August 26 - September 1, 2007 Issue |
Posted 8/21/07 at 1:21 PM
JANET MORANA says it was “the intersection of Pavone” that
helped restore her Catholic faith — and drew her to fulltime pro-life work.
Now the associate director of Priests for Life and co-founder
of the Silent No More Awareness Campaign, Morana was a fallen-away Catholic in
early 1989 when she met Father Frank Pavone shortly after the newly ordained
priest was assigned to her family’s parish in Staten Island, N.Y.
She spoke recently with Contributing Editor Tom McFeely
about her association with Father Pavone and about her own pro-life
experiences.
What was your childhood like as a Catholic growing up in
Brooklyn?
I was raised in the Church before Vatican II, so everything
was in Latin. When you went to church, you felt like you were entering into the
presence of God.
You never went in church without your head being covered,
and you stopped everything on a Saturday and went to confession at 3 o’clock.
And on Sunday mornings you went to church, and on Sunday afternoon the family
got together for Sunday dinner.
I distinctly remember when the Church changed. Suddenly
everything went from Latin, and the priest turned around, the Mass was in
English. Guitars and tambourines — the organ music went out, the incense was
dropped.
And I think for my generation, especially for me, it became
a time of great confusion.
I distinctly remember standing in line for confession in
high school. I went to a tiny all-girls high school run by the Josephites.
And suddenly, as I got closer and closer, I said, “I’m not
going to do this any more. This is ridiculous. I’m going to go in there and say
a whole lot of things that had lost meaning to me; I don’t even know what I
believe any more. I’m not going to do this.”
From that moment on, I stopped going to confession.
I continued to go to church for a little while longer, but I
gradually started skipping Mass here and there. You stop doing this and then
you stop doing that and you stop doing this. And before you know it, it’s like
you bottom out and crash.
How did you return to
the Church?
What happened was when I started to have my three daughters,
we lived with my in-laws in a two-family house in Staten Island. And I would
let them take the girls to church every Sunday while I stayed home to cook
Sunday dinner. That was my excuse.
And then, two days before Christmas in 1988, I got called to
interview for a job in a school that I had never substitute-taught in before.
And I got the job.
I came home and said, “I got the job! I start Jan. 2.” And
my mother-in-law turned to me and said, “Now you’d better go to church and
light a candle of thanksgiving.”
So I went to church and I lit the candle of thanksgiving.
And because I was starting the job, I said, “You know what? I’d better just
start going to Mass. I’ll go with the girls, so we’ll all be going to church.”
But I wouldn’t receive Communion because I still wouldn’t go
to confession.
What happened to
change that?
In November of 1988, right before I got that teaching job,
Father Pavone was ordained, and he was sent to my parish as a new priest.
Here’s where the story starts to get very interesting — the intersection of
Pavone!
One Saturday evening after the 7 o’clock Mass, we were near
the back of the church. One of my twins, TaraLynn, started pulling me towards
Father Pavone, who was coming in from having greeted people outside of the
church.
As we got closer, Tara turned and said, “Father Frank, this
is my mom, you know the one I told you really needed to go to confession.”
Well, I turned as red as can be. And Father Pavone said very
calmly, “Tara, it’s okay, it’s okay.” And he said to me, “Very pleased to meet
you.”
And he just turned to me very calmly and said, “Don’t worry,
you don’t have to go to confession. But if you want, you can come and talk to
me sometime.”
So I called him. And he said, “I’ll tell you what. I
normally teach Bible class on Friday night. Why don’t you come to the rectory
right about 9 o’clock, and I’ll see you for half an hour after Bible study.”
I came to that first appointment, and he got a little bit of
my background and then he said, “Well, what do you think is keeping you from
going to confession?”
And I said, “Because I disagree with the teachings of the
Church.”
Father Pavone was very calm. He said, “That’s okay. But what
are the teachings?”
So I started going through my list, my mantra: “I don’t
believe in papal infallibility, I think birth control is okay,” and I went
point, point, point through all that liberal junk of the ’70s and ’80s.
Father Pavone said, “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we begin
to study some of the documents of the Church? If you’re willing to read, and
then come to me, we’ll talk about it and then you tell me your objections and
we’ll work through the teachings and see how you feel about them.”
So we started with Humanae Vitae — the biggie — and we went
on from there.
It took me until the end of June in 1989, four months down
the road, before I was able to feel I could go to confession — I had to work
through all my “problems,” my “points.”
Then I did my confession on Saturday night after Mass. And
it just felt so good. Because I could feel a weight coming off and it was such
a warm feeling.
