CMI Fellowship at Herrington and the 'Padilla' Fathers

It was a great fellowship of BJP (Bijnor - Jagdalpur Party) in the US (of all places).  I too was roped into the company thanks to my association with Abraham who was always friendly with me (I have hardly any friends in the congregation or even outside - perhaps, it ought to be so, with Jesus alone as the true friend.  But I cannot make such claims as well, though I love the song 'What a friend...').  

Community praying had always held an attraction for me, and it still retains its charm for me, despite 43 years gone in this lifestyle. In the past few years, I have made it a point to do the obligatory mass by the priest, to the extent possible, with a community. 

So, when I heard about this online prayer group of CMIs praying the liturgy of the hours together daily, I was fascinated and requested to be added to the group, which they did gladly.  Then I observed that most of the members were either from Bijnor province or Jagdalpur province - and I consider myself, even now, part of the Bijnor CMI community and diocese.  Technically, now I am made part of it on deputation by the Provincial for this term.

It was an added blessing that I could fit my limited free days in the US with the planned gathering of the group at Herrington. We had a great gathering, fellowship and good fun. 

I was glad to be in the quaint rural town of Herrington, Kansas.  We had a strenuous day with a 480-mile ride, with just two stops. The first one was at the border between Colorado and Kansas - Kanarado. It was a great place to welcome someone into one's state.  Even a welcome tea/coffee! The two officers at the post are keen to introduce the state and its possibilities for an exploring traveller.  They encouraged us to take with us the packets of sunflower seeds, sunflower being the state flower - the region having had huge 8ft tall species. 

We reached at around 4 pm in the sleepy town, where the Church is a prominent institution. Fr George and the visiting young CMI from Ghana, Fr Jomi were busy preparing food - the former engrossed in the classic 'asiad' (the high-range version of the mix of tapioca & beef, considered to be a wholesome meal) within the rectory and the latter, with frying fish, Kerala style, in the garage, lest the rectory starts smelling foul.  It had been almost 30 years plus since I had ever involved in any such matter. There was fish and shrimp to be fried.  Four of us with our limited expertise salvaged the fish and shrimp, fit to be eaten, even delicious!! Our MSJ sisters from Denver gave the finishing touches to the typical high-range kappa biriyani.   (I also learnt that in these regions, besides the term 'cassava', tapioca is also called 'yucca root'.) 

Our exploration around the place led us to the park of the town - Fr Padilla park! This was interesting for us Malayalees. പാടില്ല പാടില്ല നമ്മെ നമ്മൾ പാടെ മറന്നൊന്നും ചെയ്തുകൂടാ!  We interpreted it as a deliberate ploy by the lone priest who is a Malayalee to warn his guests against the prevailing situation of anti-clergy sentiments, especially with respect to sex scandals.  

So 'Fr. Padilla' was meant to be an indirect warning to all those Malayalee priests, his only likely guests, without making it obvious, that they 'should not indulge' in any such activities not befitting priestly sanctity! So we took pictures with each of us against the board, warning and reminding each of us 'Fr Padilla' (instead of saying 'beware! father!).  

Fr Padilla was the founding father of the Christian community of Herrington - more than a century ago.  According to Fr George, he was an Italian priest. The park has a stream flowing into its centre being managed as a reservoir, and fountain in the middle of it and a walkway around it. Trout could be fished with permission from the town office.  

The small township has two other church buildings - of some other christian denominations - almost in a dilapidated condition.  Many houses were found to be empty, perhaps left with no occupants any more.  Yet the township had a common area for work out, and a swimming pool, as well - as early as 1980s, indicating a thriving community in those times!  But we found them to be in a state of neglect. There was a small restaurant and a pub, and the whole area seemed to be quiet.  A police vehicle passed by and stopped and said hello, perhaps, a pleasant way of ensuring that strangers in the neighbourhood mean no trouble. 

About 20 miles from the St. John the Evangelist Church is a local pilgrim centre of the local young man turned military chaplain, SoG Fr Emil Kapaun, who is now reckoned to have exhibited extraordinary moral courage as a priest and a Christian when he served the US military in South Korea, where he was put to death by the Korean military in the 1950s.  We were enthusiastically taken around and guided by the parishioner and volunteer custodian of the pilgrim centre. 

