By Mary Cristy

Through years of proximity to the Poor Clare Monastery in Los Altos Hills, I’ve enjoyed many spiritual gifts from the good sisters, the latest being a magazine called The Way of St. Francis. I wondered how, in years of writing, I’d missed this little gem that carries such profound messages!

A sister shared a touching tribute to her mother’s life and love, and the courage with which this singular woman faced her last illness. I read sister’s story first and then turned to the cover story.

The colorful photo depicts a Mexican desert against a backdrop of purple mountains. The upper right shows handsome, white-bearded Franciscan Father Eddie Fronske, O.S.M., who has served St. Francis Church in Whiteriver, Ariz., for 20 years. The foreground is graced by the two White Mountain Apache women who journeyed with Father Fronske and a male official of the Apaches to share a special ritual.

“I’ve been honored and blessed to live among a deeply spiritual people,” Father Fronske said. That truth was etched in the faces of these pilgrims.

For generations, Apache and Pima Indians (whose priest is Franciscan Father David Beaumont) harbored hatred for one another. Pimas’ fear of their traditional enemies was evidenced in a game of “Quick! Hide! The Apaches are coming!”

The two priests met through Apache parishioners when each began to initiate healing masses inspired when Father Fronske learned that reconciliation rituals were taking place in various places among representatives of many tribes.

Father Fronske expressed his own penitence when he asked Catholic Apaches to forgive the sins of his Franciscan forebears. More reconciliation followed as Apaches asked Navahos for pardon.

After a stunned silence, a Navaho woman whose ancestors had been stolen by Apaches replied, “My sister, we forgive you, and ask your forgiveness for Navaho crimes against Apaches.”

At subsequent sessions, long-festering wounds were healed, and Father Fronske remembers, “The tears of joy could have ended a drought!”

In the natural progression of friendship, Father David, whose mission was in Sonora, Mexico, invited Father Fronske to bring healing to the Pimas, many of whom were eager to welcome the erstwhile dreaded Apaches.

With the help of benefactors, the daunting need to finance a long and arduous journey was filled, and Father Fronske, with his Apache delegation, boarded a plane to Mexico.

The Pimas awaited eagerly, but not without trepidation, among some who remembered their history.

When Carmela, a 12-year-old orphan who lived alone on a remote ranch, heard Apaches were coming to ask forgiveness, she trudged through a forest for six hours to a relatives’ house. Two more hours of walking to the bus didn’t deter them.

They met Father David, who gave them a framed picture of The Good Shepherd and told them to walk toward the Pimas who carried a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe. They were to raise their pictures when they met, and proceed together to the church where the governor waited to receive them.

But Rosa, a wild-eyed woman, cried in terror, “You’ve brought Apaches to our village!” Father Fronske calmed her and asked a Pima mother to let him hold her baby.

The Pimas were singing. There were dancers and marchers in the streets. They carried a banner that proclaimed, “Welcome, Apaches! God lives in those who forgive!” Timidly, Rosa inched toward the celebrants.

The governor welcomed them. The ritual of forgiveness proceeded, and Father Eddie presented a chalice and gift to Father David.

As the two tribes breathed freely and renounced the bitterness of generations, tears flowed copiously. They were tears of triumph, love and joy. And the “little poor ones,” the Franciscians, who go to live among the poorest of poor and share their privation, had proved that, with the help of St. Francis of Assisi, who owned nothing but “Brother birds, Mother Earth and Sister Sun,” love can prevail over hate, and therein lies the salvation of us all.

Father Eddie checked the precious bundle the newly trusting Pima mother had placed in his arms and thought happily, “Look, God! The baby has fallen asleep on my shoulder!” (This day human hearts had opened to the divine heart of God, and the light of the world shone as brightly as all the stars in heaven.)

My thanks to Father Eddie Fronske, and to Editor David Elliott of The Way of St. Francis Web site, www.sbfranciscans.org, for permission to retell this story.