Jesuits in Baghdad

The Jesuits who served in Baghdad are all men of advanced years by now. Almost every one of the surviving priests and brothers has reached at least 70, and many died long ago.

Teachers and administrators in Baghdad College and Al-Hikma University, they were unceremoniously expelled by the Baath Party when it seized power in 1968. That is the party of Saddam Hussein who was only a military officer at that time and would not become dictator till years later.

Of the 146 Jesuit priests, scholastics and brothers who served in Baghdad, about 60 are still alive. You might imagine that events in which they figured decades ago might have become distant memories for these men. On the contrary, their experiences remain vivid, as conversations with them quickly reveal. They still feel grateful for the opportunity to serve their church there and deeply regret the Iraqi government’s decision to expel them.

Looking back, Father Simon Smith says, “It still hurts, but I have stopped bleeding.” He remembers that all the Jesuits based at the university, having been given only 72 hours to prepare, left Baghdad on the same day: against government orders, some 400 people came to say good-bye to their former mentors.

A major reason for the experience remaining fresh in the minds and heart of the Jesuits is the continued loyalty toward them shown by their alumni living in the United States and Canada. Every two years, these alums invite their former teachers to a reunion that features good cheer and reminiscence. The next one will take place in Toronto in the summer of 2,002.

The former students, most of them now American citizens, show much affection for the Jesuits and great generosity as well. It is their custom to contribute money to the New England Jesuit Province, with a view toward supporting their former teachers in their old age. One man has given half a million dollars for the Jesuit infirmary and two others have each given 100,000 dollars, and they are not alone in their generosity.

About one-third of the students at Baghdad College (“B.C. on the Tigris,” the Jesuits sometimes called it) were Muslims; another third Orthodox Christians; and most of the rest Catholics. About ten percent were Jewish. The Jesuits were respectful of traditions different from their own, a respect that the alums still appreciate.

When asked for their views on the current – – and sometimes prejudicial – – treatment of people of Arabic descent in this country, the Jesuits interviewed for this column differ in the strength of their feelings.

They are certainly united in sharing a love for the people of Iraq and especially for their former students. One of them, principal at a Jesuit school in Boston, is reported to pray publicly for the children in Iraq and Iran every day.  And these Jesuits strongly advocate lifting the American-driven embargo on Iraq that they see inflicting grievous harm on the children of that country.

James McDavitt, a 71-year-old Jesuit brother based in Boston, has taken the lead in keeping in touch with the Baghdad alums and their families. He has a file of 300 of them who receive his email messages, and many of them respond to him. Though he never served in Iraq himself, Jim McDavitt says of the alums, “They look on me as a conduit to the Fathers.”

An effective conduit he is, sending out messages filled with spiritual meaning and warm human feeling to the alums, among them Muslims who often respond similarly. “I have come to know these people and love them,” says Brother McDavitt.

Four days after the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington, for instance, he sent out the following message: “We want you to know that you are not far from our thoughts and prayers in these troubled days.  .   . In seeking out the perpetrators of this horrific terrorism, there are those who will find it in themselves to look to anyone from the Middle East as the guilty. Please God, no harm will come to you, physically or verbally. The contempt for human life demonstrated in these wholesale attacks on the innocent is a fundamental violation of all religious traditions, whether it is Islam, Judaism, or Christianity.”

For a personal contact with alumni, a Jesuit friend referred me to an Iraqi-American family living in a Boston suburb. They reported not having experienced any harassment in their workplaces. The middle-aged son in the family did, however, encounter an angry shop owner who called the FBI. Agents came and questioned him but, he says, “they were very nice.”

Some of the Jesuits still worry about prejudicial treatment of their alums and others from the Middle East in an era when anti-terrorist zeal has led to erosion of some civil rights. “I think ethnic profiling is always bad,” one Jesuit professor based at Fairfield University told me. “Blaming the Arabs for what a few have done” is something about which he continues to feel concern.

Richard Griffin

RUMI

“God, You who know all that is hidden,
You who speak with compassion,
don’t hide from us the errors of our wrong pursuits—
nor reveal to us the lack within the good we try to do,
lest we become disgusted and lose the heart
to journey on this Path.”

