To the Band of Brothers: October 12, 2023

Good morning!

 

I know every time I write one of these Band of Brothers emails it is filled with reflections and thoughts about our faith, our brotherhood, and our studies. The emails tell stories that capture your attention so you read on to the lesson it is trying to impart. I am blessed to get emails responding to how much a parent liked the email, how they read them together as a family in the car on the way to school, and pass them on to loved ones and friends.

 

Well, today’s email is a little different. Today’s email looks to put something important on your radar. It may not be nice to read, but I think it is important to point it out. Consider it as much a part of your formation to becoming a responsible Christian man as anything else I have written before. Learning has to go way beyond the classroom and should encompass every aspect of your life, even the most common and basic aspects of it.

 

We take great pride in the beauty of our campus. It is important you come to a school whose buildings and grounds reflect the level of professionalism and proper decorum expected of a Jesuit institution. We have an extraordinary maintenance and janitorial department that works tirelessly six days a week to make sure the floors are swept, the tables are wiped, the grass is cut, and the windows squeaky clean. They are the unsung heroes of our school family.

 

As President of Belen Jesuit, I spend a lot of my time making sure the Catholic-Jesuit identity of the school remains strong and that we raise the necessary funds to keep the vision of the school alive and well. That is part of my job description. What isn’t necessarily written is another job I find myself doing all the time. From the moment I walk out to the front of the school to welcome you in the morning, to the moment I make my way to the Jesuit community at the end of the day, I find myself playing the role of janitor. Every piece of paper I find on the ground, every helpless shoe I find tossed in a planter (and it’s never a pair but one single shoe), every soda can, half-eaten apple, tossed-away number 2 pencil, and abandoned musical instrument is picked up and either thrown away or placed in our lost and found.

 

I do it because I take ownership of what belongs to me. This school belongs to me. It belongs to five generations of my family who spent many years becoming men here. It belongs to my vocation as a Jesuit priest, a vocation I first discovered on this campus. And it also belongs to you. This school belongs to you. This campus belongs to you. These classrooms, this dining hall, this central patio, this library, these athletic fields belong to you. Therefore, you need to take ownership of it.

 

When I was growing up as a kid my mother used a phrase time and time again. I confess I couldn’t stand hearing it. When my brothers and I left a dirty plate in the sink or dirty socks on the floor, she would remind us, “En esta casa no hay criada” (“In this house there is no maid”). What she meant was the house was ours, we are the ones responsible for keeping it clean.

 

The neatness of our campus is our responsibility. It is not the responsibility solely of the men and women who work hard to keep up with us. It is our responsibility to pick up garbage when we see it, whether it belongs to us or not. Too often I see you walk by garbage thrown on the floor and not give a second thought to picking it up. Why not? This is your school, this is your home, and “en esta casa no hay criada.”

 

Below, I have attached a couple of photos I took yesterday at 8:00 a.m. outside Café Belen. Before our janitorial staff went out to clean up, this is what the outside picnic tables looked like. Please, please, note in the picture that just a couple of feet away there is a trash can conveniently placed there for your use. Yet, the garbage remained out there. Maybe the perpetrator absentmindedly left it behind when he got a call from his mother clamoring she was there to pick him up and he got up in a hurry. Or maybe it was left behind because we figured someone else would pick it up. Maybe there are elves who magically come out at night to pick up the garbage I leave behind.

 

Well, there are no magic elves. There are only 1,375 young men who spend more time on campus than they spend even in their own homes. This is your home and the expectation is you keep it clean. I am willing to do my part; I need you to do yours.

 

Auspice Maria