We visited the old time Chec-parish in the name of the Immaculate Mother, with the church dedicated to St. John of Nepomuce, who happens to be the patron of our mother parish, Konthuruty,  and in a way, even my own! 

Our fellowship discussions traversed frivolous territories with elements from the texts of liturgy and the hours. One of the puzzles was where in the liturgy was 'Benny' found to be listed among the patriarchs - we found the same in 'പൂർവ്വ പിതാവാമബ്രാഹം ഇസഹാക്ക് യാക്കോബെന്നിവർ' - courtesy, Provincial Fr Benny Nalkara;  Now it's argued that even Benny (Benjamin) is among the patriarchs! Then there was the puzzle of where coffee making was considered to be a biblical mandate for men - and we discovered in the Hebrews (as He brews).  All of us, irrespective of our liturgical schools regretted the deletion of a vital theological statement from the new Zero-Jesus text of liturgy - ദൈവത്തോടുള്ള സമാനത മുറുകെ പിടിക്കേണ്ട കാര്യമായി പരിഗണിക്കാതെ... - and found that the deletion of this attitude was behind the entire conflict on the basis of the ritualistic celebration.  People seem to have many things to be 'held tight' (മുറുകെ പിടിക്കാൻ) with great possessiveness, and with least Jesus possession!

At night the gathering gained momentum with the arrival of Fr Benny Ayathupadam with whom I had spent one year at the Bishop's house, Bijnor; Fr James Panackal and Fr Cyriac who was at Dharmaram when we were pursuing philosophy courses. It happened to be the feast of Abraham, the patriarch. So Abraham's patron's day, and

completion of 60 (shashtipurti! Oh boy! Can't imagine that we are all growing old, and turning sixty😇, hopefully, still managing to be not nasty), goodbye to Fr Jomi, welcome to me etc. were part of the celebration, with karutal father (Fr George, who even otherwise has an aura of an ammachi) taking care of greeting and gifting everyone.  (My younger brother and through him my entire family had come to be much attached to Fr George, as he took the initiative to take care of him and enquire after him, when he was struggling with acute sinusitis while being a fresher at St. John's, Bangalore).

The morning saw the MSJ associates also joining the celebration leading to a solemn eucharistic celebration which Jomi and I had to miss out as we had catch our plane back to New York. 

With our dean Fr George in the lead, we found a Bijnor fellowship too - with me being deputed to work in the province for next 3 years, we were four of us there! 

We felt that it was high time that Fr George was acknowledged as ബദ്രിനാഥിൻറെ വാതിൽ (akin to the ancient Archdeacon as മലബാറിന്റെ വാതിൽ).  So we had a special picture taken. 

Jomi was indeed on an 'odyssey' with a 3 hour trip to New York - then next morning, a 13 hour flight to Dubai, a 10 hour halt there, and then another 8 or 9 hours to West Africa, Ghana!  I hope he enjoyed it! 

Local Travel and Public Transport in New York

Sep. 30, 2023

Sometimes, we Malayalees in Keralam cut a joke on our local transport system. After seeing off someone, usually, to the Middle East or to far-east places like Malaysia, Singapore or Hongkong, we say that the time taken for the air trip and the trip back home would be almost the same, indicating the road or traffic conditions of our place.

New York has an excellent network of subway trains, suburban trains, city and suburban buses, and ferries most of them linked to MTA (Metro Transit Authority). Most of them can be accessed by the single Metro Card, which appears the same to me since I first used it in 2001. In those days one trip without any break (i.e., stepping out at any station), but with a single transfer (i.e., bus to subway, subway to ferry, or perhaps even bus to bus), was of $1.5, today it is $2.75. There is a day pass with which you could make any number of trips for a day (ONE day $1500; TWO day $1900; THREE day $ 2200) which are very affordable, provided you have plans to move around in and around the city, and know where to go.

