Catholics of the Diocese are welcome to join us at about 7:00pm in Gallup at the Cathedral, following Solemn Vespers, in person or in spirit. The consecration prayer is as follows:

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus:

You know the longings of our hearts, and you desire that we enjoy friendship with you.

From your pierced side, you have poured out the wellspring of life, for which we thirst.

Your heart burns with a love for all people to return to a right relationship with you.

We celebrate the abundant gifts you have given this nation, founded on the self-evident truths that our Creator has endowed all people with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

We make reparation for the offenses against you and against human dignity that have taken place in this nation.

May our hearts be united to yours, so that our families and communities enjoy peace and happiness; may broken relationships be reconciled, injustices repaired, and the wounds of our land be healed.

May your holy Catholic Church serve as a sign, pointing all people to your infinite love.

O Desire of Nations and Center of History, we ask you to bless these United States of America.

Who live and reign with God the Father

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us!

Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us!

Voice: Let’s talk about the Spanish Market first. Can you give an overview of its history?

Jerry Montoya: Basically, what I was trying to do was to reintroduce or to educate people about the traditional Spanish Colonial art that is our tradition. Most of the people that are in New Mexico of Hispanic [descent], basically came from the North, from Santa Fe and that area. Since then they’ve spread out through the state. And a lot of them, from what I can see, were losing our culture because we moved away from the area where our families first grew up. The majority of us were Catholics. And the santeros and the saints were a big part of our culture.

What inspired you to start a Spanish Market over in the west part of New Mexico?

Well, at first, I had started out as just a regular artist. I was not a Spanish artist or Hispanic artist. Through some of the art shows that I had been participating in, I reconnected with some of my friends that were doing the santero work. And I really got into it. At one point, here in Grants, 30 years ago, they wanted to have a celebration. And they wanted some Hispanic artists to show, but there were only like two or three Hispanic artists here in Grants. And so I decided, okay, I’ll go for it. They wanted to make this an ongoing thing.

But the next year, they said, “well, we’re not going to do it anymore, because there’s a lack of interest”. And I’m going, “lack of interest? What do you mean?” One of the people said, well, if you want a Hispanic art show, then you do it. I called up a few Santero artists that I’d been in touch with and made friends with, and they decided, heck yeah, we will come over [to Gallup].

Most of the artists that I was talking to were [Santa Fe] Spanish Market artists. As far as being a Spanish Market artist, you have to do traditional Spanish Colonial art. Now, there are books written about the traditional art, you know, in the Spanish Colonial Period, and we try to follow those rules and the way things were done as close as possible.

That’s basically what the Spanish Market’s about. It’s a very unique art. It’s one of a kind. There’s nothing like it around anywhere. So I try to continue that tradition.

How did you first discover that you wanted to be an artist?

My father was a musician. And I think his grandfather was a musician. They were artists. Most of this stuff is art that’s been passed down from generation to generation. The history is what kind of intrigued me about this.

How did you come to settle on the santero art versus some other subject?

I used to do a couple of shows out of Santa Fe and Albuquerque. They were Hispanic and they were contemporary. And at that point, I met a couple of artists who did the santero work. And at that point, I thought, “oh, I kind of like this”. I really, really liked in school, studying the Renaissance. Most of the art that started back in the day came from the Church - Michelangelo and Da Vinci, they all did church art.

And then, studying the history, I figured out, this is my history, this is not something from a distant land. This is the history of my people, of my family. So that kind of struck home.

How would you say that your faith informs your art?

Well, from generation to generation, and even visiting my family back in Las Vegas and Pecos, they always followed the culture that they had, and it was mainly in the Catholic church. Being Catholic back in the north - that’s the culture. It’s all rooted in Catholicism.

Renaissance artists often had favorite Bible stories and favorite saints. Do you have a particular favorite?

Well, my middle name is Francis. In Spanish it’s Francisco. So St. Francis has always been my patron saint. To this day, you know, the prayer to St. Francis, you know, “Make me an instrument of Your peace.” I’ve always kind of followed that. Even when I go to squash a bug or something, I think, “Oh, wait a minute. Don’t do that!” laughs “That’s a living thing”, you know.

