Last year, the cardinal of Bogotà named me chaplain of the Università Pedagogica Nazionale, after fifteen years in which the seat was vacant. It is a state institution that specializes in the formation of future teachers of the primary and secondary schools of the country. The central campus is located in the heart of the city; an Italian rapper recently defined it as “an island of socialism in the middle of a neighborhood of banks.”
Crossing over the gates at the entrance, one has the impression of going back in time to the Sixties. At the main entrance, there is a kind of thematic phrase: “Educate to rebellion.” The educational approach of the university is, in fact, strongly oriented toward social and political action. Among the convictions passed on to the future educators, there is the idea that “teaching is a political act,” intended as a contribution to the transformation of society, to address the wounds of the Country: conflicts, inequalities and injustices.
The exterior aspects of the buildings also reflect this approach: walls covered with slogans and murals dedicated to historical figures of the revolutionary movement in Latin America and to persons who marked, in different ways, the social direction of the country.
Sabina came to the chapel and asked me: “Is God good?”
It is interesting to encounter the students of this university. Many of them chose with full awareness to dedicate themselves to teaching, with the desire to contribute to change in the country. In this work, one can glimpse a true and proper vocation that makes them vivacious and curious.
In the first months of being there, I have found great openness in them. A few have approached the chapel, simply attracted by an open door, bringing with them profound questions.
There are those who define themselves as Catholic but feel a distance from the dynamics of their parishes, and those, instead, who feel tested by the academic context, where faith is often criticized or considered to be irrelevant. Not infrequently, however, these students discover to not be alone on their journey.
Among the most meaningful encounters, I recall one with a young woman who leads a feminist sewing collective. During a period of serious illness that affected her sister, encouraged by a friend, she came to the chapel and, referencing a sign that we had posted, asked me: “Is God good?”.
Others emerge in a more spontaneous way: a significant moment in line at the cafeteria, through which all of the students pass. The university offers a fixed menu with “socialist” prices, served on platters of metal, without plates. In this informal context, many students gather at our table and there comes about a space of authentic relationship.
I have been struck by two female students who present themselves with their artistic names, “Kaos” and “Vampi,” which can lead one to deduce that they are far from a life of faith. And yet, in time, they have returned, sharing their poems and simply spending time with us.
The encounters of these months have made me grow more and more in the certainty that the heart of every person is seeking God.
When possible, before going home, I stop in a nearby church that has perpetual Adoration. In those few minutes, with a heart full of gratitude, I entrust to Christ the persons I have met: this is the heart of my presence in the university.