This prayer comes from the hand of the poet Jalal Ud-din Rumi, who lived in the 13th century. He founded an order in the Sufi tradition of Islam and wrote poetry that is much prized today. In fact, Rumi is known to be one of the most popular poets in contemporary America.

Two days from this date, Rumi enthusiasts will mark the 728th anniversary of his death. Ever since the year 1273, members of his order have kept the day of his death as a festival to celebrate his life and work.

This great Muslim mystic wrote in Persian, a language not accessible to most Americans. But even in translation his words have the power to move readers along in their search for God. In reading the poem quoted above, I felt spiritually uplifted by what the writer chose to pray for.

Two sentiments expressed here strike me with special force. The first is the request for God not to hide from us “the errors of our wrong pursuits.” It is so easy for human beings to be carried headlong by strong desires and by illusions about what is good for us. We should not want to be shielded from our own foolishness but rather to become aware of it and face it.

A second prayerful request is for God not to reveal to us “the lack in the good that we try to do.” This petition impresses me as especially wise since it shows the poet’s desire to be spared knowing how imperfect his efforts to do good really remain.

Rumi clearly knows what Jesus also taught, namely that only one is good and that one is God. All other things, including our attempts to put into practice God’s will, remain flawed and imperfect.

The trouble with becoming aware of the defects in even our best actions, Rumi recognizes, is that this awareness of imperfection can easily ruin our morale. Hardly anyone of us has the inner strength to endure knowing how imperfect our actions really are.

For God to shield us from this realization with regard to our actions is compassionate. It frees us to continue on the spiritual path without being overcome by discouragement. Were we to sense that everything we do, even the best of our actions, are riddled with imperfection, that might make the spiritual life odious to us and incline us to drop out of the spiritual struggle.

This truth applies to our efforts to pray. Placing too much importance on the deficiencies in our prayer – – the distractions and restlessness – – could easily lead us to give it up altogether. What counts most in prayer is our desire to be in contact with God rather than our actually succeeding in staying focused on God.

Similarly, imagining that whenever we reach out to others in need our intentions should be entirely pure is also unrealistic. It is only human to have mixed motives, helping another person sometimes because we see some advantage for ourselves. Good works, after all, often bring us rewards and that is no reason for avoiding them.

In his prayer, Rumi indicates the importance of not becoming disgusted and of not losing heart. The Path and the journey hold most importance, as he sees it. The difficulty of this challenge, what a modern poet, Anne Sexton, has called “the awful rowing toward God,” should not be allowed to turn us aside.

At this time of world tension connected with the perverted use of some religious traditions, it comes as a consolation to find Rumi. He was born in Afghanistan and his mysticism came from the religious lore in which he was steeped from his earliest years. He drew inspiration from the Qur’an and the other sacred traditions of Islam.

As one writer has said of him, “If there is any general idea underlying Rumi’s poetry, it is the absolute love of God.” That love emerges forcibly from the poem discussed here and can inspire spiritual seekers everywhere.

Richard Griffin

Affordable Assisted Living

Over the last several years I have been a frequent visitor to assisted living communities. It has been my privilege to give talks to residents on various subjects including aging, spirituality, and current events. Getting to know at least some of the women and men living there has been an experience that I much value.

The assisted living option has become open to many more people than formerly. And those who have taken up residence in this kind of place usually find it an excellent choice. Being in a place that assures personal safety and services such as meals, housecleaning, cultural and recreational activities pleases most of those who have chosen to enter.

The rub, however, is that many older people cannot afford assisted living. If they do not own their own home or lack a substantial retirement income, most cannot hope to pay the entrance fees and management fees that make entrance possible. If they had the opportunity, presumably many more would choose the benefits of assisted living rather than continue to live on their own.

That’s why it comes as good news indeed to discover that some leaders in the field of housing for older people have been at work devising ways to make assisted living available to those whose incomes and assets fall below the usual threshold for admittance.

