Communities Are Made Up Of

I Offered Up A Special Prayer, A Prayer Which Came With Tears And Anguish, That Some Way Would Open Up For Me To Use What Talents I Possessed For My Fellow Workers, For The Poor.

Advent Is A Time Of Waiting, Of Expectation, Of Silence. Waiting For Our Lord To Be Born. A Pregnant Woman Is So Happy, So Content. She Lives In Such A Garment Of Silence, And It Is As Though She Were Listening To Hear The Stir Of Life Within Her. One Always Hears That Stirring Compared To The Rustling Of A Bird In The Hand. But The Intentness Which Which One Awaits Such Stirring Is Like Nothing So Much As A Blanket Of Silence.

Together With The Works Of Mercy, Feeding, Sheltering, And Clothing Our Brothers, We Must Indoctrinate.

I Felt That The Church Was The Church Of The Poor,... But At The Same Time, I Felt That It Did Not Set Its Face Against A Social Order Which Made So Much Charity In The Present Sense Of The Word Necessary. I Felt That Charity Was A Word To Choke Over. Who Wanted Charity? And It Was Not Just Human Pride But A Strong Sense Of Man's Dignity And Worth, And What Was Due To Him In Justice, That Made Me Resent, Rather Than Feel Pround Of So Mighty A Sum Total Of Catholic Institutions.

The Sense Is Always That Community Is Natural To People.