“Saints: A Family Story” is a collection of affectionately told and gorgeously illustrated narratives of 34 holy men and women.

The title is fitting, given that the saints are “presented as a ‘Family,’ living in many different times and places,” according to the authors, the father-daughter team of John and Catherine (Katie) Cavadini, who wrote the book for friends and family.

While the book is written for children, its substantive content and vivid illustrations are meant to captivate all ages. The authors bring superlative academic credentials to the task.

John Cavadini is a professor of theology and director of the McGrath Institute for Church Life at the University of Notre Dame. A prolific author, he was knighted by Pope Benedict XVI for his service to the Church. Katie Cavadini is a teaching professor and director of the Master of Arts in theology program at the University of Notre Dame.

The authors launch the book with a portrait of St. John Paul II, explaining that “he called the Church today to sanctity by giving us the gift of more and more saints,” and noting that he canonized 482 and beatified 1,300 worthy candidates.

Then they take us on a journey throughout the centuries and around the world. Along the way, we meet the world renowned (St. Joseph and St. Luke the Evangelist), lesser known (St. Macrina the Elder and Blessed Herman of Reichenau) and recently designated (Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati and St. Gianna Molla).

Short chapters typically unfold in a storytelling style. For instance, we learn at the beginning of John the Baptist’s tale that “St. John did not live in a house.” The accounts are sprinkled with fascinating details. The authors mention, for example, that when St. Catherine of Siena spoke bravely to the pope, she addressed him as “Dad” instead of “Your Holiness.”

The book’s stunning illustrations are the work of a longtime family friend of the Cavadinis, Anastassia (Tess) Cassady, a Byzantine Catholic trained in “writing” icons. (Icons are written, not painted, since they are meant to tell a story: in other words, “Scripture in visual form.”)

I spoke to John Cavadini about the approach he and his daughter took to the topic, and how he combined his extensive knowledge of Church history with his passion for what he calls the “beautiful task” of telling the stories about saints in a family setting.

Ron Polaniecki: Tell us about your Italian lineage and how it influenced your book, particularly the “family” theme.

John Cavadini: On my father’s side, my grandmother was from Piedmont and my grandfather from Milan. And on my mother’s side, my grandmother was from Naples and my grandfather from Palermo. So, since my family is from the whole peninsula, you could say that I’m a bit like Victor Emmanuel II, who is remembered as the king who united all of Italy.

The Italian cultural, spiritual idea of family was passed on to me. And it lives on with my seven children and 18 grandchildren, who all are in the area. You could say we are very tight.

RP: How does writing scholarly articles on theology for an academic audience differ from writing a book aimed at families?

JC: They are not incredibly different. As a theologian, I consider, as a practical matter, how is my writing going to affect the teaching, preaching and proclaiming of the faith beyond the academic world? Theologians should make their writing intelligible to believers and nonbelievers alike, people who may have left the practice of the faith or are thinking of leaving it. Good theology should help them to reconsider. Good theology is attractive and interesting, not dry, sterile or irrelevant. So, the aims of my scholarly work are not that different from the aims of this book.

RP: The Catholic Church archives include approximately 11,000 saints. How did you select just 34?

JC: In brief, my family made the selections. This did not start as a book project, but rather grew out of a little game that I played with my grandkids. Guided by calendar feast days, I produced drawings and stories of saints on cards. I put these baseball-type cards in envelopes and distributed them to my grandchildren during Sunday dinner visits. One time, for fun, I put “coupons” into the envelopes, which could be redeemed for a card about a saint of their choice. To my surprise, many redeemed those coupons. Some chose their own names, others the names of their parents. This meant that now I had to write stories about these saints.

One grandson requested a story about St. Luke, his namesake. This was a challenge since we don’t know much about this evangelist. However, we do know that St. Luke was an adventurer and that he was shipwrecked and had to swim through a stormy sea to safety. All this, to spread the Gospel. Now, that’s interesting. And my grandson liked it.

As I wrote these saint stories, my daughter, Katie, suggested we put them in a book. Then Katie asked Tess Cassady, her friend and former fellow swim-team member from school, to create artwork. Tess took the challenge “super seriously,” conducted extensive research and created beautiful illustrations filled with symbolism.

RP: How was it to work with Katie, a fellow theologian, and your daughter?

JC: It was a pleasure as we have a synergy of talents and gifts. Katie has four children and is extremely organized, which sometimes I am not. To her credit, it was Katie who contributed lives of additional contemporary saints to round out what would become the book, also adding saints to balance the stories between young and old, men and women.

RP: What are you like as a grandpa?

JC: Of course, I love all my grandchildren. And I get up early every day to pray for all of them. I like to think I am kind of a wisdom figure — but not one who is too serious.

RP: Who are your favorite saints?

