All Is Grace_ A Ragamuffin Memoir - Brennan Manning [25]
I was sent to the Franciscan University of Steubenville in Ohio. There I became the campus minister and entered a fascinating season of ministry for me. My primary responsibility was to organize liturgies, prayer meetings, and weekend retreats. Those were days when the Cursillo Movement was at its zenith, a precursor to the Charismatic Renewal in the Catholic Church. The cursillo, or “short course,” consisted of taking a group of people away from their normal environment to convey the best news, that Christ loves us, by the best means, friendship. It’s still going today and is usually a Thursday through Sunday retreat filled with talks on the essence of Catholic Christianity and the Eucharist. I would regularly take or send five students each weekend to participate.
One of my favorite parts of cursillo is when the veterans of the program who attend the gathering do something called palanca, which is Spanish for “to pull a lever and release a power.” The lever pulled is prayer; these individuals fast and pray for three days for those engaged in cursillo, without the participants knowing it. On the fourth day, all is revealed, everyone comes together, and there is a very moving closing to the time as each participant steps back into his or her life empowered by the love of Christ. The ultimate goal of cursillo is a living union with God. Had I stayed with the Little Brothers of Jesus, I would have missed being a part of this “more,” this season of stirring renewal among both brothers and sisters.
A number of Franciscans on campus were interested in the life I lived among the Little Brothers in Europe; they would sit in rapt attention as I told stories of chicken coops and Brother Dominique. Most of my audience, however, had no interest in leaving the Franciscan order. Living like a Little Brother sounded fun for the weekend, but a life built around such an existence was simply too much.
After two years as the campus minister in Steubenville, I received a proposal for an experimental community in the United States loosely patterned along the same life rhythms as the Little Brothers. To many it sounded like a rather daring proposal; to me it sounded like having your ice cream and eating it too. About thirty men applied for the experiment, and six were selected. I was one of the six and was appointed the leader. We set out to find a place where we could practice living like the Little Brothers here at home in the States.
Left to our own devices, we probably would have struggled to make a decision; we believed too many places in the States would benefit from our experiment. But in the mysterious economy of grace, we received a call from Bishop John May in Mobile, Alabama. He was aware of our search and told us of a boys’ home there that had been abandoned because of Hurricane Camille. If we were interested, we could have it. We went down to see the property and knew right away it was where we were to be. The main house was large enough for group gatherings and meals, and a smaller house was right next door that could accommodate our housing needs. Plus, it was right on the water, in Bayou La Batre, Alabama, about a mile away from the working shrimp boats. Brother Luke, our most practical member, said, “This could work.” So with the needed approval, the experimental Little Brothers moved into what we called “the little place that could.” We had sufficient money for renovation, so we jumped at the huge task. We completely repainted interior and exterior, redid the floors, ceiling, and walls, and in seven months everything was ready to go.
Basing everything we did on the pattern of the Little Brothers of Jesus, we needed to find jobs and be out working among the people. Thankfully our first jobs came quickly: We worked on shrimp boats.
When the boats weren’t running, we took any jobs we could find, ranging from housepainters to clerks in hardware stores. Bishop May’s initial question at the outset of our adventure was “What do