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By Thea Jarvis
One a clear, cold February Thursday in the gold-tapped hills of
Dahlonega, it is time for the St. Lukes lunch bunch to meet.
Opening the noontime festivities at the combination
rectory/Catholic center a block down from the church, Glenmary pastor Father
Bob Poandl gathers his friends around him for a toast to new life. Church
bulletin editor Frances Boerners new grandchild is due any time, and that
warrants a moment of special celebration.
Parishioner Rosemary Fraker has turned out a feast of spaghetti
with mushrooms, despite her throbbing feet, and bearded Glenmary volunteer Mark
Bornholdt all six-plus feet of him has had his appetite on hold
since eleven. Frances two daughters and their young children join hands
for the blessing with the others and lunch begins.
Throughout the meal, a Thursday tradition since Father Bobs
arrival three years ago, people come and go amidst catch-up conversation and
parish news.
The first time we had the Methodist minister over for
Thursday lunch, recalls Frances with unmasked glee, we gave Father
Bob a slotted spoon for his soup. He remarked to our visitor that he sometimes
has to put up with a lot from his friends.
Francois Pelissier, the Glenmary deacon who began life in France
and ended up riding a bicycle through the north Georgia hills, strolls in,
grabs a cupcake, and asks for word on the newly-appointed Archbishop of Paris.
When someone mentions his big-wheeled bicycle, a familiar sight on
the streets of Dahlonega, he claims the vehicle for his homeland.
Its a Japanese bike that I bought in Washington, but the wheels are
definitely French!
The doorbell rings and Father Bob takes time out for an elderly
gentleman in need of help. The parish eyeglass and denture fund comes to the
aid of many like him who are financially unable to take care of basic health
needs.
When lunch is over, Mark helps Rosemary with the dishes. Ruby
appears, looking for Father Bob. A spare, gray-haired lady who has known many
north Georgia winters, she enjoys a hot cup of coffee and one of
Rosemarys cupcakes while she shares news of her invalid son, confined to
a wheelchair since an auto accident.
The parade of people continues. Father Bob counsels quietly in the
dining room with a man experiencing stress in his marriage. Donna, a new
convert who has recently moved from Newnan with her husband, has forgotten the
name of a thoughtful parishioner who invited her to dinner. She is looking for
a parish roster.
A St. Louis physician who came to Dahlonega two years ago with a
federal fund health project and decided to make north Georgia his home stops by
after hospital rounds, joining Donna for coffee and a chat at the kitchen
table.
The observing eye of an outsider registers what is clearly
apparent to St. Lukes parishioners the church is a hub, a center,
around which a community gathers to share life. The relationships formed here
run deep, like the gold that was once mined in the Dahlonega countryside.
Here, in the foothills of the Appalachians, the heart of the
Archdiocese of Atlanta enlarges, as the Charities Drive reaches out to support
those in rural ministry.
Our archdiocesan grant from that once-a-year Drive frees us
up to use our own resources and expand our outreach, both within the Catholic
community and beyond it, where great numbers of unchurched are in need,
said Father Bob.
He rejects the notion of sleepy little mountain towns where
a sense of well-being prevails. He finds, instead, that the realities of
poverty, divorce, hunger, and unemployment are no strangers to the hills.
We tithe 10 percent of our monthly parish collection for the
needs of the poor. This emergency fund helps out with food, clothing, medicine,
utility payments basic needs, Father Bob continued. But the
greatest gift we can give people, beyond these necessities, is hope, love and
caring. The best way to do this is together, as a community of Catholics.
To this end, the Glenmary dynamo has initiated parish renewal
weekends for his 400 parishioners spread over the three-parish, four-county
mission territory St. Paul the Apostle in Cleveland, St. Francis of
Assisi in Blairsville, and St. Lukes in Dahlonega.
Presently, about 45 percent of our adults have experienced
the renewal weekend, he said with pride. We are focusing on loving
each other, building warm and affectionate relationships with the members of
our Catholic community. It really works!
It is working outside the Catholic community as well. Father Bob,
who belongs to three ministerial associations in the area, shares prayer and
lunch with the local Presbyterian minister once a week. Ecumenical dialogue is
ongoing with the Baptist and Methodist congregations, in addition to
evangelical churches that dot the rural countryside.
During our parish renewal, said Father Bob, the
local churches prayed for us during their Sunday morning services. When the
renewal was over, they expressed real interest in how it went.
The chilly February Thursday in the hills moves toward
midafternoon. St. Paul the Apostle Church in Cleveland, 20 miles up the road,
awaits the three oclock arrival of the Glenmary spirit.
Mark Bornholdt, who is using his volunteer time to determine the
direction of his own vocation, bids a quick farewell to Father Bob and friends,
and heads his car northeast through winding mountain roads, past quiet dairy
farms whose grasses have browned with the winter frosts.
Franciscan Sisters Lene Rubly and Joan Meyer, Father Bob
Poandls pastoral associates and religious education coordinators for the
three rural parishes, welcome Mark at the Cleveland Catholic Center, which is
their home. This afternoon, each corner of the snug and tidy white frame house
will be filled with children from three to 14 years old, eager to renew their
faith and taste a cookie in the warmth of the sisters kitchen.
Four years ago, we began with five students and two
teachers, recalled Sister Joan. Today we have 39 children and eight
teachers in Cleveland alone.
The sisters ministry includes summer Bible schools in the
surrounding counties and visitation of the sick and elderly.
This work is really marvelous, said Sister Joan with
enthusiasm. She smiles readily at the children as they pass through her kitchen
toward the large living room where all ages gather for opening instruction.
Its such a challenge and a joy to see the growth to see the
level of involvement of the people here.
The Catholic community in Cleveland is visible testimony to that
growth, and a living example of how our generosity in the Charities Drive each
year has sought to reach out beyond its own boundaries to nurture the life of
the Church.
For nine years, Cleveland Catholics celebrated Mass in the
Methodist church, said Sister Joan Meyer. We were finally able to
purchase some local farmland and renovated a house on the property for a church
of our own. This first church will become a residence for religious when we
complete our all-purpose building.
The new structure, scheduled for completion in 1982, will be built
by the men of St. Paul the Apostle parish and will serve as church and parish
hall until other buildings are added. Two Glenmary brothers will supervise the
construction.
For the present, however, the Catholic children of Cleveland are
anxious to begin their afternoon together. Joining hands with Sister Joan,
Sister Lene, Mark and the other teachers, they pray the Our Father as a sign of
the faith they share.
Shadows begin to gather as the afternoon draws to a close. Later
this evening, Mark will rendezvous with Father Bob close to the North Carolina
border at the newly dedicated church of St. Francis of Assisi in Blairsville.
There they will celebrate seven oclock Mass with the Catholic community.
It has been a day of faith and commitment in the Catholic outposts
of the rural South, a day shared not only by Father Bob Poandl and his fellow
ministers Francok, Mark, Sister Joan and Sister Lene but one
shared by all members of the Archdiocese of Atlanta as the mission ministry
goes on.
Here, gifts generously given by the people of God in north Georgia
is their one-day annual drive nourish, renew, and expand the Body of Christ in
remote rural communities.
Stop in for lunch some Thursday at St. Lukes and see for
yourself. |