Dec 30 2008
Another glimpse at St. Munificentia R.C. School
(Some names have been changed.)
Most Roman Catholic grammar schools are connected with a church. St. Munificentia R.C. School followed form. The precious jewel of a church was a high-spired landmark in the Polish ghetto of a medium-sized Pennsylvania industrial town. Even as recently as fifteen years ago, the tight-knit neighborhood had arrivals of newcomers from Poland and the eastern European countries. The parish of St. Munificentia qualified, in the eyes of the diocese, as an ethnic parish. This means that Polish-American Catholics living outside the geographic bounds of the neighborhood were permitted to belong.
The school of St. Munificentia served the parish plus that of St. Patchoulicus, whose parochial school had closed. Therefore, the students were blessed with the care of priests from both churches.
St. Patchoulicus is an easy ten-block walk from St. M. However, there truly was a world of difference. Better said, it was a different part of the world which settled in that parish’s environs. Our superb immigrants from Vietnam somehow selected this neighborhood in Pennsylvania’s land of opportunities. We are very fortunate that they did, because their work ethic and desire to become contributors to the community were inspirational.
Students at St. Munificentia went to Mass every single Friday. Spelling tests and Mass were a good way to end a week. Because of the school affiliation with two parishes, the priest celebrating the pupils’ Mass could be from either church. I particularly remember two.
Father Ubiquitous could have won at James Cagney impersonations. His heart and soul were in exactly the right place: he gave up a room in his rectory quarters to a child in his parish struck paralyzed and mute by a tragic accident. If that is not living the faith, I don’t know what is. However, Father U. is notable in my mind for another practice. When he led the children’s Mass at St. Munificentia, he absolutely, always, always cut short his sermon – homily with the excuse that he was sure we all had things we needed to be doing and he did also.
Gruff Father Lione, on the other hand, gave great care to his homily for the Masses at which he knew the children would attend. His homilies were a perfect amalgam of a message for children and a few “hidden” bits of humor for adults. Nothing off-color (Heavens no!), just grown-up experiences. They were similar to a good Muppets sketch, and since I was not Catholic, I felt free to laugh out loud. However, his children’s parts were not cutesy; they were rather stern and required paying attention because he often asked a few questions. Then, the brave among the children (this includes all first graders, universally) would raise a hand. If he pointed to the child, that student would quakingly stand up and give an answer in the echoing cavernous gorgeous church. Fortunately, Father Lione appreciated the bravery, so would not skewer or embarrass any child giving an incorrect answer.
These Masses were a golden moment.
