Brazil maintains some fragments of formal manners such as I’ve never encountered in the United States. One is asking a blessing from superiors. It may be done by children asking the blessing of their parents in the morning or by children lining up to ask their school teacher’s blessing in the morning. I’ve been asked for my blessing by my godchildren, and even by children on the street in traditional communities. I’ve asked elderly ladies for their blessing and received, in all solemnity, “May God bless you” in return. It’s one of many gracious gestures that seem like drops of beauty in a world that tends to informality, hurried interactions, and disrespect.

Another, often done in conjunction with asking a blessing, is kissing of the back of the other person’s right hand. While this is a ritual gesture in the traditional Mass, it is also normal when meeting clergy on the street or at the parish, at least in the more traditional communities.  In fact, it spills over again into the greeting of superiors in general, with the formal asking of a blessing from ones mother, an elderly lady, grandpa, a teacher, a religious superior or other paternal figure often accompanied by a kiss to the back of the right hand.

Another delight is the use of formal address not only with superiors, but also among equals. I’ve discovered this custom in convents, seminaries and monasteries (sometimes even in those that do not celebrate the Traditional Latin Mass). It, too, is something that seems to bring a dignity and graciousness to what would otherwise be banal activities, from passing the salt, sir, to reaching for a pen, ma’am. In Portuguese this formality is conveyed by a use of the third person instead of second person: “Would the lady like more water? Might the gentleman pass me the salt?”

All of this may seem fussy.  I initially found it so strange that I scolded some young people at church for speaking formally to me. To my astonishment they begged me to allow them to keep the custom, as it was for them a small gesture of dignity and beauty in a world full of ugliness and disrespect.  With time I’ve come to see it as part and parcel of the cultivation of a life filled with thoughtfulness and consideration, an awareness of social structure, and an honoring of the dignity of guests and superiors. In fact, I find it just as apt when addressing people least likely to be treated with any dignity at all: figuring they could use a drop of courtesy more than most of us.

I do wonder what will happen to the hand kissing, a gesture that has been quite suddenly suppressed by the fears around covid, here at the end of the year 2020. It’s strange to see Brazilians in general greet each other at a distance, making awkward nods or bows which fail to convey the enthusiasm of the more usual greetings of hugs and kisses. That said, the verbal politenesses are not susceptible to germs, so have some chance of carrying on, God willing. And in daily life the attempts at new kinds of greeting seem to be losing traction, with girlfriends and moms slowly reverting to their usual kisses, and men to their handshakes and back-slaps.

​Ona Kiser
President

We didn’t anticipate this year’s economic upheaval when we launched Friends of Campos. But not a few months later here we are, with parishes and Church institutes barely keeping their heads above water. Economic hardships have affected nearly every sector, many small businesses have closed, and many people have been out of work, at least temporarily. The funding and direct donations of food the seminary in Campos received from the parishes dropped by two-thirds, leaving them low on food and basic cleaning supplies. 

We asked your help and your response was immediate and very generous. We are all very grateful for your heartfelt outpouring of support.

The rector of the seminary, Father Marco Antonio, recorded a short thank you. Gabriel and Eduardo, both in their third year of philosophy, spoke in English on behalf of their colleagues and put together the video as a personal thank you to all of you. 

​May God reward you all for your charity.

When a joyful Brazilian man from Campos entered our monastery in Norcia years ago, we had no idea it would be the beginning of a lasting, rich friendship with his home city. Often he shared stories of a land that modernity had left in peace, a land with material challenges but spiritual abundance. Processions and pilgrimages went on for days and men and women attended daily Traditional Mass as normal routine. It is hard to imagine a place where the Faith lives on in a real way as if never interrupted.

On my first visit to Campos flying up the Brazilian coast in a small plane from Rio on Azul airlines, I could see from the air that the land itself was mostly “modern”. Tall office buildings, bad traffic, and poor sanitation dotted the landscape. Most of the people on my flight were oil rig workers. Helicopters met them at the Campos airport -- the size of a small American gas station -- to take them out to the rigs. The area had all the trappings of a modern industrialized society including those no one wants to mention: boredom, restlessness, ennui.

Yet unlike much of the modernized world, this otherwise ordinary region drinks from a river of life which flows through it, clear and pristine. In the western and northern hemisphere we are used to traditional parishes sparsely scattered throughout the country with at most one per city. In Campos however, a whole diocese exists of more than 30,000 faithful who live a life where the traditional liturgy is seamlessly interwoven into the daily fabric of their lives. One town alone can have three churches, a nursing home and shrines for pilgrimages in the countryside.