JC: Among my favorites are Cosmas and Damian, twin brothers born around 250. They had wealthy parents, beautiful homes and became doctors. But unlike some of those in their time and in our own, they were not obsessed with prestige and wealth. In contrast, they used their healing skills to help and comfort the poor. They never took any money from anyone. I want young people to know how these brothers gave of themselves. (For being Christians and spreading the Gospel, they were martyred by Diocletian around the year 300.)

RP: What’s next?

JC: The response to this book has been so positive that we’re considering a book about American saints, including, of course, Italian-American saints!

“Saints: A Family Story” is published by Paraclete Press. For more, clic here.

Saints: A Family Story

The above appears in the February 2024 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture. To subscribe, click here.

Eight dogs and three horses that gave their lives while serving alongside Chicago police officers were recently honored in a new memorial.

Local sculptor Jessica LoPresti designed and sculpted the piece along with fellow artist Oscar Leon. The work was created at the Fine Art Studio of Rotblatt Amrany in Highwood, Illinois.

“Our intention was to create a meaningful and moving tribute dedicated to the K9 and equine units of the Chicago Police Department that highlights the bond between the animals and their human partners, and to honor their service and sacrifice,” says LoPresti, a Chicago-area resident and DePaul University graduate.

The memorial is located just east of Soldier Field, near the Gold Star Families Memorial and Park in the museum campus area east of Soldier Field. The formal unveiling ceremony took place on Oct. 11.

LoPresti is a co-sculptor of the statue of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini, unveiled in October 2022, in the courtyard of Chicago’s Holy Name Cathedral.

A new statue of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini was unveiled on Oct. 15, 2022, in the courtyard of Chicago’s Holy Name Cathedral in celebration of the 75th anniversary of her canonization. Born in Italy, Mother Cabrini was the first American citizen to be canonized, and her statue in Chicago has a great Italian backstory.

The sculpture was created by Lou Cella and Jessica LoPresti, both of whom are of Italian descent.

While Cella’s name isn’t well known, his works are. They include sculptures of baseball legends Harry Caray, Ernie Banks, Billy Williams and Ron Santo at Wrigley Field, as well as Carlton Fisk, Frank Thomas and Paul Konerko at Guaranteed Rate Field. Bart Starr, Gale Sayers and Ken Griffey Jr. are among the many other sports greats to have been captured in bronze by Cella.

Cella and LoPresti are artists at Rotblatt Amrany Studio of Fine Art in Highwood. The pair have worked together on projects — including on a statue of Hall of Fame pitcher Stanley Coveleski for the South Bend Cubs — but neither had created a likeness of a saint before.

The delicate checkered pattern on Mother Cabrini’s veil was a particular challenge: one the pair tackled by having LoPresti model a habit similar to what the saint wore.

A bishop in Italy during the first great wave of migration to the Americas, Giovanni Battista Scalabrini founded two religious orders and a lay society to tend to their spiritual and temporal needs.

The year is 1881, and the setting is the Milan train station. A 41-year-old Italian bishop watches as 300-400 migrants — young and old, men, women and children, from different northern provinces — wait to board a train to Genoa. They will all soon be headed to America on a steamship voyage fraught with sickness and danger.

The middle-aged prelate is overcome with sadness as he looks upon the weary, malnourished and ragged throng. Years later, Bishop Giovanni Battista Scalabrini would recall that God caused a “knot in his heart” that day. As a priest and fellow Italian, he asked himself, “What can I do to help them?” The rest of Scalabrini’s life was a purposeful quest to find answers to that question.

The third of eight children, Giovanni Battista Scalabrini was born on July 8, 1839, at Fino Mornasco, near Como. His father ran a small wine shop. Both his mother and father were known for their devotion to their faith.

In school, Scalabrini loved the classics, demonstrated an aptitude for languages and was always first in his class. At an early age, he discerned a vocation to the priesthood. In 1857, he entered the seminary in Como, and he was ordained a priest in 1863. Scalabrini had a strong desire to join the missions in the Far East, but his bishop wanted him to serve as a rector of local seminarians and teach Greek and history.

Four years after his ordination, Scalabrini helped victims of a cholera epidemic near his hometown. Some 50 died, and Scalabrini had to be quarantined. Two more times in his life he would face deadly epidemics. Each time, his commitment to serve the sick trumped the risks to his own life.

In 1870, Scalabrini was appointed as a pastor of a local church, where his religious zeal and administrative talents were noted by his superiors. A mere six years later, at age 37, he was ordained a bishop, soon after which he set out to visit all the parishes in his diocese of Piacenza, a small city in an agricultural area of the Emilia-Romagna region.

Scalabrini’s diocese was large and mountainous, with 250,000 inhabitants in 366 parishes, 200 of which could be reached only by mule or horseback. In many cases, his parish-by-parish visits were the first of their kind in 300 years, and so they were met with enthusiasm. As he traveled, Scalabrini lived “neighbor to neighbor” and shared the poverty of his people. In his 30 years as bishop of Piacenza, Scalabrini visited each parish five times.

