Fr. Joseph Occhio, S.D.B

December 2014 1 In Memory of Fr. Joseph Occhio, S.D.B. Fr. Joseph Occhio was born to Giuseppe and Giovannina Spizzi Occhio on November 17, 1923 in Gallignano, Italy and died peacefully on December 13, 2014 in Toronto, Canada. He professed as a Salesian of Don Bosco on September 14, 1940 in Newton, New Jersey and was ordained to the priesthood on July 2, 1950 at the Basilica of Mary Help of Christians in Turin, Italy. For 34 years he contributed to the formation of young Salesians as director at Salesian Center in Columbus, Ohio and at Don Bosco College Seminary in Newton New Jersey as college president, dean of students, religious formation coordinator and, for 29 years, professor of philosophy. In 1987 he came to Canada and began a second career in Salesian community leadership and in parish ministry in Montréal, Edmonton and, for the last 15 years, in Toronto. We thank God for the witness of a life dedicated to Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist, to tireless ministry in the Sacrament of Reconciliation and to a tender devotion to Mary. 2 The search for my ancestors reaches back only to the 17th century, to a town where the previous parish registers had disappeared because of a flood. The name of the church is Sancta Maria in Campis (“Holy Mary in the Fields”). Of course, I would have liked to have been able to go further back in my genealogy, but, on the other hand, I am also delighted to see ‘Holy Mary’ at the very beginning of the known history of the Occhios: “Holy Mary in the Fields!” To me that sounds somewhat poetical, with an added aura of inspiration and mystery! There are fewer than thirty Occhio families in all Italy, not related to us by blood. And so I am left with that beautiful image of “Holy Mary in the Fields!” And may all Occhios be always with “Holy Mary in the Fields” on our pilgrim way to our Father’s home La Primavera “Cascina Primavera” is a farmhouse in the hamlet of St. Gabriel (in the local patois: ‘San Gabriel’, with the accent on the last vowel, as in French and Spanish). You can therefore easily understand my special devotion to the Archangel Gabriel and to the first ‘Joyful Mystery’ of the Rosary. At 80 yards East of Spring Farmhouse there is a minuscule wayside shrine dedicated to Our Lady. We used to make a little bow passing in front of it, and we often brought fresh flowers. In the months of May and October we also lit a vigil light and at times we gathered in front of it for our rosary. Most of our family pictures were taken right next to it. About 1000 yards in the opposite direction, far from all buildings, on a very narrow dirt road and surrounded by trees, there is a little shrine dedicated to Our Lady of Sorrows, where one can see a lovely little statue of baby Mary in a glass case, and a life‐size painting of the Pietà over the altar. No one really knows how these two very different Marian icons have been put so close to one another, but ordinary folk have a wisdom of their own in linking together life’s joys and sorrows, the crib and the Cross. This solitary old cement structure, called Villavetere (Ancient Villa), has no electricity, and fewer than 30 persons could sit comfortably on its rustic pews, although at times as many as 50 squeeze in for liturgy and other prayers. In spring, summer and early autumn, evening Masses are offered once a week under the trees in front of the church. On these occasions, one of my brothers‐in‐law prepares the altar 3 and the chairs for the people who often are as many as 60 and more. There is absolutely nothing external that explains the profound veneration and love that surrounds this insignificant building lost in the fields. Perhaps it is due in part to its past history when it used to be a very large cruciform church, with an adjacent two‐ story house where a hermit resided from time to time: such is the description given in the written record of the 1576 pastoral visit by Nicolò Sfrondati, bishop of Cremona, who came from a noble family originally from Cremona, and who later became Pope Gregory XIV. But in 1802 an earthquake destroyed the hermit’s house and four fifths of the church, leaving only the altar of Our Lady of Sorrows and its little chapel. In 1855, in thanksgiving for having been spared the ravages of cholera, the people of Gallignano extended the little chapel into the present small shrine. September 8, ‘Memorial’ of Our Lady’s Birthday, is the great local feast that attracts hundreds of people from near and far, but minor