Latest news with #Augustinian
Daily Record
5 days ago
- Daily Record
Five reasons why Scone Palace is a must-visit for history buffs of all ages
Scone Palace is a historic Scottish site, offering free kids' entry from 30 June to 15 August 2025 One of Scotland's most iconic and historic sites is inviting families to step into centuries of royal tradition and political intrigue with a special ' Kids Go Free' offer running throughout summer. Located near Perth, Scone Palace is steeped in Scottish history, known not only for its Gothic Revival architecture and beautiful gardens, but for its enduring role in the story of the nation. The ancestral home of the Earls of Mansfield, the palace remains a living monument to Scotland's royal past. And their Kids Go Free offer runs until August 15. At the heart of its legend is the Stone of Destiny. For centuries, this sacred coronation stone was housed at Scone, used in the crowning of Scottish monarchs. The site became a symbol of kingship, where rulers were not just enthroned but legitimised by the ancient traditions of the land. The hill upon which these coronations took place is Moot Hill, often referred to as the 'Hill of Belief'. It remains one of the most significant features of the estate. Visitors can stand atop the hill and pose with a replica of the Stone of Destiny, a rite of passage for future kings and queens in the making. Beyond its royal legacy, Scone also played a powerful political and religious role in medieval Scotland. In 1114, King Alexander I founded an Augustinian priory next to Moot Hill, which was elevated to abbey status in 1169. During this period, it became a centre of both pilgrimage and influence. Notably, in 1249, the young Alexander III was crowned at Scone, the first Scottish king to be anointed, not just enthroned. A papal bull in 1329 later granted David II the right to be anointed with sacred oil at his coronation, cementing the site's religious importance. In the turbulent years that followed, Scone remained central to Scottish power. James I, who became king while still a hostage in London, returned to Scotland in 1424 and held his first Act of Parliament at Scone, a decree banning football in favour of archery. His son, James II, later banned golf for the same reason, on pain of a four-pence fine. James IV, one of the last Scottish kings crowned at Scone, marked the shift of royal power to Edinburgh, with the construction of the Palace of Holyroodhouse. The Reformation brought destruction to Scone Abbey in 1559, when a mob from Dundee burned it down. Though John Knox intervened, the damage was done. The Ruthven family later rebuilt the abbey palace, but their ownership ended in 1600 following a controversial incident involving James VI. The estate was then granted to Sir David Murray of Gospetrie, whose descendants became the Earls of Mansfield. Join the Daily Record WhatsApp community! Get the latest news sent straight to your messages by joining our WhatsApp community today. You'll receive daily updates on breaking news as well as the top headlines across Scotland. No one will be able to see who is signed up and no one can send messages except the Daily Record team. All you have to do is click here if you're on mobile, select 'Join Community' and you're in! If you're on a desktop, simply scan the QR code above with your phone and click 'Join Community'. We also treat our community members to special offers, promotions, and adverts from us and our partners. If you don't like our community, you can check out any time you like. To leave our community click on the name at the top of your screen and choose 'exit group'. If you're curious, you can read our Privacy Notice. The current palace was built by the 3rd Earl of Mansfield in 1803, transforming the medieval house into a striking Gothic Revival residence. Since then, Scone Palace has welcomed numerous royal guests, including Queen Victoria in 1842, Queen Elizabeth II, and the Emperor of Japan, showing that its legacy still lives on. Today, the Mansfield family still resides at Scone, preserving the estate and opening its doors to the public as a vital link to Scotland's past. As well as exploring its regal interiors and grand gardens, visitors walk the same paths once trodden by kings, queens, nobles and revolutionaries.
