These are transition days in our community and school; graduating Jesuits and schoolmates are leaving. Some are departing for home to begin new apostolic assignments. Others are moving on to new places for jobs and further studies. A few of us will remain to learn a little longer.
Whatever our next steps are, we have come to that moment of goodbyes. Goodbye to our shared faith and worship; goodbye to our theological debates and ruminations; goodbye to our collaborative ministry and community life. Many of us however shy away from saying, ‘Goodbye, friend.’ We skirt around these words: we congratulate each other for graduating; we toast and roast each other with good cheer. Sometimes, we’ll say, ‘let’s keep in touch; let’s email and skype’. Then, there are those who go quietly to avoid the pain, as they are others who disappear because they bother not.
However we depart, the impact of a goodbye cannot be diminished. This is when we will speak our final words of farewell. When, for one last time, we will gaze at a friend’s familiar smile and savor the timbre of my friend’s voice. And this is when we will probably share a final hug, holding on for a tad longer in friendship’s warmth. In that moment, we will be thankful for our friendship.
But if we are honest enough, we will find ourselves acknowledging that our friendship--as rich, as delightful, as life-giving as it is now--will change. It will change even as we remain in touch because it will grow and mature. It will take on a new form, have a new rhythm, be about keeping in touch and relating in a new way. Such is life. This is especially true for us Jesuits; our missions bring us to God’s people, as they also take us far from one another and the people we have formed bonds with here. And this is perhaps why it is sometimes difficult to say goodbye because what we are really saying goodbye to is our present way of sharing life deeply and meaningfully with a good friend.
Friendship’s goodness however will only fulfill its promised communion in our lives when we bid it goodbye. Then, this hope-filled communion can grow and mature; it will do so according to the tides of life that lead each friend anew yet bind us in its expansive waves. More significantly, this communion comes to be when we share it with others; when we especially dare to now let go and make new friends, and in these new interactions generously share the riches of the very friendships we say goodbye to. For it is in sharing with another the memories of my good friend who may be physically faraway--of who she is, of what his goodness means to me and of what we have done together--that this friend is not distant but really very close, very much real and alive. And it is in gratefully remembering him and her and all of them whom we have delightfully shared life with and call friend that we continue loving each one.
And isn’t this how the Christian story of God-with-us is also remembered, celebrated and shared? Of God befriending us and sending us out, in turn, to befriend others. Do we not call this thanksgiving ‘eucharistic’?
This then is how I will remember my closest Jesuit friends when we say goodbye: with gratitude. For walking in the snow, photographing Christmas lights and affirming God’s call in my life. For animated conversations, punctuated with much hearty laughter, about von Balthasar and Adele and reminding me to trust God’s plans for me. For Tuesdays with morning breakfasts and Glee and helping me to see and celebrate God’s grace eucharistically.
Yes, I will be at a loss for a little while when they depart Boston. But truth be told, I will always have the treasury of our friendships. From this, I can draw stories to gratefully gift new friends the riches of these Jesuit friendships: the laughter we shared, the strength we had to overcome challenges faced, the care we gave (and I know we will continue to give) each other and the faith in God we celebrated. Then, these friends, my amigos, will not be so far away, as they will be very much present--as present as a short story writer once wrote, “you’re always in my breast pocket”.
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