And then of course, Our Lady of Guadalupe. I’m really a big fan. I do a lot of Our Lady of Guadalupe. She’s very popular. Mainly because she is the patron saint of Hispanic and Indigenous peoples. And of the Americas, really.

You work a lot with tin - is that your favorite medium to use?

In the Spanish Market, we have to jury into a category. And there are, oh, I don’t even know how many categories - you have bultos, retablos, tin, straw, jewelry. Right now I am juried into five. Which is quite a bit, really. But I’ve always thought, being an artist, you should be able to do everything.

I started out like everybody else - drawing and painting. And then from there, I was a sculpture student in college.

I used to have a friend from Santa Fe. He was a very good tin smith - one of the best in Santa Fe. And he would sit there and he would demonstrate. And he said, you might need to know this, to want to do some tin someday.

Actually, with my retablos, I wanted something to frame them, something traditional. So that’s when I first started doing the tinwork. And it just grew from there. I had other friends who were doing the tinwork, but all their tinwork looked the same. And I thought, well, I want to do something different.

I didn’t discover it, but I reinvented, I guess, the process of repoussé - in Spanish it’s called repujado - which is basically embossing. After I learned how to emboss it, I thought, it’s too shiny - it’s taking away from the retablos, from the paint. I had to come up with a way to tone it down, so I came up with a patina that I use to make it look old, really.

Later on, I learned that there are artists that used to paint and patina their tinwork. When you’re in the Spanish Market, if you come up with something new, you have to prove to the market that it is traditional.

Yeah, that makes sense.

And you have to show them in writing or research that this is a traditional art form. So I basically did that. I don’t really do, you know, the type of tinwork that people use every day - like tin cups, or sconces, or mirrors or things like that. My stuff I consider mainly artwork.

And I’ve always wanted to move on into other metal forms like silver, jewelry. Eventually a friend of mine who was a jeweler got me started with the jewelry. And I taught myself how to repoussé on the jewelry, on the silver, which is actually a traditional art form from Spanish colonial days also. So my silver work or my jewelry, in the market, it’s called “Precious Metals”. It’s the art form.

And then after that, my wife was sick. My wife died of cancer about five years ago, and I had to take care of her. I was visiting one of my santero friends from Old Town in Albuquerque and we were talking about what we were doing. And I said, well, I can’t really do a bunch because I’m taking care of my wife. And he said, “if you show me how to do a little bit of your tin work, I’ll show you how to carve”. He was a very good carver of bultos.

He said, “the reason it would be good for you is because you could sit there and carve on a piece of wood”, because most of my time was basically just sitting with my wife.

After that, it kind of took off. I really enjoyed carving because it’s kind of a form of meditation. It does take a while.

Plus, you’re learning about the iconography of all the saints that were popular in New Mexico, so you’re still in the culture, you’re studying about the saints, and praying to them while you’re carving.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Santa Fe or Taos, where you see the bultos, they’re in all the old churches.

I didn’t realize tin was something that was localized - you could find it here in New Mexico?

Actually, the tinwork really isn’t a colonial art. It was after the colonization, when the Army first started going through New Mexico, they were eating their rations in tin cans. They would throw their tin cans alongside the road.

And then the poor Indigenous people and the Hispanic people, they would pick up the tins and say, “wow, what can you do with this?”

And the first thing they did was, they would stick a candle in it because at nighttime, it was kind of hard to hold a candle - it would melt the hot wax on your hands. They would poke holes in the can for more light, and eventually they would poke a design on it. And that’s how that started.

But it did have its roots in New Mexico and the tin, it actually came from Mexico, along the New Mexico border in El Paso and Juarez. In that area, there were a bunch of tin mines.

They used to use tin for a lot of different things back in the day, because it was a fairly easy material to get and you could construct things out of it.

So that’s where that art form came from.

What’s one of your favorite pieces you’ve ever made?

Oh, wow, that’s kind of hard. I guess one of the ones that really sticks out all the time to me is, I did a four foot cross with tin on it that was painted like a retablo that was a commission for a church in Texas. I had never done anything like that before. The town is half in Texas and half in Mexico. [Laredo]

I got to use pretty much all the skills that I had learned in tin work and painting retablos and sculpture, because it was a three dimensional piece.

