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BOISE – Bishop Peter Christensen of the Diocese of Boise today affirmed a statement issued by the Secretariat of Pro-Life Activities of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops that says Catholics may use the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines against COVID-19. Use of the AstraZeneca and Janssen (Johnson & Johnson) vaccines are also morally acceptable, but only if no other vaccines comparable in safety and efficacy are available. “Many faithful Catholics have expressed reservation about using vaccines with cell lines harvested from aborted babies,” the Bishop said. Catholics should always be very cautious about the morality and ethics of participating in any medical research with direct links to abortion, he said. Two of the vaccines – Pfizer and Moderna – do not include cells from aborted babies. The Pfizer and Moderna vaccines are the ones administered by Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center, according to hospital officials. Bishop Peter referred to a Secretariat for Pro-Life Activities statement that says that cell lines from aborted babies were used decades ago to research vaccines to combat rubella and chicken pox. Those same cell lines can be and are reproduced indefinitely for research. While the cell lines were used to test the efficacy of the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines, the cells themselves are not present in the vaccines that patients receive. There is, however, additional moral concern with the AstraZeneca and Janssen (Johnson & Johnson) vaccines because an abortion-derived cell line was used not only for testing, but also in development and production. The Secretariat for Pro-Life Activities said it can be morally acceptable to receive a vaccine that uses abortion-derived cell lines if there are no other available vaccines . “If it is possible to choose among a number of equally safe and effective COVID-19 vaccines, the vaccine with the least connection to abortion-derived cell lines should be chosen,” the statement said. Bishop Peter emphasized that the Secretariat for Pro-Life Activities statement (which is available in both English and Spanish at usccb.org/prolife ) is in accord with guidance issued four times to date by the Holy See, through the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and the Pontifical Academy for Life. “Currently, there are hundreds of vaccines for COVID-19 in development worldwide, with more than a dozen in final stages of testing, so it is important that the worldwide Church is vigilant in its protection of life, not only for the pre-born, but for those receiving the vaccines as well,” Bishop Peter said. The Bishop commended the faithful for their attention to the always pre-eminent issue of life from conception to natural death.

Pamela Simcock, who serves on the Diocesan Review Board, was received into the Church in 2015. (Courtesy photo/Pamela Simcock) By Pamela Simcock Recently, I attended a meeting with Bishop Peter Christensen. After the meeting, the Bishop warmly greeted each of us. When he reached me, and kindly inquired how I was, I mentioned the momentous day that he baptized me at the 2015 Easter Vigil Mass. He smiled and asked, “Did it take?” I laughed, “Most definitely.” The Bishop then asked if I was happy with my decision to become Catholic. I have thought a lot about the answer to his question since our conversation and about the meandering path that led me to Catholicism. I grew up in a small south-central Idaho town with a mom who was raised in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and a dad who was raised stringently Pentecostal. The compromise my parents ultimately reached between those two diverse theologies was to abandon both. Before they reached that decision, however, my grandfather personally baptized me into the LDS Church at age 8, and I received a good dose of Mormon Sunday school. I remember loving then, as I do now, the books and the stories in those Sunday School classes. I also remember asking a continuous stream of questions, much to the consternation of my teachers. My persistent inquiries were discouraged to the point that eventually the Sunday school leaders suggested that maybe it would be better if I didn’t attend classes without a parent present. When my mom and dad left the Mormon Church, I was set spiritually adrift. My high school graduating class was just shy of 200 students. I was close with a group of friends who, I believe, were the only girls in our class who did not attend the Mormon seminary classes. Two of my girlfriends were Catholic. I knew where they went to church and every time I drove by, I was drawn to the brightly colored statue of Mary near the entrance of the small white stucco building. It intrigued me that a church would include a spiritual image who looked more like me. My college years began at a private women’s institution and involved many theoretical courses in comparative religion and Western and Eastern philosophy. Practically, I had always felt God’s presence in my life, no matter how difficult life became. I was always looking for a way to strike up a conversation with Him. My first marriage lasted a decade, and the violence I endured during that marriage brought me to my knees. After I left the marriage, my desire to feel God’s presence in my life intensified. I left Idaho to stay safe during the divorce process, working on a consulting project for a year in Manhattan and Las Vegas. During this time, I attended many different churches and studied diverse faiths and philosophies. I was mesmerized by the soaring sound of Baptist choirs. I felt a soothing sense of calm during Quaker meetings. I was drawn to the intellectual approach of Christian Science and felt academically at home in their reading rooms. I spent six months studying with Buddhist monks whose serenity and kindness constantly moved me to tears. Wherever I went, the Mormons found me, due, I suspect, to the concerted effort of my maternal grandmother. I talked with the missionaries and visiting teachers who came to see me and read Mormon theology. I asked persistent questions and eventually realized that the answers to my questions were not found there. I felt guilty about not wanting to return to the church of my childhood, especially because of my grandparents, but I knew it wasn’t right for me. I remember coming home to Idaho one weekend, primarily to visit family. I searched the internet for churches in the Boise area, seeking a faith tradition to explore next. The Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist came up in my searches, and I found myself returning again and again to the lovely images on the Cathedral website. I looked up the worship schedule and decided to attend my first-ever Mass on a Saturday. Walking up the sandstone steps toward those towering wooden doors that night felt like taking a step both back in time and toward myself. I walked into the building and was enveloped by the grace, beauty, and richness of the Cathedral. My eyes were drawn first to the figure of Christ on the cross above the altar. After that, I wasn’t sure where to look next: at the jewel-toned stained glass sparkling in the setting sun, at the faithful worshippers reverently kneeling on the floor, or at the stunning architecture reaching toward the heavens. It was a moment of sensory stun as I realized how and why such imagery has the