Winnipeg Free Press
6 days ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
A group of Catholics revitalized a remote Arizona village before the diocese ordered them to leave
CONCHO, Ariz. (AP) — The village of Concho in the Arizona high desert is home to about 50 people — barely a dot in a sprawling, dusty landscape speckled with clumps of grass, scrub oak and juniper. Concho, about 200 miles northeast of Phoenix, has one restaurant, a Dollar General and a gas station that closes at 7 p.m. But this remote hamlet is now at the center of a Catholic Church controversy. Over the last six months, several members of this tight-knit community have been speaking up in support of a lay group of young Catholics who call themselves the League of the Blessed Sacrament. They say the group has revitalized this ignored, poverty-stricken region. However, leaders at the New Mexico-based Diocese of Gallup, which oversees the region, contend that group members misrepresented themselves as a religious order and engaged in activity not sanctioned by the Catholic Church. Bishop James S. Wall ordered the group to leave parish housing and stop leading liturgy and teaching in the region's Catholic school. Group members — Giovanni Vizcarra, Edward Seeley, Eric Faris, Anthony Ribaya and Lisa Hezmalhalch — maintain they have represented themselves truthfully and followed the diocese's orders. They believe the diocese, the poorest in the nation, asked them to leave because leaders are worried about potential liability stemming from the group taking three boys, victims of alleged domestic abuse, into their care. Diocese spokesperson Suzanne Hammons said Wall and the diocese are 'not afraid of liability' and are accustomed to dealing with sensitive situations in their parishes and schools. The diocese has a duty to properly investigate all allegations and go through official channels to ensure everyone's safety, she said. Why the group came to Concho The men arrived in Concho about four years ago from the Canons Regular of Immaculate Conception, an Augustinian community in Santa Paula, California, after accusing their superior of abuse and inappropriate behavior. They were dismissed a month later, after an investigation by the order's leaders in Rome concluded there was no evidence supporting those allegations. Vizcarra said a sympathetic priest bought them plane tickets to Arizona, suggesting they take time to ponder their future. Concho was different from Los Angeles, where hundreds attended Mass on Sundays. They initially found the small community's intimacy uncomfortable. 'People would ask you what your favorite color is or what your favorite cake is,' Vizcarra said. The ladies would call him 'mijo,' a Spanish term of endearment that means 'my son.' Gradually, the sense of community became a healing salve and they learned to embrace it, he said. Group revitalized struggling parish and community More than two dozen residents from Concho and surrounding towns spoke passionately in support of the League of the Blessed Sacrament, saying the newcomers revitalized the community and parish. They've distributed food to the needy, hosted birthday parties for children whose families had nothing, breathed life into the village church with holy music and liturgy, and revived Concho's historic Christmas fiesta that had recently floundered. Angela Murphy, a longtime resident and local historian, said the men prayed at the church seven times a day. 'It was because of them that we heard church bells in Concho once again,' she said. After they were dismissed from their religious community, the group stopped wearing their habits and requested community members not address them as 'brothers' or 'sister.' But people still would out of reverence, Murphy said. Group members now wear black outfits, including sweatshirts bearing the logo of their organization, which Vizcarra said they founded years ago as seminarians in California. In their four years in Concho, they started an animal farm, a thrift store, a Catholic bookstore, a farmer's market and a coffee shop. The stores and a radio station, which the group purchased rights to, are in the heart of Concho. Vizcarra said they paid for projects with their teaching salaries, fundraising and donations from family members. The group's work with children They taught at St. Anthony's Catholic School in Show Low, a nearby town, until the diocese fired them in February. Vizcarra taught religion, Spanish and robotics; Seeley, math and religion; Faris, art; Ribaya, music. Hezmalhalch taught first grade. They all taught catechism as well. Several families shared stories of troubled or academically struggling children flourishing under their tutelage. Students who showed no interest in religion wanted to be baptized and confirmed after attending catechism, they said. The men also cared for three boys who came from troubled homes, including two brothers. With permission of the boys' mothers, they helped house the children with a local resident who opened up her rental unit. One boy's mother, Katherine Therese Heal, who shares custody of her son with Vizcarra, said the men have been strong role models for her son as she was divorcing his stepfather. She said her son, now 14, was depressed, had low self-esteem and loathed school. 'Now, he wants to go to college,' Heal said. 'What the brothers have done with him is miraculous. They have been the answer to my prayers.' Vizcarra said he and his colleagues initially balked at assuming parental roles. 