Right now I’m doing a processional cross, which has got a carved Cristo on it, for Gallup, for the Cathedral.

And also right now I was asked to do the Stations of the Cross for a little church in Tomé.

Anything else you wanted to add?

I’ve really enjoyed doing this type of work. I always try to tell people that it’s like a trifecta of art. This is history, tradition, culture.

The Sacred Heart Spanish Market will run on Friday, June 6th from 6-9:00 PM, and on Saturday, June 7th from 10am-4:00pm. The location is the family center at 555 S. Woodrow Dr., next to Sacred Heart Cathedral in Gallup.

“Look at that! That’s the greatest light since the Star of Bethlehem! That’s the light of freedom! Remember that. Freedom.”

Francesco, better known today as Frank Capra, would grow up to become one of the most influential filmmakers of all time - almost everyone is familiar with his 1946 movie It’s a Wonderful Life.

But Capra’s films merit a much deeper appreciation than background reruns around the Christmas season. Like his own life story, they represent the best of American optimism.

I admit that I’ve been feeling quite down about the state of the world lately, and especially our country. The news is filled with stories of unjust wars, corrupt politicians, a swift rise in the prioritization of machines and A.I. over human well-being, and political polarization. But these issues are not new. Americans throughout all generations have grappled with evils from their own countrymen - slavery, genocide of Indigenous peoples, and segregation, to name a few - and faced existential threats from within and without. And time after time, it is people of conscience and courage who have faced and fought these threats.

Born dirt-poor in Italy in 1897 and growing up working numerous rough odd jobs in America as an immigrant, Capra would have been well aware of how hard life could be for the common man, and eventually, after breaking into the motion picture business, his most famous films would come to depict and extol everyday American optimism and virtue. He was once told by a friend:

“The talents you have, Mr. Capra, are not your own, not self-acquired. God gave you those talents; they are his gifts to you, to use for his purpose.”

And use them he did. Consider Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, where a young, optimistic scout leader named Jefferson Smith is selected as a replacement for a U.S. Senator, because powerful political donors believe he’ll be easy to manipulate. Ultimately, Smith is successful in exposing political corruption and backdoor dealing - a happy ending, but one that sadly seems unlikely in reality. In You Can’t Take It With You, a movie about a happy-go-lucky family who consider themselves like the “lilies of the field”, a wealthy Wall Street banker ultimately fails in his plot to form a munitions monopoly after the family successfully unite their neighbors in refusing to sell their land. Here again, the antagonist experiences a full change of heart -a happy if slightly unbelievable ending.

Following the end of World War 2, Capra would make his most famous film - It’s a Wonderful Life. Perhaps because of the atrocities he witnessed - Capra would direct many propaganda shorts for the United States military - this film feels like his most thoughtful and mature work. Here, notably, there is no change of heart from the film’s antagonist, the wealthy Mr. Potter, who remains stubborn and sinful. But Capra’s inherent belief in goodness remains. Main character George Bailey is a decent man, and with the aid of a benevolent God and the humble support of his family and neighbors, this decency and integrity is what prevails.

It is human nature for power and wealth to corrupt, and for our hallowed halls of government to be ruled by those who incline towards tyranny and oppression. But great art can remind us of great truths - namely, that honesty, piety, compassion, and love for one’s neighbor are the true ideals we should celebrate, especially as our country nears its 250th birthday.

“The poor you will always have with you”, Jesus tells us, and these words are reflected by great American artists like Capra, who, as he matured, would take his Catholic faith more and more seriously.

“The more uncertain are the people of the world, the more their hard-won freedoms are scattered and lost in the winds of chance, the more they need a ringing statement of America’s democratic ideals,” he once said. “Mankind needed dramatizations of the truth that man is essentially good, a living atom of divinity; that compassion for others, friend or foe, is the noblest of all virtues. Films must be made to say these things, to counteract the violence and the meanness, to buy time to demobilize the hatreds.”