power to connect us immediately to the miracle of God. As I caught my breath, my eyes settled on the statue of Mary to the left of the ambo, her head bent in prayer. I was taken back in time to the image of Mary outside the tiny Catholic church in my hometown. I stood there feeling Mary’s invitation settle over me as the priest entered the Cathedral and the Mass began. I sat in one of the rows directly in front of the statue of Mary. As Mass progressed, I found myself staring intently at Mary’s loving face, feeling an unprecedented level of peace, healing, and comfort. I didn’t understand what was happening during the Mass. I didn’t know when or why to kneel or stand. I didn’t know the words to the prayers or what to say back to the kind people in front of me who shook my hand and wished me peace. I did know, however, that something inside of me sparked to life that night, something I had hoped would ignite my life. After that first Mass, I found myself searching for Catholic churches in whatever city I happened to be. I loved the Latin Masses in larger cities. I equally loved the quaint, wooden churches in smaller towns. Every time I went, I found myself searching for images of Mary and felt her healing presence as I sat in Masses that I still didn’t understand, feeling the tears stream down my face as my wounded heart knitted itself back together again. In retrospect, I realize that those numinous experiences with Mary were the first of three reasons why I converted to Catholicism. The second reason manifested itself as I became healed enough to ask the same types of questions of Catholic theology that I had asked my Mormon Sunday School teachers. To my surprise and delight, each time I asked a deacon, priest, or canon lawyer why the Catholic Church taught what it did, I was provided a clear line of reasoning that traced back logically through scripture and centuries of doctrine. The answers to those questions satisfied my need to understand why the Church taught what it did, and I never once felt that I was doing something wrong by asking questions. I also never felt that I was doing something wrong when I continued to feel concern or even disagreed with a Church position. Whenever those moments occurred, I heard a version of, “The answers you seek are ultimately between you and God. Pray and ask for His guidance,” from whomever I was speaking with at the time. I never felt judged, even though I knew that the spiritual leaders with whom I spoke may have had strong beliefs that were different from my own. I was encouraged to explore and think and pray. I felt respected and trusted. The third and final reason that led me to the Catholic baptismal font was based on my own morals and values, independent of theology or doctrine. One of the religion classes I took in graduate school explored the question of what religion means to me. In that class, we explored many different definitions and paths of religious experience. Some of those paths were traditional such as family history. Some of them were spectacular such as visions, revelations, and miracles. And some paths to religious truth were more individual such as devoting oneself to monastery or committing oneself to a life of service. The path that felt most right to me was, and is, committing to a path of service to others. Several years before taking that graduate school class, I had elected to leave for-profit consulting and to devote myself to advocating for victims of relationship violence: child abuse, dating violence, domestic violence, and elder abuse. I believe that this is the work to which God has called me. On this path, I feel that I am doing some small amount of good in the world as He patiently sands down my faults and rough edges. The more I learned about Catholicism, the more I realized that my individual way of being religious in the world was very similar to the Catholic Church’s collective way. The Church’s history of advocating for public health and education is inspiring. The work that Catholic Charities and other Catholic ministries do today to serve the public good is equally humbling. I love that the Church offers service to all those in need, not just those who are Catholic and in need. This is one of the primary reasons I am so happy with my decision to become Catholic. When I completed RCIA and was baptized in 2015, I went through a period of worrying about whether or not I was Catholic enough. I worried if I missed Mass. I fretted if I didn’t say the rosary often. I added stacks of Catholic literature to my reading list each week and felt a sense of failure if I didn’t get through it all. I tried to add being a Catholic to my other roles of wife, mother, advocate, teacher, student, activist, volunteer, writer and researcher. Eventually I realized that being Catholic isn’t about adding another role to my already full life. Rather, being Catholic is about allowing the teachings of Catholicism to permeate who I am, no matter what I’m doing. When I finally got this, I stopped worrying about how Catholic I was and started focusing on how my Catholic values are expressed in all my endeavors. I’m not perfect at doing this, but since I have given myself permission to not have to be a certain way in my religion, I have ironically, become a more kind, respectful, and giving person. Today, my relationship with the Catholic Church fosters the ongoing conversation with God I have longed for since I was a child. Sometimes I get busy and preoccupied, and the Church and I drift apart. But then, something happens, and I go back to the relationship. I feel compassion for those people who have decided that religion isn’t worth their effort and perhaps have rejected religion. They are missing out on an incredible source of guidance, strength, and inspiration. I am so blessed to have found Catholicism. And while I have forgiven myself for not being a perfect Catholic, I also have stopped expecting Catholics to be perfect for me. Working in victim advocacy, I feel great challenge when an incident of abuse is brought to light in the Church, especially if the abuse involves children or other vulnerable populations. I am concerned at times about the role of women in our faith and the Church’s ongoing response to discrimination, violence, and injustice. Still, I feel hopeful and see evidence that the Church is working to thoughtfully respond to these important issues. In my final analysis, it is easy to affirm a resounding “yes” to Bishop Peter’s question. I am so happy with the decision I made to become Catholic. I pray that in the years to come that I will continue to evolve as a person and as a Catholic. I pray that I will find ways to give back to the Church that has given so much to me. And I pray that each of you will feel the comfort of Mary in your lives, find meaning in your religious experience, and be accompanied by peace and hope as you walk your own paths through this miraculous and, at times, tumultuous life. If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it, please consider buying a subscription to the Idaho Catholic Register. Your $20 yearly subscription also supports the work of the Diocese of Boise Communications Department, which includes not only the newspaper, but this website, social media posts and videos. You can subscribe here , or through your parish, or send a check to 1501 S. Federal Way, Boise, ID, 83705: or call 208-350-7554 to leave a credit card payment. Thank you, and God bless you.

