To the Band of Brothers: December 4, 2023

My flight touched down at MIA this morning at 4:00 a.m. It’s amazing to think you can fall asleep on a plane in one hemisphere and end up in another by the time you wake up. The airport was empty, and I was able to clear customs with such incredible ease that I found myself in a taxi heading home by 4:30 a.m. As soon as I walked in the door of Villa Javier, I went straight to the Keurig and thanked Dunkin’ for their midnight black blend that would help breathe life into my system.

I sat in the backyard patio with my breviary in hand to offer my morning prayer and express some gratitude to the Lord for such a great experience in Brazil. Witnessing Mike Martinez’s ’09 ordination to the diaconate was a blessing, a culmination of hard work and a lot of prayer. From the days he walked the hallways of Belen to the present, his life was a journey where God has never left his side. Awareness is the key. This young man has been aware of God’s awesome presence in his life, a presence that has never faltered even when he didn’t think God was there. You only get to kneel in front of the bishop and receive such a powerful sacrament if Jesus, Mary, and the heavenly court help get you there.

As I prayed, I couldn’t help but spend my time reflecting on the weekend. It was an examination of the events, experiences, and people I came in contact with. But there was so much more. Since I too had spent my years of theology studies in Belo Horizonte, for me it was going back home. I walked through the campus where I studied and celebrated Mass for the first time as a priest in the favela (Brazilian slum), where I spent three years working with the people. Wow, what amazing memories. 

Today, the Church celebrates the memorial of St. John Damascene (675-749), a monk, priest, and doctor of the Church. In the Liturgy of the Hours, the suggested reading for Morning Prayer is taken from the book of Wisdom. The first line is striking, “Simply I learned about Wisdom” (7:13). I realized it was meant for me in order to accompany my morning reflection. I spent four years in Brazil studying theology with some of the best professors the Church had to offer. These guys did their doctorates in some of the greatest universities in the world. From the Gregorian in Rome to the University of Innsbrook in Austria, my professors had written books, published articles, and prided themselves on being on the cutting edge of theology. And they were.

But I realized where I truly learned theology, where I grew in wisdom, was not in the classroom but in the favela. For as much as I learned through books, I learned more from the dirt roads and dilapidated homes of the poor. It was in that simple setting that I truly learned wisdom. It is amazing how individuals who did not know how to read or write, who struggled daily to make enough money to buy food or clothing, people who oftentimes struggled with alcohol and unemployment, were some of the greatest professors I ever had. A 92-year-old great-grandmother who walked miles every day to clean our little chapel and say a rosary, a 47-year-old unemployed construction worker who taught catechism to the little kids using drawings because he couldn’t read the text, and a 38-year-old mother of nine who dragged her kids to chapel every time she heard the young Jesuit seminarian was there to lead a prayer service.

This is wisdom personified. And it has nothing to do with books or articles or dissertations. It has everything to do with experiencing profoundly the love of Jesus Christ and wanting to pass it on to others as an expression of gratitude and a sense of obligation. I oftentimes think we get in our own way. We are so obsessed with GPAs and college acceptance that we lose track of the most important things in our lives. Don’t get me wrong, those things are important, but the moment they divorce us from the more important things and cloud our experience of Jesus, his compassion and love, it’s the moment we become fools. Simply we learn about Wisdom.

Auspice Maria