And then I said, “Thank you, Father. Tomorrow when I come to
Mass with my kids, I’ll get to finally go to Communion.”
And he said, “You know, you can receive Communion now.” I
said, “What do you mean? Mass is over.” He said, “No, you go up and kneel by
the tabernacle and wait. I’ll be right there.”
So he went back into the sacristy and he met me up there and
he gave me Communion. I knew that he was kneeling there, but at a certain point
I lost all idea he was still there with me. But I felt like I was with Jesus. I
was really with Jesus.
And I really feel that that was my first Communion. It was
incredible. It’s just hard to describe — like a peace and a warmth, and I was
with Jesus.
And I haven’t stopped going to Communion since.
How did you become
involved in pro-life work?
Gradually I got involved in activities in the parish, and in
pro-life.
The pivotal experience of that, both for Father Pavone and
me, was in October 1990. This was still during the [Operation R]escue movement.
There were some pro-lifers on Staten Island who were rescuers, who were going
to jail. They invited Father Pavone to come to a rescue.
It was a very, very dramatic experience. The abortion mill
was closed all day because of these activities, so whatever abortions were
scheduled that day couldn’t happen. It took them almost until noon to free
people chained to the doors.
And while they were chained to the doors, and the police
were trying to get them out of there, Father Pavone and I were engaging
different women coming for abortions. There was one young lady we were able to
talk to, and give her over to the people there from the pregnancy center. They
took her off to the pregnancy center, so I’m convinced that there was
definitely a baby saved with that one.
That experience — ask Father Pavone about this, he’ll tell
you the same thing — it was like a steel door dropped behind us that day. And
from that point forward, our passion to do something about the issue became so
intense that I felt I had to commit myself to this work.
When did you become
involved with Priests for Life?
In 1993, Father left my parish to do Priests for Life. And I
kept helping him while I was teaching full time in Staten Island. We set up a
little volunteer place in the basement of my home and we used to ship all the
resources out from my home in the early days of Priests for Life.
As Priests for Life grew, and as the issue was growing more
in my heart, I came to a crossroads in 1999 where I said I can’t do both. I
can’t help Father and Priests for Life, and teach full time.
I love teaching, and maybe if we end abortion I’ll go back to
teaching. But once I made the decision to leave teaching and work full time for
Priests for Life, I felt a peace that I chose the right path.
You are one of the two
founders of the Silent No More Awareness Campaign, which was formed in 2003 to
educate the public about the damage caused by abortion. Why did you decide to
organize the campaign?
Georgette Forney and I met through the National Religious
Pro-Life Council. Georgette is the director and president of Anglicans for
Life.
When the pro-life movement was moving towards the sad 30th
memorial of Roe v. Wade back in 2003, people were beginning to look ahead in
pro-life leader meetings and grapple with the question, “What is the movement’s
response after 30 years of abortion?”
At the spring meeting of the council in 2002, Georgette and
I looked at each other and said, “The movement has to have a woman’s response.”
Georgette herself is post-abortive, and I knew that. And she
said, “You know Janet, I’m convinced that after all these years of abortion,
there’s got to be more women who have had abortions and are willing to speak up
and say The National Organization of Women and Planned Parenthood and NARAL,
they don’t speak for us.”
And I said, “I am, too.”
From that we developed the concept of the campaign.
In your work with the
Silent No More campaign, what has particularly touched you?
I think the power is in the testimonies. I think the power
is in watching a person get up, who has been healed, who has been redeemed, who
feels the love and mercy of the Lord again, but feels compelled to come forward
and speak to reach those people who are still locked in the sin and the shame
of abortion.
The hope of the campaign is its three goals: one, to reach
people who are locked in that sin and shame of abortion. They think it’s an
unforgivable sin, they think there’s no hope. To reach them and say, “Yes,
there’s hope.”
Two, to reach a girl who is maybe considering having an
abortion, to say, “Hey, listen to these girls, they’ve gone down that road,
they know it’s a dead end.” And maybe they’ll listen.
And finally, to reach the people who are sitting in the
pews. There are so many people who are in church today that somehow think that
women need abortion.
You know, we would rid this whole world of abortion if every
person who said they profess Jesus Christ would stand up and say, “We’re not
going to tolerate abortion anymore in our culture.”
And so our hope is that if those people who are caught in
that mushy middle of culture with abortion hear the stories of women, they’ll
say, “Ah, abortion isn’t good for women. And they don’t need abortion, it’s not
good.”
We all have to be ambassadors of this message.
Tom McFeely is based in
Victoria, British Columbia.
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