Anthony Dandrea and his family show the world what it means to remove fear and step out in faith. Anthony competes in basketball, track, soccer, football and swimming. The Boise High senior is headed to Coastal Carolina University this fall. (Courtesy photos/Dandrea family) By Emily Woodham Staff Writer After being the team manager for four years for the Boise High School basketball team, Anthony Dandrea was at last able to get on the court with his team for the first time this February. When he scored a 3-point basket, his teammates, as well as the opposing teammates and the fans in the gym cheered loudly. The moment was captured on KTVB, Boise’s NBC news affiliate. Many of Anthony’s family members and friends cried as they watched him fulfill his dream. It was a hard-won victory, realized through years of perseverance in maximizing his abilities. Anthony, 19, and his parents, Trace and Jennifer, do not let Down Syndrome define him. Anthony Dandrea with his parents, Trace and Jennifer, creators of IncludeAbility. Trace and Jennifer Dandrea, parishioners at Holy Apostles Parish in Meridian, are cradle Catholics who have been married for 25 years and have let their faith infuse every part of their lives. They knew the risk of having a Down Syndrome child was high with both of their children. They refused invasive testing, knowing that they would not abort. Their first born, a daughter, Katie, was born without any special needs. “When Anthony was born, it was a bit of a whirlwind,” Jennifer said. “No one in the hospital congratulated us. People in the medical field do not know the joy and love these kids can bring a family and how it changes a family immensely for the good.” Despite the somber attitude of the medical staff, Trace and Jennifer embraced their son with unconditional love. They took some time to grieve that he was not healthy, but by the second day, the couple looked each other in the eyes and said, “We can do this!” Their frustration with the medical community continued after Anthony came home from the hospital. Despite meeting developmental milestones, such as rolling over as an infant, doctors complained that he wasn’t accomplishing them as a child without disabilities would. The Dandreas focused on the positive, noting that Anthony found a way to meet milestones. “We’re faith driven,” Trace said. “We believe that God gave us these gifts and strengths to use,” he said. “He gives you gifts to get out there and make things happen,” he said. By removing fear and stepping out in faith, little miracles happened that encouraged them and Anthony to persevere. Too many people allow fear of failure to stop them from trying sports and pursuing a dream, Trace said. Even failure is a form of winning, he said, because failing is learning. Their efforts paid off many times over. Anthony has pursued basketball, track, swim team, soccer and football. Through his involvement, he has developed intellectually and socially, as well as physically, Jennifer said. “He went to preschool and kindergarten with kids that he still goes to school with at Boise High,” his mother said. “He has lifelong friends who have his back and love him.” This fall, Anthony will attend Coastal Carolina University near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. His older sister’s enrollment at a university a few years ago made him more determined to go to college as well. The Dandreas found a program, “Think College,” that helps people with disabilities attain their goals for university. The Dandreas participated in RODS (Racing for Orphans with Down Syndrome), a program to help couples adopt orphans with Down Syndrome. Because kids in the Boise area wanted to be involved in races to raise money for RODS, the Dandreas created a junior version of the organization. The Dandreas witnessed the impact it made on people to see kids with disabilities race in mainstream competitions. “It became about more than raising money; it became about the value of inclusion,” Jennifer said. That led the Dandreas to create more opportunities to include kids with disabilities in the school community. They created IncludeAbility, an organization that works with the mainstream sports community, schools and clubs to include kids with all abilities. (See includeability.org.) “The more the community encounters kids with disabilities, the more people will value their dignity and worth,” said Trace, himself an athlete who competes in Ironman triathlons. “By seeing how amazing Anthony’s life is, we’re hoping people think differently about Down Syndrome,” Trace said. The Andreas are hoping that fewer people will choose to abort when they see that children with Down Syndrome are not broken. “God doesn’t make mistakes,” Trace said. Jennifer and Trace never backed down from including Anthony in the community, and Anthony has overcome every obstacle to pursue his passions. “He rose to expectations each time,” Jennifer said. Anthony’s passion is not limited to sports. He is an altar server at Holy Apostles Parish in Meridian and is a member of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes at Boise High. Throughout the pandemic, Anthony has continued to meet with fellow Christian athletes through Zoom each Friday for Bible study. He enjoys sharing Bible passages and prayer with his friends. “We trust God. You have to believe. If you give up, you’ve already lost,” Trace said. If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it, please consider buying a subscription to the Idaho Catholic Register. Your $20 yearly subscription also supports the work of the Diocese of Boise Communications Department, which includes not only the newspaper, but this website, social media posts and videos. You can subscribe here , or through your parish, or send a check to 1501 S. Federal Way, Boise, ID, 83705: or call 208-350-7554 to leave a credit card payment. Thank you, and God bless you.