As he spoke fearlessly about the importance of faith and morals, he earned many ardent admirers along with some vehement detractors. For instance, members of one Masonic lodge recorded in their minutes that they detested his very presence and his “trickery” as a Catholic priest.

Spurred by the need he saw for religious education, Scalabrini wrote a catechism for kindergarteners, an innovation for his time. Next, he published a magazine devoted to teaching the faith, called “The Catholic Catechist.” In 1877, he wrote a manual on catechism and held a conference on the subject, earning him a reputation as “The Apostle of Catechism.” In subsequent years, Scalabrini came to realize the importance of teaching the faithful in their own language.

As Scalabrini observed the migration of people away from his diocese, he began a lifelong study of the causes and consequences of this multidimensional phenomena. One root issue was the extreme poverty of the Italian field workers and laborers, who faced the real possibility of starvation. This harsh reality led many to the gut-wrenching decision to abandon their homeland in the hope of finding a better life in the Americas. This difficult situation was made worse by dishonest agents who took advantage of those who were desperate to leave.

Boarding the steamship to America was just the beginning of the challenges they faced, as there were no regulations to protect these voyagers. As soon as they stepped on the dock, the migrants were met by padroni or their accomplices, the manutengoli. These labor brokers, often immigrants themselves, acted as middlemen between potential workers and employers. They represented mining and railroad companies and agribusinesses, helping these enterprises find laborers for the hard work of digging earth, laying track, raising livestock and the like. While some were helpful and truthful, others were dishonest in the fees they collected and the promises they made.

Upon their arrival in America, the Italians were greeted by a strong anti-immigrant sentiment, as revealed in an 1896 speech by Massachusetts Senator Henry Cabot Lodge to the United States Senate. Lodge asserted that new measures were needed to thwart the growing danger that the “American race” would be “polluted” by unrestricted immigration with its “low, unskilled and ignorant foreign labor.”

On the spiritual side, Scalabrini recognized that there were far too few Italian-speaking priests for the number of immigrants who were headed toward the Americas.

Although Scalabrini acknowledged the enormity and complexity of the challenges, he repeatedly emphasized the simplicity of the solution: To enact measures that would protect migrants and treat each one as a human being deserving of respect. His resolve in this regard led him to establish a pair of religious orders and a lay society to further that cause.

In 1887, Scalabrini’s proposal for a new congregation was approved by Pope Leo XXIII. The patron saint chosen for the fledgling order was St. Charles Borromeo, the spiritual protector of Milan. Scalabrini’s new missionary order was to be known as the Missionaries of St. Charles. He chose “Humilitas” as its motto, underscoring the importance of humility in serving the poor and needy. In just one year, Scalabrini was ready to send seven priests and three lay helpers to New York.

A few years later, Scalabrini realized how valuable it would be to have a congregation of sisters to assist the priests in their mission. The path was paved by Fr. Joseph Marchetti, a young missionary in Scalabrini’s congregation, who made two trips to Brazil in 1894 as a chaplain for the immigrants. After his second trip, Marchetti decided to stay in Sao Paulo and build an orphanage. He, too, immediately recognized that sisters were needed to care for and educate the children.

Marchetti soon returned to Piacenza in search of assistance. When he arrived at his hometown, he convinced his mother, her sister and two young women to accompany him to Brazil. On Oct. 25, 1895, in a solemn ceremony in Scalabrini’s chapel in Piacenza, the women’s branch, known as the Congregation of the Missionary Sisters of St. Charles Borromeo, was founded.

To bolster the work of his missionary priests and sisters, Scalabrini and Giovanni Battista Volpe-Landi, a lay supporter from Piacenza, established the Society of St. Raphael in 1889. This organization of laypeople set up committees in multiple locations, including New York and Boston, as well as the coastal cities of Italy. The aim of the society was to keep “alive in the heart of Italian immigrants, together with the family, the feeling of nationality and affection toward the mother country.”

The society assisted in practical matters: securing temporary housing, exchanging money at fair rates, buying train tickets for further travel, and informing friends or relatives of the immigrants’ arrival.

More than anyone else except the Pope, it was Scalabrini who helped convince the future St. Frances Cabrini to rally her young congregation in support of Italian immigrants in the Americas. Over the ensuing 25 years, Mother Cabrini and her Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart established 67 institutes — including hospitals, schools and orphanages — across the United States and in numerous foreign countries, including Nicaragua, Brazil and Argentina (Fra Noi, March 2023).

At the urging of his missionary priests in America, Scalabrini became a migrant among migrants, boarding a boat with 1,200 fellow Italians and landing in New York on Aug. 3, 1901. His goal was to study the current state of the Italian-American community and to strengthen the care and ministry delivered to his flock.

