THIRTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE CEMETERY - WHILE STILL ALIVE
Fr. Raniero Alessandrini, C.S. - Missionary of St. Charles (Scalabrinians)

Rome is my hometown. I was born there sixty-seven years ago. I grew up in a city that sees in its streets churches and ancient ruins of the past, pilgrims and tourists from all corners of the world. Since my childhood I was exposed to different expressions of cultures and races. This was an experience that would influence my choice later on in life.


I was only seven years old when the Second World War shocked Europe and Italy in particular. Food was scarce and every night we would go to bed hungrily and fully clothed, ready to run for safety as soon as the siren would announce the approaching war airplanes. Protected in the bunker, we would wait hours for the alarm to give us the signal for a safe return to our apartments immersed in darkness. During those long hours, at the light of a flickering candle, I was sad and wondered why people would hate each other so much and endanger the life of children and families. It was a day of great rejoicing when the Canadian and the American forces finally freed Rome, June 4, 1944.
Close to home there was a small chapel with the bare essentials for the celebration of the Eucharist on Sunday. I loved to be an altar server, wearing the red cassock with a long line of buttons. I felt protected and close to the divine, immersed in the cloud of incense that would fill the whole chapel. In the Lord, people of every nation would discover each other as brothers and sisters.

Every Sunday two Scalabrinian Fathers would come to celebrate the Eucharist. Their welcoming and joyful presence nourished in my heart a desire for a consecration to God as his priest. After a year or so one of them invited me to their home on the hill of Giannicolo – a popular tourist spot just behind the basilica of St. Peter. It was there that I discovered that those two priests were missionaries. I was put to the test. On the wall of the vast refectory hall hung a huge map of the whole world. Fr. John pointed the city of Rome and slowly moved to the right all the way to Australia. "If you were sent to Sydney," he asked, "would you go?" I stood puzzled and bewildered. I was just eleven years old and had never left Rome except for a short two hours trip north to my father's birth place. I mumbled a feeble "yes." The same finger slowly moved westward and stopped at San Francisco. I heard the same challenging question: "Would you go?" This time my positive response was more prompt and resolute.

Years have passed since that encounter. I have visited Sydney and San Francisco and many other cities in Europe, Mexico, Guatemala, the United States and Canada. I have visited them as a Missionary of St. Charles, with a special attention to the needs of migrants and refugees who roam around the world looking for freedom and the opportunity of starting a new life for themselves and their children. My pastoral experience in Edmonton, Alberta, in the seventies was challenging. I was caring for the many refugees from Chile, arriving with their sandals and ponchos during the bitter climate of winter with its twenty-five degrees below zero.

Presently I am pastorally involved with the Spanish-speaking community in Vancouver. We have migrants and refugees from twenty-two different nations ranging from Mexico, Spain, South and Central America.

Trusting in the welcoming Christian spirit of our beautiful multi-cultural city, I am helping these needy brothers and sisters realize their dream of a new life with freedom and opportunities. A sharing of different cultures and values will make of our city a living example of harmony in diversity.



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