Yesterday, September 29th, New York witnessed rainfall, aid to be very unusual. In some parts of the city, it rained 6 inches, and in our part of the outskirts of New York, about 5 inches, which is said to be  a month’s rain in a day.

And I had plans to reach V Avenue at 42nd Street so as to experience my first encounter with the famous Broadway shows. [This time, it was indeed in my wish-list, and it was likely that I would have had an experience, as my newly found Salesian friend Fr. Geo, a Ph D scholar in education, serving a neighbouring parish had assured me that he would make arrangements for an affordable ticket for one of the current shows. Then came the message from Vijay, who said that he was coming to New York for a few days. When I matched our days, the only day available to me to be with him was the day of his arrival — i.e., 29th. I welcomed him to come to the Rectory, see our century plus old church (of a parish 175 years old — hopefully, more of it later). and go. Then he asked if there was some suggestion on my part regarding what to be done/seen in New York. This set me thinking — of course, New York has any number of attractions that can engage one for week or two — museums, parks, beaches, buildings, churches, theatre shows…. But I concluded that statue of liberty should be one iconic item a visitor should see, then I suggested ground zero, and if time permits, its 9/11 museum. (This is the industriousness of New York. A terrible tragedy has now been converted into a source of national unity, courage and inspiration, and a centre of attraction which itself is a good business!). Then it occurred me to suggest also the Broadway shows of which I have heard many go ga-ga, but which I could never see, because of my standards of affordability. Then it all happened quickly, Vijay made up his mind to watch one of the top-rated shows — Hamilton or The Book of Mormons, and after doing some superficial survey, I said my preference would be Hamilton. My friend Geo has some access to some concessional tickets to the shows, So I checked with him if his channel could work in this matter — but, no. This was beyond any such possibilities. It was the most highly rated play playing now for almost 10 years plus, and still going houseful. Vijay acts quickly. He informs that two tickets have been reserved. Naturally, I think it is on him.

Then he also suggests a dinner somewhere to which also I was not averse, but indicated that his arriving at 2 pm, then checking in at the hotel, and then arriving at Manhattan from Queens may take some time. But there he goes, and books a table for both of us at Burger & Lobster, near Bryant Park.]

It was indeed raining cats and dogs or worse on 29th. A funeral was concluded with the Church ceremonies, and the body was to be buried by the funeral home people, with no relatives being present. My well-meaning priest friends advise me that it would be better I cancel the program and reaching the town would be really tough, and if one is getting stranded somewhere, it may be really chaotic, with the church to be opened next day, and the mass to be said at 7 am.

But I ventured out in the rain — there was news of flood all around. My confrere Sebastian who tried to come over to our place to meet me, had to go back as the roads were flooded. I put on my wind-cheater and over that the thin pocket raincoat (which I had not been able to fold into my pocket in spite of my many attempts). Got a №42 bus which took me in the rain, almost without much delay to subway station at 241 Street. We didn’t come across any flooding. There was train no. 2 waiting in the subway, but it was being announced that on account of the floods, the service would stop at 110 St. When I checked the map, I found it was in central park, and only a few miles away from 42nd street. If needed, walkable, and that would serve as my work out. But once out on the 110 street, I found the bus stop in the direction of 42nd street, and there appeared to be several buses going that way. So, it was cool, and in about 300 metres I was at Bryant Park, and another 10 minutes of figuring out, I could be comfortably there at Burgers and Lobsters at sharp 5.30 pm.

By the time, we were free from the Hamilton play, it was almost 10.30 pm. And we reach the 42nd street station near Bryant Park, and without any delay, there is a no. 7 train, 2 stops later we part out ways, I get down to catch a №6 train which takes me to Pelham Bay Park where I find Fr Biju waiting for me (in spite of his long journey from London after his vacation), and we hit our residence by 1200.

But the rain was so heavy that the effect was to continue for the next day, when I had to fly out to Denver from Newark airport, New Jersey. It appeared that I was not getting any ride to Newark airport, about 45 to 50 miles away. My flight is at 6.20 pm. So, I plan to start in advance pack my things, and walk almost half a mile to the bus stop of Church Street. There was supposed to be a bus no. 42 at 11.59. On Saturdays, there is a special schedule, and the frequency is much less when compared to the weekdays. I arrive at 11.57 am. But the bus does not appear to be anywhere around. After 25 minutes of wait, a bus no. 60 arrives. When I ask for help the driver is not very forthcoming with guidance 0 perhaps, our communication does not really match.

