Friars of the Renewal in Texas

My wife read the below article and by some flight of fancy decided to go visit the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal community in Fort Worth. On her way she went to a 7-11 and bought all of their hot dogs then distributed them with our seven and six year olds to the homeless near the friary. That's pretty much my wife in miniature - she decides something ought to be done and it gets done. It's a quite effective trait to have with an often recalcitrant husband. She noted that they were very warm and happy men (as is often the case for men doing such work in my experience) that she hopes to see again soon.

Below is one recent article on them, another can be found here.

(Star Telegram) By TERRY LEE GOODRICH
It's 5:55 a.m., and the birds are chirping outside a tiny building behind a church in east Fort Worth.

Inside the building, a man with a long beard rings a bell.

Nearby, three other men in small rooms rouse themselves from their sleeping bags. No hitting a snooze button here; prayer time is a mere five minutes away.

So begins a day in the life of four Franciscan friars, who have been invited to Fort Worth by Bishop Kevin Vann of the Fort Worth Catholic Diocese to evangelize and serve the poor, the homeless and the jobless indefinitely.

Each morning, the men at the Sacred Heart of Jesus Friary arm themselves for the job. They don their sandals and long gray habits and head to the chapel for their first spiritual food of the day -- prayer and Mass. That done, they go on to their physical sustenance -- cereal and toast.

These men with shaved heads, who spend a third of their waking hours in prayer and meditation, are an unlikely assortment. They used to be:

An atheist from London who majored in mechanical engineering.

A New York City power company technician who defended his Christian faith to college classmates.

A party boy from Keller who figured on a wife, kids and an engineering career -- until he found that St. Francis of Assisi was more than the guy depicted in lawn ornaments.

An Irish farmer who left his green fields after a documentary on St. Francis convinced him that becoming a friar was "like every adventure I'd searched for."

The friars, ages 26 to 46, began their mission in Fort Worth in August.

They have taken a vow of chastity; the Virgin Mary is the woman in their lives.

They have taken a vow of poverty; they have only two habits each.

And they have taken a vow of obedience. They say they follow Jesus' charge to his followers to spread the message of forgiveness and love to anyone who will listen.

A life free of distractions

It is a simple life.

No cellphones, no Internet, no TV. They don't even have a microwave or dishwasher at the friary, behind Our Mother of Mercy Catholic Church on Terrell Avenue.

"That would be a distraction for us. That's part of our renunciation," says Brother Mariano, 26, formerly Jonathan Demma of Keller.

They do have a washing machine -- and an alarm clock. The men alternate ringing the morning bell, and the alarm clock ensures that the "waker-upper" does not oversleep.

They regularly take a 30-minute walk in the mornings -- or hop into one of their two donated, decade-old SUVs -- to the Fort Worth Day Resource Center for the Homeless. Sometimes they visit an abortion clinic, carrying an message of opposition to abortion.

At the day resource center, they talk and pray with the jobless and homeless people, offer encouragement and sometimes immediate, practical solutions to problems -- like taking a jobless woman to a repair shop to fix her Chevy Malibu's tire, which had a nail and needed a patch. The garage owner gives a price break; the friars pay with donated money.

Outside the day resource center, a young man with piercing blue eyes talks with Brother Patrick, 30, formerly Barry Crowley of County Cork, Ireland.

"So, you're Irish," says the man, Joseph Dowdy, 21, of Arlington. "Yeah, you're Irish -- you've got an accent."

Dowdy, who has bipolar disorder, talks about leprechauns running around at night beneath trees. He says he likes Irish beer -- and to pray every day. He tells Brother Patrick about an Irish friend who drowned in a river.

"Say a prayer for him," Brother Patrick says.

Dowdy has one pair of socks; he hopes to buy another pair and a sleeping bag. He wants a job as a janitor, but in the meantime relies on periodic checks from his mother.

Another fellow wanders past and gives the friars a curious stare.

"Are you monks?" he asks.

"We're friars -- like monks in the city," explains Brother Peter, 35, formerly James Westall of London.

"Well, God bless you," the man says. "I'm a little tipsy now; you have a good day."

Nearby is an unmarried pregnant woman named Rebecca, 31, whose delivery date is 10 days away. She says the friars have given her hope. She has decided to keep the baby and name it Miracle. She said the friars are trying to help her get on the waiting list for a crowded shelter for women and children, and she is trying to overcome drinking problems. She hopes to go to cosmetology school and eventually support herself.

With empathy and respect

Christie Mosley, a social worker at the Day Resource Center, said the friars are patient and not pushy.

"Sometimes, with some religious groups, it's 'Oh, they're hopeless. We have to save them,'" she said. "Some groups can be very patronizing.

"The friars always ask the client first if they want to just talk or have someone sit with them. I've seen them pray with people, but they don't push religious literature, and I don't see anything but empathy and respect from them."

Bishop Vann praised the friars in a written statement, saying their commitment to opposing abortion and helping the poor is "a blessing and benefit.

"We are still in the discernment process with the friars and their superiors on what works they will undertake in Fort Worth," he said.

The friars said they have found that food and clothing are available to the poor through such organizations as the Salvation Army, Union Gospel Mission and the Presbyterian Night Shelter. But many healthcare needs are unmet -- especially dental work.

"What's kind of missing, too, is family life," Brother Patrick said. "There's a lot of loneliness in the midst of so much community."

The friars stress that they are not social workers or trained counselors.

"Our aim is to bring Jesus Christ to these people," Brother Patrick said. "How? One thing that comes to mind straightaway is the first contact. You try to build up the dignity. A listening ear seems to be the best means of reaching them to begin with."

Brother Peter said he finds inspiration from a small woman with a huge heart.

"Mother Teresa said that once you've reached out to people, faith can move in," he said.