'We felt these children needed normal families and we're not parents or dads,' he said. That reluctance eased when Heal's son responded with joyful tears when asked if he wanted to be under their care. Heal confirmed that Vizcarra and the men had begun the process to adopt her son. 'While it feels strange because none of us signed up to be a parent, we believe this is a way God has shown us to help people in dire need,' Vizcarra said. Community demands answers Hope MacMonagle, a Concho native, said the group has done 'more for our Catholic community in three years than the diocese has done in decades.' 'When the brothers came here, it was like a breath of fresh air,' she said. 'I'm a cradle Catholic and I love my religion. But when they got here, it was like I was learning my religion all over again.' MacMonagle said she and others have asked the diocese why this group was told to leave. They have been met with silence, she said. 'Sometimes, I get the feeling that people don't listen to us because we are small, insignificant, just a few people in the middle of nowhere,' she said. The group also was known in surrounding towns, such as Show Low, St. Johns and Snowflake. John and Ann Bunn, Show Low residents, met them at St. Rita's parish. She said the group did not 'entrench' themselves in the community. 'They were, rather, embraced by the people here because of their good deeds and the enormous amount of goodwill they've built here,' John Bunn said. Longtime Concho resident Christine Bennett became emotional ticking through the answers she is demanding from the diocese. 'We just want to know why,' she said. 'We see all that they've done to light up this community. Now, they're being ripped out of our parish and our hearts. Why is this happening?' Hammons said the diocese has not responded to residents because 'the answers to these questions are not appropriate to air publicly.' The way forward Last month, the group moved to Vernon, about 25 miles (40 kilometers) south of Concho. They've started a K-12 Catholic school. They are moving the farm animals as well but will maintain a presence in Concho with their shops and radio station. Despite the struggle for acceptance from the diocese, group members said they've received the healing they sought in Concho through their community service. But it still hurts and 'wasn't supposed to be this way,' said Faris, a Protestant minister who converted to Catholicism and wanted to become a priest. 'But God has provided us a way to be more holy and in a way, more conformed to him.' Faris and others say they still feel called to be priests, but are unsure if that will happen. Sundays Kevin Rollason's Sunday newsletter honouring and remembering lives well-lived in Manitoba. Seeley said he is focusing on service and prayer. All members say they are keeping up their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Ribaya said he will never 'sacrifice truth and justice for the sake of being a priest.' 'If God wants us to be priests, he'll make it happen,' he said. 'If it has to take 30 or 40 years, so be it.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Hamilton Spectator
6 days ago
- Hamilton Spectator
A group of Catholics revitalized a remote Arizona village before the diocese ordered them to leave
CONCHO, Ariz. (AP) — The village of Concho in the Arizona high desert is home to about 50 people — barely a dot in a sprawling, dusty landscape speckled with clumps of grass, scrub oak and juniper. Concho, about 200 miles northeast of Phoenix, has one restaurant, a Dollar General and a gas station that closes at 7 p.m. But this remote hamlet is now at the center of a Catholic Church controversy. Over the last six months, several members of this tight-knit community have been speaking up in support of a lay group of young Catholics who call themselves the League of the Blessed Sacrament . They say the group has revitalized this ignored, poverty-stricken region. However, leaders at the New Mexico-based Diocese of Gallup , which oversees the region, contend that group members misrepresented themselves as a religious order and engaged in activity not sanctioned by the Catholic Church. Bishop James S. Wall ordered the group to leave parish housing and stop leading liturgy and teaching in the region's Catholic school. Group members — Giovanni Vizcarra, Edward Seeley, Eric Faris, Anthony Ribaya and Lisa Hezmalhalch — maintain they have represented themselves truthfully and followed the diocese's orders. They believe the diocese, the poorest in the nation, asked them to leave because leaders are worried about potential liability stemming from the group taking three boys, victims of alleged domestic abuse, into their care. Diocese spokesperson Suzanne Hammons said Wall and the diocese are 'not afraid of liability' and are accustomed to dealing with sensitive situations in their parishes and schools. The diocese has a duty to properly investigate all allegations and go through official channels to ensure everyone's safety, she said. Why the group came to Concho The men arrived in Concho about four years ago from the Canons Regular of Immaculate Conception, an Augustinian community in Santa Paula, California, after accusing their superior of abuse and inappropriate behavior. They were dismissed a month later, after an investigation by the order's leaders in Rome concluded there was no evidence supporting those allegations. Vizcarra said a sympathetic priest bought them plane tickets to Arizona, suggesting they take time to ponder their future. Concho was different from Los Angeles, where hundreds attended Mass on Sundays. They initially found the small community's intimacy uncomfortable. 