! Death falls defeated before the life our Lord gives us; love, communion and joy triumph over sorrow and loss. Our Lord opened the way; He goes ahead of us to prepare an eternal feast.

There are not many of those great ones who went before us left, the ones who prepared such  special family days. They have passed from this world. But there is no doubt they taught us how to celebrate like Christians. Christian culture starts with the family, where the environment of faith inspires great gestures of joy and festivity. Nowadays it is more difficult for families to celebrate like they used to. We are too busy; we live far from our family members. Work and worries invades even the sacred space of our most important religious feasts. This means that, as adults, we have an even greater responsibility to make the necessary effort to show our children the things that really have value in life. It is up to us to teach our children that faith in Christ resurrected is the reason for the joy we share.

I wish you all the joy possible in these days of Easter. I ask the Lord to grant you countless moments of laughter, games and family communion during these days of celebration, and all year long. These are moments given by the Lord, inviting us to relish and anticipate what the Lord himself has given to us through His Cross and Resurrection. Amen.

La pasíon en la traducción / The Passion in the Translation

I have a poet's love for words, without having a poet's facility in using them. It's like my love of Latin: it does not mean my translations of Augustine are any good. But it does mean that I keep trying. Below is a play on words in two languages. If you find the quick switch from one language to the other disconcerting, that is a good thing. Understanding someone else is never easy, and we kid ourselves if we think it is. It takes effort and love. This is entitled "The Passion in the Translation," fitting, I think, for the threshold of Holy Week. Aprecio las palabras como si fuera un poeta, sin alcanzar su habilidad. Es semejante a mi postura delante del latín: mi aprecio no implica destreza con los textos de San Agustín. No obstante, sí implica el deseo de hacer un esfuerzo. Lo que sigue es un juego de palabras en dos idiomas. Si usted queda desconcertado con el cambio abrupto de idiomas, está bien. Entender a otra persona jamás ha sido fácil, y nos engañamos a nosotros mismos si pensamos que lo es. Requiere esfuerzo y amor. Se titula "La pasión en la traducción", apropiado me parece para una entrada a la Semana Santa.

The morning Mass was over,

And the last rosary lady done;

Father looked at his watch quickly,

And smiled, only 8:41.

The curate enjoyed the quiet,

Soft-shooing the carpeted floor,

Jingling keys and musing,

Aiming for the furthest back door.

I’m free for a coffee and donut,

Until the business manager at ten,

(Something about youth expenses gone over,

And the pastor’s concerned yet again);

Then maybe time for a run,

Or even a trip to the gym.

At the door in the shadows, a heaving,

As light slowly breathed its way in.

Maybe it’s a case for the Charities,

a man who claims two kids and a wife,

or maybe a thirty-something,

Suddenly worried at the meaning of life.

Cheerfully as the hour could muster:

Good morning, young man, how are you?

Paradito solo en la puerta

Encajado por el umbral,

Se presentó un joven enrojecido,

Camiseta agujerada, expuesto el costillar.

Rasgos de alambre dentado

Marcaban las manos y morral,

Apretando cachucha de juego,

De los Yánkis, (si puedes tú imaginar)

El joven escuchó sólo sonidos:

Good morning, young man, how are you?

Ave María Purísima,

Said the youth behind the last pew.

El cura encogió hombros macizos,

Gesto tal vez de no saber replicar;

After a moment of silence,

In the best Spanish he could command,

The curate spoke from a distance,

To the joven with a cap in his hand:

Hola muchacho, ¿Qúe tal?

El joven vio las llaves del cura,

Con ansias ya de cerrar,

Y recordando lo de Cristo y Pedro,

Decidió con más apuro hablar:

Bendiga me, Padre, le pido,

Al verle mi lengua quiere soltar.

