Gently, A New Role Begins

So this is what it is like to be Regional Assistant.

Here in Tokyo today, after Mass at St. Ignatius Church, the parish priest, an Italian Jesuit, introduced me to an Argentinian Jesuit this way: “He is OUR new Assistant.”

I was struck by that simple pronoun OUR. I was being claimed by two brothers, from Europe and South America but working in Japan, as, somehow, “theirs.”

I recall now that, the other night, in a similar way, the Japanese and Korean Provincials introduced me to our scholastics from Japan, Korea, Indonesia and India, as “OUR new Assistant.”

I hear in that single possessive pronoun the call to a wider sense of belonging that seems to be part of my new mission.

I guess it took being out of the Philippines, in a foreign country, in a very international, multi-cultural setting, for this call to sink in.  These are brothers I have never met before, from countries and cultures not my own, and yet I am called, somehow to care for them, somehow to be concerned for them.

There is something daunting about all this that makes me feel very small and inadequate.  The other night, for example, I was surprised to be asked to write a message for the Japanese Province Newsletter. When I expressed my surprise at being asked, I was told that the Jesuits would like to hear something from the new Regional Assistant.  “Something?” I asked myself. What could I say to and for a Province that I had never visited till now?

Yet, I also feel excitement and gratitude as new vistas, new ways of making a contribution open up. These days, my calendar for the coming months has quickly filled up. I have been invited to give Regional or Province Retreats for Thailand (April 2009) and for China (July 2010), in addition to the ones I am already committed to in East Timor (July 2008) and Cambodia (October 2008). I have been asked to take part in a Regional Meeting of the Jesuits in Thailand this October, and (I was reminded by the Japanese Provincial) I am scheduled to return to Tokyo this December this year, to accompany the General when he visits his former Province for their 100^th anniversary celebration. Next year, I am expected to attend a meeting of Jesuit High Schools in East Asia in July in Fukoaka, as well as to participate in meetings of the Major Superiors in Manila (January 2009) and Jogjakarata (July 2009).

But I think what I feel most is this quiet sense of wonder at how I have come to this: how God’s providence has led me so far from the boundaries set by my natural comfort zones. I had never, NEVER expected to minister outside the Philippines in all the years of my Jesuit life, always feeling that the “missionary vocation” was for others, but not for me. And yet here I am, and I am, to my surprise, at peace.

I pray that I can continue to let the Lord lead me and use me, and that I can follow the path, still unknown, that He is opening up before me, with peace, trust, humility, and generosity. 

The Surprising Mathematics of the Gospel

“5 + 2 = 5,000”

These were the intriguing numbers on the T-shirt held up before us by the Delegate of the Provincial of Korea in Cambodia, Fr. Gabriel Je, at the start of our JCEAO [Jesuit Conference of East Asia and Oceania] meeting last June 26. He explained the strange mathematics of the equation by simply flipping the shirt around. The back of the t-shirt depicted five loaves, two fishes, and many smiling faces.

That equation has stayed with me throughout these intense days of meeting on our shared mission in East Asia and Oceania here in Tokyo. It captures vividly for me our reality, our response, and our hope, all of which we touched on during these days.

First, our reality: that of a dire scarcity of resources before the enormous challenges of mission in our region. As we discussed the challenges we face in our missions in Thailand, in East Timor, in Myanmar, in China, in Cambodia, in Micronesia, in Japan, the image of five loaves and two fishes seemed particularly apt. In some of our provinces or regions, that scarcity takes the form of the lack of material resources or educational facilities. In some places, the lack is experienced in the realm of spirit or morale, or in the perceived absence of creative leadership. In some areas, that poverty is simply one of warm bodies, of Jesuit manpower. For example, I was very struck that the Japanese Province, with about 246 Jesuits, counts only nine scholastics in that number.

