Contenti / Content

Female pastors are quite rare in Italy, and more than one person asked over the course of my year in Piegaro what I did as a pastor. But the greatest honor for me came toward the end of my time there when I was speaking with a friend about the work we both did and as I hesitated over what I did outside of worship as a pastor she lighted up and said, you make people “contenti” basically content. But the interesting thing is that the word contenti is used so often where we would use the word happy, which translates to auguri. It is more common to wish for, to wish for others to be content.

I really like the idea of contentment as a goal, as ironic high point, a high point without the pressure of being at the “top”. In America we often seek a euphoric happiness, we want happily ever after, if you will. to always be joyful. But life is life, it throws us tragedy and hardship more than we like, making happiness as a goal sort of impossible. But contentment, to be satisfied, seems not only more attainable, but calm and tranquil. Which, was what I told everyone who asked me, the reason for going to sweet, dear little Piegaro in the first place. This small, quaint village offered me the gift of calm repose and tranquility. There may not have been an over-abundance of anything in this little hamlet, and perhaps that is what made it oh so content for me.

The work of contentment, is simply to do the Golden Rule, to love others. It is every person of faiths aspiration I think, but not an easy task and one we all fall short of from time to time in our daily lives. It is so much more important than a job or a title because it is something that can be applied in whatever job we choose. As I have returned to the U.S. recently it is important for me to be content that whatever job I do, even the job of looking for a job, the work of contenti is there. How to bring a peaceful, welcoming contentment to all that is done. It inspires calmness within, which is hard when we worry, race and continually challenge ourselves to be the top. The goal is different, it is relational, acknowledging the spirit that unites us all is important in all our actions.

My friend gave me a gift when she said my work was to help others be content, contenti, she reminded me what was the most important thing about the work I had been doing for the past dozen years. As I move onto different work, no longer the pastor, this knowledge inspires me to take the best of that work forward, always seeking contentment for myself and for all.

What words of others have set you free in times of change or transition?

How do you find contentment, share contentment?

What would you choose as a defining word for your work, for the job of living?

Life as an Immigrant

The last apartment I lived in during my time in Piegaro was in the “immigrant part of town” as some of the ladies called it. Seeing how the town is so small, it is hard to imagine one location with many immigrants, but there was one street with many of us, actually it was a “C” shaped area that circled part of the old prince’s palace and current hotel. I was the only American among the Romanians, Albanians and Macedonians along with a few Italians from other parts of the country.

A universal phenomenon of most immigrants is that they live in community with some family members in this new land with them, most do not travel, or move alone. There is the occasional arrival of one who married into this new community and became part of the local fabric, the local family, but most who come to a new community arrive with some family members. They arrive with their own built in support system.

When one of the local women expressed concern that I would live in this immigrant neighborhood, I found it ironic, seeing how I was obviously from another country, barely speaking the Italian of my friends and neighbors. But she was pointing to what is the situation of most immigrants, that their own country could not support the population with jobs and livelihoods, so some would have to leave in order to just survive. These were the poorest their country had to offer in some cases, those who would become the unskilled laborers, the heavy lifters and the caregivers who most often receive the lowest wage jobs. The fact that I came from an affluent country and had an advanced education separated me from these folks in her mind.

Yet it was as friendly a neighborhood as any, with my neighbors sharing and caring for me in sweet ways. The first week I lived in the neighborhood I had gone to bed at an early hour for Europeans and when the "guys" gathered outside for conversation, as their normal practice, I heard one say, "the American sleeps early, let's talk over there." When I ill in bed a couple of days, one of the ladies asked if I was o.k. because she noticed I was inside a lot. They also brought me food from their harvests and were so sweet in many ways.

My friend was correct, there were economic and cultural differences, but the lack of family for me proved an even greater difference. In the culture of Italy, and for most of the world, family is so important, companionship is important. In this small neighborhood, almost all of the folks had some extended family in town. For me arrive alone was not only unusual, but would invite some of my friends to inquire frequently about who I was going to do various things with, there was a concern that I would be alone. It had me thinking, but even more over, had me feeling a deep understanding of what was behind their sentiments.

Many of my neighbors were in Piegaro for economic reasons, or because someone in their family needed them here for support. Those who were as “alone” as I was, in particular one who has lived in Piegaro for a long time, thought about returning to be closer to family, that the benefits of living with less resources and more relationship was worth it. Much of my pondering around staying or going had to do with relationships not only with family, but with those who had a common culture and language that was expressed in banter, jokes and context that was regionally specific. It was about relationship and communication, something at the heart of priorities for my friends in Italy, something they shared as much as they could based on my limited speaking skills.

At Mary’s Place so many of the women, when telling their stories of life at Mary’s, speak to the importance of the relationship they have with the other women, the support that they give one another. They speak in terms of new family, community, a sense of place and home. Many of these women have permanent housing, and have had for years since their first encounter with Mary’s as a homeless woman. They all need, WE all need, what was very readily available in Piegaro, what is sometimes hard to find in our American mobile culture, a sense of belonging, place and relationship. The same things the immigrants looked for in coming in groups rather than coming solo.

How do you find or make community?

How do you participate in support systems of give and take, of good communication?

Where do you find grace in participating in the life of community, or in being an outsider?

Saying Goodbye

When I left Piegaro in November for 3 weeks to Seattle I knew I would be deciding if I would be returning to Seattle or staying in Italy for pretty much life. My priest, Don Augusto, my dearest friends Maria, Maria Pia and Colleen all knew that this was a difficult time for me and vowed to pray for me as I entered this time of discernment, this time away from my beloved Piegaro back in the United States, back with my children.

Upon return to family I realized they wanted, I wanted, to live in the vicinity of one another, not on the other side of the world. But I needed to return to Piegaro to say my goodbyes. Saying goodbye has become a pattern of life that has troubled me for many years. To say goodbye to Piegaro was one step worse than constant pattern of moving across Seattle time and again. For I know it will be very rarely that I see these friends again, I can’t simply pick up the phone and call to arrange a lunch or happy hour meeting.

Not all my friends will be back when I return for visits either. The day before I left Piegaro in January my friend Maria Pia died. This was poignant on so many levels, but especially her last words to me when I left to visit Seattle in November were, “I will wait for you,” she was dying of cancer. But wait she did, and we had a couple of good talks before she made her final exit from this world into the heavenly realms. We spoke of eternity and she said we must always remember Easter. Then she asked me to walk the beautiful little church of San Silvestro Papa in Piegaro and to be her eyes, to see everything and pray for her. As I did this little duty, this tiny work of grace, my prayers poured for my eternal friend, prayers of gratitude for this gift she had given me in this chore, this sacred sharing. As I sat at the familiar pew with my friends one asked if I was angry as my brows were furrowed in concentration. I told her no, and told her of Maria Pia’s request, my friend took my hand, gave it a squeeze and nodded as we entered into the praying of the Rosary.

When have you been given the gift of remembering we are sharing eternity?

When have you mourned, dreaded, and ached saying goodbye?

How do you live your faith in the saying goodbyes and the rejoicing of eternal friends?

May we all celebrate the gift of eternity, as a place of healing for this single moment in time, Remember Easter!.