Such a leader is Daniel Wuenschel, the veteran executive director of the public housing authority in my home community, Cambridge. In a recent interview he shared with me some of the recent initiatives he and his agency have taken to make assisted living affordable for people formerly excluded for lack of financial resources. I share this information with readers outside my home community because, with Wuenschel, I believe that housing leaders and many citizens in other cities and towns will be interested in hearing about these new programs.

The first initiative that our local housing authority has begun is to convert 25 apartments in one of its public housing developments into assisted living units. Only one other community in Massachusetts – New Bedford – has received  federal funds to do the same, along with three others nationwide

“We are ahead of the curve on this one,” says Dan Wuenschel, “and really want to test and see if assisted living and independent living can coexist within the same building.” His agency has funded this 20 million dollar scheme by putting together funds from a variety of sources, with five million coming from a Housing and Urban Development grant.

Surprisingly, the demand for public housing for elders remains at a low ebb right now, Wuenschel reports. But it is expected to soar some ten years from now when more of the baby boomer population arrives at age 60. He sees this period as “a window of opportunity,” a time for program changes in public housing. Hence the assisted living pilot project.

The second major initiative taken by our local housing authority is the opening of a new assisted living facility on the site of a former nursing home started by our city in 1928. Recently, it had been losing two and a half million dollars a year and needed physical changes. The housing authority took the lead, formed a team, put together financing, and dedicated the new house three weeks ago.

It was not easy to do. “Neville Manor has taken us about as long as it took the allies to win World War II,” Wuenschel says lightheartedly. And the complete project, now called Neville Place, will not be finished until at least 2,003. That is when a new nursing home will have been added to this campus alongside of Fresh Pond.

The assisted living facility offers an experiment in mixed-income residency. Elders who are poor, even very poor, will be able to afford one of 39 units by means of subsidies from Medicaid and the housing assistance program known as Section 8. People of moderate income will have access to 18 other units, while 20 percent will be reserved for people of higher means. Neville Place also offers a special care program for 15 people with memory loss and early-stage Alzheimer’s disease.

People from our community will receive preference for assisted living units here. But Wuenschel remains hopeful that, in time, such housing opportunities will be opened elsewhere. An association of public housing authority directors is now trying to interest Congress in making funds available for publicly supported assisted living initiatives in their communities.

To their credit, a little more than half of the 170 assisted living residences in Massachusetts keep at least ten percent of their units available for people of low income. Medicaid makes it possible for some applicants to enter such residences but relatively few. The opening of Neville Place, along with the option  of assisted living in one public housing facility, gives hope to those of us who want more abundant housing choices for all older people, no matter their income.

Richard Griffin

EVIL SYMPOSIUM

How can God allow evil to flourish in the world he has created good? Why do awful things happen to fine people? Is there any way of explaining such monstrous evil as the Holocaust and the other murderous atrocities of our time?

Questions like these assail people of faith now as they have for thousands of years. The issues they raise find classic expression in the Book of Job in the Hebrew Bible and reappear whenever evil strikes again.

Last week Boston College and the Atlantic Monthly assembled a panel of writers to discuss the subject “Evil: the Artist’s Response.” Christopher Lydon served as moderator, while three writers – – Kathleen Norris, Joyce Carol Oates, and Nathan Englander –  – shared their thoughts with a large audience in Boston.

I found the symposium disappointing because only one of the writers spoke to the subject with recognizable wisdom, though she, too, did not do so consistently. Even in response to questions, the three failed to meet my expectations of spiritual insight.

On reflection, I consider the subject ill advised. Evil is too abstract a notion for most people to talk about. Successful authors can presumably devise fictional characters who embody evil but that does not mean they can talk about the subject intelligently. And surely the panel needed a philosopher and a theologian to speak to this admittedly difficult topic.

Kathleen Norris, author of The Cloister Walk and Amazing Grace, among other books, brought to the discussion an element that I consider indispensable –  – reliance on a spiritual tradition. She has had long association with the Benedictine monks whose monastery is near her home in South Dakota. Extended stays and shorter visits with these men have given her access to a Benedictine spirituality that dates from the sixth century and has proved valuable for her own inner life.

From this tradition, she has learned to value the wisdom in the monks’ daily life and in the Psalms that they recite in common. Each day, the Benedictines also say the “Our Father” together because they are aware of their own need for forgiveness.