Second, our response: that of daring to share despite our poverty. The only reason why so many were fed from so little was because the disciples took the risk of sharing the little they had. Despite the temptation to hoard ideas, resources or personnel to take care of the legitimate concerns of our own provinces, the major superiors found themselves trying to do the same thing. These JCEAO meetings are inspiring events of sharing: friends in the Lord daring to share our limited manpower, resources, energy and concern for the sake of our common, more universal mission in Asia and Oceania. No Province or Region in the Assistancy has not "sacrificed" some of its most precious and limited resource, Jesuit manpower, for the sake of the needs of our Assistancy. I was consoled to hear of the Indonesians in Myanmar and Thailand, the Myanmarese in Micronesia, the Filipinos in East Timor and Cambodia, the Koreans in Cambodia and Japan, the Vietnamese in East Timor and Japan, and so forth.

Third, our hope: that the surprising mathematics of the Gospel will continue to operate in our time and in our world of Asia and Oceania; that limited resources shared in faith and in love, and surrendered into the Lord’s hands, will be multiplied beyond our imagining.

One morning, we prayed a beautiful prayer for the beatification of Fr. Pedro Arrupe, which spoke of Fr. Arrupe's "boundless optimism." I am grateful that, despite all our limitations and difficulties, our Conference of Jesuit major superiors in East Asia seems to have been given a share of that "optimism" as we face the future of our mission.

Singing in the Dark: Reflections for Hard Times

I thought of sharing some excerpts from reflections I shared with my Jesuit brothers on January 1, 2004. We were facing hard times then, and the figure of Mary of the Magnificat seemed to me an image of deep meaning and encouragement for the times. As we face perhaps even more challenging times in mid-2008--inflation, rising prices of food and oil, the seeming spread of criminality and violence, much uncertainty on many levels--perhaps there is a renewed invitation to let our prayer focus on this luminous image of Mary singing in the dark, to allow her strength and faith to flow into us as well.

The reading is from the gospel of Luke (Lk 1: 39-56).

  I believe this story connects powerfully with our situation at the threshold of 2004. At this point in the Gospel, Mary is faced with an uncertain future too. She has generously, courageously placed herself at the disposal of God’s mysterious plan. But at this point, she has nothing: no sonogram; no understanding and accepting husband; no affidavit from the Holy Spirit saying: “The child is mine. Leave the poor girl alone.” (Barbara Brown Taylor) From a human point of view, the future is dark. Rejection, shame, and possibly death loom as real possibilities for her.

  And yet, she sings. She dares to sing a song of rapturous joy: not “a superficial joy, but [one] that is written against the whole canvas of the world’s pain.” (Elizabeth Johnson)  She is singing in the dark, in the face of an uncertain future. Not only that: she sings, as one author puts it, “ahead of time.” (Taylor) Her verb tenses get mixed up. Speaking of the great marvels the Lord will do, she sings of them in the past tense, as though they had already happened: already the poor have been raised up, already the hungry are fed, already the proud and powerful are brought low and the rich made empty.      

In the end, she offers her humble service to Elizabeth, knowing that insignificant though that service might appear, it is part of God’s great project of overturning an old world of oppression and suffering and creating a new world of freedom and fullness of life. 

Four things strike us about Mary. First is her courageous and daring freedom, her ability to allow God to enter her life in an utterly disruptive manner, to lead her along unfamiliar, unforeseen, uncomfortable roads. The Capuchin preacher Raniero Cantalamessa puts it well when he says that at one point, he found himself moved to pray “Hail Mary, empty of yourself” instead of “full of grace,” so moved was he by Mary’s complete availability for God’s purposes.

  Second, I am struck by Mary’s largeness of heart, her capaciousness of spirit, the wide-reaching extent of her compassion. She rejoices in God’s mercy towards herself, but does not remain in self-absorbed contemplation of her privileges. Her delight spills over and in the end focuses not on herself, but on the lowly and hungry of the world who will soon taste God’s life-giving mercy.

Third is Mary’s profound faith that bears fruit in joy. She has, as we have said, at this point, no guarantees for the future, yet she sings gladly in the dark, she rejoices ahead of time, simply because of her utter confidence in the God whom she dares to call “my Savior,” whose mercy, fidelity and power can and will do what is impossible in the eyes of the world and according to limited human capabilities.

