Rhode Island Catholic, the disocesan newspaper for the state,  reviews “My Cousin the Saint,” in its current issue. The review was written by Father John A. Kiley, a pastor in Warwick. An excerpt:

“Mr. Catanoso’s book is a family saga of faith, ambition, determination, hard work, illness, death and success on both sides of the Atlantic. Crowded Sunday afternoon pasta dinners at the family homestead merge with tense family conferences in hospital waiting rooms. The family camaraderie Mr. Catanoso experienced as a youth when his family moved to the Jersey shore is revived on successive trips to Calabria to research and reaffirm his Italian roots. These familial experiences, mixed with some Church politics, make absorbing reading. The author’s maturing Catholic faith is integral to the narrative as well.”

And this, too: “Pope John Paul has been criticized for canonizing too many saints. But there was a scheme in his zeal. Local saints touch the lives of local people. Local saints re-incarnate Jesus Christ graphically and tangibly on the local level so that once again believers can reach out to touch the tassel of his cloak, learn from his words, enjoy his company, bring him their fears, be consoled by his presence.  Saint Gaetano Catanoso had an immeasurable spiritual effect on his family, on his seminarians, on his religious sisters, on his fellow Calabrese, on his American cousins. St. John the Evangelist writes of Jesus Christ: ‘…the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.’ ”

The entire review is here.

This video was shot in March, on location in Reggio Calabria, and filmed and produced by Michael Frierson, UNC-Greensboro film professor.

The Philadelphia Inquirer writes about “My Cousin the Saint” in today’s edition. Religion writer David O’Reilly, whom I met and interviewed with in the Inquirer newsroom on July 25, does an exemplary job. No surprise. He’s among the best religion writers in America.

Excerpt:

So why did his immigrant grandparents never talk about the southern Italy they fled a century ago? Had they left some family secret in the impoverished mountain region of Calabria - a home to the Mafia?

They had, but never knew it.

And it was no dark secret at all, but luminous.

The clan they left behind in 1903 had spawned a holy man, the Rev. Gaetano Catanoso, whom the Roman Catholic Church would proclaim a saint in 2005.

And in the course of discovering his long-lost cousin - a parish priest born in 1879 who grew into what he calls an “ethereal, holy being, so virtuous that he is hailed as a miracle worker” - Justin Catanoso would discover his larger family, his Italian roots, and the faith he hardly knew.

“It was an experience that pulled me into the heart of the family,” Catanoso, now a 48-year-old North Carolina journalist, said during a recent visit to Philadelphia. He recounts his journey of discovery in a new book, My Cousin the Saint: A Search for Faith, Family and Miracles.

Read the whole story here.

Relics are an important part of the Catholic faith, and an important part of the prayer life of true believers. In this video, shot in Calabria and North Carolina by my friend and filmmaker Michael Frierson, I talk about the relics relating to Padre Gaetano Catanoso. Several sacred relics from the saint were given to me as gifts from my Italian relatives — including one believed to have been involved in a healing miracle in Reggio Calabria

I have a cousin in Australia — Annette Condello, whose parents hail originally from Calabria and are connected to the Catanoso family tree. I didn’t learn about Annette until after I learned I have a saint in the family. She contacted me by email after the canonization, having seen a story I wrote online. We’ve been communicating ever since; we even talked on the phone a few times. She is a PhD candidate in archiecture and provided much-welcomed research material for me about the great earthquake of 1908 that devastated Reggio and Messina. I was thrilled to thank her in my book acknowledgements — another great gift from this project. A new family connection on another continent.

By the way, Pope Benedict XVI is heading to Australia, which brought this post to mind.

The question arises again and again — why this saint and not that one? When it comes to Oscar Romero and Dorothy Day, the debate seems perpetual. This blog picks up the argument, noting:

“Tonight we discussed both Oscar Romero and Dorothy Day, the process of canonization and whether or not they might be canonized. Is this what his life was for? What about Dorothy’s since she actively expressed distaste in the thought of her being a saint; yet she had an incredible devotion to some saints. She was quoted saying, “Don’t call me a saint; I don’t want to be dismissed so easily.” The process of canonization is costly and strange. Shouldn’t the money be given to the many Catholic Worker houses or to pacifist organizations?”

The whole post is here.

We had a houseful of company this morning, and I didn’t get to Mass. This journal entry from two summers ago describes the first Mass I attended at Gaetano’s church in the Santo Spirito neighborhood of Reggio Calabria.

“We arrive at the church at 5:55 p.m. (Saturday)…The nuns are all praying aloud when as Daniela and I take our seats. They pretty much fill the first four rows of the narrow sanctuary. They are praying the rosary with those in church early, and then shift into an Our Father and Hail Mary, all in Italian of course, before the Mass starts sharply at 6 p.m. Three Filipino nuns, two on acoustic, gut string guitars and one on tambourine, start to sing. It is stunningly beautiful, the lovely rythem, the flutey, voices filled with passion, the perfectly timed tap and rattle of the tambourine. I’m surprised by how beautiful it sounds, echoing off the hard surfaces of the sanctuary – marble floors, stucco walls, modern stained glass windows high on the left side of the church. The alter wall is amazingly beautiful, a glorious modern mosaic depicting Jesus on the cross with St. Veronica standing at his feet, head bowed, holding up the cloth showing the Holy Face. It’s a remarkably simple piece of art, sketched in long, bold sweeping strokes of rectangular tiles and soft colors. Totally evocative.

“The singing makes me fee strange – like my heart is rattling around in the chest. I remind myself that I am actually attending Mass in Gaetano’s church, a place he did not say Mass in himself, being that it was completed nearly 10 years after his death. But his remains lie in a glass tomb just a few yards behind me, looking even more like a mannequin than ever. As I listen, I realize I’m on the verge of tears, again. If this keeps happening, I’m going to scream! But I’m convinced this is the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard play in a church anywhere, anywhere, with the sole exception of when I’ve heard Laurelyn sing at wedding or funerals.

“This seems a good place to pray, so I give it a try. The sanctuary is warm and several of the nuns are fanning themselves. A few of the older nuns have trouble standing and kneeling, so they remain seated in the straight-back pews with fixed kneelers. I close my eyes and try to figure out how to make this work. Who to pray to, who to pray for? There are plenty of options, and I won’t discuss them. I don’t know the Bible that well, but I know that Jesus wasn’t crazy about people making a show of praying. In fact, he wasn’t crazy about churches at all. But it occurs to me that he might like this one, simple as it is, stuck in the middle of a shabby working class neighborhood, where the constantly running public water spout on the corner is always crowded with some poor person filling up large, empty water bottles to cart home…”