'People would ask you what your favorite color is or what your favorite cake is,' Vizcarra said. The ladies would call him 'mijo,' a Spanish term of endearment that means 'my son.' Gradually, the sense of community became a healing salve and they learned to embrace it, he said. Group revitalized struggling parish and community More than two dozen residents from Concho and surrounding towns spoke passionately in support of the League of the Blessed Sacrament, saying the newcomers revitalized the community and parish. They've distributed food to the needy, hosted birthday parties for children whose families had nothing, breathed life into the village church with holy music and liturgy, and revived Concho's historic Christmas fiesta that had recently floundered. Angela Murphy, a longtime resident and local historian, said the men prayed at the church seven times a day. 'It was because of them that we heard church bells in Concho once again,' she said. After they were dismissed from their religious community, the group stopped wearing their habits and requested community members not address them as 'brothers' or 'sister.' But people still would out of reverence, Murphy said. Group members now wear black outfits, including sweatshirts bearing the logo of their organization, which Vizcarra said they founded years ago as seminarians in California. In their four years in Concho, they started an animal farm, a thrift store, a Catholic bookstore, a farmer's market and a coffee shop. The stores and a radio station, which the group purchased rights to, are in the heart of Concho. Vizcarra said they paid for projects with their teaching salaries, fundraising and donations from family members. The group's work with children They taught at St. Anthony's Catholic School in Show Low, a nearby town, until the diocese fired them in February. Vizcarra taught religion, Spanish and robotics; Seeley, math and religion; Faris, art; Ribaya, music. Hezmalhalch taught first grade. They all taught catechism as well. Several families shared stories of troubled or academically struggling children flourishing under their tutelage. Students who showed no interest in religion wanted to be baptized and confirmed after attending catechism, they said. The men also cared for three boys who came from troubled homes, including two brothers. With permission of the boys' mothers, they helped house the children with a local resident who opened up her rental unit. One boy's mother, Katherine Therese Heal, who shares custody of her son with Vizcarra, said the men have been strong role models for her son as she was divorcing his stepfather. She said her son, now 14, was depressed, had low self-esteem and loathed school. 'Now, he wants to go to college,' Heal said. 'What the brothers have done with him is miraculous. They have been the answer to my prayers.' Vizcarra said he and his colleagues initially balked at assuming parental roles. 'We felt these children needed normal families and we're not parents or dads,' he said. That reluctance eased when Heal's son responded with joyful tears when asked if he wanted to be under their care. Heal confirmed that Vizcarra and the men had begun the process to adopt her son. 'While it feels strange because none of us signed up to be a parent, we believe this is a way God has shown us to help people in dire need,' Vizcarra said. Community demands answers Hope MacMonagle, a Concho native, said the group has done 'more for our Catholic community in three years than the diocese has done in decades.' 'When the brothers came here, it was like a breath of fresh air,' she said. 'I'm a cradle Catholic and I love my religion. But when they got here, it was like I was learning my religion all over again.' MacMonagle said she and others have asked the diocese why this group was told to leave. They have been met with silence, she said. 'Sometimes, I get the feeling that people don't listen to us because we are small, insignificant, just a few people in the middle of nowhere,' she said. The group also was known in surrounding towns, such as Show Low, St. Johns and Snowflake. John and Ann Bunn, Show Low residents, met them at St. Rita's parish. She said the group did not 'entrench' themselves in the community. 'They were, rather, embraced by the people here because of their good deeds and the enormous amount of goodwill they've built here,' John Bunn said. Longtime Concho resident Christine Bennett became emotional ticking through the answers she is demanding from the diocese. 'We just want to know why,' she said. 'We see all that they've done to light up this community. Now, they're being ripped out of our parish and our hearts. Why is this happening?' Hammons said the diocese has not responded to residents because 'the answers to these questions are not appropriate to air publicly.' The way forward Last month, the group moved to Vernon, about 25 miles (40 kilometers) south of Concho. They've started a K-12 Catholic school. They are moving the farm animals as well but will maintain a presence in Concho with their shops and radio station. Despite the struggle for acceptance from the diocese, group members said they've received the healing they sought in Concho through their community service. But it still hurts and 'wasn't supposed to be this way,' said Faris, a Protestant minister who converted to Catholicism and wanted to become a priest. 'But God has provided us a way to be more holy and in a way, more conformed to him.' Faris and others say they still feel called to be priests, but are unsure if that will happen. Seeley said he is focusing on service and prayer. All members say they are keeping up their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Ribaya said he will never 'sacrifice truth and justice for the sake of being a priest.' 'If God wants us to be priests, he'll make it happen,' he said. 'If it has to take 30 or 40 years, so be it.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
