11 - Bringing compassion to the road

Through Caritas Father Gianni Carparelli tackles addiction with devotion and faith

More than a priest, he's a conditioned reflex, or, as advertising copywriters would say, an 'image-man,' because mentioning Caritas in Toronto, but also in Montreal, Hamilton and Vancouver, means mentioning Father Gianni Carparelli. He's aware of this, but rather than resting on his laurels he prefers to remain in the front lines, "because," he says, "that's my place."
Born in Viterbo ("mine is the town of the Popes") 57 years ago, holding a degree in Theology and Psychology, and residing in Toronto for the past 20 years, Father Carparelli is one of the Italian-Canadian community's reference points for untiring activity in addiction rehabilitation. Even Ottawa and Rome took note of him, and that's why the Canadian government conferred upon him the Citizenship Award and the Italian government did the same with the Knighthood of the Republic of Italy. Some years ago, the National Congress of Italian Canadians awarded him its prestigious Ordine al Merito.
Are you satisfied, Father Carparelli?
"Why aren't you using my first name?"
I never do that when interviewing somebody, because I'm a reporter, a witness, whereas my counterpart is someone important.
"Come on... me important? I'm just a priest who tries conscientiously to do his duty. I'm nobody important, no more than if were a Monsignor or a Bishop, and probably I'll never be. If you, too, are conscientiously trying to do your job, let's use first-names; we're at the same level."
Alright, then. Let me repeat my question: are you satisfied?
"Satisfied because I never spared myself in doing what was to be done: I gave all that was mine to give, so I have no regrets. If, on the other hand, we are talking of balancing a budget, there's much left to be done."
What do you mean?
"According to the criteria used by society to define success, I'm a perfect failure, because the percentage of those who, after coming out of Caritas, go back to a responsible and decent life is less than enthusing. If you add the fact that I don't own a house, nor a car, and that my bank account permanently oscillates between existence and non-existence, the picture is complete."
It seems to me a rather pessimistic analysis, because what you've done and are doing for addiction rehabilitation is obvious to everyone. And this is somthing that even governments have acknowledged.
"This is not the problem. You see, my organization can make all imaginable efforts, can give life back to some for which it had lost meaning, but if these people, once returned to society, lose it once again, the alternative is clear. Either society is really the engine of perdition, or my structure, Caritas, is inadequate to mend the damage caused by society. Either way, I can't take a positive stock, that's for sure."
In spite of this, you don't stop.
"Why should I? I found my way, this way, here in Toronto; why should I stop now?"
How did you happen to find your way here?
"I was teaching Social Ethics and Introduction to Christianity in Brazil, at Rio de Janeiro University. I wanted to learn English in order to begin an academic career. At the time - I'm talking 20 years ago - I wanted to become a professor. So I moved to Toronto, and was assigned to St. Claire Parish, on St. Clair Avenue, which was run by Don Giuseppe Del Ferro. Once in Toronto, I began to attend English classes; however, the more I understood this society, the more I noticed that the young were living in a condition of great discomfort, which they coped with by resorting to drugs. The trouble was, nobody was doing anything about this. I've always had a particular sensibility to human problems on the road, because it's on the road that humankind suffers and makes other suffer."
So that's when you found your way... on the road. It might sound like a pun, but it looks like things really went this way.
"Exactly. The rest came as a consequence. In the early Eighties I began to hold meetings with families in order to try and understand what could be done about these kids who, by taking drugs, make life miserable for themselves and their neighbours. As soon as I made up my mind, I contacted other parishes, some physicians, and national health structures. I kept repeating that something had to be done. In 1983 this 'something' started to materialize: I and some other people of good will created the 'New Choices' association, based at first in a flat on St. Clair, then in a house on Pauline Ave. We began by taking care of the first two cases. Two years later, in collaboration with Tony and Franca Carella I founded the Vita Sana (Healthy Life) magazine, where we debated about drug addiction and declared it an emergency to be coped with in the most resolute way. Then came Caritas and all its structure."
Which means, in Toronto, a day program centre, labs, offices; three men's homes and one women's home. An agricultural centre in Orangeville, and other family centres in Montreal, Hamilton, and Vancouver. And you at the summit, as director... did I forget anything?
"No, I don't think so, but don't ask me to play a triumphal march for what I did."
What was, originally, this 'something' you had to do about drug addiction?