While many Americans opposed immigration, the nation’s press generally was excited to cover Scalabrini’s visit. Yet it was the assassination of President William McKinley by an anarchist in Buffalo on Sept. 6, 1901, about a month after Scalabrini’s arrival, that gave him an unexpected opportunity to gain the admiration of the media and, in turn, many American citizens.

The boost in positive press and public sentiment came in the wake of Scalabrini’s bold decision to cancel all his festive appearances and only participate in religious ceremonies while the nation was in distress over McKinley’s gunshot wounds and then in mourning after his death. While Italian immigrants across the U.S. were disappointed by Scalabrini’s decision, the country’s media were impressed. In the predominantly Irish-American city of Boston, for example, an affirming story in the Boston Globe was headlined, “Bishop Scalabrini of Italy Asks the People to Pray for the President.”

Another newspaper glowingly reported that Scalabrini was “a plain, old-fashioned appearing man … [with] merry eyes and benign countenance. One feels that he is sincere in every word and movement.”

The media saw Scalabrini’s cancellations as a mark of respect, and they portrayed Italians as people who could be religious as well as patriotic.

Soon after McKinley’s funeral, Scalabrini met with President Theodore Roosevelt in the White House. The president told the bishop he admired the tough endurance of Italian workers and the quick adaptation of Italian children in American schools. Scalabrini took this occasion to describe the brutal treatment he witnessed at Ellis Island, where a guard hit an immigrant with a huge stick. Scalabrini rhetorically asked the president, “Why do the agents have to be so cruel to workers who come in peace?”

Scalabrini returned to Italy on Nov. 14, 1901, after spending 100 days in the U.S. and traveling 7,000 miles. While in America, he saw for himself the discrimination faced by immigrants and the many difficulties engendered by differences in language, culture and religious customs.

In the late 19th century, millions of Italians immigrated to North, Central and South America to start a new life. In 1904, Scalabrini responded to the request of missionaries in Brazil and journeyed there to encourage the parishioners and strengthen their faith. The itinerant bishop sailed across the ocean with a group of 500 migrants, half of which were Italian.

During his travels to Brazil, Scalabrini witnessed the flourishing of colonies founded by Italian migrants, most of whom settled in São Paulo and Rio Grande do Sul.

After his visits to America and Brazil, Scalabrini’s focus expanded from advocacy for Italians into activism on behalf of all migrants. In his own congregation, two Polish students were trained, ordained and sent to a successful ministry among fellow Poles in Massachusetts.

While Scalabrini’s vision of an international network of assistance for immigrants did not come to fruition, the institutes he founded provided assistance at a time when it was desperately needed. For his accomplishments and zeal, Pope Pius XII dubbed him “Apostle to the Migrants.”

Scores of stories are told of Scalabrini’s devotion to his people. For example, during an exceptionally cold winter famine in 1880, many in Scalabrini’s diocese were starving to the point of death. When his resources ran out, Scalabrini raised money to feed his parishioners by pawning the precious chalice Pope Pius IX gave him and selling the two horses he rode for his pastoral visits. He also turned the first floor of the episcopal residence into a kitchen, offering 4,000 bowls of soup a day to the poor, and emptied his closets to clothe the needy.

Scalabrini’s humility was exemplified by the number of times he turned down offers to be promoted to the position of cardinal. Each time, Scalabrini said no because he felt it would prevent him from more directly serving his people. But his lack of hierarchical ambition did not equate to a lack of tenacity. One observer said that Scalabrini viewed opposition as a sign of God’s approval and that obstacles redoubled his considerable energies.

Immediately following Scalabrini’s return from Brazil to Piacenza in December 1904, he declared plans to visit his diocese for the sixth time and to organize a second national congress in catechesis. Even though Scalabrini was experiencing serious health issues, his announcement came as no surprise to his community since one of his favorite sayings was, “We shall have time to rest after death.”

Despite his resolve, these health challenges prevented him from completing his intended travels. Bishop Giovanni Battista Scalabrini died on June 1, 1905. His last words were: “Lord, I am ready. Let us go.”

During his lifetime, there were miracles attributed to Bishop Scalabrini. Those, along with his personal sanctity and indefatigable service to migrants and the poor, were the cause for his canonization. The effort bore fruit, with Pope John Paul II beatifying Bishop Scalabrini on Nov. 9, 1997, and Pope Francis canonizing him on Oct. 9, 2022.

Today, the Scalabrinians carry on their historical commitment to ministry among Hispanics, Asians, Haitians and other migrant groups. According to the order’s website, there are 1,195 Scalabrinian missionaries working in 39 countries and operating 52 houses for migrants, 13 schools and orphanages, and four hospitals.

