Father Hugh Fitzgerald was among the holiest, and surely the most charming and delightful of the priests I have known. Short, very Irish looking, always smiling, he was maybe 50 years old when I, aged 25, knew him at St. Mary's H.S, Jersey City in the mid 1970s. I loved when he would take my religion class; I would relax. Typically, he would welcome us into the rectory living room next door; informal and casual. He planned no content, but would chat happily about random things. He had an indescribable appeal and charm. It all seemed so good. Oftentimes, he would engage 5 or 6 close to him and the rest would chat among themselves. That bothered him not at all. I caught his tranquility of spirit and also allowed it. If it didn't bother him, why should it bother me? Normally I was very anxious to maintain class order; but with him I was on sabbath. I am told in his early priesthood he had a fierce Irish temper; by the time I knew him, God's grace had beautifully prevailed. His serenity and joy were contagious.
Catholic Worker Farm. Around that same time, perhaps 1972 or so, my wife Mary Lynn joined me in my search for "Christian Community" as we visited the Catholic Worker Farm north of us overlooking the Hudson River. A striking experience: very run down, messy and unkempt, with a good number of dysfunctional people, mentally ill and alcoholic, wandering around. But there were also a small number, perhaps half a dozen, of high-functioning, intelligent, motivated people of deep faith, character and motivation. In accord with Dorothy Day's anarchism, there was little or no structure or rules. Whatever got done was done by the good will of these quite extraordinary people. It was "live and let live" at the extreme. I was impressed by these people but decided I could not live that way.
We left the farm and then visited the Bruderhof: in the Anabaptist tradition, it is the equal of the Catholic Worker in its countercultural, radical, communal spirit of poverty but the opposite extreme in regard to structure and order. With Germanic exactitude, everything was neat, orderly, aesthetic, and symmetrical. The flower gardens were magnificent. The children well-behaved and groomed. At lunch with several hundred people, we finished grace and then my wife and I were chewing into our apples when I noticed that everyone, except us, was quartering the apple with the knife. We quickly did the same. I was most impressed with the beauty and order of the place, but we agreed that we needed something half way between these two extremes.
My Dream Last Night. As always in my dreams, I am in school, lost, disoriented and out of control. Usually I am a teacher, in this case I am a student. I don't know if I have a class this period so I decided to walk through all three floors of the school to see if I can identify my class. I do not succeed but I do walk through a political science class in which the professor, medium sized, perhaps 50 years old, of European descent, greets me with a warm smile that touches my heart. I then find myself as a guest in his classroom. It is a senior class and I am a junior so I am pleased by this. He comes in with that same stirring warmth, joy and affection. To my surprise, the class is in disorder, but he is unperturbed. He engages the students nearest him in lively, happy dialogue. I struggle to hear him as the other voices are loud. After class he asks me to remain with a few students. It becomes apparent that they are engaging me in an "intervention" regarding some (unspecified) intimate matter that I had revealed. The professor is entirely affectionate, reassuring and kind. The students are benign but uninvolved. I am happy to be receiving this attention, expecially from seniors, above me in the hierarchy of things.
Interpretation. JOY IN CHAOS...That is what unites these three anecdotes. Joy in Chaos. The protagonists...Fr. Fitz, the Catholic Workers, and the Political Science Professor...all radiate undiluted joy, affection, attention, and energy in the middle of disorder. They are not in control. Yet, they are charming, confident, unthreatened, and strong in agency.
Much of my working life I suffered anxiety, discouragement and sense of inadequacy because I failed to meet the bar of control over challenging situations. First of all, as high school teacher, I was a mediocre disciplinarian and saw myself as a failure in the classroom. UPS, even in supervision, was not as difficult as teaching, but I again felt inadequate in meeting standards: my drivers were not performing as required; I made mistakes in dispatch; and at the airport, the tolerance for error was very short and I faced frequent criticism.
More recently, in our boarding home for women, I am surrounded by dysfunction and eccentricity. Strangely, I find a deep peace as I accept each woman for who she is; I entrust the house to God's care; and I do what I can do. I enjoy this peace, perhaps, because I am emulating Fr. Fitz, the Catholic Workers and my imagined Political Science Professor.
There is irony here: Political Science. This is the discipline around order in community. For the last few weeks, I have been unable to watch any TV, other than the news, as I am gripped by the war in Israel as well as the chaos in the Republican Party, not to mention the Ukraine and our current president. This is "chaos on steroids!" Perhaps, through this dream and these beautiful memories, the Holy Spirit is encouraging me, in the face of global disorder, to remain concerned but detached, joyful, attentive, affectionate, serene, confident, and magnanimous.
Thank You Jesus!
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