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Fr. John Baptist Cortona, O.S.J.
CHAPTER 5
1881 - 1883
Asti's Bishop Ronco. Canon Marello presents him
a report on the state of the congregation. Desire to undertake
clerical studies. Difficulties with Canon Cerruti. Fr. Cortona
enters the congregation.
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The diocese of Asti remained vacant, while the faithful
earnestly prayed that God would send a shepherd fit to lead them
through such troubled times. More than anyone else, our brothers
needed a bishop to help them through the difficult conditions of
their beginnings; they redoubled their prayers, and our father,
as if foreseeing the difficulties ahead, never stopped encouraging
them to confidently trust in St. Joseph's help. When he found out
that the new bishop's name was Joseph, he took heart, hoping he
would take special care of the congregation named after his patron
saint. He was right.
Bishop Joseph Ronco was born in the town of Leynì,
in the Archdiocese of Turin. As vicar forane he administered the
parish of St. Mary Magdalen in Villafranca, Piedmont, before being
consecrated bishop of Asti by Cardinal Alimonda on November 20,
1881. He was rather gruff, and if you will pardon my saying it,
sometimes a little rude. This was quite a contrast with his episcopal
dignity, and hence many times his manner was not appreciated by
those who approached him. But he had an honest heart and a conscience
that shunned even the suggestion of evil. His burly exterior hid
a heart of gold. It was correctly observed that he entered the
diocese prejudiced against the clergy of Asti; but with time he
got to know them as they really were, praiseworthy men conscious
of their high mission, and a source of satisfaction for their bishop.
Although he was entirely different in temperament from his predecessor,
Bishop Savio, he too was our great benefactor as these memoirs
will show.
But first by the Lord's design the Congregation had
to be exposed to many trials. After Bishop Ronco took over the
diocese, Canon Marello wrote up a brief on the Oblates, their goal,
their number of members, and whatever else might interest the bishop.
He gave it to him and asked him to read it. Several weeks passed
by, and our founder visited the bishop and modestly asked his opinion. "Your
brief," Bishop Ronco replied indifferently, "is still
on my desk where you left it. I have not read it. You may take
it back if you like." Our father understood what kind of man
he would have to deal with, and so he took back the manuscript,
put it in his briefcase, and abandoned himself into the hands of
God. In order not to discourage the brothers, he never told anyone
of this, until much later when he confided it to a priest of our
congregation.
The chapter of the cathedral had already shown its
esteem for Marello by appointing him honorary canon; on March 4,
1880, it elected him canon in fact. On May 4, 1883 he was made
secretary of the cathedral chapter and he was then made archdeacon,
in accordance with the chapter office, by the proclamation of January
11, 1886.
Everyone knows the first idea of our founder was
that the services in which our brothers were to imitate St. Joseph
consisted only of manual labor, teaching religion to help pastors,
and maintaining the house of God as good sacristans. But with the
passage of time a new thought began to occur to him: would it not
be more beneficial to also pursue studies, and thus inspire others
to join the congregation? Our founder and our brothers prayed fervently
to know God's will, and after some time Canon Marello grew certain
in his heart. But a serious obstacle came from Canon Cerruti. He
was director of the Michelerio Institute, practically its founder,
since he was responsible for its beginning and healthy growth,
and for its being named after its benefactress. To this institute
he had dedicated his whole self, his efforts, and he defended his
interests. What's more, the good canon was convinced that the little
brothers had been founded solely for the growth of this institute.
He therefore feared that by pursuing studies they would no longer
be able to attend to the functions they had already been fulfilling
in so praiseworthy a fashion for his house. In fact, they were
completely occupied with maintaining the grounds, attending to
the young workers and the workshops, and as if this were not enough,
our father regularly paid for their room and board.
It will therefore come as no surprise that Canon
Cerruti reserved for himself the right to accept new members into
the congregation; and whenever someone applied, he would swamp
him with questions, particularly about whether or not he wanted
to be a priest. The brothers were desperate for new companions,
so before an applicant went to see the canon they would coach him
to answer that he wanted to enter only to do the will of God. Canon
Cerruti was not happy with that answer and would continue his interrogation
until the applicant confessed that he did want to be a priest. "Well
then," he would say, "this isn't the place for you. Go
to the seminary." Our father knew all this, but he was meek
and patient, so he bore with it acceptingly, abandoning himself
to God who would provide in His own good time.
A tiny seed planted in the earth sprouts forth a
shoot which the warm sunlight little by little strengthens into
a mighty tree. In the same way our congregation had only a handful
of brothers in the beginning, but with God's blessing it prospered
and grew to embrace many more brothers full of good will and a
saintly eagerness to imitate St. Joseph at every step. Among these
I am blessed to count myself.
God called me to the congregation in a unique way.
Since my childhood I had always felt a strong inclination to be
a priest. Earthly obstacles prohibited my ever realizing my hopes,
but I prayed fervently to Our Lady of Clay venerated in the shrine
of Castellazzo of Bormida, to grant me the grace I longed for.
The grace was granted. In 1875 I attended the centennial celebration
for St. Paul of the Cross in Castellazzo. Canon Cerruti was also
there for the feast and one evening he saw me in the choir of St.
Mary's Church praying with such fervor that he drew near. After
a few questions, he knew that I had long desired to study for the
priesthood and suggested that I come to Asti, which would fit in
well with my hopes. Outside myself for joy at such an unexpected
proposal, I waited a while before giving a definite answer; then
encouraged by wise individuals I consented and went to the Michelerio
Institute in Asti. Once I was there the director appointed me doorkeeper
of the house, evidently with no thought of the reason he had called
me. Meanwhile I continued studying Latin on my own, which was not
easy for me, hoping from day to day that I would be given a teacher.
I was not. Then in January of 1876 I was drafted and assigned to
the infantry at Ancona. During my three years of military life,
I kept up my studies under the guidance of an ex-Franciscan father,
a former philosophy lecturer, who had left his house because of
the notorious laws of 1866. While I was in the service, I got to
know the curate of Mercy Church in Ancona. Because he was a priest
of great virtue, I chose him as my confessor. With wise advice
he inspired me not to give up hope, assuring me that he himself
would look after my pursuit of clerical studies. Our congregation
had scarcely been founded when Canon Cerruti told me about it,
and I felt a call to embrace it. When I was discharged I did not
know whether to accept the offer of the Curate of Ancona or return
to the Michelerio Institute. After all, Canon Cerruti had given
no thought to keeping his promise about my studies. Full of uncertainty,
I went to the cathedral of Ancona and after praying with deep feeling
before the miraculous image of the Queen of Saints, I decided to
return to Asti and I carried out this decision in 1878. After various
other incidents, on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception that
year, I had the consolation of receiving the clerical habit and
attending the diocesan seminary while still serving as prefect
of the children at the institute. In my heart I was strongly attracted
to the congregation, but I gave no external hint of it. The canon
penitentiary absolutely did not want the little brothers to form
a congregation on their own, much less become priests, and I did
not want to seem to be going against the man who had called me
there in the first place. Brother Medico, however, was my assistant
prefect, and we grew very close in holy friendship; he took every
opportunity to get near me and talk about the congregation. At
last, on February 18, 1883, I was ordained a priest, and I begged
our father to admit me among his sons. In August of that same year
I was accepted.
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