One recent Friday afternoon in front of the old St. Adalbert's Church in the South Bronx, two young men wearing bushy beards and gray religious robes greeted anyone who happened to be walking down the quiet stretch of East 156th Street. They switched easily between English and Spanish.

"How ya doing today? The church is open, if you'd like to stop in for a few minutes and say a prayer," they'd say. "Jesus is inside."

Some passersby accepted their invitation to the church, some said they were in a hurry. Any response was an opening for conversation, an offering of Catholic literature and a Rosary. With neighborhood kids on their way home from school, the men--members of the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal--found themselves tossing a ball and explaining why they wear such long Rosary beads hanging from their rope belts.

Those who went into the church found other friars and a few neighbors praying before the Blessed Sacrament exposed in a simple gold monstrance. The cool, subtly lighted, recently restored church was a place of calm and order amid the squalor and brokenness of the city. Even the bags of food, awaiting the weekly distribution to the poor, were lined up like soldiers in formation.

This was a vibrant Polish parish until the old generation moved out in the 1970s. The South Bronx decayed, crime rose, buildings burned. By the time the parish closed, eight members of the Capuchin Franciscan provinces of New York and New Jersey were contemplating a change in their own lives.

"There was a feeling among some of us that we would want to live our Capuchin commitment in a way we could imitate the work of St. Francis a little more closely, by working with the poor, living more simply, carrying out evangelization in a more direct way," Father Andrew Apostoli, C.F.R., superior of the Renewal Friars, told CNY. "We wanted to do more extensive preaching on a more consistent basis."

Explaining that they would follow the example of the Capuchin stigmatist Padre Pio of daily repentance and reform, they were dispensed from their vows in 1987 and formed a new community. They chose the name Community of Franciscans of the Renewal because they felt called to concentrate on their own personal renewal in Christ and the conversion of others.

"That's the Christian life--ongoing conversion and a call to holiness," said Father Robert Lombardo, C.F.R., superior at St. Crispin's Friary.

Father Bob, as Father Lombardo is known (in Franciscan tradition, the friars go by first names), was the first to move into St. Adalbert's, renamed St. Crispin's Friary after a 17th-century Capuchin beggar, the first saint to be canonized by Pope John Paul II.

The South Bronx seemed a perfect place to begin. The archdiocese allowed the community, which owns no property, to use St. Adalbert's. The first project started there, the Padre Pio Shelter for 18 homeless men in the basement of the school, is still filled every night. And next to St. Adalbert's rectory was an old burned-out six-story tenement, which the friars and Catholic Charities purchased from New York City for $1 and renovated as St. Anthony Residence, an SRO for 65 formerly homeless men.

"If you stood in the basement, you could see the sky," Father Bob, its director, recalled.

Being in a spiritual atmosphere has had a definite effect on the homeless men, said Father Terrence Messer, C.F.R., vicar of St. Crispin's. "They really leave the street behind," he said. "And they approach the friars all the time--the Catholics sacramentally, the others in a more general way." Many have turned their lives around.

The school has become the site of several apostolates: a clothing distribution program; Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, St. Francis Center, which provides catechetical and athletic programs for youth in the neighborhood, and the St. Anthony's Free Medical Clinic, where nine volunteer doctors provide free vaccinations, physicals and blood work. Soon a free dental clinic will open.

The community grew rapidly. Its first superior, with the humble title "community servant," was Father Benedict J. Groeschel, C.F.R., whose high profile as an author and speaker helped attract new members. Father Benedict, archdiocesan director of spiritual development, has been host of a series of programs on Mother Angelica's Eternal Word Television Network, as has Father Andrew, also an author.

Cardinal O'Connor formally established the community as a public association of the faithful--a canonical term--in 1991, and last week formally raised its canonical status to a diocesan religious community, for which Rome gave its approval in March.

Today, its 50 members include six of the initial members. The others are Father Stan Fortuna, C.F.R., known for his "Christian rap music"; Father Glenn Sudano, C.F.R., novice director, and Father Robert Stanion, C.F.R., who works in ecumenical relations with Orthodox Christians.

In 1988, a group of women formed the Franciscan Sisters of the Renewal. Headed by Sister Lucille Cutrone, C.F.R., the four members live in Our Lady of Guadalupe convent on Bainbridge Avenue in the Bronx and collaborate in many of the friars' works.

Other friaries are Our Lady of the Angels for postulants, located in St. Adalbert's old convent; St. Felix in Yonkers; St. Joseph's for novices, in the old St. Joseph's Cursillo Center in Harlem, and St. Leopold for members studying for the priesthood at St. Joseph's Seminary in Dunwoodie.

Each house has a chapel with a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the community's patroness, and a San Damiano Cross, depicting Christ's apparition to St. Francis and his command: "Rebuild my Church." "It reminds us of the need for renewal in the Church, and the fact that St. Francis started with himself, with his own conversion," Father Bob said.

The friars aim to live as simply and austerely as possible. Chapels, with hardwood floors, have chairs but no kneelers. "Actually, we have two kneelers," said Father Bob, pointing to his knees. Bedrooms are small, each containing a sleeping bag, crucifix, desk and a few books. Very few friars use a mattress, and air conditioning means an open window.

They cook the community meals, bake bread, wash their habits, clean and do whatever maintenance jobs they can. They're in the chapel at 6 a.m. for morning prayer, and during the rest of the day spend some four and a half hours in private and community prayer, including Mass.

Dear to their hearts is the cause of the unborn child. Members regularly pray outside abortion clinics, and some try to persuade women to keep their babies.

"A lot of men are drawn to our community because they have a strong inclination to support the Gospel of Life," Father Andrew said.

One friar went a step beyond prayer and persuasion. On May 13, 1995, Brother Fidelis Moscinski, C.F.R., a student at St. Joseph's Seminary, together with retired Auxiliary Bishop George E. Lynch of Raleigh, N.C., sat down in the driveway of the Women's Medical Pavilion in Dobbs Ferry, blocking cars from entering.

They knew they were risking severe punishment under the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances law, signed by President Clinton the previous year. But they felt compelled to save babies slated for destruction that day. They were arrested and charged with violating FACE and have since been waging a court battle based on the natural law that has edged the case toward the U.S. Supreme Court.

It's no surprise that the community has a close relationship with the Sisters of Life, the community founded by Cardinal O'Connor to promote the cause of life in 1991, the year he canonically established the Friars of the Renewal.

"We are great cheerleaders for one another," Mother Agnes Mary Donovan, S.V., superior, told CNY. "Pro-life work is a very active part of their work and witness, so they really are our brothers in that regard."

Underlying all the friars' work is the call to personal conversion. "Here I have the opportunity to die to myself by serving my brother tea or holding back from gripes," said Brother Elijah Ford, C.F.R., a seminarian from Manchester, England. "And out there, the poor will get me to heaven with their trusting spirit. They give me more than I can ever give them."

At the center of it all, any friar will tell you, is the Eucharist, which they present to young people in Youth 2000 gatherings around the country and which the people of the South Bronx come to adore every Friday afternoon in the old Polish church.

"That's what we're here for," Father Bob said. "To bring people closer to God."