Residents take modern medicines, talk on modern cell phones and drive modern cars (although some could use newer ones!), but they can still appreciate the words, Introibo ad Altare Dei as an invitation into the supernatural dwelling place of God. Little did I expect on my first visit to hear the consoling and resounding response of 1500 faithful  exclaiming, Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam. Thus my first visit to Campos several years ago brought me much joy. In unassuming ways the whole diocese, called canonically an apostolic administration, reminds the visitor of what we have lost but also of what is still possible. It brings hope…

Prior Benedict Nivakoff, OSB
Secretary

During the end of July Brazil also lost a beloved bishop, Dom Henrique Soares da Costa, of a diocese in the state of Pernambuco, who was a respected friend and support to traditional Catholics. He had preached the annual clergy retreat of the Apostolic Administration just two years ago. ​

The library in the new wing is really developing nicely: there is a reading room with individual desks and air conditioning (a rare thing!) and the books which had been stashed in every spare nook and cranny of the seminary and are being neatly cataloged and shelved. Finishing work continues in the remainder of the new wing, as does clean up of the gardens, which got a bit mangled during all the construction.

The Feast of the Transfiguration was the annual parish feast day in Bom Jesus (the city’s name means Good Jesus). The novena leading up to the feast featured Adoration, a homily and Confession. Despite the accommodation of state and city regulations regarding crowding and social distancing, people are happily attending Mass, Confession, and devotions in the parishes. This is true here in Rio, too, where the Tridentine Latin Mass is as full as conditions allow (it was moved to a larger church for the time being to accommodate the need for space between people in the pews). The lines for Confession are long, and the hardships and upheaval of recent times seems to have only inspired greater enthusiasm in many Catholics.

Being a gringo I tend to take things at face value and follow rules. But things work differently in Brazil. Since priests were celebrating Masses in the churches anyway, with the presence of some cantors, the organist, the tech guy to run the video feed, and several altar servers, it didn’t seem unreasonable to let in the pious who might knock at the side door. As long as they didn’t cause a fuss and stayed behind the camera, there was nothing said and life went on as usual. I’m speaking here of my personal experience in the city of Rio de Janeiro and the accounts of several friends, but I suspect the same has been going on in most places, as it would be a very typical Brazilian workaround.

​2020 took a sharp turn to the unexpected in February, with the growing spread of, and worry about, the new coronavirus. It has spread rather well in a few Brazilian cities, mostly those with a lot of international visitors. Friends of Campos had planned on announcing our project at Easter, and had the site already online, but by then most of the world was quite distracted by the virus, and Brazil was already in reaction mode, so we decided to leave the announcement for a month or so and see how things developed. 
 
While most diocese closed Catholic churches quickly some, including the diocese of the Personal Apostolic Administration, kept churches open for private prayer and Confession. Around Rio, where our president lives, priests have been making good efforts to provide access to Adoration and Benediction, whether by standing in front of the Church as parishioners pass by, or attending to an outdoor altar for Adoration on Church steps, so passersby can stop to pray, or by carrying the Blessed Sacrament in procession, on foot or in a vehicle, blessing people around their community. As in other communities Masses as well as recitations of the Holy Rosary, Vespers, and other liturgy and devotions are livestreamed.
 
The seminary of the Personal Apostolic Administration moved their July holiday up to April, in the hopes that by May things would be back to normal. Since it now appears that normal may not soon return, efforts are being made to restart the semester as soon as possible. Besides the logistics of taking care of the health of the seminarians, clergy, their families, and parishioners, there is the problem of running an institution which survives on monthly donations from the parishes, which are much lower than normal due to many people being out of work. The economic crisis caused by the shutdown of many services and businesses has affected all of the parishes and their associated social and educational institutions, too. 
 
The projects we have featured on our site are ongoing, though in light of the current situation, priority will go to basic support for food, medicine and operational costs. 
 
We decided that given the only increasing needs of the community, and the unknown timeframe of this tumult, we might as well move ahead with announcing our project and hope that you may be inspired to give what you can in support of this unique traditional Catholic community. Brazil’s economy being what it is, even a modest donation in dollars goes a long way, and any gift you may wish to give is most gratefully appreciated.

With great joy we report the ordination of four new young priests which took place on December 7, 2019 in Campos. Dom Fernando Arêas Rifan conferred the priesthood on Arthur José Brulher Teles Aguiar, Fabrício Luís Meira da Silve, Jean Marco Silvério de Oliveira and Mateus Mariano Costa.

The ordination Mass in the main church was packed with family, friends, fellow seminarians and priests, parishioners and visitors, all of whom were eager to kiss the hands of the newly ordained (and get their picture taken with each one) at the end of the ceremony.

The new priests celebrated their first solemn Masses in different cities around the diocese in the following days.

​Please keep Father Arthur, Father Fabrício, Father Jean and Father Mateus in your prayers!

One of the most startling things for a visiting foreigner, accustomed to the Tridentine Masses of London, New York, Madrid or even smaller places like Harrisburg, Pennsylvania is that in Campos, being a traditional Catholic is not about the liturgy in isolation, but to do with an entire way of life. That is, the tradition that is preserved is not simply the part which is done in church, but is an unselfconscious orientation to a life lived by and for God. The hierarchy of the family and community depends on it. The roles and behavior of men, women and children depend on it. The seasonal cycles of planting and harvest depend on it. Every conversation, meal, and hour spent in work or prayer depends on it.