If you, like me, love the America that invented baseball, that established National Parks, that sent the first men to the moon, that liberated the death camps of World War 2 and marched in the streets for the Civil Rights movement, then I urge you to visit or revisit movies like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington or You Can’t Take It With You or It Happened One Night. As actor and director John Cassavetes one noted:

“Maybe there really wasn’t an America, it was only Frank Capra.”

“The Typical American”

Moving now to paintings and drawings, any discussion of great American art must include. Norman Rockwell. I can’t understand those who dismiss his artwork as “kitsch” or “banal”, as Vladimir Nobokov once wrote.

Like Capra, Rockwell’s work often captures the idealistic version of America that we share as a sort of common myth - he illustrated editions of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, was commissioned for portraits of presidents including Dwight Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy, and contributed paintings for the annual Boy Scouts’ calendar.

But also like Capra, Rockwell merits a second, deeper look - because he was an artist who was unafraid to depict the evils and struggles faced by everyday Americans: racism, poverty, war, and so on. Consider his painting The Problem We All Live With, which depicts 6-year-old African-American girl Ruby Bridges being escorted to school by U.S. Marshals in 1960, due to threats from her neighbors who opposed desegregation. Or Murder in Mississippi, a painting of the murders of Civil Rights activists (for a further look at this event, I highly recommend the movie Mississippi Burning).

His portraits of normal people, too, are deeply moving. One of my favorites shows a farmer, trying to hide his emotions, awaiting the train that will take his son to college and away from home for the first time.

“Without thinking too much about it in specific terms, I was showing the America I knew and observed to others who might not have noticed. My fundamental purpose is to interpret the typical American. I am a story teller,” Rockwell once said.

The “typical Americans” embodied in the paintings of Rockwell and in the films of Capra are fundamentally noble and worth promoting, and it is through art like theirs that we are urged to remember our common virtues, and to live out Christ’s command to love one another.

Sister Mary’s parents were James and Genevieve Fisher, Sister Mary grew up in New York attending St. Mary’s grade school, Guardian Angel School, and graduated from high school in 1959, from Catholic Central High in Troy, NY. She was always proud of her interest in nursing and received a Nursing diploma from the St. Mary’s Hospital School of Nursing in 1962.

Sister Mary would recall that one of her favorite sports was the Ski Patrol. Once at the end of the day when the ski lifts were shut down, there was a distant voice that she heard, two kids were lost, down the mountain. She and her partner were able to talk them up the mountain. The parents were called and were so thankful. Sister Mary was totally relieved.

Her travels were many; in fact, all over the world: Rome, Fatima, Portugal, Great Britain, Australia, Tanzania, Africa, Mexico, California, Hawaii, Washington, DC.

Her journey of monastic life began with Holy Trinity Monastery in Arizona, for eight years, which is now Holy Trinity Diocesan Retreat Center.

Sister Mary then met Sister Benedicta Serna at the Monastic Institute at St. John’s Abbey, Collegeville, Minnesota, and subsequently, joined Sister Benedicta in Santa Cruz, NM, on March 8, 1993, only three years after the founding of Our Lady of the Desert. Those early years meant many trips back and forth to the Monastery of Christ in the Desert, Abiquiu, NM, to learn about Benedictine formation. Their life together was graced with perseverance and hope. Even Sister Mary’s cats, Moses and Jerry, seemed to thrive. There was a story about how Jerry got lost and believe it or not, after a few weeks he found his way back to the monastery, happy and healthy.

During the early history of the Monastery of Our Lady of the Desert, Sister Mary was the pillar and basic love of living the monastic life amidst the challenges of beginning a new monastery with Sister Benedicta.

They both survived those early years and maintained their living by weaving. Throughout the years, Sister Mary served as Liturgist (always loved the psalms), Secretary to Chapter and Council, formation, archivist, Newsletter contributions, Nursing, and responded to prayer requests. Her love of crafts included making yarn Christmas angels, jewelry, cards, Rosary bracelets, and most recently, iconography and bead embroidery.

Together with Mother Julianne (transfer of vows), Sister Benedicta and Sister Hilda, Sister Mary made perpetual monastic profession on February 2, 2005. When the sisters moved from the property of Christ in the Desert, to Gobernador, NM, in 2009, it was Sister Mary who initiated all the details of setting up the utilities of the property.