San Francisco Chronicle
6 days ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
A group of Catholics revitalized a remote Arizona village before the diocese ordered them to leave
CONCHO, Ariz. (AP) — The village of Concho in the Arizona high desert is home to about 50 people — barely a dot in a sprawling, dusty landscape speckled with clumps of grass, scrub oak and juniper. Concho, about 200 miles northeast of Phoenix, has one restaurant, a Dollar General and a gas station that closes at 7 p.m. But this remote hamlet is now at the center of a Catholic Church controversy. Over the last six months, several members of this tight-knit community have been speaking up in support of a lay group of young Catholics who call themselves the League of the Blessed Sacrament. They say the group has revitalized this ignored, poverty-stricken region. However, leaders at the New Mexico-based Diocese of Gallup, which oversees the region, contend that group members misrepresented themselves as a religious order and engaged in activity not sanctioned by the Catholic Church. Bishop James S. Wall ordered the group to leave parish housing and stop leading liturgy and teaching in the region's Catholic school. Group members — Giovanni Vizcarra, Edward Seeley, Eric Faris, Anthony Ribaya and Lisa Hezmalhalch — maintain they have represented themselves truthfully and followed the diocese's orders. They believe the diocese, the poorest in the nation, asked them to leave because leaders are worried about potential liability stemming from the group taking three boys, victims of alleged domestic abuse, into their care. Diocese spokesperson Suzanne Hammons said Wall and the diocese are 'not afraid of liability" and are accustomed to dealing with sensitive situations in their parishes and schools. The diocese has a duty to properly investigate all allegations and go through official channels to ensure everyone's safety, she said. Why the group came to Concho The men arrived in Concho about four years ago from the Canons Regular of Immaculate Conception, an Augustinian community in Santa Paula, California, after accusing their superior of abuse and inappropriate behavior. They were dismissed a month later, after an investigation by the order's leaders in Rome concluded there was no evidence supporting those allegations. Vizcarra said a sympathetic priest bought them plane tickets to Arizona, suggesting they take time to ponder their future. Concho was different from Los Angeles, where hundreds attended Mass on Sundays. They initially found the small community's intimacy uncomfortable. 'People would ask you what your favorite color is or what your favorite cake is,' Vizcarra said. The ladies would call him 'mijo,' a Spanish term of endearment that means 'my son.' Gradually, the sense of community became a healing salve and they learned to embrace it, he said. Group revitalized struggling parish and community More than two dozen residents from Concho and surrounding towns spoke passionately in support of the League of the Blessed Sacrament, saying the newcomers revitalized the community and parish. They've distributed food to the needy, hosted birthday parties for children whose families had nothing, breathed life into the village church with holy music and liturgy, and revived Concho's historic Christmas fiesta that had recently floundered. Angela Murphy, a longtime resident and local historian, said the men prayed at the church seven times a day. 'It was because of them that we heard church bells in Concho once again,' she said. After they were dismissed from their religious community, the group stopped wearing their habits and requested community members not address them as 'brothers' or 'sister.' But people still would out of reverence, Murphy said. Group members now wear black outfits, including sweatshirts bearing the logo of their organization, which Vizcarra said they founded years ago as seminarians in California. In their four years in Concho, they started an animal farm, a thrift store, a Catholic bookstore, a farmer's market and a coffee shop. The stores and a radio station, which the group purchased rights to, are in the heart of Concho. Vizcarra said they paid for projects with their teaching salaries, fundraising and donations from family members. The group's work with children They taught at St. Anthony's Catholic School in Show Low, a nearby town, until the diocese fired them in February. Vizcarra taught religion, Spanish and robotics; Seeley, math and religion; Faris, art; Ribaya, music. Hezmalhalch taught first grade. They all taught catechism as well. Several families shared stories of troubled or academically struggling children flourishing under their tutelage. Students who showed no interest in religion wanted to be baptized and confirmed after attending catechism, they said. The men also cared for three boys who came from troubled homes, including two brothers. With permission of the boys' mothers, they helped house the children with a local resident who opened up her rental unit. One boy's mother, Katherine Therese Heal, who shares custody of her son with Vizcarra, said the men have been strong role models for her son as she was divorcing his stepfather. She said her son, now 14, was depressed, had low self-esteem and loathed school. 'Now, he wants to go to college,' Heal said. 'What the brothers have done with him is miraculous. They have been the answer to my prayers.' Vizcarra said he and his colleagues initially balked at assuming parental roles. 