celebrations are not infrequent. Just recently one of my nephews was married there, though he is artistically cultured and could easily have had his marriage blessed in much more impressive settings. On Sept. 8, 1999 my nephew, Fr. Francis Ferrari, held there the conclusion of the celebrations for the Silver Jubilee of his priestly ordination. I have often asked myself why people go there in such great numbers and with so much evident devotion. Aside from any supernatural intervention, my hunch is that there is something here that might have its roots in pre‐Christian times. In his Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum that lists the archaeological Latin inscriptions found in this region, German archaeologist Theodor Mommsen mentions an Ara Magna (a great altar [stone]) placed here by a certain L. Varius Barginus L. F., as a monument to Jove (Jupiter) (Jovi monumentum). This much‐talked‐about historic altar stone was discovered at Villavetere towards the end of the 18th century by Bartholomew Scotti who was the local deputy when the French arrived in 1796. T. Mommsen states he had seen this altar stone with its inscription, in 1867, in the nearby villa of Marquis Joseph Picenardi who had been able to acquire the precious treasure only after much insistence and at a very high price. Villavetere holds for me personally the fondest memories. How well I remember the many times I prayed there. And how often, in late afternoons during my visits home, basking in the light of the setting sun, I walked there praying the rosary with my mother, nephews, nieces, relatives and friends! A funny incident happened there, during one of my first Holy Masses which at that time were offered in Latin. My Dad, then somewhat hard of hearing, was the altar server, and he knew perfectly well all the proper responses in Latin; but when I came to the ‘Orate, fratres’ (‘Pray, brothers and sisters, …) at the conclusion of the Offertory, instead of answering ‘Suscipiat’…, he blurted out, loud and clear, in my direction: “I don’t remember that one!” He did not realize that all the people had heard him, and we all had a ‘pious’ smile! In those days there were only four elementary grades in Gallignano, and so, for my fifth grade I began going to Soncino (3 miles from Gallignano). In terms of Salesian 4 geography, Gallignano is to Soncino what Morialdo is to Castelnuovo Don Bosco. I was usually alone cycling the three miles morning and evening. Right next to the road there was a ravine, and a very deep stream separated from the road by a line of finely cut stones. Between the cut stones and the ravine there was a very narrow path for pedestrians, not more than a foot wide. Instead of staying on the road where I was supposed to be, one day I decided to take the dangerous path, but right at the entrance of the path I felt suddenly undecided: it was too late and the front wheel of my bicycle hit the first cut stone, head on. For a few seconds I was there on the bicycle with no control as to which side I would fall. Had I fallen to my right, I would have been seriously injured or even killed in the stream of the deep ravine. Providentially, after those few seconds I fell to my left, on the road. After a deep sigh of relief, I continued on my way to Soncino, with grateful prayers to my Guardian Angel to whom I address daily the prayer I learnt as a child: “O my Good Angel, whom God has appointed to be my Guardian, enlighten and protect, direct and govern me, who have been entrusted to you by the divine mercy. Amen.” 5 Dad Giuseppe (Pepo) My DAD was born at Isengo, one of those towns in Lombardy whose foundation most historians trace back to the Longobards (perhaps a leader named Iseogh?). Though there can hardly be a name more Italian than “Occhio”, I always had a feeling that grandpa and dad probably had some Teutonic blood in them. Dad was baptized “Josephus Spiritus,” a rather uncommon name that put him under the very special protection of the Holy Spirit and of St. Joseph. The stories that Mom and Dad told us about their youthful courtship naturally belong to another era. At that time Mom lived in Cascina Bosco (Bosco Farmhouse) on the outskirts of Villacampagna, less than three miles from Isengo. Of course, dad wanted to impress his prospective fiancée, and so he bought an expensive Bianchi bicycle, which was like buying a new car today. He then put on his best Sunday clothes and off he went to meet the girl of his dreams.

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