THE MEANING OF LIFE

God created us in order to live in communion with Him, to know and love Him, to serve Him, and in that way to experience the fullness of life that He wants to give us. As the Catechism puts it: "Man is made to live in communion with god in whom he finds happiness" (Catechism of Catholic Church, #45).

THE BOY PRIEST...Cont...

DECEMBER 8^th 1841 Don Bosco was getting ready to say Mass, from the cold outside a boy slipped into the sacristy for a bit of warmth. The sacristan realized he was not one of the servers and chased the boy out. “Call that boy back. He’s my friend!” Don Bosco shouted. The boy was an orphan, out of work and an easy target for some swindler. For such lads the prison gates swung wide open. But just now a friendly work coaxed a smile from the lad. A Hail Mary together and the boy asked could he come back.

The following week there were seven boys. Then week by week they increased in number, coming to Don Bosco every Sunday for a short catechism lesson, for confession and Mass, and then out for the day into the countryside.

That’s how Don Bosco’s work for boys began. Like all beginnings it was hard and painful. He and his boys were pushed from pillar to post. The work was misunderstood by the clergy and looked upon with suspicion by the police. There were bills for the bread and clothing. There were harsh words and even insults at times. But Don Bosco smiled and kept going. His Bishop and also his confessor (now St. Joseph Cafasso) kept encouraging him. The “Lady” of his first dream continued to appear and point the way. He trusted that God would not let him work in vain.

The Boys' Priest...

ANTHONY SNARLED “Get these books out of here look at me. I’m big & strong, and I can’t read or write.” “That’s nothing to brag about,” retorted John, picking the books up of the floor. “Look at our mule. He’s strong than you and he can’t read or write either!”
That sounds funny to us. But to Margaret Bosco it meant quarrels and hurt feelings. If John was ever to become a priest she wanted him to make a start now. At the age of twelve John left home for the nearby town of Castelnuovo, where he could go to school. After school hours he worked at any trade where he could find an opening – tailor, blacksmith, carpenter, and writer – anything to earn some money to buy clothing and pay for his lodgings. He completed the three years courses in two years ending up with the highest possible marks.
In 1837 he entered the diocesan seminary. Now he earnestly prepared himself for the work God wanted him to do. Four years later, to his mother’s unspeakable joy, John was ordained and said his first Mass at the alter where he used to serve as a boy. Now everyone call “Don” (Father) Bosco.

The Boys' Priest...

JOHN BOSCO was born in August 16th 1815, in the North of Italy. His father died when John was only two. All during his boyhood he knew little, apart from the poverty of a small farm. His desire was to study so as to become a priest, but disappointment met him at every turn. His older brother Joseph was helpful, but his step brother, Anthony, ten years his senior, was violently against the idea.
An old retired priest met young John returning with his mother from a mission at a local village church, and was very impressed by the lad’s brilliant memory. He volunteered to tutor John privately. All went well for a few months and John made fine progress. “Don’t worry” the old priest use to chuckle. “You’ll go to school and to the seminary. I’ll see to that!” John idolized him. But one morning he was called to the presbytery to find the old priest dying. With his last breath the old man thrust a key into John’s hand and muttered, “That cabinet over there… money for your studies…it’s all yours.” However, after the funeral his relatives turned up and John preferred to surrender the key and the money.
Through all these disappointments John kept up his good spirits. Some day he would be a boy’s pries. Just now he was a boy’s boy. He kept the local youngsters together. With patience he learnt lots of tricks by watching the traveling jugglers. He began giving free shows! Walking the tightrope, juggling, spilling coins out of a boy’s ear, pulling rabbits out of hats, making dead chickens come to life, flipping magic cards through the air was all part of a lively, entertainment, cleverly broken in the beginning by the Rosary and towards the end by “last Sunday’s sermon which the parish priest gave and which I am going to repeat.” No one, young or old, dared complain – where else could they get such free entertainment?

The Boys' Priest... Cont...

“THE DREAM” happened, soon after. John called it “THE DREAM” because it mapped out his entire life. It seemed to hi that he was playing with his friends on the slope just outside his house. The boys broke into a violent quarrel, cursing and swearing. He tried to stop them. He plunged into them punching out in all directions. Then a “man” was beside him saying, “No, not this way!” “Who are you?” John asked. “I am the son of Mary. Your mother taught you to salute her three times a day.” “But what’s your name?” “My mother will tell you.” John now noticed a beautiful lady who said to him, “Watch what I do.” She stretched out her hands. The boys in front of them turned into a pack of snarling wild animals. John clung to her side. She put out her hands again. The animals changed into playful friendly lambs. “But what does this mean?” “Some day you will understand. Just now make yourself humble, strong and courageous.” The dream vanished. John awoke to the poverty of the Bosco farm.

The Boys' Priest

THE YOUNGSTER and his mother walked along the dusty country lane into the glowing sunset. Towards them strode a priest, his long cassock flapping in the evening breeze. To the boy it seemed as if he had just walked out of the bright colorful sky, trailing beams of light. As they came closer, the boy’s face broke into a big smile, and his small cheerful voice piped clearly: “Good evening Father!”
The priest’ looking straight ahead, solemnly bowed his head and passed by.
“Mum he didn’t even see me!”
“Priests are busy, John. They haven’t always time, for boys.”
“But our Lord had time for young people, and when I become a priest I’ll always have time for boys.”
Margaret Bosco smiled. Her little son John a priest? Well and why not? He was bright, and he knew and loved his catechism and prayers. If only he could go to school… if only his father were still alive… if only they had a little money…
They kept walking on to their small farm cottage on top of the rolling hills that encircle the city of Turin. The boy kept up his lively chatter. The mother prayed

A NOTE FROM JESUS

Dear Friend...

Would you help me reach my young friends?

The HOMELESS... The ORPHANS... The ADDICTS... The ABUSED...?

I will be grateful to you and assure you of my PEACE

- JESUS CHRIST

Jesus Calls

YOU CALLED,
YOU CRIED,
YOU SHATTERED MY DEAFNESS.
YOU SPARKLED,
YOU BLAZED,
YOU DROVE AWAY MY BLINDNESS.
YOU SHED YOUR FRAGRANCE,
AND I DREW IN MY BREATH & THIRST.
YOU TOUCHED ME,
AND NOW I BURN
WITH LONGING
FOR YOUR PEACE

-St. Augustine