​In the village of Varre-Sai, which lies at the farthest point inland in the diocese of Campos, one sees this traditional life even more vividly than in the bigger towns, where “progressive” Catholics and protestants live side by side with the traditional Catholics. In the most rural communities children run enthusiastically to greet adults, kissing the backs of their hands and asking a blessing of priests, teachers, grandmothers and other respected men and women. Boys and girls line up separately and sit separately for catechism, and men and women sit separately in Holy Mass. One stands out of respect when an elder family member or head of household arrives in the home or at the table. One does the same when clergy or religious enter or are introduced. Clothing has meaning for everyone: Clergy in their clerical garb (there are even special cassocks for doing manual labor and for sports and for sleeping); women in women’s garb; men in men’s garb. One puts on nice clothes for Mass. Given that many people do manual labor and even for the less active the climate is very hot the custom of always washing up and putting on clean clothes for meals and for church makes practical sense.

The liturgy is not an erudite exercise here. Silence and darkness don’t seem to have the appeal that they have in rainy countries with long winters. The churches are beautiful in a colorful, boisterous, bright way. Everything has been built by hand in dribs and drabs. The high altars are cheerfully ornate, the ceilings painted with scenes for meditation: the mysteries of the rosary, scenes from the Old Testament. Gold paint is used where possible (historic churches are often full of gilded wood and plaster around the altars, balconies and windows). The people are colorful in their dress and enthusiastic in their song and prayer.  The dialogue Mass is popular in some parishes. At a weekday evening Mass the women may lead long hymns, and before and after Communion a man might lead prayers of preparation and thanksgiving which the congregation recites together by heart. On Sundays and feasts the parish choirs sing. One priest usually covers both a parish church and the dozen associated rural chapels. When the bishop comes to celebrates for feasts or special events the seminarians come along by busload to sing Gregorian chant and polyphony and provide support for the more elaborate rite.

The river Paraiba runs for some 700 miles, starting in the interior of São Paulo, wending its way along the interior of the state of Rio de Janeiro (where it sometimes forms the border with the state of Minas Gerais) and finally cutting down through the diocese of Campos on its way to the sea. In the same river in 1717, three fisherman ‘caught’ a broken clay statue of Our Lady in their fishing nets. After a long day with a poor catch, they were surprised by the find of a statue, and even more surprised when their nets suddenly began to fill with fish. Devotion to Our Lady of Aparecida and her miraculous interventions spread from town to town, and in 1930 Pope Pius XI declared her Queen and Principal Patron of Brazil. Her feast day, October 12, is a national holiday, and the enormous modern sanctuary near the place where the image was found can hold 45,000 people and attracts millions of pilgrims each year.

​In a twist which Catholics from the northern hemisphere might find unusual, even non-Catholics will make the pilgrimage to the Sanctuary of Our Lady in Aparecida to beg her intercession. So central is she to Brazilian Catholic culture that in the 1970s a protestant man snatched the original image from its high, glass-fronted niche and smashed it into smithereens. The image was tenderly restored in São Paulo and transported back to the sanctuary. The woman who had done the restoration said she’d never seen anything like the greeting that Our Lady of Aparecida got on her return, with thousands of people lining the highway to greet the procession, and truckers pulling over, getting out of their vehicles and kneeling in prayer to honor her.

In the diocese of Campos there are many annual processions in her honor, one of the largest being to a little sanctuary a few miles from the town of Bom Jesus. The walk is long, but thousands turn out. Some start in Bom Jesus the night before, and are tended to by residents along the way who offer prayers, snacks, bathrooms, or a place to roll up in ones blanket and get a few hours sleep. Others join in several miles from the sanctuary, in a neighboring village, or closer, if infirmities prevent much walking. When they reach the sanctuary in “Little Aparecida” an outdoor Mass is held, with thousands of people filling the grassy lawn in front of the chapel and overflowing onto the dirt road.

I, too, have fallen in love with Our Lady of Aparecida and gone to the national sanctuary to ask her intercession and, later, to give thanks for her help. The Personal Apostolic Administration of Saint John Mary Vianney organizes an annual pilgrimage, too, bringing the beauty of the traditional Holy Mass to a slightly tumble-down modern chapel built on the edge of the river bank just where the original image was found. That said, the main church of the sanctuary, built on a vast scale to accomodate tens of thousands, is fascinating in its own right. Liturgy and style are very modern, to say the least, but the piety of the thousands of faithful who come to pray is palpable, and the holiness of the place touches ones heart and life.

​We commend this project, Friends of Campos, to the fierce protection and tender care of Our Lady of Aparecida.