Sister Mary is survived by her biological brother, Budd diStefano, and her niece, Lisa and husband Doug Wiggers.

Throughout her time in hospice, Sister Mary continued to express her deep love for her sisters and found great comfort in our visits, especially when we gathered to pray the Divine Office together. Her faith remained steadfast, her special love of the Blessed Virgin Mary and her gentle presence was a source of inspiration to all who knew her. We rejoice with Sister Mary as she now enjoys living in God’s department for eternity with God.

- From Our Lady of the Desert Monastery

These initiatives are being undertaken as a partnership between the Pueblo of Acoma and New Mexico-based cultural heritage preservation group Nuevo Mexico Profundo.

Frank Graziano, one of NMP’s founders, described how the organization was first established in 2019. While conducting research for a book on New Mexico’s historic churches, he noticed how many pueblo churches were falling into disrepair, and how many of the villagers and parishioners had few resources for preservation.

“Little by little, we’ve grown. We do tours to cultural heritage sites - most of them churches. And we restore historic churches and also moradas, and we do art conservation of santero artworks that are in the churches.”

A morada is a type of informal chapel or religious gathering-place, often used in places where visits from a priest were few and far between. And santero art (see our story on Page 10) is a method of depicting the saints which is totally unique to the state of New Mexico.

But for Graziano - and many of the Pueblos he works with - the importance of historic preservation goes beyond religious significance.

“If you look at the culture around us, it’s like, there’s this process of homogenization going on - it goes to the lowest common denominator of vanilla and plastic,” he said. “That church is the centerpiece of the village. If you knock down that church, it’s like a scar or a void. I mean, it would destroy the visual sense of the village. But in addition to that, the churches are like repositories of cultural heritage for hundreds of years. And there’s so much emotional attachment to them by people in the villages.”

One project currently underway is the cloister and courtyard at San Esteban del Rey in Acoma Pueblo. Much of the funding has been provided by the Pueblo, which has committed to preserving many of Acoma’s historic buildings, and fundraising from Nuevo Mexico Profundo.

During the research phase, Graziano discovered that the inside of the cloister has hidden layers of murals.

“An archaeologist went out there in 1976 and he did some tests on the walls. And there are layers of murals on all the walls around the gallery. And who knows what state they’re in because, you know, even in ‘76 when he saw them, that was 50 years ago.”

If there is a possibility of restoring the murals, Graziano hopes to include them in the project.

Mark Thompson, a tribal member of Acoma Pueblo with an extensive education background in construction and development, is the project manager for the restoration work at San Esteban and other projects in the villages at McCartys and Acomita.

“When the tribal council and the tribal administration approached me, the tribal council had allocated some funds to help in the restoration of the two churches,” he recalls. “And then we came across New Mexico profundo and Frank Graziano. We leveraged both his fundraising and the tribe’s funding to get the project done. I was already contracted pro bono to be the project manager for several historic structures within the community.”

Thompson didn’t feel that it was his place to speak for the Pueblo as a whole, but noted that as a Catholic and tribal member of Acoma, he feels responsible for helping to preserve all aspects of tribal spirituality.

“They’re historic structures obviously, but they’re more than that. It represents our faith. I think it’s who we are. They’re critical parts of the community and part of our core values and belief in Christ, and having some place to call home when we want to worship.”

He also emphasized the greater efforts of the local church council and restoration committee.

“It just wasn’t me, Mark Thompson…the church council and the church restoration committee that are made up of parishioners and members within the community all contributed to the restoration effort. It was a team effort. That’s important.”

For the local Acoma community, for Thompson, and for Graziano, the work is all part of a greater effort to preserve the unique spiritual, cultural, and historical heritage of New Mexico villages.

“There’s a lot of people who see it in historic preservation terms. I see it more in like cultural heritage terms,” Graziano said. “I mean, the building is important, but the building is a symbol. You know what I mean? It’s great to preserve the building like it were, I don’t know, a fort or a historic building. But the churches also have so much meaning attached to them.”