He viajado aquí desde mi pueblo,

Donde muerte y vida son cuates

Que por Dios se suelen mezclar,

Bailamos la danza del duelo

Al son de dos tiros o más,

De tal modo marcamos el turno,

De las caras que ya no están;

País donde mártires sonríen,

A saber que no se pueden confesar,

Donde caudillos quizá se persignen

Antes de ordenar fusilar.

Fairly familiar the speaking,

The sounds that came to his ear;

Words much faster than in Texas,

When the teacher’s meaning was clear.

Prometí a la Virgen Morena,

Si guiara como estrella mi afán,

Que  le rezara tres Aves Marías,

Antes de buscarme un pan,

En el primer templo encontrado abierto,

Sea con riesgo que otros

Espiándome me verán.

The Father caught next to nothing,

Of the phrases that came through the fear.

He thought to call the Gardener,

By blood if not birth related,

To the fellow standing right here.

He muttered a quick disculpe thinking:

Lord, get me out of this bind.

Maybe a swift pointing toward the office,

And the day could go on as designed.

But the measure you measure,

Was the phrase that came to his mind.

¿Se impacienta  un poco, Padre?

Lo siento, de veras que sí,

Que sólo le llegan

Palabras que caen al azar.

Sus oídos me parecen islotes,

Cuando el río se acerca a saludar

Con gotas más bien dirigidas

Al llamado que les hace el Mar.

Still, Social Services has an office,

Not taxing because really not far,…

The government would still let them feed him,

(Though the bishop said no travel by car.)

Then the stranger started to speak faster,

Never lifting his eyes from the floor;

This shower of words kept coming

Like a river that poured through the door.

Permítame Padre, le pido,

Hincarme aquí a rezar,

Pronto salgo para fuera,

No le quiero más molestar.

Pero, encontrar una iglesia sin llave,

Me parece una gracia real

Y el respiro de mi alma,

Algo que la Virgen esperando dar luz al Cristo

Hoy me desea regalar.

Maybe the mention of Christ and the Virgin,

And something about grace and today,

Announced a different hunger

--not food or referrals--

For this joven muchacho

Stopping a cleric on his way.

So the priest asked

¿Como te llamas, joven?

(Sputtering for something to say),

¿En qué te puedo ayudar?

Y el joven respirando de veras,

Hasta sus ojos alcanzó levantar,

Le dijo al cura, Me llamo José Ángel,

A sus órdenes me quiero prestar.  

The name José Angel

In a single breath came through,

With a look of longing, --

The young man just gazed at the pew.

Dirigió sus ojos a la banca,

Silenciosa palabra universal,

Y causó que el cura se fijara,

En los ojos a punto de llorar.

He only wanted a few minutes

To kneel in the pew and to pray,

Before the door was locked

And el Santísimo, hidden for the rest of the day,

So the priest breathed in and said pase,

And putting his keys clean away,

Announced gently: José Ángel, God bless you,

I’ll close up later in the day.

Sin llave dejó la puerta,

Y lentamente el cura parpadeó,

Ladeando la cabeza en seña,

Un pase quieto emitió:

Entendió José Ángel Dios te ayude,

Más tarde pasaré a cerrar.

Que en lenguaje de los Ángeles,

sin pecado concebida,

se podría interpretar.

Sort of a genuine wonder,

What happened really that day,

Que Ave María Purísima,

Se logró ese día pronunciar.

And that conceived without sin,

Got stammered back

In some way.

+df

22 March 2013

                                                                  

Catholic Extension Highlights Youth on the Border

The nice folks at Catholic Extension have long been great supporters of the work of the Church in the Rio Grande Valley. They were kind to ask me for permission to publish the concluding part of a lecture I gave a couple of years ago in San Antonio, Texas. I was happy to do so. The section they published has to do with the challenges our youth face here in the Valley, but, also,you can be sure, in many places throughout the country. I reproduce what they published in the most recent edition of Catholic Extension Magazine here below.

