“Dear Professory, you probably don’t remember me…” In December, I received an email from Tereza, a former student of mine from whom I hadn’t heard in nine years. I had written her a letter before she left our school for health reasons, to tell her that even that situation could have a positive meaning. She replied to thank me: my letter had helped her a lot, but she begged me not to write to her again. A sign of the mistrust that often emerges in relationships.
I have been in Prague since 2009, and for twelve years my mission was linked to a high school where I taught mathematics. Only this year have I become a full-time parish priest in the Karlín district, in one of the largest and most beautiful churches in the city. It is a neo-Romanesque building not far from the center of the city. It is not a mission with large numbers: in our first year, we had the grace of about twenty baptisms, ten weddings, two funerals, and two first communions. But I am amazed by the many encounters I have had. I will tell you about some of them.
Blanka is a former student of mine. I had promised her that we would meet again, but my first year in the parish was very tiring and there was no time. We met a year later in August for a beer. Another former student was also there, and we talked about this and that. I went home happy to have seen two people I love, and I wondered how the Lord would use this evening.
Only God allows us to rejoice deeply, without pretensions or recriminations.
In October, I began a baptism preparation course for adults: by God’s pure gift, seven people have expressed their desire to be baptized in recent months.
After two weeks, Blanka writes to me: “I saw on the parish website that you are running a course. Can I participate even if I don’t want to be baptized?” When I saw her next, she explained that she was struck by how happy I looked that evening. She said that a strong question about the meaning of life had reopened in her and that she had thought of nothing else for several days.
Many people in need frequent the local Caritas homeless center, a few steps from the parish. I go there once a week to serve polevka (soup), and when they find out that I am a priest, they often strike up unexpected conversations: some follow Bible courses on YouTube, some write poetry and have run for European elections, some have decided to live on the streets to be freer. Some complain about the Church… I am learning to listen, to be with them without calculation, to live an essential aspect of my vocation, pure service.
Ivan has been married for several years. His wife is not baptized, but together they have decided to baptize their second child. We meet, and I ask them why they want baptism for their child; I explain the rite, and we talk about what they do in life. After a few months, he came to look for me. The encounter with me, he said, reawakened in him the desire to deepen the relationship with God that he had discovered in his adolescence. Now he is preparing for confirmation with Don Stefano.
We are all called to live like Jesus. He never stopped walking. The Gospels tell us about this tireless journey through Galilee and towards Jerusalem, a journey driven by the desire to fulfill the will of the Father and nourished by hundreds of encounters. Christ was constantly searching for the lost sheep. In the crowds, he wanted to meet each individual person: think of Zacchaeus, Matthew, the woman with the hemorrhage… How many times have I asked to have the same passion for people! But every now and then a small miracle happens and they are the ones who seek me out, because of the small good they have glimpsed in their relationship with me.
“Dear Professor, you probably don’t remember me… Would it be possible to meet?” Only God allows us to love, not only one person but also the nine years of waiting for an answer. Only God allows us to rejoice deeply, without pretensions or recriminations. Only in God is gratuitousness possible!
