More than 23 years ago, when our magazine In Itinere began its first publication, I wrote an article in this same section and gave an account of the feelings and thoughts that were in me when I had then recently received the grace of priestly ordination. “The Year of Grace”. Re-reading it recently, I asked myself whether this novelty that I had in me when I received my priestly ordination is still as alive and strong today. That joy of being a priest, which over flowed when I wrote my earlier article, was it still the crux of my life?
This year, 2019, I celebrate 23 years in the priesthood: 23 years of joy, 23 years of grace.
It is a complicated question and I should be honest with you and more so with myself. I could get by with some superficial and sweetened eulogy or praise at becoming a priest; I have heard much of this especially during the past Year for Priests recently closed by Pope Benedict XVI. I could also be caught up in a pessimistic and gloomy analysis, with neither hope nor future, precisely in a year in which the priestly order is being questioned and the value of a priest in the western world is being undermined.
Let me start with this conclusion: Yes, 23 years of joy and grace! I think I am being honest when I say so and not because I am forced to say so or because it is theright thing to say. Had they not been years of joy and a feeling of grace inmy life, I would have made some excuse not to writethis article! By saying so, I mean that this is the honest and concise answer that arises in me in response to this question.
Happiness has a complex meaning although we use it banally and with a poor philosophical base. In short, I think the problem lies on where in our lives do we place the experiences of pain, suffering and of our human limitations in a limitless universe. That is why we are unhappy. In most cases, we are unable to internally transform our sufferings into moments of joy in our pilgrimage of God’s plan for us. And here is my poor summary that gives meaning when I say that I am happy.
In these 23 years, I have gone through times of happiness as well as harsh experiences of pain and suffering. The day to day life of a missionary priest, in remote lands and at the first line of evangelization such as where I am currently in the northern part of Turkana, filled with life’s constant challenges: hunger, diseases, violence, ignorance… It is tough and it toughens one up as well. However one can find happiness in seeing that one’s little contribution could help to alleviate somewhat all this pain and this gives a double joy and softens one’s heart. Believe me, it is one of sublime happiness to see a hungry child eating; or to catch the contented smile of a woman who no longer needs to walk a long distance because she now has the water source nearby; or to detect the vital energy of the youth who feels useful because of work and not condemned to live in a spiral of violence; or to catch a glimpse of the look of an elderly lady when her face lights up at your visit, or the jubilation of a community that lives and dances the hope of their renewed faith …
Other painful experiences come as a result of losing or being separated from our loved ones. Unfortunately, I have had these experiences as well and they call for a great effort not only rationally but above all emotionally.
Trying to build happiness on what is absent is tough, but one overcomes this with the hope placed on new dreams, in seeing that Christ still knocks on the doors of many who are willing to follow him and in the joy of seeing that God’s plan is immense and definitely happy are those who have lived and experimented it until now.
In the 23 years there have been times of crises and feeling low. I do not believe in those who say that they have never undergone an existential or a vocational crisis. Every change in the rhythm of life, each apparent created security; every pride or falsely acquired right may shake, at one time or another, our vocation. But it is like a disease plaguing a child: every flu or malaria makes the child grow some centimetres taller. Every fall, confronted by love, is an elevation in our pilgrimage; every crisis, an opportunity to better ourselves and of humbly accepting that He, who is almighty, demands but always sustains us.
It has been 23 years of living at various missions, in different realities, and on two continents, and finally returning to Africa, to Turkana. It has been 23 years of trying to give all to the call received, and to extend this call to others with some success and without chaos. It is also of wanting to serve others and of seeing that Christ is in the lives of those who surround me. Now, more than tired, I am hopeful and strengthened by these past years, which make me stronger and more trusting that the love of Christ will penetrate the hearts of all those whom God sends to me.
Fr. Alejandro José Campón