"Raising awareness about an elementary notion: drug addiction isn't based on drugs, but on discomfort. Drugs are an effect, not a cause, of addiction. This discomfort is rooted in society, which is nowadays totally devoid of values. Caritas was born out of this notion. It will now be obvious to you that we aim at rehabilitating addicts but, at the same time, we try as much as possible to 'rehabilitate society,' because otherwise the ex-addicts will be faced with the same discomfort that caused their downfall. You'll agree that all of this is extremely difficult, because our society really is devoid of values."
But this is a worldwide problem.
"Certainly. It isn't limited to Canada or Italy."
Nor can you, a Catholic priest, demand that societal values be those preached by your religion.
"I'm well aware of this, even if, as you should know, all religions have some common values. But this is not the problem. The problem is that we have built a world with many lights but no roads. We're dominated by American culture, which is engulfing the whole world, and it's a culture that preaches a weak thought:minimalism. How can we, then, talk about values to a world which doesn't want any? But here is where discomfort is born, which many, far too many youngsters try to relieve with drugs."
After 20 years in Canada, you can diagnose our community. How is it, in reality, beyond its outer appearance?
"Our community built houses and towns and succeeded because of its laboriosity. Italian Canadians reached a well-being that perhaps they wouldn't have dreamed possible, but allowed other things to slip away, things which were as important as the luxury house or car, the designer's suit, the vacations in the Caribbean or in Italy..."
Which are?
"Reading, debating, reflecting. Ours is a muscular, yet weak, community. Think about those guys who spend hours upon hours in a gym, building up a statuesque physique, and cannot make a meaningful reasoning. Well, for many in our community the situation is similar."
What about the children, the second- and third-generation Italian Canadians?
"They're the children of this reality. Follow me, because I want to explain something involving all our contemporary society, not limited to our community in Canada. People can't remember that behind each success there's a big mystery. People have an immense trust in technology, which is regarded as the source of all things. They don't understand that God is behind all things. Even if God didn't exist, we should invent Him. The moment we deny the existence of God, we invent our golden calf, which satisfies us for two days and then disappears. Technology is the golden calf of the third millennium; it may well be that it lasts longer than when Moses was on Mount Sinai, but it cannot solve the problems of humankind, for the simple reason that the computer, the god-computer has no soul. Mind you, I'm not talking as a Catholic priest, because the same things could be said by, for instance, a Jewish Rabbi, or a Tibetan monk."
Why did you decide to become a priest?
"Because I was struck, when I was about 12, by the figure and enormous generosity of a priest in Viterbo, Don Sebastiano Ferri. It was him who advised me to enter the Seminary, and I had no doubt in following his advice. The image of Don Sebastiano, a pure and worthy person, is still my guide."
Is it difficult to be a priest?
"Yes, it is, because if you want to be a priest, as opposed to a religious bureaucrat, you have to paddle against the stream. You must support a vision of the world which is not the currently dominant one. Being a priest is not always difficult, nor is it always easy."
Do you deem yourself a good priest?
"I'll answer you by saying that I never ceased to be amazed by the mystery of life."
Is it scandalous that a priest falls in love with a woman?
"Falling in love is a way of being amazed by the human mystery. Therefore a priest can fall in love. If a priest, for spiritual reasons, discovers that the idea of love is much deeper than a superficial relationship, why deny it to him? But coming to appreciate this takes time, you can't find it out when you're 20."
But love is also sexuality...
"And that is where a decision is required from the priest. If he's taken up a vow of chastity and he believes in what he did, he must understand that priesthood and sexuality cannot coexist, as priesthood and love can. And he has to choose."
You told me you worked in Brazil. South America, when you were there, and saw many guerrilla priests. Do you think that, had you remained there, you could have turned into a guerrilla priest yourself?
"Probably, 30 years ago, yes. Today, now that I'm more mature, I understand the reasons behind those who say that being a guerrilla priest, as a way to help thy neighbour, leads nowhere."
It's rare seeing you dressed as a priest, i.e. with a cassock or a clergyman's suit. More often you can be seen wearing a sweater, or in jacket and tie like a manager. What is it, affectation?
"Not at all. It's the need to get rid of the signs of officiality, to be like those who live their lives on the road, and whom I address my efforts to. I'm no different from them just because I'm a priest. The difference between them and me is that I can still be amazed, but they can't. And I try to teach them amazement."
Here's the final question: the relationship between ecclesiastic hierarchy and priests living the problems on the road have not always been idyllic. How's the relationship between you and your superiors?
"Excellent, even if I'd like to see the ecclesiastic hierarchy a little more attentive to what goes on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho."

Publication Date: 2002-12-22
Story Location: http://tandemnews.com/viewstory.php?storyid=2186