The following story appeared in the Feb. 12 issue of the Idaho Catholic Register. From left, Father Jesús Cruz and Father Moisés Urzúa of the Missionary Servants of the Word, who began serving in eastern Idaho last week. (ICR photo/Vero Gutiérrez) By Vero Gutierrez Idaho Catholic Register IDAHO FALLS – The newest priests to serve in the Diocese of Boise arrived here on Jan. 27, eager to experience a snowfall for the first time. They were disappointed, but not for long. A week later on the way to their new home in Idaho Falls they saw their first snowfall. Serving in eastern Idaho, they will become accustomed to it. Father Moisés Urzúa Torres and Father Jesús Cruz Hernández belong to a religious order called Missionary Servants of the Word. Both come from Mexico, where winter does not include snow even on its coldest days. They have been commissioned by Bishop Peter Christensen to support the diocese’s Eastern Deanery, which includes Pocatello, Idaho Falls and the rural communities surrounding them, ministering in particular to a Hispanic community that now comprises more than half the Church in Idaho. Both priests will be based at Christ the King Parish in Idaho Falls. According to Father Urzúa, the priests will support the pastoral work of the parishes, including offering Bible studies, weekend retreats and other opportunities for Christian formation. “The purpose is for the faithful to be formed so that they too can share an apostolate within the Church,” he said. “We want the Hispanic faithful to be committed and, as a fruit of seeing more Christian families in Idaho, we will see vocations to the consecrated life increase.” Father Moisés Urzúa Torres, 43, was born in Guadalajara in a Catholic family where the grandparents led the family in praying the Rosary every day. He is the fifth of eight children who were in his family, including five brothers and two sisters. Although he was not part of any youth group in his parish, he was inclined to prayer from childhood and would visit the Blessed Sacrament on his own initiative. In 1999, as a young man, he traveled to California. Focused on work and earning money, he stopped participating in the Church. However, at age 24, he did become involved in a youth group for the first time. It was while attending youth group that he heard a talk from Mother Eva of the Missionary Servants of the Word who came to his California parish to give a talk on missionary life. “Her experience impacted me,” Father Urzúa said. At the end of the talk, members of the religious order invited him to participate in a vocational retreat where they shared their concern for missions and the consecrated life. But, Father Urzúa was not yet convinced. He was also considering the vocation to marriage. He began a courtship that became serious enough that he and his girlfriend began making wedding plans. Because the call to consecrated life still lingered within him, he knew he had to make a decision. After a period of reflection, listening to the advice of his spiritual directors and having a strong encounter with the Lord, he decided that the best way to serve the Lord was in the consecrated life. He said yes to the invitation of the Missionary Servants of the Word, whom he already knew well. Father Urzúa’s training began with basic instruction in the gospel, primarily through biblical courses. Then, the study progressed to include more doctrinal training on the sacraments and the Church. He then dedicated a year to missionary service, followed by a request to enter the community to begin training for religious life. He spent two years as a postulant and they one year in the novitiate to study the charism of the community. Then came 2 ½ years of a stage called “desert’ where they delve deeper into their personal spirituality and then four years of study in theology. After 13 years of training, Father Urzúa was ordained a priest in June 2019, in Cuautitlán, near Mexico City. Among his favorite hobbies are playing basketball, gardening, hiking, reading and cooking. Father Jesús Cruz Hernández, 32, was born in San Luis Potosí. The youngest of five children, he has a brother and three sisters, one of whom is also a member of the Missionary Servants of the Word. Seeing the joy of his sister, Bianca, who entered the Missionary Servants of the Word six years before he did, had a large influence on Father Cruz’s decision to also choose the consecrated life. His entire family is devoutly Catholic, leading Father Cruz to maintain closeness with his faith from an early age. His parents were members of the local Charismatic Renewal group. He noticed an awakening to his vocation as he accompanied his parents to some of their meetings. Still his parents “never imagined that any of their children would consecrate their lives to God,” Father Cruz said. Father Cruz was initially attracted to the study of psychology, but after participating in a number of retreats with young people, he began to feel attracted to the life of the missionaries. They were always cheerful, he said, and he liked their preaching. Once he had decided to pursue the consecrated life, Father Cruz considered a number of religious orders. In October 2006, he participated in a vocational retreat and decided to live with the community of the Missionary Servants of the Word. Initially, Father Cruz intended to dedicate only one year to living in community. However, that experience was so meaningful that he renewed for another two years. During those two years, he visited different parts of Mexico and eventually made the decision to begin formation for religious life. After his first two years of training with the Missionary Servants of the Word, Father Cruz was still not sure that he should enter this particular religious order. With the help of his formation directors and much prayer, he made the decision to choose this order. He was ordained a priest of the Missionary Servants of the Word in June 2019. His first assignment was to come to the Diocese of Boise, but the pandemic forced a considerable delay. This is Father Cruz’s first visit to the United States. His interests are varied. He enjoys soccer, hiking, reading, working with farm animals and sewing. If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it, please consider buying a subscription to the Idaho Catholic Register. Your $20 yearly subscription also supports the work of the Diocese of Boise Communications Department, which includes not only the newspaper, but this website, social media posts and videos. You can subscribe here , or through your parish, or send a check to 1501 S. Federal Way, Boise, ID, 83705: or call 208-350-7554 to leave a credit card payment. Thank you, and God bless you.