True to the ideals of their namesake, the Scalabrinians continue to labor and serve on a grassroots level, focusing on the link between culture, language and faith while continually advocating for the needs of migrants and newcomers of all ethnicities.

Sweet home, Chicago

The religious orders founded by Giovanni Battista Scalabrini established a major presence in the Chicago area and had an enormous impact on the spiritual and cultural life of the local Italian-American community.

Opening provincial houses for the western half of North America in the near west suburbs, they built the Sacred Heart Seminary in Stone Park, Our Lady of Fatima Home in Melrose Park, and Villa Scalabrini nursing home and Casa San Carlo retirement center in Northlake.

They also established a dozen churches across the Chicago area, including Guardian Angel, Maria Addolorata, Our Lady of Mount Pompeii, St. Anthony, St. Callistus, St. Francis Xavier Cabrini, Santa Lucia, Santa Maria Incoronata and St. Michael in Chicago; Our Lady of Mt. Carmel in Melrose Park; St. Anthony in Rockford; and St. Charles Borromeo in Stone Park.

Today, most of those churches are either under diocesan control or closed, and Villa Scalabrini and Casa San Carlo are run as Casa Scalabrini Village by Ascension Living. Our Lady of Mt. Carmel and St. Charles Borromeo church are still run by the Scalabrinians, and the order leases its former seminary to Casa Italia.

The talent behind some of the nation’s most beloved sculptures, Lou Cella developed a penchant for “getting it right” while making ravioli with his family as a youth.

Chicago sculptor extraordinaire Lou Cella speaks passionately about a recent documentary that captures the Beatles in the act of crafting “Get Back” and other hit songs. He is fascinated by the creative flame that springs to life as John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr conjure some of rock’s most iconic music and lyrics.

Cella’s awestruck reaction to the Fab Four’s genius is often shared by people who witness the public unveilings of his bronze statues. Onlookers gush with amazement over Cella’s mastery, often exclaiming, “It looks so real!”

Many of the individuals who Cella has immortalized are sports greats. Among them are Chicago Cubs heroes Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, Ron Santo and Fergie Jenkins, and Chicago White Sox legends Carlton Fisk, Paul Konerko and Frank Thomas. Cella’s remarkable sports portfolio also encompasses Green Bay Packer icon Paul Hornung; Chicago Bears superstar Gale Sayers; and Seattle Mariner Hall-of-Fame slugger Ken Griffey, Jr., to name just a few.

Given both the quantity and quality of his work, one might suspect that Cella has been molding amazingly realistic figurines out of Play-Doh since the age of 2, but he came to his calling much later in life.

The oldest of four children, Cella was born in Chicago at a Near North Side hospital where his grandfather was chief of staff. He traces his roots to Genoa on his father’s side and Poland on his mother’s.

Cella recalls a childhood rich in Italian culinary traditions, including creating ravioli from scratch. The various Cella families took turns making this special dish, frequently consulting each other regarding the exact ingredients and preparation. That penchant for “getting it right” is a trademark of his sculptural process.

Building on the art classes he took at Hersey High School in Arlington Heights, Cella went on to Illinois State University, where he majored in graphic arts. After college, he entered the workforce as a designer of sales promotion pieces.

Along the way, Cella developed an interest in three-dimensional art, making comic book action figures in his spare time. Then he started creating roughly 8-inch-tall figurines of Hollywood celebrities such as Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart. As a sports enthusiast, Cella’s interest soon turned to subjects such as golfing great Sam Sneed, Cella’s first work for hire, as well as baseball notables.

Cella soon yearned to create full-size sculptures. By chance, he came across an opportunity to take classes at the Rotblatt Amrany Studio in Highwood, Illinois. There, he began a life-long journey under the tutelage of Omri and Julie Rotblatt Amrany, who have achieved hall-of-fame status in the world of sculpture.

Omri and his studio gained international acclaim in 1994 with the unveiling of the Michael Jordan statue outside the United Center.

Cella recounts his first project at the studio: creating a bust of Clark Gable. After a couple of months, he presented it to Omri, who responded: “That’s good, now it’s time to get started. Anyone who sees it will know it’s Clark Gable. But I want to FEEL that it’s Clark Gable.” It was a humbling but valuable learning experience, says Cella.

Each project that Cella undertakes is unique in its challenges. To illustrate, he relates stories about creating statues of two Chicago baseball legends, both of whom were inducted into the National Italian American Sports Hall of Fame.

The first is Ron Santo, who Cella captured in bronze shortly after the Cubs great passed away in 2010. Happily, Cella notes, he had the opportunity to visit with Santo a couple of times in person. Interestingly, both and he Cubs management were thinking about portraying Santo fielding a bunt rather than in his batting stance. But no picture existed of Santo making that exact play, so Cella had to sift through photos that collectively evoked the pose.