You may be most familiar with the work of Catholic Extension through their Calendars. They are widely distributed in parishes in the United States, and I remember having them at home when I was growing up. Support for the Catholic Extension Society helps to promote the work of the Church in the many mission dioceses we have in the United States. The Diocese of Brownsville is one of those mission dioceses.

A favorite picture of mine. A young person reaches out to touch the image of Jesus as He walks the way of the Cross.

The Future on the Border

A pastor called me one day last spring just to inform me that he had received a call from the local police. They wanted to know if he had a student about 13 or 14 years old by the name of Carlos (not his real name) in his religious education classes. They did not have a last name. The pastor told them there were at least three by that name enrolled. The police then went on to say that they had a tip that a boy by the name of Carlos was being targeted by a local gang precisely because he had decided not to join that gang. The gang members knew he went to Church there and was going to CCD classes. The word on the street was, the police added, that this boy would be beat up or possibly killed. So they were warning the pastor to keep his adults particularly vigilant to look after the kids before and after CCD, and that they, the police would be patrolling the area on Wednesday night for some time to come.

Everywhere I go in the Valley, I repeat a message to whoever will hear me that the ones most at risk are our kids. I plead with parents: spend time with your children. The cartels, and the gangs associated to them start by offering an 11- or 12-year-old 50 bucks to take the drugs across to the other side, or to bring something back. If they do well, they will get more money the next time. They can rise in the ranks and make more money. We have all known this for some time, and law enforcement has been raising this concern, especially recently.  The offer is what we call the “glamour of evil.”[1] 

Eleven or 12-year-olds are making decisions about whether to make money quick and easy, or risk being beat up if they choose to live an honest kid’s life and go to Church, go to religious education classes. The border violence is not simply about security around the line of demarcation between two sovereign nations; battles are being fought on the borders of the soul that mark the difference between life and death, grace and sin. The conscience of an 11-year-old is the principal battle ground in the current border wars.

I have read a great deal of the French novelist Georges Bernanos, some would say I have read too much. But with a kind of starkness that defies my ability to describe, he relentlessly shows how the soul must sooner or later choose Christ or despair, grace or self-destruction, life or death. In the end, either our lives are held in the hand of a loving God, or there is nothing holding us at all. Al fin y al cabo, either the story of life is a story meant to end in the triumph of life and goodness, or it is a story that must tragically end in the destruction of all things. Between Christ and despair there is no middle ground; there is no safe secular space where we all happily mind our own business. I bring this up because we in the Church must re-engage the urgent necessity of our evangelization efforts, our catechetical and formational efforts on behalf of our families, our young people, our young adults, indeed on behalf of the whole world.

If a 12-year-old does not believe that in the end, love and life wins, than the options open to him or her are fairly obvious. If in the end, death triumphs, then nothing really matters. Si al fin y al cabo triunfa la muerte, nada importa, y me voy con los que me ofrecen el dinero, las drogas y las pistolas. There are too many statues of la santa muerte in our neighborhoods for me naively to think that this evil we face is simply a political and economic and social problem. The ancient enemy of the human race is drawn by the smell of death, and he disseminates it. He is not a bystander in the tragedy unfolding along the river and beyond. He is the ultimate purveyor of this cynical “nothing really matters anyway” attitude that can infect a young soul or an old one at any time.

The infection is deadly, unless there is some deeper reservoir of life and hope, some stronger conviction about what human life is destined for. We have faith; we must teach the faith. But what do we believe? We believe, as Saint John tells us in his first letter, “Not that we have loved God, but that he has first loved us, and sent his Son as the expiation for our sins.”[2]  To teach the Gospel, and invite participation in the mysteries of grace is precisely this, to fortify the soul with its deepest need, namely faith in the triumph of love over hatred, grace over sin, goodness over evil. Christ is risen, death does not win.

Even a 6-year-old in our religious education classes knows this. We hope and pray this young person still knows this when he or she is 12.