Counsel from the priest who counsels Idaho’s priests The following story originally appeared as part of a series of stories on the topic of suicide in the Jan. 15 issue of The Idaho Catholic Register. We will post more stories from the series in the days ahead. From the ancient world to the modern, suicide loss has pained people of all religions and back-grounds. People instinctively turn to priests when they are in crisis, and Father Dr. Ray Carey, Ph.D. wants to ensure that the seminarians in his classes at Mount Angel Seminary in Oregon – where most Idaho seminarians are formed – are prepared to give effective help. “Without fail, priests will be involved with folks who are entertaining suicidal ideation and threatening suicide,” Father Carey said. Unfortunately, priests will also have experience with people who complete suicide and will need to help their families and friends grieve. Those in pastoral care, he said, need three essential things in dealing with suicidality: humility, compassion, and commitment to loving service. A psychologist and priest with the Archdiocese of Portland and an adjunct professor for Mount Angel, Father Carey has traveled more than 2 million miles around the world to direct retreats and educate clergy and laity on counseling issues, including suicide prevention. He received his doctorate in clinical psychology after being ordained in 1970, and has shared his experience and knowledge of counseling at Mount Angel Seminary since 1986. Although Father Carey cautions seminarians that priests are not the same as counselors, his goal is to equip them to recognize when people need professional counseling, including emergency intervention for suicide. Father Carey said there are four primary myths to keep in mind when helping people who are contemplating suicide: 1) If they are talking about suicide, they probably won’t do it. That is not correct. Most people will talk about killing themselves before completing suicide. 2) If the first suicide attempt was unsuccessful, then they aren’t serious about it or are just seeking attention. Also not true. Those with the highest risk of suicide are those who have attempted it before. 3) If you question a depressed person about whether he or she is thinking about suicide, it might put the idea there. On the contrary, asking helps. Asking lets people know that you are concerned for them. It does not give them the idea to do self-harm. 4) If a depressed person is suddenly happy, then the worry that he or she will commit suicide is over. That is not true. Ambivalence is common among those who are contemplating suicide. In fact, the appearance of happiness may mean that someone has made the choice to go through with completing suicide. The idea to take one’s life is not something quickly or easily acquired, Father Carey said. “There is usually an acquired capacity to kill oneself. To work against evolution and our will to stay alive is not easy. So people build up to suicide.” Hardening oneself to suicide, he said, is usually done through violent self-harm such as cutting or hitting oneself. That builds a tolerance to pain and breaks down boundaries of self-preservation. The risk to suicide increases if a person feels he or she is a burden and makes others miserable, or if a person feels that he or she does not belong, Father Carey said. Those most likely to commit suicide are those who have attempted suicide, he said. Also, males over 50 are most likely to complete a suicide, partly because men often have a more difficult time integrating into a community, especially after retirement. Although females threaten suicide four times as often as males do, males are four times more likely to complete it, he said. “One reason why men complete suicide more often is that men generally choose more lethal and irreversible means to do so,” he said. The statistics apply to male and female adolescents as well. However, teens are more likely to complete a suicide than are adults, Father Carey said. The Centers for Disease Control reported in 2019 that suicide was the 10th-leading cause of death for the entire population, but the second-leading cause of death for adolescents. (These statistics were compiled before the onset of the coronavirus pandemic.) Teens can move from a “life-is-great” mentality to suicide very quickly, Father Carey said. They can perceive a seemingly insignificant event as catastrophic – a teacher embarrassed them or someone looked at them wrongly. Teens are more vulnerable to choosing to complete suicide after hearing of another suicide. This is known as the contagion of suicide or the “copycat phenomenon.” Because of this, Father Carey recommends that communities are careful not to memorialize or create a hero out of one who has completed suicide. To deter copycat suicides, Father Carey advises communities to open dialogue with teens. He suggests youth ministers and pastors invite teens to try and understand the painful consequences for the families and friends of those who completed suicide. Instead of memorializing someone who killed him or herself, Father Carey asks teens in a community setting: “What do you think their parents are thinking or feeling? What do you think their siblings are thinking?” This, he said, takes away any perceived honor or fame in suicide and connects it to the tragic pain of loss. One of the most difficult tasks a priest will ever do is give a homily for a young person who completed suicide, Father Carey said. The priest needs to communicate to the family that God loves their child more than they ever could. “The message needs to be God’s lavish love for the person who completed the suicide and for their families. No judgment, no concern about anything else. God is love.” Family and friends, he said, need help understanding that suicide is truly not their fault. “It is a public health issue and not a matter for shame. This isn’t something that goes away easily for those who are surviving,” he said. For laity, the most important thing they can do to prevent suicide is to build a loving community in their parishes, he said. “The more you build a community where people are loved and valued for themselves, the better people cope with the ups and downs of life.” Build a community where everybody is precious and belongs, as opposed to a parish with an emphasis on finance, buildings and programs, said. “That’s why the hospitality ministry of the parish is as important as any other ministry. Welcome others, know names, greet others and treasure the kids instead of complaining.” Being open and welcoming to people at Mass and church events is life-giving, he said. Father Carey recommends the research of Dr. Thomas Joiner, Ph.D., psychologist, author and professor at the Florida State University as a reliable source on suicide. If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it, please consider buying a subscription to the Idaho Catholic Register. Your $20 yearly subscription also supports the work of the Diocese of Boise Communications Department, which includes not only the newspaper, but this website, social media posts and videos. You can subscribe through your parish, or send a check to 1501 S. Federal Way, Boise, ID, 83705: or call 208-350-7554 to leave a credit card payment. Thank you, and God bless you.

