Padre Pio Statue

   

As a native New Yorker, I often find myself overlooking many historically rich religious artifacts in my city. One religious object I found most intriguing was a statue of Saint Padre Pio, located in my hometown of Staten Island, one of the five boroughs of New York City. The statue, located on the outskirts of grounds occupied by St. Joseph-St.Thomas Catholic School, serves as a reminder for individuals to cherish humanity and community above all things. 

    The statue, protected in a concrete grotto, has stood for over a decade. It was erected to commemorate Padre Pio’s canonization in 2002. Throughout high school, I encountered it everyday on my walk home. In the past, I have seen mothers with their children pray by the statue and elderly women place rosary beads on its hands. Several years after its introduction, the administration of the catholic school and nearby parish noticed the attention and popularity of this statue. Benches were installed nearby and a garden of beautiful flowers was planted directly around the statue. Often, individuals perform the sign of the cross as they drive by it. Individuals, presumably children, leave small tokens or gifts at that statue’s feet. In the years since its introduction to my neighborhood, this statue has gained a lot of religious attention and praise. It has become a center of worship and religiosity in my community in its own right and I believe patronage and worship of this statue can be attributed to Padre Pio’s virtues of charity and voluntary poverty. These ideas are reflected through the memory and worship of Padre Pio. His statue’s presence reminds the community to prioritize such virtues. 

   Padre Pio lived a life of voluntary poverty as a friar, priest, and mystic. Born to a peasant family, he never experienced an abundance of wealth. Padre Pio worked in several monasteries throughout his life, collecting large sums of money for the impoverished. He ensured that these funds were distributed to the hungry, the sick, and the suffering. In his small living chambers, he refused to keep any material items, including religious items. He took his vow of poverty extremely seriously and lived the majority of his life detached from money and materialism. Dorothy Day, through her pursuit of social justice, also lived a life of voluntary poverty and servitude to the poor. Many individuals within the Catholic establishment and Catholic community at large lobby for Day’s canonization as well, due to her similar efforts in healing communities of suffering and poverty. Padre Pio’s canonization and widespread recognition for his humanitarian efforts strengthen the case for Day’s prospective canonization in the future. 

    Interestingly enough, this statue of Padre Pio is located around the corner from the final resting place of Dorothy Day, The Cemetery of the Resurrection. Day’s renowned history in the borough of Staten Island and the site of her burial reminds the community of the catholic worker movement and the ideas that propelled her efforts. The presence of Dorothy Day’s gravesite and this monument to Padre Pio remind the community to pay attention to those unable to climb the rungless ladder and to those trapped within the endless cycle of poverty. By evoking such connections between Day’s and Padre Pio’s work, we are reminded to resist the urge to indulge in material things and encouraged to live selflessly by giving to those less fortunate than us. I think the community of people in my neighborhood truly gravitate towards such messages of kindness and charity. I believe that the causes and pursuit of social justice championed by people like Dorothy Day and Padre Pio contribute to the religiosity of such statues and monuments. The memory and ideas of such individuals, literally and figuratively cemented in religious artifacts, are reasons why individuals genuflect at the sight of this Padre Pio statue, or leave tokens of remembrance after visits, prayers, and consolation. 

      Along with the apparent communal significance of this statue, I find it prudent to detail the personal significance this statue holds as well. My grandmother, a devout catholic, prayed to Padre Pio as one of her favorite saints. Prior to her death, I received a miniature statue of Padre Pio from her as a gift. Currently, it stands on a shelf in my bedroom. Whenever I see the small statue in my room or the larger statue outside the catholic school, I’m reminded of her kindred, nurturing, and generous spirit. 

Union Square Drinking Fountain

Union Square Drinking Fountain

Frankie Ciannavei

At least once a week, I pass through Union Square Park to take the train back uptown after work. Usually, it’s dark and I don’t pay attention to any of the statues, but a few weeks ago I happened to be walking up the west side in the middle of the afternoon, and noticed the drinking fountain. The large sculpture of a woman and two children, decorated with lions and lizards, had a police barricade around it that kept me from getting a closer look, so I researched the sculpture online. Crafted by Karl Adolph Donndorf in 1881, the Union Square Drinking Fountain was donated to New York City by Daniel William James “to promote public health as well as the virtue of charity.” Other reasons cited for the fountain included “contributing to the physical comfort of the people,” “teaching a lesson of religion,” and “cultivating a healthy appreciation of art.”

It’s rare to see a public drinking fountain in 2017, and I understand why, especially in New York City. Once a revolutionary concept, most people would now consider it unsanitary to take a drink of water from a public place where any other person or animal could have come in contact with it. But before 1842, New York City residents had to rely on well water. If contaminated, the drinking water could be a huge public health risk. When Manhattan finally got access to fresh water via a nearby reservoir aqueduct, it was something to celebrate.