Living with other people, each individual monk knows that, almost despite himself, he gives offense to his brothers. As one monk told her, “I have to attend to the evil in my own heart.”

Norris quoted approvingly a dictum that brought the laughter of recognition from audience members: “Living with others is the only asceticism that most people need.”

As to the Psalms, they show human beings as we really are. For example, they often express the desire for revenge, a human emotion laden with evil. These realistic prayers enable us to get away from what Norris calls “the litany of self-justification that pervades our culture.”

Norris also noted with approval a theme in one of Joyce Carol Oates’s novels: “any creative encounter with evil demands that we not distance ourselves from evil.” To anyone who thinks of evil as apart from human beings, Norris recommends Psalm 36, a prayer that does not, however, stay fixed on evil. The theme of the last two verses is expressed in the line: “How precious is your steadfast love, O God.”

Summing up the message of the Psalms, Norris gets to the heart of the matter. “The main thing they offer is that God is still a mystery.” This comes close to the response to evil given by many spiritual seekers. We do not understand but we trust in the God of love.

In my view, evil is too profound to be answered by a single individual. A spiritual tradition must be invoked for help in wrestling with this fact of life. Though many people regard it as excessively negative in its view of human beings, I myself have always found light in the traditional teaching about original sin. No matter how we try to get away from it, there is something terribly askew in human life.

The central Christian tradition sees Christ as freely accepting the evil of an agonizing death on the cross. In this faith, God in the person of his son, is willing to take upon himself the human condition with all of its suffering and the ultimate sacrifice of earthly life.

This, of course, does not explain why evil is at work in the world but it says that even God has been willing to undergo evil for the redemption of the human family.

Richard Griffin

Women in Film

What do Dame May Whitty and Marie Dressler have in common? To credit a veteran Boston University researcher, these two movie stars of past decades stand out because they played roles that showed older women as different from the prevailing Hollywood stereotypes.

Starring in Alfred Hitchcock’s thriller “The Lady Vanishes,” Dame May Whitty fools viewers and her enemies alike. As researcher Elizabeth Markson says, “She first looks like the innocuous music teacher but then turns out to be the arch-spy who gets away from people who are at least symbolically the Nazis.”

Marie Dressler, acting in the 1930 film “Min and Bill” with Wallace Beery, became a star despite weighing over 200 pounds and looking homely.

These are just two of the almost 250 films chosen at random from more than 3,000 made during the period 1929 to 1995 that Professor Markson has reviewed. She focused on those actors and actresses who were at least 60 years old who had been nominated for Oscars at least once in their careers.

What surprised this researcher was “the persistence of gender stereotyping through so many decades of filmmaking.” Referring to her previous study, Markson says, “I had originally predicted that we would see a lot of changes.” Unfortunately, in her view, these changes have simply not happened.

As she views the films, Markson finds that “older women become either invisible or we project our fears of aging on women rather than men whom we continue to portray as instrumental and powerful to the very end.”

Women’s place in American society has surely changed in recent decades but not, it seems, Hollywood’s vision of that place. “We still see older women as spinsters, wives, mothers,” Markson points out. She observes that this is not the case with men: “How few older men in films are married or you can’t tell if they are married or not!”

Her review of films also reveals that “family relationships are totally neglected.” This strikes her as particularly strange because research has shown that such relationships become more important as we get older, especially for men.

Markson does not expect the situation to become better any time soon. She admits that Hollywood reflects American attitude, so that you might think that change would happen. But, as she points out, Hollywood shapes our attitudes as well; the movie industry seems to have a vested interest in presenting women as young, thin, and conventionally beautiful.

This process starts with the scripts. Hollywood studios are reported to have a “gray list,” whereby screenwriters over age 35 do not get hired. “Overage”actresses such as Meryl Streep and Faye Dunaway find themselves offered few roles.

Markson does not have much confidence that women themselves will become aware of the situation and pressure Hollywood for change. She tells of showing films to women graduate students and having them not notice the stereotypes until their attention is drawn toward them. And there seems to be no group of older people that currently scans Hollywood films critically, the way the Gray Panthers once did for American advertising.

