I am sitting in the Ambulatory given to the Society of Jesus by Iraqi graduates of Al-Hikma University and Baghdad college. It is a stunning piece of architecture that connects the Health Center wing of Campion Center to the Main Dining Room, chapel, and Jesuit residences. It was built for two purposes: to help older Jesuits connect with the Province's past and to give them some space to spread out while enjoying the magnificent views of nature from a glassed-in vantage point.
I'm praying and reflecting upon my impending mission to Amman, Jordan and I am enveloped by plaques that detail our missionary past. I will soon be one of those missionaries whose work is central to Jesuit ministry. I survey parishes we once ran, closed retreat houses and villas, the grand missions to Iraq and Jamaica, and former mission territories. We once had thriving communities in various places. The work is still great and there are far fewer Jesuits to send to those areas.
On my way to the ambulatory I ran into one Jesuit who said he was glad I was leaving Gloucester. Perplexed, I asked why? Most people have said they are sad to see me leave. He cheerfully replied that Gloucester is too small for me and I will flourish in a bigger stage. I asked him how he meant it and thankfully he replied that it is a compliment. I was worried because I don't ever want to give the impression that I am more important than the work. He did not mean it that way. He just sees Gloucester as a very small corner of the world and he sees that I have more to give. What a relief!
It is wonderful to be at Campion Center where a Health Center thrives, the Jesuit community is engaged, and the retreat center is very busy. It is in the wealthy town of Weston so it is often good to leave the property and dialogue with the rest of the world.
A walk through our cemetery tells a wondrous story. It is hard to walk through it without choking up. Many deceased Jesuits have done some excellent work before us and they have built up such good relationships in life. I'm sad to know they are not here with us. Death is hard because it is final and while we have faith, death is still difficult. However, I feel like I am immersed in my province's brief history. Men who have touched so many lives of others so profoundly are in my consciousness. This place once bounded by young Jesuit philosophers and theologians; now it serves mainly the retired and infirm Jesuits, but alive in the corridors are the spirits of many men who came to know the Lord intimately. They formed lives based on being friends of Jesus. I'm glad to just be sitting here in the midst of the past and present.
The story continues....
Oh John, what a lovely post. I am thinking of liminal spaces and how this is one of them in many ways, but particularly for you at this time.
ReplyDeleteYour words about the cemetery strike too... Yesterday a friend of mine visited the grave of a Jesuit brother of yours, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. I asked her to pray for me there, to pray for my many Jesuit and Ignatian friends too. His name is known, but so many other names on those stones are less known. In God's eyes they are all the same, and their mission has helped shape the world with great love.
As yours does and will continue to do. Prayers for you John, so many prayers.
Thanks, Fran. I enjoyed sitting down last night and letting graces flow over me like an application of the senses.
DeleteThanks for the photo of Teilhard's gravestone. Thanks for your prayers. Teilhard's life had its share of difficulties, but from it he gave us terrific ways to pray.
Prayers for you as well, Fran.
John