Finally, I am struck by the fact that this audacious faith is called forth in Mary by the encouraging word of a sister in faith, Elizabeth, who gives confirming testimony of the impossibilities of God at work in her, and who blesses Mary for her faith.  

Interior freedom, compassion for the poor, joy-evoking faith, and belonging to a community of encouragement: these four aspects of Mary’s person suggest the graces we might pray for and beg for ourselves as we begin this year of uncertainty.

          First, we might pray for the grace of Mary’s deeper interior freedom, her availability for God’s surprising will, her capacity for letting go of her personal plans, her preferences, her securities in favor of God’s unsettling impossibilities. This freedom, we know, of course, in our Ignatian tradition as “indifference.” During the Congregation of Procurators in 2003, Fr. General Peter-Hans Kolvenbach suggested that the absence of this freedom is at the root of the failure of province planning in some places. Fr. General remarked in his address De Statu: “Some provinces were content to bless what is already being done . . . More often than not, provinces hesitated to make painful choices, even though discernment confirmed that such choices were going to be inevitable in the long run.” But, Fr. General continues, “far from being content to maintain the status quo, even where it is satisfactory, we must look toward the future of our mission. There will have to be new initiatives, while some old ones will have to be abandoned. There will have to be new openings and closings.” For this to take place, Fr. General calls for a “constant spirit of openness to serve the Lord and His Church’s greatest need,” which is perhaps another way of referring to the inner freedom we are reflecting on.       

Secondly, we might beg for a deeper share in Mary’s largeness of her heart, her spirit of compassion and solidarity for the great world of suffering and hunger around her. During the Congregation of Procurators, several times during the discussions, procurators who were formators, from places as diverse as Japan, on the one hand, and Germany on the other, used the same word to describe a problem formators often confront in the men: narcissism. For some of our men, apparently among the young, but certainly not exclusively with the young, narcissism is manifested thus: what is real are my issues, my aches and pains, my concerns, my problems, my relationships, my grievances, my apostolate. “MPD: may prosesong dinadaanan, and let the rest of the world go on its way, I can’t be bothered with anything but my issues.” This narcissism is, of course, the opposite of love, which the philosopher Iris Murdoch memorably defined as “the extremely difficult realization that someone other than myself exists.”  If we find ourselves sometimes caught up in the self-absorbed dynamics of narcissism, it might be good to turn to Mary in prayer, and ask her to share with us the secret of her great and capacious heart, decentered from an exclusive focus on self, passionately concerned about the destinies of the poor and the little ones. Perhaps then we might be more able to respond to Fr. General’s invitation to us during the Congregation of Procurators: “We must try unceasingly to find again the path to solidarity with the poor.”

  Thirdly, this evening, we might pray too for a share of Mary’s joy-evoking faith as we face our uncertain future and struggle to discern how we are to act and serve. Mary, as we have seen, believed that that our God is with us and for us and actively building up a new world of life and freedom. Significantly, such a faith is the very foundation of our apostolic Jesuit spirituality, for, as Fr. General once boldly suggested, Ignatius was perhaps "the first person in the history of Christian spirituality to perceive the Trinity as God at work—as the God who continues to work, always filling up the universe and actively awakening the divine life in all things for the salvation of humanity." As we face the challenges of how to respond to our national and province challenges, perhaps we can seek a share of that lively faith in God’s ongoing activity in the world.

   Finally, just as Mary’s faith was confirmed and strengthened by Elizabeth, we might pray that we too can similarly receive from and give to one another encouragement and confirmation in difficult times. In the Congregation of Procurators, Fr. General made the somewhat startling assertion that “our mission encompasses the witness of community life.” He went on to say, in rather strong words: “we must have the will … to live … in the Society as friends in the Lord. . . . We must constantly reestablish that union that individualism and rivalry constantly dissolve.” Surely living as friends in the Lord means that we seek to live as communities of mutual encouragement.