Cella’s commitment to getting it right is confirmed in a minute detail of the Santo statue. It turns out that the button on the top of the cap of the 1969 Cubs uniform, which Santo is wearing, was leather. That year and before, all the Cubs caps had a twill button. When Cubs memorabilia afficionado Dan Knoll pointed this out while sculpting was in progress, Cella immediately made the correction.

The second NIASHF member created by Cella was Paul Konerko. Cella was told that the 2014 unveiling of the statue had to be kept a secret from the White Sox great. That meant Cella couldn’t meet with Konerko nor ask for a special photo shoot, since that would tip him off.

The Sox had a specific pose in mind: Konerko’s fist-in-the-air gesture after hitting a pivotal grand slam home run in the 2005 World Series. One challenge, says Cella, was getting Konerko’s facial expression just right from videos since there were no exact photos of that moment.

Another challenge of the project was Konerko’s “perfect” model-like face. Cella notes that it’s much easier to capture the look of individuals like Harry Caray or Vince Lombardi, who have striking facial features. With Konerko, Cella discloses, nothing stands out.

It is no secret that Konerko is a perfectionist. So, it was particularly rewarding when Cella heard on a radio talk show the day after the unveiling that Konerko said of the sculpture, “I would not change a thing.”

As unpredictability as each project is, Cella is proud to say that when most stars view their sculptures for the first time, they just stare. Others around him will be cheering and commenting, but the subject usually remains silent and motionless. Cella has come to understand that this lack of reaction was neither a sign of disappointment nor displeasure.

Cella admits that COVID-19 has impacted his profession, just as it has almost everything else. Some projects were put on hold because of the pandemic, and the cost of bronze as well as shipping has gone up significantly. Luckily, Rotblatt Amrany has been commissioned to create several major pieces for Auburn University.

To be sure, Cella’s portfolio has included more than sport celebrities. For example, he created statues of American food scientist and popcorn superstar Orville Redenbacher, as well as University of Notre Dame icons Frs. Theodore Hesburgh and Edmund Joyce, which are positioned on the university campus in front of the library.

Last year, Cella stepped out of the athletic arena once again to co-sculpt with Jessica LoPresti a statue of St. Frances Cabrini that graces the courtyard at Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago. In January 2023, Cella accompanied the director of the National Shrine of Mother Cabrini in Chicago to present a miniature version of the sculpture to Pope Francis in Rome.

Cella, who resides in the northwest suburbs, is married and has one daughter. She, like her father, does her best to balance her local sports allegiances. Among her prized positions are two autographed baseballs: one of Cubs star Anthony Rizzo and the other, of course, of “Paulie” Konerko.

Renowned throughout the world for her inspirational missionary work, St. Frances Cabrini had a special place in her heart for the Windy City.

St. Frances Xavier Cabrini is revered in Catholic circles for her holiness and fervent devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and she is known throughout the world for establishing dozens of hospitals, schools and orphanages in 16 countries. Although her work spanned two continents, Mother Cabrini had a special connection to Chicago, tirelessly serving the immigrant Italian community there for decades and eventually passing away in a hospital she helped to create. A U.S. citizen since 1909, she was the first American to be canonized, but she never lost her italianità. That’s not surprising, since she didn’t leave her native Italy until she was 38 years old.

Cabrini traced her roots to SantˊAngel Lodigiano, a small town in the province of Lombardy, about 20 miles from Milan. Born Francesca Saverio Cabrini on July 15, 1850, she was affectionately nicknamed Cecchina, or little chickpea, because she was so small. She worked on a farm and was educated at home by her older sister.

Despite being sickly from the time of her premature birth, Cabrini studied hard and became a teacher. She developed a lifelong fear of water at the age of 7 when she fell into the Venera River and almost drowned during a visit with relatives. Overcoming that obstacle, too, she made more than 20 transoceanic voyages during her far-flung undertakings.

From an early age, Francesca Cabrini was fascinated by missionaries, especially St. Francis Xavier — from whom she would take her religious name — who wrote about his experiences while spreading the Word of God in the Far East. These stories inspired Cabrini to pursue a vocation as a missionary to China, but she was rejected by existing religious communities because of her poor health. Cabrini was undaunted, and her ardor was eventually recognized by a local bishop, who encouraged her to start her own religious community.

At the age of 30, she did exactly that, naming her community the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. This came at a time when missionaries were almost exclusively male. The rules that Cabrini wrote for her new sisterhood emphasized charity above all else, followed closely by obedience and prayer. Perhaps her best-known motto came from Philippians, 4:13: “I can do all things in Him who strengthens me.”

When Cabrini met with Pope Leo XIII in 1889, he told her to go “not to the East, but to the West,” specifically to New York to tend to the countless Italian immigrants there.

While Cabrini has often been honored, few titles are more appropriate than the one bestowed upon her by the American Committee on Italian Migration, which in 1952 named her the Italian Immigrant of the Century.