Preston's Tilio Perez looks for every opportunity to serve at St. Peter's Chapel. He continues to discern the diaconate. Tilio and Amparo Pérez. (Photo/courtesy Pérez family) Editor’s note: From time to time, the Idaho Catholic Register will profile Hispanic Catholics who have overcome obstacles and achieved much to assimilate into their new home. by Vero Gutierrez Idaho Catholic Register PRESTON – It snows a lot in this small eastern Idaho community. So much so that there are times when Father Sipho Mathabela, the pastor at Good Shepherd in Soda Springs, cannot make the 30-mile drive to St. Peter’s Chapel in Preston. That’s when Tilio Pérez, studying to become a deacon, will preside at a communion service. In a very simple way, but with great emotion, Tilio spoke of the moment during Mass that Father Mathabela appointed him as an Extraordinary Minister of the Eucharist. “I cannot explain the great emotion that I felt when I put the alb on for the first time and went up to the altar to help the priest,” he said. Although Preston is a city in Franklin County, Idaho, it is part of the Logan, Utah, metropolitan area. So, even though this is a heavily Mormon community, the small chapel typically hosted more than 100 Catholics for Mass before the pandemic. Tilio married his wife, Amparo, 26 years ago in the Mexican state of Guanajuato. Tilio, who has been living and working in the United States for 30 years, has his own heavy-duty vehicle in which he transports construction materials. When their children were young, Tilio began to feel a call to the diaconate. His priest, who was also his spiritual director, recommended waiting until his five children were grown. Together with his family, they attended Mass without getting too involved. Tilio thought he was not qualified to help in any ministry in the church. During one Mass when the lectors did not attend, Tilio offered to help. From that time forward, he was available to serve as a lector. One day in 2011, Father Robert Irwin, then the pastor at Good Shepherd Parish, called him. “He said, ‘You are famous! We had a parish council meeting and everyone voted for you to represent the Hispanic community.’ I told the Father I didn’t know anything, but he said not to worry because they would teach me.” Tilio began attending every parish council meeting and stepped up when the need arose for a new parking lot. The Diocese helped financially and Tilio helped secure the materials for construction. The trials and, at times, rejection he has experienced have helped him develop humility, he said. He is always on the lookout, he said, for opportunities to help the Church. For example, when the former choir could no longer continue, Tilio and Amparo organized another choir. When Father Gemán Osorio became pastor in Soda Springs, he helped Tilio to begin his formation process to become a permanent deacon. He is currently in his third year and is scheduled to be ordained in 2022. Tilio and Amparo Pérez celebrated their 25th anniversary last year. Amparo is grateful to God for their decision to have Tilio pursue this vocation, which has drawn both of them closer to the Church. “I know that in most families it is the woman who encourages the man to get closer to God and to the Church,” Amparo said. “But in our family, it was Tilio who encouraged me to attend. Now, I thank him for having done that. And every time I see him discouraged, I encourage him.” When Tilio started his own business, the family had a difficult time, sometimes going months with very little income. “During one difficult time, the priest said they were going to paint the church. I offered to help with everything necessary,” Tilio said. However, the week after he volunteered, work at his own business picked up. Through the years, Tilio has been an important help to every priest who has served as pastor in Soda Springs, serving primarily as the liaison to the Hispanic community to involve them in parish projects. “You just have to be patient and the reward always comes,” Tilio said, recalling the moment when Father Mathabela gave him his blessing to institute him as an Extraordinary Minister of the Eucharist. “Every time the priest needs help, I will be available to proclaim the Word and give communion to the community. In the future, when I become a deacon I want to attract people to the Church by serving with humility and teaching Hispanics to better understand the scriptures.” Para ver esta historia en español, haga clic en el ícono en español en la parte inferior.

The following video about the Year of St. Joseph was produced by Thomas Smith, a retreat and parish mission director based in the Diocese of Boise. He is a parishioner at Holy Spirit Catholic Community in Pocatello.

Sister Beth Mulvaney, CSC, reads to a young patient at Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center. The beloved Sister retires after 21 years at the hospital. (Courtesy photo/Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center) By Emily Woodham Idaho Catholic Register BOISE – Service to the patients, staff and volunteers at Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center was such an integral part of the work of Sister Beth Mulvaney, CSC, and her older sister, Sister Patricia Mulvaney, CSC, that the huge medical campus on Boise's west side named a building after them. The Mulvaney Medical Office Building on the Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center campus in Boise is named in honor of Sisters Patricia and Beth Mulvaney, CSC. Sister Beth Mulvaney of the Sisters of the Holy Cross has been a mainstay at the hospital for 21 years and retires at the end of this month. Sister Patricia Mulvaney, her older sibling who passed away in 2018, was the last religious administrator – the equivalent of president and CEO – for the hospital in the 1970s. The Mulvaney Medical Office Building just behind the hospital’s main building is a testament to their more than 50 years of service. The Mulvaney sisters are part of an extended family of Sisters. Sister Beth was born in Wyoming, the youngest of three girls and two boys. All three girls entered religious life. They were inspired by an aunt, also of the Sisters of the Holy Cross, who visited the family regularly. Sister Beth’s maternal grandfather and his family converted to Catholicism while he was a professor of music at St. Mary’s College in Notre Dame, Indiana. Her mother’s sister became a Sister of the Holy Cross and was a huge influence on the Mulvaney girls. “She was always so much fun,” Sister Beth said of her aunt. “And the other Sisters who came with her were wonderful to us children.” Her two older sisters had made professions with the Holy Cross Sisters when Sister Beth was in grade school. During her years at college, Sister Beth began to discern what would make her life meaningful. "By the time I was ready to graduate, I was pretty sure that God was inviting me to His way of life." She graduated with a degree in English from a Dominican college and it was there that she discerned her calling. She made her first vows in 1967 with the Holy Cross Sisters at St. Mary's College in Notre Dame, Ind. She did not begin her ministry in health care, choosing education as her focus instead. From the Mother House, her work took her