After learning about the fountain, I was immediately reminded of Dorothy Day. At the time it was erected, the drinking fountain was providing a public service for the city. Water was available to anyone, regardless of religion or class. Because of Dorothy Day’s devotion to fighting injustice, frequently in New York City, I imagined her as the mother figure being depicted. The children could either be her own child, or a representation of the many lives she touched during her lifelong crusade against poverty. The drinking fountain has been present in the city for over a century, and much like Dorothy Day’s legacy, serves as a reminder to take care of oneself and others.

Water is vital to sustaining all life on earth, and lack of access to quantity or quality has subsequently been an issue throughout history. In our own country, protests erupted on the Standing Rock Reservation last year to oppose the Keystone Pipeline. One of the many problems with the pipeline was that if it ever were to leak, it would contaminate the drinking water of the Sioux Tribe. Even after the deplorable living conditions in Flint, Michigan, became front page news, the residents are still currently without clean water. We know that we are quickly depleting and damaging our natural resources beyond repair. The politicization of water occurs all over the world, and society’s most vulnerable-- poor communities of color, are frequently the ones who have to deal with the consequences.

In 2015, Pope Francis penned Laudato si’, an encyclical that discusses climate change and the destruction and exploitation of our common home, Earth. Francis outlines what needs to be done to preserve our planet, and who should be held accountable for making these changes. He does not refrain from pointing on that these environmental issues, such as water and air pollution, are largely caused by the wealthy, but are disproportionately affecting the poor. Regardless of religious affiliation, he calls on everyone to be responsible and take accountability for what they’ve done to the environment, and makes it clear those in developed nations need to do better. If politics or science have no influence on your actions, do it for your love of God and other people. The Pope is the most powerful Catholic in the world, and has a massive influence. For him to use his platform to make a statement about the link between environmental degradation and poverty is extremely profound, and highlights the importance of preserving the Earth and its resources for the coming generations, and how disastrous the future will be if we don’t.

The Garment Worker

The Garment Worker

By Sophie Ambro

One cold November day I was walking North on Seventh Avenue. I was rushing just like everyone around me. While waiting to cross at the corner of 39th street, I noticed a white sheet and scaffolding surrounding the Needle Threading A Button sculpture that usually hovers over the sidewalk. As a walked along the scaffolding I realized that behind the sheet, what looked like a large shadow, was a second sculpture. After doing a quick Google search on my phone to find out what this second sculpture was, I learned it was called The Garment Worker. The statue depicts a Jewish man wearing a yarmulke hunched over a sewing machine. The purpose of the sculpture is to commemorate the Jewish garment workers that made up much of the Jewish communities in New York City during the 20th century.

While standing off to the side, so I wasn’t in anyone’s way, I began feeling drawn to the sculpture. I thought about my ancestors that immigrated to New York City from Eastern Europe that this sculpture represented so well. My great-grandparents were Jews who immigrated to the Lower East Side, lived in tenements, and worked in the sweatshops in the Garment District. Every day they worked, hunched over sewing machines, just like the man I was standing next to in front of an office building. It reminded me of how prevalent Jewish culture is in New York City and the impact the Jewish community had. Looking at the sculpture made me feel proud to think that my ancestors sat just like him every day for years and years so I could have the life I have now.

As I thought about the Jewish influence on New York City, I was reminded about Peace of Mind by Rabbi Joshua Liebman. The contrast of recalling Liebman’s book, the first by a Jewish author to reach The New York Times Bestseller List, while standing next to the sculpture of the Jewish garment worker really exposed the struggles and challenges Jews have overcome in the past century. The post World War II world saw Jews fleeing Europe. Many, like my great-grandparents, came to New York City. But even once arriving in America Jews still faced discrimination and poverty. The seam shops were harsh working conditions for little pay. Peace of Mind gave Jews a sense of hope and comfort to get them through the post World War II trials they faced. The juxtaposition of Peace of Mind--which represents the Judeo-Christian sentiments as post World War II America attempted to separate from Europe-- and The Garment Worker-- which represents the hardships many Jews faced such as harsh working conditions-- shows the strength and fierceness of the Jewish community that has enabled them to overcome the struggles they have faced.

I started to wonder what the other people walking by thought. Did they notice the sculpture behind the sheet? Did they even realize the man was Jewish? People noticed me taking a picture of it before they saw the sculpture itself. I’m sure some didn’t bother looking and just thought I was taking a picture of the scaffolding. A few, without slowing down, did give the sculpture a quick glance. Hidden behind the sheet the sculpture is like a shadow that hovers along the sidewalk. Despite its size, it’s easy to pass it by, rushing to a work or school, and not notice it. Normally The Garment Worker rests among some benches that make up one of the many public spaces that can be found throughout the city. The Garment Worker alongside people as they talk on their phone, drink a cup of coffee, or take a short break from their busy day.