It takes both conscience and courage to be good in this world. Conscience is rooted in the natural law, but the inclination toward the good is both wounded and rudderless without early, age appropriate guidance and formation in grace. And courage is lacking if there is no conviction that the victory is possible. The Gospel taught to a 6-year-old, first communion gently and effectively prepared for, is the beginning of conscience and courage. Because if you believe that God loves you enough to die for you, and give himself to you in the Eucharist, then you believe that in the end, the love of God triumphs over death and sin. In the end, the truth someone teaches a child at age six may be the only thing that really saves the next generation from the designs of death.

We have to refocus more pastoral resources on the younger youth demographic. If our youth groups and youth activities are exclusively aimed at high school or college, I greatly fear we are missing those most at risk. Consult the sacramental statistics of any diocese in the United States, and you will find some manner of drop-off between the numbers of first confession / first communions and the numbers of confirmations. It is a complex question to answer: where did those kids go? But the bottom line is that they are not so much with the Church anymore. And that is the demographic that is being offered the 50 bucks to carry the narcotics, or smuggle the guns. It is not an impossible task to step up our pastoral efforts to connect our middle school-age children to the life of the Church, but it is an urgent task, and an effort that we need to intensify, given what is at stake.

And yes, I think poverty has a lot to do with the vulnerability of this age group, but so does the reality of either a broken home, or two parents who work and are hardly ever home. And a national immigration policy that separates parents who were not born here from children who were born here exacerbates the problem intolerably. If parents are the first teachers of their children about how to tell the difference between right and wrong, both the Church and the wider society need to be marshalling their attention toward the support of parents in this vital, irreplaceable work. The Church, that is to say, we, all of us, need to be actively encouraging parents to spend time with their children, especially when they are very young. Maybe a second job makes for a better life economically, but if there is no time to talk to the kids, reflect with them about what they are seeing at school and in the neighborhood, then the cost of that second job is too high. Parents have to make those kinds of decisions every day.

The school cannot do this, and the parish cannot do it initially. Our public schools are increasingly unable to teach about virtue and the good, largely because the working secular consensus cedes practically all of morality to the private sphere. This disposition toward leaving large swaths of the moral horizon to private decisions, coupled with children who increasingly do not have a stable home-life to return to, has led to a moral vacuum in the social fabric. How can a 14-year-old hold a gun in the direction of a man in a car, a man who happens to be the bishop of a diocese in northern Mexico? And it is not sufficient to say “well, that happens in Mexico.” Do we think that that 14-year-old does not have a twin somewhere in Pharr, Texas, or in Detroit, Michigan, for that matter? How can this happen? We might as easily ask when hope in the goodness of life was driven from him, and then when the conscience lost its voice.

To give the kind of pastoral attention I am talking about, we have to find ways to coordinate in common the pastoral efforts in parishes on behalf of families, and on behalf of youth. Sometimes these end up being separate efforts. Particularly when dealing with the younger demographic, we must be sensitive to the fact that parents are looking for safe and protected situations for their middle school-age children to develop a strong social and moral sense, as well as a sense of belonging. Todo el mundo quiere pertenecer, tomar parte. And if our younger children do not find the right place to belong in the wider community of the parish, they will easily find themselves invited to belong to a gang or a cartel. We should be experts in this basic human desire for community, about having a place, and having something to contribute.

Also, I think we have to do much better at teaching this younger demographic about the beauty and nobility of a call to goodness and holiness. The lives of Saints can be powerful in this aspect of youth formation. If someone had not told me about the life of Maximilian Kolbe when I was starting High School, and handed me a book about him, I doubt I would be here today. Sometimes I think we adults do not truly appreciate how an example of generosity and charity impacts the conscience of a young person. Maybe we get cynical about such things. But the heart of a child is a sacred place, and the early impressions of the sacredness of life and the goodness of God can have a life-long impact. I admire the young man, Carlos, and others like him, who have the courage to go to Mass and religious education classes; he took a risk in saying no to the gang. Where does such courage come from in a young person? It is from the Lord. Something powerful got through to him; and he and we are the better for it.