to Idaho (teaching English at Bishop Kelly High School from 1968-71), California, Colorado, Utah and the Holy Land. “My Dad used to tease and say, ‘Join Holy Cross and see the world,’ ” Sister Beth said. After teaching in California for a year, Sister Beth returned to Boise to work for the Diocesan Education Office in 1972, the same year she made her perpetual vows. For six years, Sister Beth worked with some of the Benedictine Sisters from St. Gertrude's in Cottonwood and with the late Father Bill Wassmuth. Part of their work was to help formulate catechesis for parishes to incorporate reforms from the recently concluded Second Vatican Council. “This was when all the exciting, wonderful changes were happening in the Church,” Sister Beth said. “After Vatican II, there was an expectation that every member of the Church had a role, that everybody was called to holiness and to be a disciple and even called to be evangelists to share this good news.” Before Vatican II, she said, there was less emphasis on personal responsibility for one’s faith. “It was more about accepting things at face value and doing a checklist of do’s and don’ts,” she said. The influence of Vatican II, she said, has been to prompt Catholics to be willing to ask, “What does this faith really mean in my life?” In 1978, she left Idaho to return to the Mother House at Notre Dame to work with the community. During the 1980s, she spent time in Colorado, helping to form young women for religious life with Holy Cross. She also helped with religious education in parishes in Utah. In 1992, she was asked to coordinate an education program in Galilee, Israel. “Women from different communities in Africa and Asia would come there for a semester. They would have the opportunity to study the scriptures, to make a retreat and to travel to the places where Jesus ministered,” she said. It was only in her most recent calling, for the last 21 years at Saint Alphonsus, that she devoted her ministry to health care. "I think Catholic healthcare offers the whole perspective of Catholic social teaching in a very practical way," Sister Beth said. "The social teaching of the Church is really based on the dignity of the person. When people are sick, that's when they really need that kind of reverence and encouragement of their worth – even when they are not at their best.” At the end of this month, she retires from her role of Mission Educator, a role she has loved. “I’ve been able to offer opportunities for education for staff to really see what’s underneath our mission statement. I can explain why we have these core values of reverence and commitment to whomever comes in the door, and to help them see where that comes from in our Catholic tradition,” she said. A favorite aspect of her work at Saint Al's has been forming relationships with staff, but the COVID-19 pandemic has changed her role significantly. "Rules are changing, and everything is being taught virtually," she said. A replacement has yet to be named. Sister Beth is asking Catholics to pray for a new Mission Educator. Sister Beth is staying in Boise after retirement and is “retiring more into religious life,” looking forward to having more time to read and study. However, she will not be sedentary, she said. She will be accompanying other Sisters who need to discern retirement. I’ll see how I like it myself and then whether or not I can encourage them,” she said with a laugh. “I have been so blessed in my life. God has always opened ways for me,” she said. “It’s such a shame that religious vocations have been declining. I would encourage every young woman to consider a vocation to religious life. It is a fabulous way of relating with God and with other people. Pretty much all along, I’ve been aware that this is really where God wants me.”

Avenues for Hope Campaign raising funds to alleviate a housing crisis that will be compounded due to COVID-19 pandemic Volunteers from St. Vincent de Paul regularly visit clients to check in on their well-being and make an assessment to provide for their needs. (Courtesy photo/Grant Breidenbach) By Emily Woodham Idaho Catholic Register Eradicating homelessness has always been a goal for the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. But the challenge will become even more daunting after the first of the year when government-imposed moratoriums on evictions to help people during the pandemic are set to expire. The Avenues for Hope Campaign helps St. Vincent de Paul and other nonprofits in their mission to assist those who are homeless or in crisis. Using an online platform for donations, the campaign enables St. Vincent de Paul to raise funds to help families and individuals avoid homelessness. For those who do become homeless, the campaign helps them to secure shelter and, eventually, affordable housing. “Forty percent of Idahoans are living paycheck to paycheck without a safety net,” said Grant Breidenbach, marketing director for St. Vincent de Paul Southwest Idaho in Boise. “Just one small or medium financial crisis can send a family into the spiral of homelessness. St. Vincent de Paul believes in providing assistance before that spiral even begins, while people are still in their homes.” Although individuals and businesses are mired by the impact of COVID, they continue to give help to those less fortunate, said Larry Riley, executive director of St. Vincent de Paul North Idaho in Coeur d'Alene. "People have not lost sight of the most needy among us," he said. From its headquarters, the HELP (Helping Empower Local People) Center, St. Vincent de Paul North provides more than 20,000 social services annually, including shelter, food, clothing and low-income housing. Its outreach includes veterans, the elderly and those with mental health challenges. St. Vincent de Paul Southwest responded to more than 8,800 requests for assistance last year, according to Breidenbach. “We were able to help more than 24,000 people stay financially stable, continue in their home and maintain a viable lifestyle.” "The services we provide are possible only through financial generosity," he said. The ability of staff and volunteers of St. Vincent de Paul to respond to requests for help comes through donors, he said. Avenues for Hope is sponsored by the Home Partnership Foundation of the Idaho Housing and Finance Association, with corporations giving additional sponsorship to match donations. The campaign began on Dec. 10 and runs through Thursday, Dec. 31. Each nonprofit has its own page for donations on avenuesforhope.org . The Avenues for Hope fundraiser is “unique and wonderful,” Breidenbach said, because corporate sponsors provide prizes and matching gifts to organizations who can expand the number of their respective donors. The corporate incentives result in an increase of individual donations by as much as 50 to 100 percent, Breidenbach said. With many fundraising events cancelled because of the pandemic, helping families and individuals through Avenues for Hope is especially important, said north Idaho’s Riley. “For people to think about others, when they’re struggling themselves, is incredibly humbling. The Christmas season is definitely going to be different this year. Having Avenues for Hope by our side to help keep us from falling is very rewarding.”

