Fifteen years of memories

How to condense nearly fifteen years of memories into a short reflection like this? Inevitably, some of my most treasured recollections of a decade and nearly a half’s ministry at Fisher House cannot appropriately be shared, involving, as they do, the immense honour of being invited onto the holy ground of the joy, sorrow and perplexity of others’ lives. But there is still so much that could be said that this is an inevitably inadequate and impressionistic summary.

My time at Fisher House took me to places I never thought I’d go, to do things I never thought I’d do: dancing to the strains of the Blue Danube Waltz with a fellow assistant chaplain (I suspect his feet still bear the scars) at a Fisher House wedding in Bratislava; preaching in the cell once occupied by St Dominic at Santa Sabina on a Fisher House pilgrimage to Rome. Year on year I have got up eye-wateringly early to stand beside the Paschal fire and stayed up insanely late to serve industrial quantities of homemade ice cream at the all-night Fisher Dinner after-party. I have received far more than I have given in so many reading and discussion groups, some online as our community confronted the surreal distress of the Covid pandemic. I have been deeply moved by the vulnerable generosity – as well as the musical, literary and artistic talent - shown by so many contributors to our annual creative Stations of the Cross, uplifted by carol singing in the Market Square and Grand Arcade, challenged and inspired by encounters at student-initiated dialogues with other faith communities within the University, nourished both literally by wonderful food and metaphorically by conversation sublime and ridiculous at innumerable memorable meals.

Above all, I have been, again and again, humbled and not a little awed by the faith and commitment of our junior and senior members, and by the wonderful example and friendship of my colleagues. I know that I will never be able adequately to express my gratitude to God or to the chaplaincy community itself for all that I have been given, throughout my time here, and most especially during the years when I was writing my PhD thesis. But Fisher House will never be absent from my prayers, and they will be prayers of joy.