Theme song: "Rock Star" by John Ehrich. Used with permission.

Theme song: "Rock Star" by John Ehrich. Used with permission.

Theme song: "Rock Star" by John Ehrich. Used with permission.

Here is that interview.

Sr. Philomena works in the laundry room at the Little Sisters of the Poor home in Gallup, NM.

Can you give take us through your background – where you grew up and how you became a sister?

I was one of 15 children. There were eight boys and seven girls. We grew up in a very, very Catholic family in those years. I’m from Ireland, from Dublin. So in those days, it was a must to go to Mass every Sunday, to go to Confessions every two weeks, during Lent, etc.

I was asked to go down with my friend to see the Little Sisters of the Poor when I was 12…who were not very far, about half an hour from where I lived. And I went down every weekend from that day I first saw them. My friend, she left. I continued. I was very young.

[One day] they were going to have a big open day and sell all the goods and sell tarts and pies to get money into the hall. So I asked my two sisters to come down to help me. They came down with me. The two of them entered to be Little Sisters. And me, I was left behind because I wasn’t 18.

Where are you in the lineup of your brothers and sisters?

I’m number eight. So they entered the congregation. I went after college to work in the government office because I wasn’t 18, and they told me I had to wait before I could enter. Finally, I entered in 1972.

I asked to go to France. I stayed in Paris for six months to learn French…to speak it fluently and to write it.

The sixth of September [1975] I made my first vows. And the sixth of September this year, 2025, was 50 years and I went to Dublin to celebrate. But I am not long in America. I am seven, eight months. I was 44 years in Africa.

Which parts?

I started in Congo-Brazzaville. From there I went to Kenya - Nairobi and Mombasa. Then I went to Nigeria. I went to Enugu and Lagos. From there I went to Benin - we’ve got two homes there. I went to Istanbul because it’s the same province. And then Malta, because Malta is the provincial house. And I just arrived in Gallup eight months ago.

But I love these people, these Navajo people. The old people are gorgeous. The old people are lovely. I’ve had the occasion to look after lots of Africans. I had the occasion to look after Turkish people because I was in Istanbul. We have a home there and there are only Muslims. And then I had an occasion to look after the Maltese which is mostly European.

So with all these experiences, I just want to thank God, because how did I arrive here? I don’t know. But I want to make sure that goes out: there’s no glory for me. I give all the glory to God. Really. I give all the glory to God because I’m one of 15 children, I was born in the middle of nowhere. I mean my parents were extremely, extremely Catholic and it was a must. They looked after us, they brought us up and they trained us and they trained me to be a Little Sister.

I received my first formation with my parents and my family members. We always had to share. We have a pumpkin? We cut it in two. If we’re four, we cut it in four. We were not rich but we knew how to share. And I think that was the beginning of my formation because then when I entered, it was easier for me to accept lots of things, like sharing, having dialogue, having conversation.

So it became natural for us to be open and say, okay, I am going to do this type of work. I’m going to do that type of work. It’s because it was in us to share with your friends, to share with your neighbor. We didn’t have very much because we were so many. But my father had a very, very good job as a contractor, decorator and painter and he had very good people that used to call him. So he was very well known in Dublin.

I thank God for all this. I thank my parents first, and then I give glory to God for everything, for my religious vocation. I thank Him so much for being a Little Sister of the Poor and for serving so long in the province of Africa. Now I’m in Gallup, New Mexico. And I’m very happy to be here. The people are lovely.

What are some of your favorite memories from your time as a Sister?

I remember one Maasai man. We went to pick him up because he was on the ground. We had to roll these poor people in blankets - we took hold and carried them. We had a small home, we had seven old people. It was the beginnings of the home in Nairobi. So we had to wash him outside because he’s full of lice. He had a big, long beard. But it was beautiful and sunny and the climate is much different. And you know, he made it for many, many years in our home. It’s beautiful to look after the poor old people, the real poor.

I was in Congo-Brazzaville during the [1982] civil war.

Oh wow, did that affect you at all?