  As I come to the end of these rambling points, might I share a favorite passage from Tolkien’s The Return of the King. It is the conversation between Eowyn and Faramir before the decisive battle between the forces of good and evil. The forces of good are pathetically weak and ill equipped before the magnificent array of Sauron’s armies. The future seems dark, uncertain, desperate. And so Eowyn, the white lady of Rohan asks Faramir:

‘Then you think the Darkness is coming?’ said Eowyn. ‘Darkness Unescapable?' And suddenly she drew close to him. ‘No,’ said Faramir, looking into her face. ‘…I do not know what is happening. The reason of my waking mind tells me that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light, and a hope and joy are come to me to no reason can deny. Eowyn, Eowyn, While Lady of Rohan, in this hour, I do not believe that any darkness will endure!” (J.R. Tolkien)

On this first day of a seemingly unpromising year filled with worrisome uncertainties for our nation and our province, perhaps, for some of us, like Faramir, the reason of our waking minds tells us that great evil has befallen and nagging fears that we may stand at the end of days haunt us. But tonight, we place before us the radiant image of the Holy Mother of God, interiorly free, passionate about the poor, joyful beyond reason because of her faith in God her Savior, and encouraged and strengthened by her companion on the pilgrimage of faith. As we contemplate Mary of the Magnificat, singing in the dark, singing “ahead of time,” pregnant with Jesus, pregnant with the world’s hope of salvation, may we find our hearts saying “nay” to all that discourages and paralyzes. May our limbs find a new lightness for service; and, may a hope and joy come to us that no reason can deny.  Let us make our own tonight the lovely petition Ignatius composed in 1524: “I pray to our Lady to implore on our behalf between us sinners and her Son and Lord, and to gain us His grace, that… our weak and sad spirits may be transformed and become strong and joyful in his praise.” Amen.    

January 1, 2004, Loyola House of Studies

A Homily for a New Provincial by Fr. Ben Nebres

Fr. Ben Nebres, SJ, a former Provincial Superior of the Philippine Jesuits, welcomes Fr. Jojo Magadia, the new Provincial, to the mission he will have for the next six years...

The 35th General Congregation (GC 35) Document on Jesuit Identity “A Fire Kindling Other Fires” says: “What unites us as Jesuits is Christ and the desire to serve him . . . He is the unique image of the unseen God . . . Jesuits know who they are by looking at him.”

We can say that a Jesuit Provincial knows who he is and what his mission is by contemplating the scene between Jesus and Peter in our Gospel today (John 21: 15-19). In the midst of the great challenges that will face Fr. Jojo in the years to come, rising prices, political and economic turmoil, vocations and formation, leadership for our many and demanding institutions, it is consoling to know that the call is ultimately deeply personal – it is a call to keep his eyes on the Lord and answer his question, “Do you love me?” And respond to the Lord’s sending: “Feed my lambs, feed my sheep.”

I think for all of us former Provincials, Fr. Bernie Bernas, myself, Fr. Noel Vasquez, Fr. Archie Intengan, and soon to be former Provincial, Fr. Danny Huang, it is this deeply personal part that lingers most in our memories and our hearts.

One of the most enduring memories of my early weeks as Provincial was my first visitation to Bukidnon mission and having one of our veteran missionaries, Fr. Jim Cawley, a living legend by then, kneeling down to get my blessing. It was at the same time a very embarrassing and a very edifying experience. I think all of us former Provincials probably go back to our visits to the Mindanao missions as among our deepest and most moving experiences.

Being Provincial surely has its burdens. But among its great gifts is that of coming to know our brother Jesuits, their pains and struggles, yes, but their honesty, generosity and courage as well. It is like the image Fr. Danny painted of Fr. Ting Samson, the President of Ateneo de Davao, last June 4 in his homily for Fr. Ting’s Jesuit Golden Jubilee. He said that Fr. Ting and perhaps most Jesuits are like stained glass – we cannot see the beauty looking from the outside, we only see it looking from the inside. And to see from the inside, that is one of the great graces of being Provincial. 

