The richnesses of spread- Chris Gleeson SJ

‘How we spread is who we are.’

Many of us, I am sure, have endured some painfully long and repetitive eulogies at funerals. Often they are more akin to statements about the speakers themselves than a tribute to the deceased, and as such, are entirely counter-productive. In these situations one can almost sympathise with those church lawmakers who have attempted the impossible—to frame regulations that will limit the number of words and speakers wishing to celebrate the life of a loved one.

Thankfully, we experienced the opposite when Melbourne Jesuit Peter Brennan died all those years ago in 1992. His eulogist and dear friend, Philip Wallbridge, with characteristic imagination and economy of words, simply told how he had gone into Peter’s room after his death to surround himself with those personal items Peter had held dear.

These were part of Peter’s story—his love of the rose garden, his flair as a watercolour painter, his commitment to the scriptures and the church’s prayer, the wisdom he gleaned from a wide range of reading, his interest in all sports, and the remnants of his increasing sickness during the last decade of his life.

Weaving together this rich tapestry, Philip led us gently into the life of this very private man for whom we had great affection and respect. It reminded me of those words of Cardinal Basil Hume: ‘If you look at a work of art, you always see something of the artist … we leave behind part of ourselves in what we create, and that is a simple thought about God.’

What we gather around us we often hold dear and this is our story too. One of the delights in coming to the Jesuit parish of Toowong almost two years ago was that I was invited to share an apartment with my dear friend and parish priest, Peter Quin. In an effort to cater for its increasing numbers in Brisbane, the Society had recently purchased this flat close to the church, enabling me to move out of my broom cupboard in the presbytery and become a little more expansive.

I say ‘a little more’ because the parish priest appropriately took the master bedroom, and I accepted gratefully something far less capacious but obviously a significant improvement on living with brooms as companions.

One of the most important pieces of furniture in our flat is the dining room table. While it can seat eight comfortably for dinner, it has also been necessary to adopt it as my desk for retreat and conference preparations. Herein has lurked a challenge for Peter, as my work items creep further down the table and encroach on his space.

His genial response has been to call me a ‘spreader’, which, on further reflection, is typical of Peter’s charity and perspicacity. After all, one can be a ‘spreader’ of the good news, a spreader of charm and the milk of human kindness. Being a spreader of ‘table creep’ has its own story to tell too. How we spread is who we are.
Just recently I took an inventory of the richness of our dining room table. Its spread weaves an interesting tale. At one end of the table, one might say the northern or Holland Street end, one finds  Peter’s ‘Super Sudoku’ which receives constant love and attention, nearly as much as the other literature on display. Neatly piled alongside the Sudoku scriptures, one can see Frank O’Loughlin’s The Future of the Sacrament of Penance, Tom Groome’s What Makes Us Catholic?, Timothy Radcliffe’s What’s the Point of Being a Christian?, John P Meier’s A Marginal Jew (vol. 1), and Paul Lakeland’s The Liberation of the Laity.

It is impressive that Peter can transfer his energies with such ease from the mysteries of Super Sudoku to those contained in these weighty tomes of modern theology. Close by are much-leafed magazines like the National Council of Priests’ The Swag, The Tablet, The Catholic Leader, Compass, the Australian Reformed Catholics’ Voice, and the Brisbane West Deanery newsletter. Food for thought and conversation merges easily with Peter’s culinary achievements on this table.

Further down the table lies a beautiful orchid, a gift from the recent Christian Brothers’ gathering at Indooroopilly, which Peter will massage with tender loving care into full bloom at kairos time. Alongside conference notes entitled ‘Rediscovering the Act of faith’ lies a candle commemorating ‘40 willing years’ of the Brothers in Queensland and a splendidly written book by Brother Regis Hickey on the same theme. What a richness of story is spread in this small area of the table!

Moving towards the ‘spreader’s’ end of the table, the southern or Sherwood Road end one might say, we find such disparate items as: the latest, very heartening water utility’s advice on our flat’s water consumption; dear Pat O’Mara’s memento cards; various tablets to be consumed at breakfast, a constant reminder of weakening arthritic joints; the 2007 AFL football fixtures and the foreboding they contain about Essendon’s run home to the Finals; a much-used computer mouse sitting atop a pad depicting the 1999 Riverview 2nd XV in action; an essay by Timothy Radcliffe on ‘Literature as Scripture’ from the May 26 edition of the Tablet with two sections in yellow highlight – ‘Nesting ourselves within the conversation that is the Trinity’ and ‘Our pilgrimage to the Kingdom is learning a language in which we can be new people, a language in which we can flourish and be free.’ Timothy Radcliffe writes so lyrically, doesn’t he?

Piled messily nearby—the true heart of this narrative spread—are reams of documents and papers being used to prepare for the upcoming John XXIII College staff conference on ‘The Stars’ in Perth. Articles on heroes and celebrities, Ignatius and the stars, Jesus our Star, together with that invaluable vademecum A Canopy of Stars, reside there well-leafed and happy to be spread for such creative work.

In writing this piece I was reminded of that intergenerational verse, ‘The Kitchen Table’, part of which reads:

Remember how once we would sit down as one,
And Dad would say grace when the carving was done.
Our own serviettes from our own special rings,
And we all knew our manners and etiquette things.
Then our elders would tell us of custom and fable,
When we all sat about at our kitchen table.
Now they’re building new mansions with four-car garages.
Our working lives mortgaged to interest and charges.
There’s less time at home for the tea to be made,
And it’s seldom today that a table is laid.
There’s room after room under gable and gable
But there’s not enough room for a kitchen table.

Thank God there is ample room for our dining room table in our little flat. Thank God it provides room for spreaders. Spreaders tell stories, and how we spread is who we are.