Oh yeah. We were eight in the community and we were on - it’s not a mountain, it’s kind of a hill. And down here was [President] Sassou who is still in power to this day. And here was Lissouba [Editor’s note: rival politician]. And our home was in the middle. Everywhere around were all big bungalows, like very, very big houses. They were the French or the American or the Canadians that used to live there. When the war started, everyone evacuated - everyone. As we are a French congregation, the army came to us and they said, “we have to evacuate. Who do you have to evacuate? We have to evacuate the sisters only”. I said, my God, we can’t leave the old people. There was 70, 75 old people. And they said no.

So we had a meeting with the sisters. We decided together to stay. He came back the following day to see if we’re leaving. And we said, no, we’re not leaving, we’re staying here. And we know that the Lord is with us. And whatever happens, happens. We surrendered everything.

But from that day on, three times a day, the sisters used to say the rosary all the time. You say the rosary, continually. And the old people that were Catholics, they were always in the chapel. And we stayed there. And from the first hour of the evening, like about seven o’clock, until about four o’clock [in the morning], the rockets are going over. Some of them fell on our roof. There was plenty of holes in the roof.

But one of our old ladies had tuberculosis. And we couldn’t get out to get any medication because everywhere was barricaded. So we tried to get in touch with the French embassy – they were very far away, about an hour. We tried to get a message across for them to come and bring some medication for this lady. “Impossible.”

Once in the morning, that lady who never goes to the chapel early - she never goes early. But this time she was in the chapel half past six in the morning with her friend. They were two of them together and they were praying. And a rocket came in and hit the roof and hit her head. She was knocked unconscious. She didn’t die straight away. We managed. One of the sisters there was a brilliant nurse - Oh, she was brilliant! So we bandaged up as much as we could and we stayed with her the whole night. But she died the following day. She was the one that had the tuberculosis. The one that was beside her, she [only] had a few scratches.

We had another old man, another time - a huge big bomb hit the men’s wing. It went right through the door, through the wall. The old man was asleep in bed and all the pieces were all around him. The bed was full of dust and all these little pieces of iron. And he was asleep. He didn’t even hear it.

That was an experience that we knew God was with us. We’re doing God’s work from morning to night, you see. And yeah, He’s looking after us. He’s taking care of us.

We were in that war for nine months in our house. We never went out. We couldn’t go out.

How did you get supplies?

We had supplies. When they start closing down everything, we managed to get supplies in. But then on a few occasions, the French ambassador, he sent us rice and bananas. It was the thing going at that time, rice, bananas. In the morning we used to have boiled bananas. Lunch, we’d have rice. And if we had oil, we used to fry the bananas in the evening. We’d do a lovely fry. And this went on for nine months. We had no bread, no butter. And the sisters were so faithful. They were so, so faithful.

Were you able to have Mass or no?

We had one priest that used to stay at the cathedral. And he used to jump over the wall every time he heard noise. He used to jump over the wall and he’d say, “Sisters, are you okay?” A young Jesuit priest. So we had Mass.

And nobody ever bothered you? None of the soldiers or anybody like that?

The soldiers, they came in a few times with, you know, these big long guns. And they started shooting at us from outside. They banged at the door, about 10 of them in the pickup truck. They wanted money, then they wanted our car, they wanted another pickup because they were looting all the houses which were around us.

They knew we were religious. They knew we were looking after the old people, but they were mad with drink and drugs and it didn’t matter to them. So when they started asking for our truck, we just gave it to them, because they started shooting. They were shooting at our feet. We were right beside them. *pantomimes bullets being shot into the ground*

They left, but they looted all the huge big houses which had plenty of stuff inside, you know. People just left their belongings to get back to France.

When you went to Istanbul, how was that?

Istanbul is lovely. I love Istanbul. All the old people are Muslims. There’s about two or three Christians, Armenian Christians. But yeah, the old people, the Muslim people were lovely. They treated us so nicely. We were always dressed religiously, you know, and they would respect that. We had a lot of friends outside who had helped the home.

So how do you like Gallup so far from what you’ve seen?

In the beginning, I had it very difficult for the altitude. But then when I went home, and I stayed the whole month of September, I came back October. Wow, it was such a difference. Now I can walk outside, I can walk around, no problem.