GC 35 asks us how we might recover our inspiration and energy, how we might rekindle the fire within us and thus kindle the fire in others. It asks us how we may become more deeply Friends with the Lord and Friends in the Lord with one another and with all with whom we share our mission and our life. I think of the many nights in Kabanglasan with Fr. Leoni, listening to his passionate dreams for his people. He had dreams of developing a large rubber plantation, dreams of all the children going to school and doing well – he continued to dream and to struggle up the hills to reach his people, love overcoming the pain of cancer eating into his bone. I remember arriving to see Fr. Leo Welch just when he was sitting down with his boys for their usual lunch – every possible thing thrown into a pot of boiling water. “Oh,” he says, “Fr. Provincial is here. We must have something special”, and so he opens a can of sardines. 

Above all, I remember the nights of story telling during mission gatherings and rediscovering the wonder of story telling – with Fr. John Krebs and his stories of the interesting characters in his parish, Fr. Bob Walsh describing his adventures shuttling between MNLF and military lines in Jolo or tracking Bishop Escaler when he was kidnapped. Enchanted evenings and enchanted memories.

During Ateneo de Manila’s 10th anniversary Ignatian Spirituality in Education Workshop the other weekend, after the presentation by Fr. Danny, myself and Fr. Jojo on the themes of FIRE, FRONTIERS, FRIENDSHIP, I focused our discussion on FIRE and FRIENDSHIP since this year the focus in our Sesquicentennial preparation is “Deepening Spirituality.” I shared an article of Carlo Cardinal Martini on “Teaching the Faith in a Postmodern World” – about today’s youth that seeks not so much teachers, but witnesses. 

I invited Dr. Marlu Vilches to share an experience with her Freshman class on “Introduction to Ateneo Culture and Traditions” (INTACT). Her session was on our image of God. She decided that the only way to do this was to take a risk and begin with her own experience of God: “I told them about how in a time of confusion in my life God seemed like a huge force that let go of me down down deep into the pit of the cold and dark earth. In that utter helplessness when I cried out 'enough!' I realized that God - calm and collected - was actually just looking at me, ready to lower a rope on which I could cling to help me up. The class was quiet when I shared my story, and then, one by one, each of the students joined in to tell theirs.”

After Marlu shared her story, our group in Antipolo was also silent and then one by one people began to share their stories. 

We rekindle FIRE by telling our story, inviting others to tell their stories and in this shared story-telling retrace our journey. Just as Jesus rekindled FIRE in the disciples, who had given up and were walking away to EMMAUS, by walking with them and telling once more the story of God’s love affair with his people. 

The other night, I was rereading my homily and Fr. Danny’s reflections for the 50th anniversary of the Philippine Province. I was struck again by our brother Jesuits from East Asia and Oceania wanting so much to hear more stories of the Philippine Province

So let me end with the stories we tell and re-tell of the Provincials who have gone ahead:

- Our first Provincial, Fr. Francis Clark, who had the vision and drive to build Loyola House of Studies, despite a lot of criticism (including from Ting Samson and myself, who were then philosophers in Cebu). The older ones among us here remember two Fr.Clarks, the Rector and Provincial who lived the ideals of the Society before Vatican II and the post-Vatican II Fr. Clark , who learned Tagalog and Cebuano and became an immensely loved teacher, pastor and friend in St. John Vianney and Cagayan de Oro Cathedral. 

- Our first Filipino Provincial, Fr. Horacio de la Costa, in the turbulent period of nationalism of the late 60s, early 70s, meeting with Filipino Jesuits one night, American Jesuits another night, carrying within him our confusion and our pain. We owe it to his leadership and the greatness of his person that we came through a better and stronger Province. 

- We remember Fr. Mayo, leading us to a deeper involvement with the poor, facing down the Marcos government in the raid on Novaliches and on many other occasions.

- I remember Fr. Bernie the year we had so many deaths, Fr. De la Costa, Fr. Flores, Fr. Giron, Fr. Magtoto, even a double funeral, Fr. Kieran Egan and Fr. Andy Bolinas, writing a letter to the Province that from now on, no one was to die without first getting permission. 