'We felt these children needed normal families and we're not parents or dads,' he said. That reluctance eased when Heal's son responded with joyful tears when asked if he wanted to be under their care. Heal confirmed that Vizcarra and the men had begun the process to adopt her son. 'While it feels strange because none of us signed up to be a parent, we believe this is a way God has shown us to help people in dire need,' Vizcarra said. Community demands answers Hope MacMonagle, a Concho native, said the group has done 'more for our Catholic community in three years than the diocese has done in decades.' 'When the brothers came here, it was like a breath of fresh air,' she said. 'I'm a cradle Catholic and I love my religion. But when they got here, it was like I was learning my religion all over again.' MacMonagle said she and others have asked the diocese why this group was told to leave. They have been met with silence, she said. 'Sometimes, I get the feeling that people don't listen to us because we are small, insignificant, just a few people in the middle of nowhere,' she said. The group also was known in surrounding towns, such as Show Low, St. Johns and Snowflake. John and Ann Bunn, Show Low residents, met them at St. Rita's parish. She said the group did not 'entrench' themselves in the community. 'They were, rather, embraced by the people here because of their good deeds and the enormous amount of goodwill they've built here,' John Bunn said. Longtime Concho resident Christine Bennett became emotional ticking through the answers she is demanding from the diocese. 'We just want to know why,' she said. 'We see all that they've done to light up this community. Now, they're being ripped out of our parish and our hearts. Why is this happening?' Hammons said the diocese has not responded to residents because 'the answers to these questions are not appropriate to air publicly.' The way forward Last month, the group moved to Vernon, about 25 miles (40 kilometers) south of Concho. They've started a K-12 Catholic school. They are moving the farm animals as well but will maintain a presence in Concho with their shops and radio station. Despite the struggle for acceptance from the diocese, group members said they've received the healing they sought in Concho through their community service. But it still hurts and 'wasn't supposed to be this way,' said Faris, a Protestant minister who converted to Catholicism and wanted to become a priest. 'But God has provided us a way to be more holy and in a way, more conformed to him.' Faris and others say they still feel called to be priests, but are unsure if that will happen. Seeley said he is focusing on service and prayer. All members say they are keeping up their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Ribaya said he will never 'sacrifice truth and justice for the sake of being a priest.' 'If God wants us to be priests, he'll make it happen,' he said. 'If it has to take 30 or 40 years, so be it.'
14-07-2025
- General
Pope celebrates Mass in parish church with special ties to his Augustinian order
CASTEL GANDOLFO, Italy -- Pope Leo XIV called Sunday for 'merciful compassion' for the world's poor, victims of tyranny and wars, as he celebrated Mass in a parish church that has special spiritual ties to Leo's own Augustinian religious order. Leo is on vacation and resuming the papal tradition of summering at the the papal estate of Castel Gandolfo, south of Rome, and celebrated Mass in the St. Thomas of Villanova church. St. Thomas of Villanova was a 16th-century Spanish teacher who was a local and regional superior of the Augustinian order, a mendicant order inspired by the teachings of St. Augustine of Hippo. The saint is the patron and namesake of Leo's alma mater outside Philadelphia, Villanova University, and is known for his care for the poor and for having given away his wealth to those in need. In his homily, Leo offered a meditation on the biblical story of the Good Samaritan. Leo urged the faithful to be guided by empathy and be moved to act 'with the same merciful compassion as God.' 'How we look at others is what counts, because it shows what is in our hearts,' he said. 'We can look and walk by, or we can look and be moved with compassion.' That is especially true, he said, when looking at those who are 'stripped, robbed and pillaged, victims of tyrannical political systems, of an economy that forces them into poverty, and of wars that kill their dreams and their very lives.' From his very first words as pope, Leo has repeatedly emphasized his identity as an Augustinian and infused his homilies and speeches with teachings from the 5th century theologian. The Rev. Tadeusz Rozmus, the priest at the St. Thomass of Villanova parish, has said the return of a pope to Castel Gandolfo has filled the town with joy. In an interview ahead of Leo's arrival last week, Rozmus also noted the spiritual connection of history's first Augustinian pope to the town. 'St. Thomas of Villanova was an Augustinian saint, and so with him (Leo) returns to the beginning of his history, of his spirituality,' Rozmus said. Leo is taking an initial two weeks of vacation in Castel Gandolfo, though he has already interrupted it to receive Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, a group of religious superiors and to celebrate a special Mass dedicated to caring for God's creation. He will go back to the Vatican at the end of July and then return for another spell in August. ___ Winfield reported from Rome. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