One of the sisters said, I don’t know what you made of, you’re like a man. I says, no, I’m Irish. I’m coming from a big family. We were brought up on bread and margarine. We had no butter. That was my young years, we were brought up on bread and margarine. And I hate margarine (laughs).

What kind of advice would you give to someone discerning their vocation?

A young person starting off, I would say, cling, cling, cling to the word of God, cling to Jesus, no matter what. I’ve got through a lot of things in my life through the word of God. Cling to the rosary, cling to the Eucharist, our Lady, our Blessed Mother, Jesus, just try and get into a relationship and go deeper each day, but never give up. You will fall, we always fall. But the virtuous man falls seven times a day, gets up - Proverbs 24. The wicked man, he falls in defeat, he doesn’t get up. So it is a matter of, you fall, you get up, you continue. Don’t give up, be courageous, especially if you’re called to be a religious, because it’s a vocation that’s not coming from you, it’s coming from God. And when God calls, he gives the courage, he gives the strength to continue, no matter what. I mean, you know you’re called by Jesus - he will not desert you, just cling to him, he’ll get you there.

Jo Adell's crazy catches: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NwCLtVXOqyc

Theme song: "Rock Star" by John Ehrich. Used with permission.

Fr. Jeff experienced a decline in health since early March. He received continual care from his doctor, as well as his pastor and friend, Fr. Frank Chacon. He also received great comfort and support from the many parishioners, family and friends who visited and prayed for him. He was surrounded by love and care in his last days with us. Fr. Jeff understood for some time that the Lord was calling him home, and passed on from this life with great peace.

Please pray for the repose of the soul of Father Jeff, and for peace and consolation for his family and parishioners.

The funeral schedule has been finalized and can be found below.

May his soul and the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Useful links:

Into the Breach

FORGE

Theme song: "Rock Star" by John Ehrich. Used with permission. 

The church in Bluewater is currently tied to the parish in Crownpoint, NM, but was originally established as a mission of St. Bonaventure in Thoreau. In 1977, a former protestant church was purchased, remodeled, and officially dedicated for use.

In 2025, then-pastor Fr. John Paul Madanu began a search for a parish hall.

“Bishop James Wall, he was the one [who] actually advised me it’s better to have a parish hall for the little community,” Fr. Madanu recalled. The priest then met with his parishioners, who loved the idea, but a challenge soon presented itself: where to find an appropriate building? Fr. Madanu worried about the burden of buying or building a space, which could easily cost multiple thousands of dollars.

Then, a few parishioners suggested using the storage space across the parking lot: a small hogan. It needed remodeling and cleaning, but Fr. Madanu thought the idea was perfect.

“So then what happened - it was so beautiful - people started coming together and cleaning the hogan. There was no electricity, no light. And the floor was good, but it needed to have a little maintenance.”

The community’s deacon, John Margis, is also an electrician, and he was able to pull electricity from the church and install lights. Other parishioners fixed up the doors, windows, and installed a small wood stove to serve as a heating system.

“They used to request people to host some social gatherings. I did not feel [right] asking the people to open their doors for a gathering,” Fr. Madanu said. “So we used to have some gatherings in the church itself. We used to close the tabernacle. But then we opened this, and they were so happy and so grateful.”

He recalls overhearing some parishioners excitedly discussing possible future plans for the new hall, like bingo games and yard sales.

“They were so happy that at last they can bring all other people - not only Catholics, but those who are living in the community - they can bring them together, have a gathering once a month, so that the community could be alive and vibrant. They want to put something like a carport outside the hogan, so they can have cookouts during the summer.”

Fr. Madanu hopes that the new hall will grow into a vibrant community hub for the village.

“I strongly believe that food brings the people together…to build the relationship among Catholics, even those who don’t come to the church. It can build a family of friendship. Even a little community can do wonders when the people come together, be it Bluewater or anywhere.”

To see the video/picture discussed in this episode, visit: 

https://youtu.be/-rUM3cCcS9A

Theme song: "Rock Star" by John Ehrich. Used with permission. 

Theme song: "Rock Star" by John Ehrich. Used with permission.