- Fr. Bernie and I sometimes talk also about my not so liturgical missioning ceremony – our present format began after me with Fr. Rene Ocampo. When people ask me when was our turnover ceremony, I always say “I am not quite sure, but I guess it was when we met in the corridor after the New Year Province mass and he gave me the car keys.” 

I will stop there and leave further story telling for all of us after the Mass. As this year is also the 50th anniversary of the Philippine Province, we thank the Lord for the graces given to our Province through all of us who have been called to lead in earlier years: Fr. Francis Clark, Fr. Horacio de la Costa, Fr. Benigno Mayo, Fr. Bernie Bernas, myself, Fr. Rene A. Ocampo, Fr. Noel Vasquez, Fr. Archie Intengan. 

To our outgoing Provincial Fr. Danny, thank you for the FIRE and the FRIENDSHIP, the inspiration and the time with each one of us and with each of our communities and our works. We will miss your happy presence and your gift of eloquence and heart. But you can always send us a weekly message on youtube or on multiply. Thank you for confronting the FRONTIERS of your time: having the courage to challenge us to consolidate our works, guiding and supporting the rise of younger leadership, helping lead the Church in our time, bearing our weaknesses and helping to heal our wounds.

To Fr. Jojo, as Fr. Henri Madelin, the French Provincial. wrote to me in my time, “Welcome to the brotherhood, it is not so bad.” And, yes, fortunately in our tradition, it is simply one mission and there will be other missions. There is life after being Provincial – so when things get a bit heavy, you can always say, “This too shall pass.” But kidding aside, you will have many moments of fulfillment, in the deeper knowledge of our brothers, of their generosity and courage; in the times you will have of swapping stories. FRONTIERS may challenge us. But you will have times of FIRE and FRIENDSHIP to renew you.

And so as we leave this mass of thanksgiving and missioning and Danny passes on to you the car keys – or to be more scriptural, as he passes on to you his mantle, as it was passed on to him and to us here with you -- we pray that especially in times of uncertainty and challenge you may sense the Lord walking with you and your heart burning within you. May you then, as Jesus tells Peter in the Gospel of Luke, strengthen us, your brothers, so that together we may be “fire kindling other fires” in the often dark and confused world of today.

-Bienvenido F. Nebres, S.J.
Mass for the New Provincial, Fr. Jose Cecilio Magadia, S.J.
Loyola House of Studies
June 12, 2008

Our New Provincial

This evening, I lose my car.

The new Provincial, Fr. Jojo Magadia, who will be installed in office tonight, will get it.

That is how some of my relatives sum up the essence of my handing over of responsibilities as Provincial to my successor.

Not so accurate, perhaps.

These past days, Jojo and I have been meeting daily. We have gone institution-by-institution, community-by-community, person-by-person. We touched on hopes and ongoing concerns. As we talked, I felt more and more compassion for Jojo as this enormous burden was being placed on his shoulders, but also an ever growing sense of gratitude for his generous availability and an equally deep sense of trust that the Province is blessed in having him as the new Provincial.

In him, the Province is getting someone like Barnabas: “a good man, filled with the Holy Spirit and faith.”  (Acts 11: 24), a Jesuit of quiet simplicity, deep kindness, evident centeredness and self-possession, love for the poor, not to mention his intelligence and other leadership gifts and experience.

We pray in gratitude for our new Provincial. Let us ask the gracious Lord, the Good Shepherd to bless him with wisdom, strength and joy, and to always remind him that, as he carries the flock entrusted to him, the Lord himself, the merciful and faithful One, carries him always.

A Moment of Thankfulness

At the end of this day of work, I spent some time going over more papers and folders in my office, part of the Herculean task of clearing out stuff in time for the new Provincial to take over the premises by June 12--a mere ten days from now! 

As usually happens when I pore over the accumulated debris of the centuries, I found myself constantly distracted from my more immediate task by a bit memorabilia here or a scrap of a letter there that I had not seen in years and which opened the floodgates of memory. 

