Inside the Museum of Fine Arts, beneath the glow of art and conversation, there was a sense of unity that felt sacred. It reminded us that when people gather with intention, a sense of purpose comes alive. It was a night grounded in care, for those who show up before they are asked, the ones who stay even when it is hard, and for the quiet work of healing that continues each day at St. Anthony Shrine.
From the moment people walked in, there was a feeling that something deeper was at work. It was not just a beautiful space or a successful event. It was a reminder that we are bound together by something more enduring than circumstance. As the evening unfolded, that truth revealed itself again and again.
Josh Kraft, this year’s recipient of the Pope Francis Award, offered a powerful reflection during the program. With more than 35 years of service to the Boston community, he spoke not from a distance, but from lived experience. In his speech, he told the story of Chen Si, The Angel of Nanjing, a man who has spent years watching over a bridge where many people have gone to attempt suicide. Chen began stopping them, one by one. And over time, he created a space nearby where those he saved could begin again. Josh saw in that story the same commitment that lives at St. Anthony Shrine. It is one thing to intervene when someone is in crisis; it is another to remain. The Shrine stays, with the hungry, the grieving, and those trying to remember that their life still matters. Whether through the Lazarus Ministry, the Women’s Clinic, the Franciscan Food Center, or the Recovery and Counseling Center, the work remains the same: to stay, to care, and to walk alongside those who need to be reminded they are not alone.
That same spirit can be seen in the quiet consistency of Paul and George, members of the planning committee whose dedication was not just logistical but deeply lived. Most mornings Paul arrives at the Shrine to serve as lector before the 6 AM Mass, something he has done faithfully for over 20 years. For everyone who shows up to attend or assist these early morning liturgies, there is something about the mystery of the hour that speaks for itself. Waking up before the sun, stepping into stillness, offering prayer when most of the world is still asleep is a form of devotion that is not loudly praised or rewarded but quietly known. George’s presence is also undeniable. He attends Mass throughout the week, always helps with the offertory collection, and serves at the Food Center, offering his time in quiet, meaningful ways. What creates community is having those familiar faces who give in silence and bring safety simply by being there. Together, Paul and George embody a kind of leadership rooted not in recognition, but in reverence.
This came into focus in the film that shared Jaynell’s story and her bond with Mary Ann Ponti. As Director of Outreach and Community Engagement at St. Anthony Shrine, Mary Ann’s work is grounded in presence and trust. Her ministry is not defined by a title or task, but by the relationships she builds. Her presence offers safety, her consistency builds trust, and her compassion fosters healing. For many, Mary Ann is more than a support; she embodies the familial connection that many have lost. Her work reflects the heart of the Shrine’s mission: to walk with others, offering hope and companionship along the way.
The same can be said for Laura LeTourneau, Chief Development Officer, whose leadership is helping shape what the next years of the Shrine will look like. Her vision is not about choosing between the past or the future. It is about holding both. Laura honors the memory of what has been while opening the door to what can still become. That kind of balance is rare, and the Shrine is better because of it. Thanks to her hard work and the generosity of the community, this year’s dinner raised over $1.5 million. That support makes it possible for the Friars and staff to continue walking alongside those who need it most.
Certain moments throughout the evening stood out for the way they carried the spirit of connection. Arch Street Glass, one of the sponsors of the dinner and our neighbors, offered a reflection of that connection through both their presence and their story. Their name honors not just their location on Arch Street but a deeper history tied to Friar David Fleming. For over fifty years, Friar David helped shape the physical foundation of the Shrine, from the Main Church to the friary above. That legacy continues today through the work of Arch Street Glass and in a relationship with the Shrine that reflects a shared commitment to building with intention and care.
During the program, both Fr. Thomas Conway, OFM, Executive Director of the Shrine, and Fr. Frank Sevola, OFM, Guardian, took the stage to speak. Their words spoke of a leadership that comes from a place of deep care. Though their roles may be defined by structure, their impact lives in the often unnoticed moments that hold the community together. They carry the unseen weight of many, holding stories and struggles without turning away, and still, they choose to lead from a place of compassion. Fr. Tom brings a steady openness, a willingness to listen for what is not always said but deeply felt. Fr. Frank holds what is sacred with reverence and humility, creating space for others to grow, contribute, and belong. Together, they remind us that the most lasting leadership often looks like love in motion. Their example is a reminder that leadership grounded in heart does not need to announce itself. It is felt in the way they continue to show up with care, day after day, becoming part of the rhythm that keeps this place alive.
The friars of St. Anthony Shrine carry a presence that anchors and uplifts everyone who takes a moment to truly encounter it. Their prayer and song at the dinner created a stillness that brought everyone into a space of shared reverence. That kind of sincerity runs deep in their way of being. One friar once told me he is not much of a schmoozer—a word we laughed about, but one that stayed with me. It was not a cynical comment, but an honest one. For him, connection was never about charm or surface-level exchange. It was about truth, and the kind of presence that does not ask for anything in return. That spirit, quietly woven through the night, reminded us what real human connection should be like.
To every person who made this night possible, friars, committee members, staff, volunteers, and guests—thank you. What we witnessed was a glimpse of who we are at our best. In a world that often forgets how to slow down, how to see, how to stay, this gathering reminded us that love is still here. And that it always will be, as we continue to rise and return to one another with open hands and open hearts.