Do we actually know how important it is what we do every day in the Church? Or do we ourselves give in to a quiet despair that really doubts that in the end it matters very much? Family time, and soccer games; Sunday Mass and parish festivals, confirmation classes, and service projects; baseball games and holy hours for peace; First communions and confession lines; youth rallies, family rosaries, and musical concerts; a time to be together, and a time to be silent, a time to wash cars, and a time to clean up the parish grounds; retreats, and charismatic prayer meetings. The list could go on. What are these things? They are what we do to build up a sense of what it means to live this life in the confidence that faith gives us in the goodness and beauty of life. These are the things we do to build up that sense of prayer, community, and service that make up the essence of what it means to be believers, and to offer light to the next generation. These are some of the things the Lord does to help us in our times of severe trial. The conscience and courage we seek to inculcate in our communities is the leaven that the Lord gives to his people, through his people. He gives his grace through us, walking together the pilgrimage of life. To the Lord of life, who gives us these gifts, to Him be glory forever and ever. Amen.

---

[1] Texas Department of Public Safety Director Steve C. McCraw, ass reporters by Reuters, October 17, 2011: Cartels would pay kids $50 just for them to move a vehicle from one position to another position, which allows the cartel to keep it under surveillance to see if law enforcement has it under surveillance," he said."Of course, once you're hooked up with them, there's consequences." McCraw said 25 minors have been arrested in one Texas border county alone in the past year for running drugs, acting as lookouts, or doing other work for organized Mexican drug gangs. The cartels are now fanning out, he said, and have operations in all major Texas cities. This month, "we made an arrest of a 12-year-old boy who was in a stolen pickup truck with 800 pounds of marijuana," he said. "So they do recruit our kids."

[2] 1st john, 4:10.

HABEMUS PAPAM

Me uno a todos los católicos alrededor del mundo y en especial a los del Río Grande del Valle de Texas para dar gracias a Dios por la elección del Papa Francisco como el 265º sucesor del San Pedro. Francisco era el Cardenal Arzobispo de Buenos Aires en Argentina y por lo tanto se convierte en el primer Papa del Nuevo Mundo. Se ordenó como sacerdote jesuita y es conocido por su amor al pobre, su simplicidad de vida y su gentil sentido del humor. Es un hombre de profunda oración. Ahora es el Obispo de Roma y pastor universal de la Iglesia Católica. Dios le ha pedido ser pastor y padre espiritual de todos nosotros y nos llenamos de gozo de que él haya aceptado éste llamado. El que haya tomado el nombre de Francisco nos sugiere que como el nuevo Obispo de Roma guiará a la Iglesia en el estilo del amado santo con quien ahora el Santo Padre comparte su nombre. Les pido a todos que se unan en oración por el nuevo Papa, tal y como él mismo lo pidió a la multitud reunida en la plaza de San Pedro. De especial manera pido que todos reconozcamos en él la señal de unidad en la fe, esperanza y amor que nuestro Señor Jesucristo desea para su Iglesia.

I join Catholics around the world, and here in the Rio Grande Valley in giving thanks to God for the election of Pope Francis as the 265th successor of Saint Peter. He was the Cardinal Archbishop of Buenos Aires in Argentina, and thus the first Pope to come from the New World. He was trained as a Jesuit, and is known for his love for the poor, simplicity of life, and gentle good humor. He is a man of deep prayer. He is now the Bishop of Rome, and universal pastor of the Catholic Church. God has asked him to be pastor and spiritual father to us all. and we are overjoyed that he has accepted this call. That he has taken the name of Francis suggests to us that as the new Bishop of Rome, he will lead the Church in the style of the beloved Saint whose name the Holy Father now shares. I ask everyone to join in prayer for the new pope, as he himself asked the crowd assembled in Saint Peter's Square, and in a special way ask that we all recognize in him the sign of the unity in faith, hope and love that The Lord Jesus Christ wills for his Church.