If, as Markson judges, “some of the best portrayals of women characters were in the 1930s,” that is getting to be long ago. You might expect by now  that American films might have caught up with the creativity shown by many older women.

Markson believes that the stakes are higher than one might think. That’s because demographic changes in the future will multiply the number of older women in American society. If films do not present us with better images of this part of the population, the temptation will become greater to regard old women as nuisances rather than people deserving of dignified care when needed.

But older women as they really are, in their great variety and magnificent diversity, are appropriate subjects for the creative arts such as film. To ignore who they are and what they are doing is to miss much of the American story.

All of us ordinary Americans know family members, friends, and neighbors who are doing interesting projects in retirement. Many of them are finding their later years, in the words of another Hollywood classic, “the best years of our lives.” And yet we see precious little evidence of this in the movie theaters.

Outside the scope of the research project discussed here, a new independent film titled “Innocence” does give a convincing portrayal of people in later life who fall in love and carry on a passionate illicit affair. They had known one another when young and, only after 50 years’ absence, rediscover each other.

And a 1990 Canadian film, “Strangers in Good Company,” portrays a group of older women much the way real people are, skillfully revealing their inner life,

Maybe it’s time for a new burst of cinematic creativity in Hollywood that will show older women and men, not in stereotype, but as we have become in reality.

Richard Griffin

HOB

My friend’s body lay on a simple bed, with two chairs beside it for visitors. His body was dressed in a brown robe given him, years ago in France, by the Vietnamese Buddhist Thich Nhat Hanh when this monastic leader ordained him an elder spiritual teacher.

Eyes closed, mouth slightly ajar, grayish-white beard and hair abundant, hands folded, my friend was there in the living room of his home where he and other members of our prayer group had gathered so many times for meditation. He faced out toward the back yard and garden which had formed the beautiful backdrop to our sessions together. Now Hob, as we called him, had left us behind, dying peacefully in his own home at age 78 as Thanksgiving Day began.  

I came and sat beside the bed for a few minutes of silent prayer, gazing at Hob’s body and the quiet scene. On a small stand behind his head was a photo of the ordination ceremony; flowers graced the same stand, as did a statue of the Buddha and incense. Often in our prayer group we had employed similar props for their part in creating an atmosphere of peace.

Hob was among the most peaceful men I have ever known. He brought to daily life an inner spirit that made him rewarding to be with. Even when he was troubled by the effects of Alzheimer’s disease, Hob inspired in his friends a awareness of our depths.

Fortunately, he died early enough in the progress of this disease to have escaped its worst effects. When it damaged his capacity for short-term memory, he relied on family and friends to supplement his efforts to remember. “She is my memory,” he used to say, turning toward his beloved wife of many years.

Hob was the first person who ever indicated to me himself that he had Alzheimer’s. Years ago, he approached me and asked if I could recommend a support group for a person with this disease. I could and did, as I suddenly became aware that he was asking for himself.

Characteristic of this man’s spirituality was its breadth and openness to all traditions. Just as he looked to Thich Nhat Hanh for guidance, he also found great  inspiration in a Catholic monk living in India. Father Bede Griffiths, an English Benedictine, had established an ashram in his adopted country and lived there like a Hindu holy man.

Hob visited him in India several times, spent many days with him, and learned much for his spiritual life. His interest in spirituality, however, could never be satisfied with just one teacher. He also had an audience with the Dalai Lama and, read widely in the doctrine of other traditions, and experimented with many different forms of prayer.

Seeing Hob’s body stirred in me thoughts too deep for adequate expression. I thought of the verses from Psalm 104: “When you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust.” But as a person with hope I also focused on the following verse: “When you send forth your spirit, they are created and you renew the face of the ground.”

Lines from Shakespeare also came to mind. Hamlet speaks of death as “the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.” I think of Hob’s departure as a journey and believe it a trip toward a fuller life. But that is an area filled with mystery, that many spiritual people are content simply to contemplate with wonder.

Without the power to express it so profoundly, I have never been able since my teenage years to contemplate death without awe. Nor have I ever been able to think that death is the end of our existence. To me, it has always seemed that there is no way in which the richness of a human being could be ultimately lost.