This evening, I found a long talk I gave to the Province on January 1, 2004, a few weeks after it was announced that I was to serve as the next Provincial. I re-read these words that I wrote six months before I took office:

Fr. Doan secretly told me of the General’s decision [to appoint me Provincial] on Nov. 24, 2003, the day after Christ the King. I found myself numb in the first few days, burdened by an overwhelming sense of my limitations, fearful of the future and the enormous challenges ahead.  But in the forty-eight hours after the official announcement on Dec. 3, the torrent of kind encouragement that the brethren have given me has consoled and strengthened me to face the unknown future with some peace. 

For example, Bobby Yap called immediately and he simply repeated: “Danny, basta trust in the grace of the office. Trust in the grace of the office.” Fr. Arevalo sent me several messages that always contained the same final word: “Corragio!” Vic de Jesus just listened to me patiently while I ventilated about my fears concerning my limitations. The good thing about old friends is that they do not allow you to remain in illusion and the one sentence I most remember from Vic is: “Yes, Danny, I know all about your limitations”--even while he continued to encourage and confirm! Albert Alejo texted me a message that moved me very much: “Danny, malalim ang saya ko.” My favorite greeting came from one scholastic who texted: “I pledge my allegiance to you as provincial”—and I found myself laughingly asking myself, "Áno ako, flag?" Another texted me, “For what it’s worth, I will try to be a good and obedient subject,” and still another said, “I promise to try to be good so as not to add to your problems”—which, when you think about it, is a really generous promise! So many brothers, from varying age groups and communities, texted, emailed, wrote messages that conveyed the same consoling message: “I am praying for you. You can rely on me for support and help.”

Now that it is almost over, I look back and smile. Was I really that frightened four years ago? 

More importantly, I am moved by wonder and gratitude. My brothers, on the whole, have come through.It is only because of them that I have made it to this point of soon joining the happy ranks of ex-Provincials. Through these years, they have been faithful to their promises of support. God has made his kindness and fidelity real to me through them.

Deo gratias.

Memories of Avery Cardinal Dulles, S.J.

Cardinal Avery Dulles, S.J., recently delivered his final lecture as McGinley Professor at Fordham University. More accurately, his lecture was delivered for him—by Fr. Joseph O’Hare, former President of Fordham.

  I was deeply saddened when I watched the video of Cardinal Dulles’ valedictory lecture. (Cf. http://www.fordham.edu/media/dulles/DULLES_Farewell.ram). This most respected, most erudite of theologians in North America, son of John Foster Dulles (who was Secretary of State under Eisenhower and after whom Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C. is named), is now in his ‘90’s. As a result apparently of polio contracted in his youth, the Cardinal is now partially paralyzed and unable to speak.

I first met Cardinal Dulles in July, 1989, when he was still Fr. Avery Dulles. During my first week in the United States, as I was on my way to Washington, D.C. to begin my graduate studies in theology, I had the privilege of having a private meeting with him at the University of San Francisco. I remember little about that thirty-minute encounter beyond a still painful sense of profound embarrassment at my stammering inability to answer his simple questions about my theological interests with any measure of intelligence. I do recall that he began our conversation by asking me, in a sort of mock-dramatic way, as he pointed to my chair: “Do you realize who was sitting in that chair yesterday?” When I confessed ignorance, he answered in the same stentorian tones: “The great Catalino AREVALO!” Apparently, the day before my meeting with Fr. Dulles, Fr. Arevalo had visited Fr. Dulles. The thought of having to follow Fr. Arevalo, and possibly being compared (no doubt, unfavorably) with him, completely unnerved me.

 Given the unpromising first impression I probably gave Fr. Dulles, I was very pleasantly surprised when he accepted my invitation to be the first reader for my doctoral dissertation in 1993. He had left the Catholic University of America for Fordham by then, but, as Professor Emeritus of CUA, he was still available to help graduate students like myself. I submitted my chapters dutifully, as I churned them out.  Amazingly, given all his other commitments, without fail I would receive my corrected chapter back within a week, complete with handwritten notes and comments. I have kept those handwritten scribblings of Cardinal Dulles as treasured relics.