I ask someone for guidance, and most of them appear not to be familiar with English. I get a black woman to give me some idea, and she suggests a stop from where I could walk a block and get a No. 5 train. So, I get prepared to get down, and then the driver intervenes and says he would tell me where to get down to catch a subway train. I agree, as I think the driver would be more familiar. Now the bus stops at almost every crossroad, and at almost every cross road there are signals. The bus stop is just before the signal, and driver is very calm about that. He sees that everyone gets out, and everyone gets in, gets sufficient time and ease to swipe their tickets or insert their coins, by when the traffic signal turns red, and he is least perturbed. I feel the system is good and customer friendly but I get worries about the delay. Finally, he drops me at the train station at 233rd street, where I could get either No. 2 or No. 5 trains. The trip of less than 10 miles takes almost an hour.

After a wait of almost 15 minutes, I get a No. 2 train which appears quite unwilling to move. At a later stop, where I read that it is possible to get an express train No. 5, I get down wait another 10 minutes to get an express train 5, which takes me to Grand Central station quite fast. I am there by about 2.15 pm. I feel there is no time to go for cheaper modes, and seek directions for the Air Port shuttle, and just about 500 metres on Lexington Avenue of 41st street. I meet the driver and he is all set to go, and the ticket can be taken by paying him then and there. I pay $21.50. The coach starts off with just 6 or 7 passengers, it takes a turn, makes two more stops not far from the starting point, and to my surprise the bus is almost full. It crosses Lincoln tunnel, runs smoothly for less than an hour, and we are dropped at the terminal of our choice at Newark, well ahead of time.

But the commuting by public transport for less than 40 miles in the commercial capital of the world takes me 3 hours and 20 minutes. On any given day, if I were to take the example of Keralam, the 40 odd kilometres from my residence in Kochi would have taken, a maximum of 2 hours, perhaps, with a last leg being done in an autorickshaw. However, for our Kochi airport, we get an AC electric bus shuttle from Aluva which would take just about 30 minutes to reach the airport, reducing almost half hour in the expected total. I feel that generally, the public transport system in Keralam is much more easily accessible, though it could still be drastically improved.

I observe that in New York, now almost everyone is using one app or another to track the public transport system. Two senior women to whom I spoke at the New Rochelle bus stop, could give me some information by looking at the app, though I thought they would be a generation far away from such app-culture. 

Had I used my own car or had someone dropped me, for the gas burned it would have cost a maximum of $15, and perhaps, less than 90 minutes one way. Here I spent about $25 one way, and nearly three and half hours! But I saved from adding almost another 30 kilos of carbon dioxide to the atmosphere, is that a poor consolation? Have I been ‘penny wise and pound foolish’ in trying to experiment with public transport?

In the huge city of New York, almost every part is connected by public transport.  Only that the frequency of the buses, varies with routes, days and timings. There are separate schedules for regular day, Saturday and Sunday (or holidays).  They are all available on the app.  At each of the numerous bus stops (usually every 100 to 200 mts), these schedules for the buses passing that way are displayed, with the arrival time. So if the commuter is keen, s/he could definitely make plans to reach the nearest bus stop in time, and even track the arrival of a particular bus, thus avoiding the waiting time at the bus stop.  I found that during peak hours, there are several people making use of this service.  I found the buses full - sitting and standing.  However, at the bus stops, they queue up, and each one is given adequate time to get in, get one's metro card swiped, or throw in coins, and get a card for the ride (+1 transfer to a different bus or subway).  Sometimes, people indicate they had forgotten to bring the card along, or had no sufficient small coins, but the driver seemed to let them make use of the service.  The bus stops if there is someone to board the bus at the stop, or if a commuter rings the bell for the stop. In the Yonkers and New Rochelle area of Westchester, the bus was used mostly by people belonging to Hispanic or black communities..