Never, never would I have imagined that so much noise could come from such a small set of lungs! The wee child screamed, and screamed and screamed; and wrestled and wrestled and wrestled. Such determination, such resistance. And what made this more like a menagerie of untamed, frustrated animals was there were about a dozen of them lending their voices to this bedlam.
What on earth was going on? It was the beginning of the school year, the first day these infants were being separated from their mothers. To them it seemed their mothers were abandoning them, rejecting them.
Everyone was so firm, so unyielding, and yet so coaxing and so friendly. Scared, struggling, writhing, they were carried into a strange room and the door was closed. There they were handed over to strangers. It was a strange, motherless world they had entered. And then, the mothers moved off, stressed out and exhausted after this painful ordeal. Some were weeping at the loss of their children. Others felt guilty over the anguish into which they had plunged their little darlings. Nothing they could do could lessen the pain of separation for both mother and for infant.
This could not have been avoided. These days families are sending their precious little ones to day-care centres, infant schools, pre-primary schools at a very, very early age. Mothers and teachers do have strategies to ensure that gradually the anguish wears off. After a while the toddlers begin to feel secure. They find they can trust those who are looking after them. They make first faltering steps in forming friendships. They even come to enjoy the activities and everything about school. They become proud to wear their school uniforms.
Remembering the drama of first day at school for those infants has a certain resonance in the memory of those traumatic moments on that never-to-be forgotten, never-to-be repeated, day when I was forced to stand on my own feet. The props that had till then supported me had been removed. For me it was a moment of excruciating insecurity when the car conveyed me to that presbytery where for the first time in my life I would be a parish priest. I would be living absolutely on my own with no dog, cat or goldfish to talk to! Into my lap was thrown the pastoral responsibility of parish administration – without my ever having been given much of an apprenticeship.
The whole of my body trembled uncontrollably throughout that brief journey to meet my destiny. On arrival I was introduced to strangers – the welcoming party. My driver took his leave and then I was left with my ‘minders.’ As I write about my own painful memories I recall the apprehension and bewilderment of those bawling infants.
Trouble is that this ‘big man’ –Peter -did not have the freedom to bawl and scream...like those poor infants. I had to put on a brave face and cheerful countenance. I had to create a good impression of joyful confidence, there and then, knowing that those who had first met me would be straining to spread the word of what their new priest was like.
These reflections are most vivid to me because in recent weeks I’ve been acting pastor in the very place where I received my ‘baptism’ as a parish priest. I’ve been ministering to people I’d instructed, counselled, baptised and wedded over fifty years ago.
I’ve had the opportunity of expressing to them my gratitude for their providing a ‘safety-net’ when I feared I was descending into a pit of horrors, a time when I would have welcomed being swallowed into nothingness. These friendly souls of yester-year, and now today, so much resemble those teachers who year after year are the welcoming party, the safety-net for bawling, horrified, youngsters.
Words fail me in expressing my gratitude to those who were ‘there for me’ at those moments of greatest insecurity. I thank God, who in His loving kindness provided me with such people. I thank Him for His own diffidence in not imposing on me a spirituality of ‘Alone with my God.’
I go along with the sentiment of the song, ‘ People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.’ Only luckier are those who have such people around at the time when they are most needed.
Didn’t St. PauI write,’ Carry each other’s burdens; that is how to keep the law of Christ?’ Those teachers certainly did this for those infants. Those parishioners did so for me in the springtime of my priesthood. I would pray that I will not fail anyone who is looking to me for such support. This is godsway. This must always be myway!
Peter Clarke,OP
In two weeks Isidore will meet God through reflecting on 'Too Much Talk!'
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