100 Words

Today’s theme is “halftime” and the art of making halftime adjustments, whether through a theatrical production’s intermission, a sport that’s framed by two halves, or, yes, the typical school year. Here we are at O’Connell’s “halftime,” as semester exams come to a close tomorrow and students and teachers head into a weekend (or perhaps longer, given weather forecasts) away from campus. It’s a chance for our youngsters to totally unwind and for our teachers (alas, many of whom likely still have grading to do) to catch their breath, at least for a moment or two, in gearing up for the start of the school year’s second half. 

One of the things I most deeply appreciate and value about our school’s master calendar is that we utilize the Monday after first semester exams for a full-day faculty/staff off-campus retreat, which of course represents the ultimate win/win: for the adults, it’s time together with our good and gracious God, and for our students it’s a restorative respite. We are led that day by a retreat facilitator (a diocesan priests identified each year by our school chaplain, which has led to nothing but a series of superb choices), and are able to experience time and conversation in community as well as time by ourselves in reflection and contemplation. The day is highlighted wonderfully, by the gift of all gifts: celebrating Mass together. As we gather in this communal setting, we are given a valuable opportunity to re-center and be as one with the Lord, while refocusing and rejuvenating with our teammates, fostering in each of us, all the more so than usual, praise for God in His boundless wisdom and grace: “Behold, I make all things new.” (Revelation 21) 

My commendations and warm appreciation go out to all those about whom I reference within this reflection piece, my fellow inhabitants of the DJO schoolhouse, the 1,240 young people who have completed one-eighth of their high school experience over the past 4 1/2 months, and my 100-plus teacher colleagues and fellow staff and administrative compadres who, in the case of a few of them have just finished their first semester as teachers, and in the case of a few others, this weekend represents their 50th (if not more) “halftime” as teachers. No matter how much time any of us has served as a teacher, all of us fully recognize the blessing and the honor that it is in toiling in this most rewarding and meaningful of fields, that of educator—which at its heart centers on being the good shepherd…mentoring, caring deeply for, walking alongside, and affirming and seeing the value within—through thick and thin. 

And what of our students? My hope is that each of them, in reflecting thoughtfully upon the semester past and in (hopefully) revving up for the coming 4 1/2 months, parachutes onto a joint landing point both marked by affirmation and a deserved pat on the back while also re-girding in body, mind, and spirit for the good and, I hope, joyous fight that awaits them—that of embracing fully the following two expressions that at O’Connell have shared with one another in recent-past years, that “you are meant for greatness” as well as  that “you are made for more.” So, let’s go, all of us together, Team DJO, with unity and courage! We got this.

Bishop O’Connell’s search for a new Head of School nears the homestretch, likely to conclude no later than a few weeks from now. (As a point of reference, I signed my first contract with O’Connell on Feb. 8, 2020–so things, timewise, are right on track.) I write today something that intentionally sounds a lot like a love letter to and about this school, directed toward you all, my reading audience, but also implicitly intended for those candidates, finalists in this search, who aspire to become the next Head of School at Bishop O’Connell. The person fortunate enough to be selected for this post will be joining what I believe is the finest school and school community in the DMV and—inextricably tethered to that joyful reality from my experienced perspective—the best job around. A few of the existential aspects of what makes O’Connell the unparalleled school that it is would include, first and foremost, the true presence of Jesus in all that we do, all that we are, all that we see, and all that we depend on. Our Catholic identity, and Jesus’ imbedded central proximity to that core truth, is our everything—nothing else comes close. This core precept is manifested in every exchange that each of us has with every other child of God within the O’Connell umbrella, as we are called on to see Christ in that other person, just as we hope that our fellow DJO Knight is looking to see Christ in us. Secondly, our catholic identity (and, yes, the lower case “c” is intentional, as in “catholic” from the Greek for “in respect of the whole; universal”) speaks to the defining direction that we as adults toiling within this collaborative, supportive vineyard are compelled to direct ourselves, meeting our students exactly where they are, and accompanying them on their journey to where the Lord wishes them to explore, traverse, and land. Mobilized by this unwavering and compelling institutional guidepost, we are called on regularly to review all aspects of who and where we are, in paying attention to whether or not every single youngster within our community is, in actual fact, seen, heard, known, appreciated, supported, and affirmed. This is the critical anchoring point and delivery mechanism of the O’Connell Experience. For as it says in 1 Corinthians, we are “one body, many parts,” and we at Bishop O’Connell are comprised similarly, with the endgame being that each of us joyfully will choose to serve the Lord in the manner most pleasing to Him, for which this setting—Bishop O’Connell High School—is indeed the ideal greenhouse and launching pad. 

“Joy is the quiet confidence that Christ is near. It is not a noise, but a presence—gentle, radiant, and strong.” Pope Leo XIV 

I love this quote, as who among us hasn’t felt an amazing closeness to God—truly His presence for us, “gentle, radiant, and strong,” like no other, when we sit quietly in a house of worship, be that a chapel, church, or cathedral. Bishop O’Connell’s IHM Chapel provides such a setting, which I pray that even more people will utilize now that the beautiful and inspiring stained-glass windows have been installed behind the crucifix.

We can come upon joy in many other settings as well, the keys to so doing can be a mindfulness of one’s surroundings and the capacity to quiet one’s heart—being fully present in the moment. Think of all the great moments that God’s presence has come to our attention simply because, in one way or another, we are able to get outside of our own head and truly pay attention. The mental picture, for example, of my dear mother-in-law, Marge, comes to mind as I reflect upon her looking deeply into the eyes of her two toddler-aged great-granddaughters—and they looking back at her with a wonderment and joy equal to that of hers, stating clearly with the sparkle within their eyes, “Yes, I know you and love you.” A moment such as this brings profound joy to my heart, as Jesus most surely is present. And for just as Marge, a deeply spiritual woman and devout Catholic, has been a gentle, radiant, and strong presence to the world around her, so too shall her life’s example of faith, hope, and love, as well as courage, presence, and patient resolve, be conveyed and truly transferred over time to all those who have known her. Yes, therein lies the presence of the Lord.

And what of that go-to prayer for when times become unmanageably rocky? Or how about the melody or song lyric, or literary passage, so hauntingly beautiful that it becomes impossible not to be awed by it? And don’t even get me started on the fluorescently presence of God found in nature, if only one looks. How are we, then, each of us, facilitating and nourishing our stalwart commitment to being gentle, radiant, and strong to and for others? If upon review of this very question we determine that we haven’t been as good or as consistent as we would like, maybe it’s time for us to spend more time in silent conversation with God, whose gift for listening well and with the utmost of care is unimpeachable—as always it has been—for indeed joy is the quiet confidence that Christ is near.