That is my instinct, confirmed by faith. Surely Hob will also live on, not merely in the hearts of his wife and other family members; we too, his friends, will continue to cherish him. We will remember the graceful ways by which he shared his life with us and especially the courage he showed when faced with a terrible disease and in his ultimate decline.

How can we forget his gentle presence and the subtle power of his life lived in the search for light, for meaning, for God?

Richard Griffin

Bill Clinton in Retirement

You know yourself well on the way to becoming old when you discover that a new American president was born after you were. That’s what happened to me when Bill Clinton was inaugurated in 1993. We celebrate birthdays on the same date, August 19th, but he was born in 1946, exactly eighteen years after me.

Seeing Bill Clinton last week and hearing him deliver a speech at Harvard before a wildly enthusiastic crowd of students and some of their elders, I felt a strong sense once more of his talents. He is indeed the man who brought rare intellect and vision to the White House and, at times, gave promise of a greatness one can still see in him now.

Unfortunately, as all the world knows, this promise was dashed by at least one action of monumental stupidity that brought shame to him and harm to the whole nation. Even though, at this remove in time, the media and congressional responses to this scandal seem like a foolish waste of time and national resources, Clinton’s actions damaged the common good, lost opportunities for moving important projects ahead, and possibly blew the next election to the Republican Party.

This still-young retiree looked to be on the upswing last week. He was clearly energized by the cheers of the crowd which he did not need his hearing aid to hear. Charming, ebullient, and articulate, he spoke like an elder statesman. Only once, incidentally, did he mention his successor and that in a respectful manner.

Choosing as his theme “The Road Ahead for America,” the former president presented a forecast of the future and an agenda for his fellow citizens, especially the young.

“We are engaged in a struggle for the soul of this new century,” Bill Clinton announced. In this struggle he predicted that terrorism would be overcome. It has a long history, he said, but one marked by defeat rather than victory. “It cannot win unless we become unwitting accomplices,” he stated.

He foresees us getting better at defending ourselves against attack. Two specific improvements we need to make promptly: strengthening our capacity to chase money and improving our “woefully inadequate” computer tracking capacity.

As always happens when new offensive weapons first appear, they score initial successes but soon defenses catch up with them. In a minimalist prediction that in itself might provide precious little cheer, Clinton looked into the future and said that the twenty-first century will not claim as many victims as the last one.

The former president also outlined the positive and negative forces at work in the world today. Among the positives he listed the global economy, the technology revolution, the advance of the biological sciences, and the explosion of democracy around the world. In the negative column, he mentioned global warming and the worldwide health crisis, especially the spread of AIDS.

As what he called the central irony of our time Clinton identified “the fear, hatred, and demonization of those different from us.” For us to deal successfully with this problem we will have to make the interdependence of the world bring us good not evil.

The problems of the Muslim world drew his special attention. It would help those within that world who are fighting for greater openness if we make them better informed about America. “We’ve got to get our story out,” he urged. Few Muslims realize how the United States has gone to the aid of Muslim populations in Kosovo and elsewhere. Most people do not know how many Muslims died in the World Trade Center attacks.

For Clinton, the heart of the matter is this choice: “Which do you believe is more important, our interesting differences or our common humanity?”

He ended his speech on an ascending pitch: “We can never claim for ourselves what we deny for others. We live in a world without walls. We must defeat those who want to tear it down. We must make the world a home for all its children.”

This idealism commends Bill Clinton as a leader who in retirement has the opportunity to continue leading. It will obviously be in a different mode from his White House days but, as Jimmy Carter has shown, he will have advantages not available to him when president.

Now he can be free of the constraints imposed by politics, at least in large part. He can also feel less bound by the need to compromise the idealism that he seemed often to sacrifice in his days on Pennsylvania Avenue. At this time of crisis he can speak out, when appropriate, in defense of individual rights that now seem in peril.

As one of the nation’s youngest former presidents in history, Clinton can avail himself of his good health and youthful vigor to continue serving the nation as inspirer and even, despite the irony, as moral guide.

Richard Griffin