MORE HOMEWORK

Two weeks into my cancer journey last June, I attended Saturday afternoon Mass at Good Shepherd Parish. Our pastor Father John, although a gifted homilist, entrusts much of the shepherding to visiting Jesuit Fathers.

The celebrant that day was Father Donald Beaudois, a retired Jesuit priest and one of my former teachers and colleagues at Brebeuf College. Father Don continues to sport his trademark brush cut that has him looking much younger than his eighty plus years.

His booming voice made me wonder why he bothered using a microphone as he delivered his homily. He talked about the communion of saints, one of my interests since my initial diagnosis, as well as the reminder that one must lift up their crosses, including their cancers, for the welfare of others. His words resonated with me.

Father Beaudois taught Chemistry, Math and Greek at Brebeuf College from 1964 to 1983. His pedagogy was organized and precise, his classroom as regimented as a boot camp. It was his way or the highway. He challenged his students to give their best and those who didn’t sometimes went AWOL afraid of his yardstick-cum-lightsaber wielding abilities.

I visited Father last week at the Manresa Retreat Centre in Pickering. He is as vigorous and outspoken as ever. He introduced me to some of his fellow residents and teasingly addressed one of his contemporaries as a ‘decrepit old man.’ Still saber rattling.

After a light lunch, I talked about my cancer experience to date. He took special interest in my story about Father John and the free pass. After about ten minutes, he asked me bluntly,

“Where do you think heaven is?”

I felt like I was right back in his Grade 12 Chemistry class again and he had caught me with my homework undone. I had never seriously thought about that type of question.

“I guess it’s up there somewhere,” I answered lamely as I pointed skyward.

“Do you really think so?” he replied, not the least bit surprised with my feeble answer.

“Mike, you really are a product of the 1950’s, aren’t you? It’s not your fault. The Church has got to do a much better job at re-educating the people like you.”

And here I thought I was doing just fine.

He continued, “ Now, I want you to substitute the word happiness for heaven. Try it as you begin the Our Father.”

“Our Father who art in happiness,” I rejoined.

I guess that sounded better but it didn’t really help me locate heaven on my celestial radar. The more we chatted, the more I realized that Father Don was trying to lead me out of my comfortable pew of belief dominated by rules like mandatory attendance at Sunday Mass and fasting on Good Friday. He was trying to introduce me to the dynamic Jesuit view of life.

Apparently he couldn’t do it in thirty minutes because as I was leaving, he gave me some reading material on St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits.

“I want that back,” he exclaimed as I headed for my car.

Minutes later, as I drove home on the 401, I realized what he had done. Although forty-five years out of his class, Father Don was assigning me homework. Looks like he wants to be part of the Mike 2.0 reconstruction process.