To the Band of Brothers: January 25, 2022

Saturday night, after the third wedding of the weekend, I headed into the kitchen at Villa Javier for a late-night snack before heading to bed. I figured I deserved it considering I had spent the day running around Miami dispensing various sacraments. At the Jesuit Hilton, dinner is served at 6:00 p.m. Usually, that means that around 9:00 p.m., the pangs of hunger begin to resonate within my entrails and my system begins to shut itself off unless I address their complaints with some kind of nourishment. So, as I walked in the front door, I made a beeline for the kitchen to see what I could find.

 

The kitchen and dining area in a Jesuit community house are very important. Not only because it is where the food is located, but also because it is central command. There are two efficient ways to communicate with every member of the community and both involve the kitchen.

 

Belen’s Jesuits don’t use phones, emails, or text messages. We, instead, use a very elaborate form of notes strategically posted in the one area every Jesuit, no matter his age, ministry, or years in the Society of Jesus, will eventually make his way to. No, it’s not the chapel, not the library, not the TV room, and, definitely, not the exercise room (I would simply never get messages). It’s the kitchen. Let’s be frank, I have read countless stories about very brave and committed Jesuits who have been martyred for the faith by drowning, gunshot, burned at the stake, beheaded, racked and quartered, even fileted (St. John de Brébeuf), but never a Jesuit who starved to death.

 

And, what are the two ways to communicate in this space? Well, if the message is important, it gets posted on a bulletin board right next to the entrance of the kitchen. This is a standard-issued board. I mean, every Jesuit community from San Juan to Siberia has it in their kitchen. Every Jesuit on the planet is taught from the first moment he walks into the seminary to look for this corked square and read whatever is on it, even if he’s read it before. In other words, every time an S.J. walks into the kitchen, he walks over to the board and reads. Only then can he head to the refrigerator.

 

But, if the message is DEFCON 4 important, the note gets posted on the outside of the kitchen door. So, let me paint you a picture. You are walking to the kitchen thinking about what you’re going to eat, maybe even preparing yourself for the possible letdown that the slice of pizza you hid towards the back of the fridge got snagged by a quicker, more agile Jesuit. Then, you see a note on the door. You can assure yourself the message is serious.

 

I remember the last time we got one of those DEFCON 4 messages. It happened a few weeks ago. When I saw it, I braced myself as I read the news, expecting the worst. It read that the water heater in the house was broken. In other words, cold showers.

 

Oh my God, I thought! What’s this, the third world? Was this punishment for my sins O’ Lord? What had I done to deserve it? Were we now back in the 16th century? Hadn’t they noticed the means of Jesuit martyrdom listed above that included burning at the stake and beheading? Nowhere on that list did it mention cold showers. So, sure enough, that night I had to slowly make my way into the shower. I stared at the showerhead above that was about to unleash a frigid fury and it made my body tremble with dread. As I placed my hand on the faucet, I ran off various intentions that I was going to offer this pain up for: my vocation, Belen, the Miami Dolphins coaching search, peace in the world. Then, with a silent prayer on my lips, I turned the knob.

 

I don’t remember what happened after that. I lost consciousness. I think I remember the bar of Irish Spring, maybe the shampoo bottle, but it’s mostly all a blur. When I finally came to, I was standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around my head. I looked like a frozen Carmen Miranda. I was cold, but I was clean and ready for bed. As I fell asleep, I thought of maybe offering cold showers for future Lents. Or, maybe I will just give up chocolate.

 

Auspice Maria