Christmas, 2025
With the years goes the memory, we old-timers (or “senior citizens,” if you prefer) might say. So much of what I might have shared with you here has slipped away. But all the better for those of you who are skimming through this catch-up letter. Let me spare you the details. The year has been the usual procession of parish Masses, visits to the hospital, prayers alongside caskets in funeral parlors and homes, handouts to people who said they needed food or bus fare, and all the rest.
Not to say that there haven’t been special events—like the ordination of an island Jesuit and old basketball buddy of mine, Dickson Tiwelfil. Or the visit home to spend time with friends and family, and the stopover in Pittsburgh to see my home-bound sister-in-law, Liz.
“Where have all the flowers gone?” As I hum the old melody to myself, I can’t help but think of the former students who have passed away in recent weeks, never mind the multitude in the earlier months of the year: Joe Urusemal (former FSM president), Lorin Robert (once FSM Foreign Affairs Secretary), Inno Oneisom (Speaker of the Chuuk Legislature), as well as the others before them. To people here, they were respected public figures. To me, they were more than former students; they were friends. They were also confirmation that it wasn’t just idle hope that our Xavier graduates might actually live their lives in genuine service to their people.
These old friends may be gone, but they have charged my own life with a renewed sense of purpose. Maybe the little things that we try to do for others really do make a difference in the long run. Who knows? Possibly we teachers can claim a small role in the character-building that we like to promote as a key result of our Jesuit education.
A highlight this year has been my work with the archbishop to bring the priests into closer contact with one another through sharing sessions (synodality, it’s called). How can we hope to share what we have with others if we can’t confide in one another? There’s been a long hiatus in opportunities to talk with one another in a brotherly fashion. The abuse scandals on this island and the divisions in the Church that followed shattered confidence. Then, just as we were beginning to sing the same song again, COVID halted all social activities here. Now, at last, we gather again—not just to sing karaoke as we down sliders and a glass of something special, but also to talk and listen to one another and recall the mission that unites us.
All things considered, not a bad year at all. Even the sad spots offer a touch of joy, as you can see. So let’s continue to hope and pray for a healing spirit in this world that needs it so badly. Christmas is the promise of that healing.
May the peace and joy of Christmas be yours this year and always!
Love,