 I met him again at Oxford in 1995, when I attended a theological conference on John Henry Newman, at which Fr. Dulles delivered a lecture. My proudest moment during that conference took place after I had preached the homily at the Eucharist on the Feast of St. Dominic in Oriel College, Oxford. Fr. Dulles was in the congregation, along with the other conference participants. At the end of Mass, he came up to me and said, in that austere, spare way of his, “That was an architecturally perfect homily.” I was not completely sure what he meant, but it sounded like a compliment, and I was flattered no end.

He came down to Washington, D.C. from New York, for the two days of my doctoral lectio and defense in 1996. He was a demanding, but not unkind examiner. But what I remember most was a little incident during Morning Prayer at Carroll House, the Jesuit community where I lived, and where Fr. Dulles stayed for those two days. During the prayers of intercession during Morning Prayer, Fr. Dulles, without any drama or pretentiousness said something like, “Let us pray for my friend Peggy Rockefeller, who passed away yesterday.” I think all of us were dumbfounded that here was a Jesuit who moved familiarly, apparently without any sense of discomfort, among Rockefellers!

Whatever judgments are made about his more recent theological positions and writings, I think that his most substantial works, written in his prime, will stand the test of time. The Dimensions of the Church, Models of the Church, Models of Revelation, The Assurance of Things Hoped For, The Craft of Theology, and for me, above all, The Catholicity of the Church are major theological works that manifest all the virtues of vintage Dulles: breathtaking erudition and knowledge of the tradition and history of Catholic theology; judicious, careful, unfailingly fair judgments; a lucid, austerely elegant style. His intellectual virtues, in a way, are a reflection of his personal ones: humility, kindness, diligence and dedication to work--and a quiet, dry sense of humor! It is no wonder that in his introduction to Cardinal Dulles during the McGinley lecture, Fr. McShane, the president President of Fordham, refers to the Cardinal's reputation as a saint. 

I was delighted to learn that, during his recent pastoral visit to the United States, before his meeting with young people at Dunwoodie, the Holy Father graciously made time for a brief and moving meeting with Cardinal Dulles. (http://www.fordham.edu/campus_resources/public_affairs/archives/2008/archive_1244.asp)

The final paragraphs of Cardinal Dulles’ valedictory lecture, are quoted below. Uncharacteristically personal, they are written without any trace of sentimentality or self-promotion. Instead, they exude serenity amidst suffering, a deep sense of contentment with one’s lot in life,  a purity of spiritual freedom--all borne of an obviously profound faith in Christ. I hope, that if and when my time comes to experience diminishment like this, I can have even a fraction of Avery Dulles’ faith and love. In the meantime, I pray for this great Jesuit, theologian and servant of the Church.

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 From Cardinal Dulles’ Final McGinley Lecture, April 2008:

 "As I approach the termination of my active life, I gratefully acknowledge that a benign providence has governed my days. The persons I have met, the places I have been, the things I have been asked to do, have all coalesced into a pattern, so that each stage of my life has prepared me for the next. My 20 years on the McGinley Chair have been a kind of climax, at least from my personal point of view. I often feel that there is no one on earth with whom I would want to exchange places. It has been a special privilege to serve in the Society of Jesus, a religious community specially dedicated to the Savior of the world.

 The good life does not have to be an easy one, as our blessed Lord and the saints have taught us. Pope John Paul II in his later years used to say, “The Pope must suffer.” Suffering and diminishment are not the greatest of evils, but are normal ingredients in life, especially in old age. They are to be accepted as elements of a full human existence. Well into my 90th year I have been able to work productively. As I become increasingly paralyzed and unable to speak, I can identify with the many paralytics and mute persons in the Gospels, grateful for the loving and skillful care I receive and for the hope of everlasting life in Christ. If the Lord now calls me to a period of weakness, I know well that his power can be made perfect in infirmity. “Blessed be the name of the Lord!”"