a man i love: father frank
by jeanne charters

What do you call a man who describes himself as “someone who is supposed to be a holder of mysteries and a vision center for people as they journey to the Kingdom” … a man who, as a Junior at Marquette University in the late 60's, was “invited to go elsewhere” … a man who traveled as a professional clown with the circus for 5 years … a man who was a coffee-house folksinger in Pittsburgh in the 70's … a man who speaks French, English, Spanish, Italian, sign language, as well as “a bit of Mandarin and Swahili”, and “some Greek and Hebrew” … and who, in his 30’s, decided to become a Roman Catholic Priest?

I call him Father Frank Cancro, the pastor of St. Eugene’s Catholic Church in North Asheville, the angel who brought me back to my church nearly 2 years ago. Reared Catholic, I had been away from formal religion for 25 years. I was spiritually exhausted by the rigors of divorce, single motherhood, and career building. When my second husband, Matt, and I moved to North Carolina, I acknowledged my yearning to reconnect with my spiritual center. I went “church shopping”. On my third outing, I found St. Eugene’s and Father Frank. That was the end of my search. I was home!

Father Frank’s talents of intelligence and performance enable him to share in a very real way his understanding of the scriptures as they apply to modern-day life. When he speaks of Jesus, Mary Magdalen, Mary, the Mother of Jesus, or John the Baptiser, these people take on the physical reality of men and women who walked this earth. This, for me at least, makes it easier to understand the spiritual messages of love and giving imparted to us through the scriptures.
Here are some of the questions I asked Father Frank on a recent visit:

JC: What women in your early life influenced you and how?

FF: I grew up in an Italian household in Philadelphia. Every Sunday, we would all gather at the home of my great grandmother, “Gree Gree”, for pasta day. She was a very strong woman … the elder of the family who died when I was 9 years old. Another strong woman I remember was my paternal grandmother. She was widowed, and I spent lots of time in her apartment helping out with chores. Of course, I remember my own mother. She, like the grandmothers, was a very nurturing person. Any person who came to her door, family member or stranger, was greeted with open arms and escorted to the dining room table for a feast. This was in spite of the fact that the family was poor and food was sometimes hard to come by.

I loved to visit my Aunt Marge because she was creative. When the kids visited her, she would dress us up in costumes and take us to the park. In her 60’s, Aunt Marge studied belly dancing. She was the kind of woman for whom there were no boundaries except to be herself. Aunt Marge is now in her 80’s.

Aunt Theresa was a navy wife and was the great organizer of the family. Aunt Kay had lots of kids, so a visit to her house was always filled with fun.

JC: What are your feelings about today’s women and how you can serve their spiritual needs?

FF: Well, that’s complicated. In spite of the fact that my Church, in a historical sense, has not been nurturing to women, 80% of my peers in that Church are women. In my own staff, 7 of the 10 people involved in direct pastoral care are women.

I don’t assume that I can be a primary nurturer of women. I am not a woman, so I don’t have the sensitivity to their needs as does another woman. I guess my primary role as their pastor is to try and create pockets of empowerment either through referrals or personal meetings, whereby a woman can seek out her own level of spirituality.

JC: How did you decide to become a priest?

FF: After 5 years of clowning, I realized that the world wasn’t all about me after all. I got into my “save the world” phase of life and hooked into a small Catholic mission in Eastern Kentucky. It was classic Appalachia. One of the jobs was with the Social Services Department of a little hospital.

Sister John Martin, a retired nun, would go through the hospital handing out candy. Every time I ran into her, she would point her crooked, arthritic finger at me and say, “How come you’re not a priest?” I’d smile at her and move on, but it irritated me. I tried to avoid her but never could. After a while, I decided to go away and focus on her question so I could come up with an answer that would shut her up. I went to a small reflection farm in another part of Eastern Kentucky to ponder things. Half way through my visit, I realized that, “guess what?”, she was right. I signed up for Seminary school at the end of that week. Sister John Martin was the cross bearer at my first mass as a priest. I wanted people to see who they should blame. She was nearly 80 then.

JC: What did Sister John Martin know that you didn’t know?

FF: I don’t have a clue.

JC: What about the challenge of pedophile priests and how they reflect on you and other priests?

FF: Well, I don’t think that pedophile priests are the real issue. The primary problem lies with the Bishops who do not deal effectively with pedophile priests.
I understand that pedophilia is an illness and that people with that illness can insidiously inject themselves into situations like the priesthood to feed their need. I can even somewhat forgive them, knowing that they are dealing with a disease process. What I cannot forgive is the lack of authority being exercised in an appropriate way which has allowed the victimization of children. The authority of our Bishops, our shepherds whom we represent, has been corrupted. That’s what eats at our credibility and the way people trust us as priests.

JC: What about the challenge of celibacy?

FF: (Chuckles) Well, I knew what I was getting into and was willing to embrace it, and I felt the ministry was worth it. I needed a way to rationalize it for myself, however. My rationalization for celibacy is that, in a world in which we are driven toward completeness … where we want the whole “enchilada” about everything, especially relationships, it is my role to stand in the midst of that, not whole, and say that we are not whole until the Kingdom comes. I can be celibate that way. I survive on prayer, travel and chocolate.

JC: What brought you to St. Eugene’s?

FF: I was in University work at Catholic University in Washington. I was Vice Rector of their Theological College and teaching in the School of Philosophy. I was asked to consider this assignment by then Bishop John Donahue. I made a visit over to St. Eugene’s for a meeting and found this to be a very warm and welcoming community. When I was offered this job, I wanted to make weekend worship a primary focus of my pastoral duties. I needed to create some rhythms and rituals to keep our worship vibrant. Equally important was an image of hospitality … welcoming God into our lives and welcoming each other and strangers as well.

I redesigned the role of the ushers and created hospitality ministers who would be the nexus of our welcoming effort.

Our hospitality also includes reaching out to the community, opening our church and our hearts to those around us. Outreach efforts now include a weekly tithe whereby 10% of our collection is used to help local not-for-profit agencies around Western North Carolina. That tithe helps women in homeless shelters, women in the penal system and women at risk throughout our area.

JC: Father Frank, I need a “close” to this article. If you could say anything to the women of Western North Carolina, what would your message be?

FF: Never be afraid to run and see when tombs turn up empty.

JC: Huh?

FF: Some of the most powerful things for me are the resurrection stories of Jesus. All through His life and ministry, we’re introduced to Him and His disciples who are men. But His resurrection, which is the beginning of the Catholic Church, is always harbingered by the women. It’s the women who go to the tomb and find Him. First of all, women had the guts to go in the first place because the guys are holed up in a room afraid that they, too, will be crucified.

It’s the women coming to do service … bringing the nard (ointment) to anoint the body of Jesus. They come to do service, and instead, they get the resurrection.
These images are important … of the guys in the upper rooms with the doors and windows shuttered while the women bravely go about doing their duties, willing to lose their lives rather than shirk them. So, I think this is an important image for women to remember. What we are as a church is based upon those who first witnessed the resurrection … the women. Don’t ever be afraid of the possibilities!

JC: Thank you, Father Frank. You are a man I love.

Jeanne Charters lives in Fairview with her husband, Matt Restivo. A former V.P. of Marketing for Viacom Television, she started her own award-winning broadcast advertising agency in 1990. [charmkt@juno.com; 828-628-0023]