Cabrini began her own experiences as an immigrant at age 39 in 1889, when she departed for New York aboard the Bourgogne on the first of many trips across the Atlantic. During the voyage, she and six companion sisters traveled in second class while offering comfort and aid to the less fortunate aboard the ship, among whom were 1,500 other Italians. Those most in need traveled in third class, which the sisters described as “no better than a stable.” Their taxing journey took 12 days.

When Cabrini landed in New York, her prospects for success seemed as slender as she was. A frail woman with neither money nor powerful connections, she possessed only a modest command of the English language. What’s more, it turned out that the house promised to Cabrini and her sisters in New York was a “pious exaggeration.” (In other words, it didn’t exist.) Instead, they found a place to live in the heart of the Italian ghetto. Despite the odds, it wasn’t long before Cabrini established an orphanage and a school.

Circumstances then sent Cabrini down a path filled with twists and turns that eventually led her to Chicago. There, she founded and then taught at the Assumption School for Italian immigrant children. Originally located at 317 W. Erie St., it opened in 1899 with 500 students. Upon Cabrini’s insistence, this school, like many others she and her sisters ran, was free of charge.

The needs of her fellow Italians in Chicago grew along with their population, which rose from 5,700 in 1890 to 16,000 in 1900 and 45,000 in 1910. Like so many other immigrants, they lived in vastly overcrowded housing and labored for meager wages. Uncharacteristic of the times, Cabrini encouraged her sisters to teach young women the industrial arts so they could support themselves.

At the time, there were very few government or philanthropic agencies that advocated and cared for Chicago’s Italian immigrant community. Cabrini’s first impulse was to establish an orphanage, but the newly appointed archbishop, James Quigley, asked for a hospital instead. He had one in mind that was for sale.

After inspecting it, Cabrini decided to look for something better. Soon, she found the six-story North Shore Hotel in Lincoln Park, which was also for sale but at a much higher price. Since Cabrini had only $1,000, she turned to Archbishop Quigley for a decision. He selected the property Cabrini favored, which left her with the challenge of raising the significant sum of $25,000. She succeeded.

Cabrini had organizational skills to match her talent for fundraising. Further, she developed a sharp business sense. For example, in purchasing the site for the hospital, Cabrini suspected the sellers were being dishonest in stating the property’s measurements. One morning at daybreak, Cabrini and her sisters tied shoestrings together to create a makeshift tape measure. Sure enough, they discovered mistakes. Faced with the facts, the sellers made the corrections and adjusted the price.

There were more challenges ahead in the creation of the hospital. The contractors who were hired to do the remodeling stole materials, ran up a huge debt and demanded payment to continue the work. Cabrini filed a lawsuit and succeeded in getting the contract canceled. Then, she took on the task of supervising the work, hiring unemployed laborers and enlisting the help of her sisters to complete the renovation. In 1905, Columbus Hospital opened.

Cabrini took great pride not just in renovating the building but also in offering quality health care. To that end, she sought professional staff and the best and latest equipment. Columbus Hospital emerged as a preeminent health care institution in Chicago, remaining so for nearly a century.

A report sent to Rome by the sisters in March 1913 provides insights into Cabrini’s philosophy. It noted that Columbus Hospital annually cared for 1,400 patients, “accepting not only Italians, but Slavs, Poles, Germans and Spaniards.” The report also noted that the sisters who taught in the hospital’s school of nursing provided spiritual guidance as well as medical instruction, allowing the nurses to “offer the comforts of religion as well as the care of the body.”

Cabrini next turned her attention to the health care needs of the teeming Italian enclave on the city’s Near West Side. Securing an appropriate building and making the necessary alterations, the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus opened the Columbus Extension Hospital in 1911, offering free care to the Italian community of the Taylor Street neighborhood. Later renamed St. Cabrini Hospital, it remained open until 2001.

In 1917, Cabrini purchased a 102-acre farm in northwest suburban Park Ridge, near Northwest Highway and Dee Road. Anticipating wartime shortages, she planned to supply fresh milk, eggs, and chickens to her hospitals and other institutions. She also hoped to use the property as a possible site for a school, orphanage or hospital.

Cabrini’s impact on the Italian community extended well beyond bricks and mortar. She would walk the streets of the Italian areas, consoling families and delivering a message of faith in God. She and her sisters taught catechism at area parishes with large Italian populations. Among them were St. Philip Benizi, which was opened in Little Sicily on the city’s Near North Side in 1904.

The children in those catechism classes referred to their teachers simply as “le sisters,” while Cabrini’s fellow sisters regularly called her “La Madre.” Many in the Italian community addressed her simply as “Madre Cabrini.”

As the decades went by, Cabrini’s influence spread across North, Central and South America. She and her sisters established 67 missions in U.S. cities like New Orleans and Seattle, as well as in Central and South American countries like Nicaragua, Brazil and Argentina.