Advent is both waiting and fulfillment Benedictine priest Patrick Regan called Advent “the dawn in time of the fullness of time, the entrance into history of the goal of history, the appearance in one man of the ultimate future of all.” This appearance is no superficial cameo: in his incarnation, Christ rejected nothing of our humanity except sin. Our pain, our sorrow, our big and small joys, our particular bonds of love for each other that must be loosed at the end of life – even death itself – all these were accepted and manifested by him. Advent is both waiting and fulfillment. It is itself a salvific time, because contained within Advent is Easter. That is, that which we hope for is already present. This is nothing less than a breathtaking reality of overwhelming hope. Words that tumble into mind and crowd upon each other – nativity, epiphany, parousia – these are mysteries best grasped by the heart. Advent is the doorway to all these, as it is the doorway to the unfolding mystery that is the entire liturgical year. Fragrant wreaths of evergreen, shining with candlelight; St. Nicholas’ gifts of gleaming gold; the pregnant Lady of Guadalupe, astonishingly surrounded by tender roses – these symbols of hope work through our senses, not our logic, to orient us from the inside out as we recommit to the journey that began with our baptism. This season, perhaps we should embrace an interior approach; one that, in trust and vulnerability, allows faith, hope, and love to sprout and root in darkness and silence, as a seed does, as a baby does, as the infant Jesus did, when he and all humanity awaited His birth.

Some historians think Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin (his last name means, “the eagle who speaks”) was an Aztec prince. When he was 47, in 1521, the conquistador Hermán Cortés took Mexico for Spain. Being an opportunist, Cortés allied himself with some indigenous peoples while he fought with others. Soon after establishing rule, Cortés asked the king of Spain and the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (1519-1556) to send only Franciscans and Dominicans to the newly conquered lands. Although Cortés did not live an exemplary Christian life himself, he wanted Christianity to be established in the New World. Because the diocesan priests of Spain had a reputation for indulging in vices, he insisted that only priests from mendicant Orders (under a vow of poverty) would be effective missionaries. The King sent a Franciscan friar, Juan de Zumárraga, as the first Bishop of Mexico in 1528. Unfortunately, Bishop Zumárraga was sent before he was actually consecrated, making him a bishop in title only. He was also given the title of “Protector of the Indians,” with the duty to protect the indigenous peoples from the abuses of civil authorities and merchants. However, because he was not officially a bishop, his opinions and decrees held little sway over the rich and powerful Spanish in Mexico. Two of the converts from the Franciscan missionaries were Juan Diego and his wife, Maria. Maria died in 1529 at 55 just a few years after their conversion. Having no children, Juan Diego went to live with his elderly uncle, Juan Bernardino, who had raised him after his parents’ deaths. The two men were dedicated to their newfound faith and were as involved as they could be with the Franciscan community, which was 11 miles away. On December 9, 1531, on his way to a Saturday morning Mass, Juan Diego heard beautiful music as he passed the hill of Tepeyac. As he became more enraptured with the music, he saw a brilliant cloud and rainbow. The singing suddenly stopped and he heard a woman’s soft voice, calling him from the top of the hill. When he reached the top, he saw a stunning indigenous maiden. She spoke to him in his native language. “Know it, be sure, my son, that I am the always perfect Virgin Mary, Mother of the true God by Whom one lives, the God who is the Creator of all people,” she said. She told him to go to the Bishop of Mexico and tell him to build a church for her on that hill. Juan Diego immediately went to Bishop Zumárraga. The bishop was skeptical, but he agreed to think about what Juan Diego had said. The next day, a Sunday, Juan Diego saw Our Lady again. She told him to return to the bishop with the same message. Juan Diego repeated everything to the bishop who asked for a sign. Juan Diego returned to the Lady that afternoon. She told him to return the following day when she would give him more information about the sign for the bishop. However, on that Monday morning, Juan Diego’s uncle became seriously ill with a fever. His condition worsened through the day and night. The morning of Tuesday, Dec. 12, Juan Diego left his uncle’s side to get a priest for Last Rites. Afraid that Our Lady would not be pleased that he had not returned on Monday, Juan Diego tried to go a different way around the hill to the Franciscan mission, but she still appeared to him. He explained to her about his uncle’s illness and why he did not obey her wishes. She was not angry. Instead, she replied, after calling him her son, “Let your face and your heart not be disturbed; do not fear this disease or any other disease, or painful piercing thing. Am I not here, who am your mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not the source of your joy? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? Do you need anything else?” After encouraging Juan Diego with the news that his uncle was healed, she told him to gather flowers from an area of the hill that was usually barren, especially in winter. He filled his tilma – a long apron worn by the indigenous peoples – with fragrant, sumptuous flowers and brought them back to Our Lady. She arranged them and told him to take them to the bishop. As he unfurled his tilma before the bishop, an image of Our Lady just as she appeared to him as a radiant young indigenous woman was emblazoned on the cloth in brilliant detail. This was not only a declaration that Juan Diego’s message to build a church on Tepeyac was true, but also that the truth of Christianity was for every person for all time, just as the Ever-Virgin Mary was Mother of all. When Juan Diego returned to his uncle, he found him healed as Our Lady promised. In fact, she visited Juan Bernardino and told him that the image of her was to be known as the Perfect Virgin, Holy Mary of Guadalupe. A temporary church was built in less than two weeks. Juan Diego gave his possessions to his uncle and built a hut next to the church so that he could live near her image. For the rest of his life, he served the church and helped pilgrims. He was well loved for his patience, kindness and faithfulness. By 1538, just seven years after the initial vision, it was estimated that 8 million indigenous people converted to Christianity. Juan Diego died peacefully on May 30, 1548. He was canonized by St. Pope John Paul II in 2002. St. Juan Diego is the patron saint of indigenous people. His feast day is December 9.