A priceless message
Whoever broke into St. Ambrose Church had to squeeze between a statue of St. Ambrose and some bushes to get to the stained glass window. Then he or she punched through the window that depicts Jesus calming the Sea of Galilee.
“It was probably somebody from the parish,’’ the Rev. Alexander Keenan said, looking at the piece of wood that covered the hole. Some shattered glass rested on the windowsill. “They knew exactly where to go.’’
In the darkness, the intruder went to the poor boxes on either side of the church and, with great violence, ripped them from the walls. There couldn’t have been much money in them.
Every once in a while, some big thinkers in Washington, D.C., are trotted out to talk about leading economic indicators.
In the Fields Corner section of Dorchester, a leading economic indicator is when people start breaking into churches and ripping the poor boxes off the walls.
“I wish whoever did this had come to me first,’’ Father Keenan said. “I would have helped them.’’
The saint for whom the church is named grew up in Germany, the scion of a wealthy family. But when he was ordained, in the 4th century, he gave away all his money. He became the bishop of Milan, and the emperors didn’t like him, but the emperors couldn’t touch him because the people loved him because he loved the poor.
There isn’t a lot of money floating around the parish in Dorchester that bears his name. On Sunday mornings, there’s a Vietnamese Mass at 8, an English Mass at 10, and a Spanish Mass at 11:30.
They were halfway through the opening hymn at the 10 o’clock Mass yesterday when a young guy in a gray hoodie drove his motorized wheelchair down the center aisle. He held a clear plastic cup of Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee in his shriveled right hand and he parked himself in front of the first pew on the right side of the church.
Father Keenan welcomed the 64 people who were sitting in the pews when Mass started and then apologized. He apologized because he had to ask for money. Not for the broken window. Not for the new vestments that the priests need. He apologized because he wanted to hold a special collection for the people in Vietnam who just had a typhoon rip through them.
The people who pray at St. Ambrose look like Boston: Some are white, some black, some brown, some yellow. None of them have a lot of money in their pockets.
Father Keenan has had better weeks. The other day, his car got hit from behind at the intersection from hell - Freeport Street and Dot Ave. - and yesterday he wore a thick, foam neck brace that looked like a huge Roman collar. This is on top of a disk problem that’s been bothering him for ages. His left arm is in a sling and the parish deacon, Marcio Fonseca, had to help him with his vestments.
But he is a priest, so he understands the human condition better than most.
“The guy who hit me said he had insurance,’’ Father Keenan said. “He lied.’’
He was in excruciating pain, there was a broken stained-glass window in the back of his church, and somebody made off with the poor boxes, but Father Alexander Keenan ignored all that yesterday, stood on the altar, and spoke about forgiveness, about redemption, about - as one plea in the Prayer of the Faithful put it - not judging people by stereotypes.
The first to receive communion was the young guy in the wheelchair. An elderly lady wearing a Red Sox cap and clutching a cane was not too far behind.
When the Mass was over, as they went in peace, the people in the pews left St. Ambrose richer than the guy who stole the poor boxes will ever be.
Kevin Cullen is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at cullen@globe.com. 