Despite her far-flung efforts, Chicago remained Cabrini’s spiritual and physical home. She passed away in her beloved Columbus Hospital on Dec. 22, 1917. Beatified in 1938 and declared a saint in 1946, she was formally proclaimed “Patroness of Immigrants” in 1950. Her feast day is Nov. 13.

Cabrini’s strong links to the city are confirmed by her inclusion in the book “Chicago and the American Century, The 100 Most Significant Chicagoans of the Twentieth Century” by Richard F. Ciccone.

On the occasion of her beatification, Chicago Archbishop Cardinal George Mundelein underscored the Chicago bond, saying, “I knew Mother Cabrini very well. I was the last one to whom she spoke outside the nuns of her own community. I celebrated the Pontifical Mass at her funeral (in the chapel of Columbus Hospital).”

On the day of her canonization in Rome, a special candle with her picture was presented to Pope Pius XII by Monsignor George Casey of Chicago, who helped advocate the cause for her canonization. On WGN Radio, Chicago’s archbishop, Samuel Stritch, said, “Today, we pray to her and beg her to be the special patron of Chicago. She loved Chicago. She served Chicago’s best interests. She is a benefactress of Chicago.”

The Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus continued Cabrini’s work in the city long after her death, opening the Frank Cuneo Memorial Hospital in the Uptown neighborhood in 1957.

Cabrini was so well known locally that at one point she became the unofficial patron saint of parking spaces, with Windy City residents chanting, “Mother Cabrini, Mother Cabrini, please find a spot for my little machiney,” as they searched for a spot.

Cabrini has been honored in numerous ways across the country and beyond since her passing. There are statues and shrines dedicated to her at the base of the Statue of Liberty, at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., and at St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican. Her image can be found on an Italian postage stamp issued in 2016 to commemorate the 70th anniversary of her canonization. And she is listed in the National Women’s Hall of Fame in Seneca Falls, New York.

Here in Chicago, the Cabrini Townhomes were built in 1942 in the neighborhood around Division Street and Clybourn Avenue, where many immigrants from Lucca lived and worked in nearby plaster shops.

In the early 1960s, Chicago’s Little Sicily was plowed under to make way for a large, high-rise public housing complex that came to be known as Cabrini-Green. A source of affordable housing for more than 15,000 residents at its peak, it devolved into a magnet for crime, with the last of the high rises being demolished in 2011.

In the Taylor Street neighborhood, where Cabrini had such a huge impact, a short street just west of the University of Illinois Chicago Circle Campus bears her name.

In 1955, the National Shrine of Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini was created to celebrate her life and accomplishments. Originally constructed as a chapel inside Columbus Hospital, it became a center of worship and prayer for patients and staff.

The shrine and hospital closed in 2002, but when the building reopened as luxury residences in 2012, a remodeled shrine also reopened to serve as a spiritual center and “a symbol of the great work and mission of a remarkable woman.”

The shrine’s main altar features a glass case containing St. Cabrini’s humerus, and above that are stunning frescoes depicting different stages of her life. The room where Cabrini died has been preserved and is currently on exhibit inside the shrine.

In October 2022, a new statue of Cabrini was unveiled in the courtyard of Holy Name Cathedral at State Street and Chicago Avenue, and a bas-relief reliquary was mounted inside the Cathedral. (Turn to page 59 for details.)

The groundbreaking nature of Cabrini’s accomplishments can’t be overemphasized. The Milan Catholic magazine pointed out that Cabrini’s title of “missionaire” (the feminine form or missionary) was a new term that didn’t exist in any dictionary at the time.

Cabrini never wavered in her commitment to social justice, despite the many challenges she faced in staring down prejudice and sexism, coping with a frequently skeptical clerical world and constantly raising money while navigating rough-and-tumble local politics. In an attempt to find the right word to encompass Cabrini’s diverse skills in the public arena, one Italian minister described her as a “statesman.”

Her achievements are sometimes attributed to her fast pace, but hers was not the sort of high-octane energy that fuels much of secular ambition. Rather, Cabrini exuded an inner calm and was known for her dignified demeanor. She once wrote: “Give me your grace, most loving Jesus, and I will run after you to the finish line, forever. Help me, Jesus, because I want to do this with burning fervor, speedily.”

While Cabrini was surrounded by people throughout her life, she found solace in solitude and was content to be alone. The story is told that she asked to be left by herself in her last hours.

Viewed from a distance, Cabrini appears quite ordinary, down to the simple veil she wore as part of her habit. Upon closer inspection, though, the veil revealed a checkerboard pattern that was quite delicate, intricate and beautiful. That veil can be seen as a metaphor for her multifaceted nature and career.

The above appears in the March 2023 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture. To subscribe, click here.