I didn’t expect it to end like this. But I also never expected it to begin like it did. During my first two years in Berkeley, I never settled into a parish. Diaconate ordination crept closer, but I couldn’t be a real deacon without a parish to serve, without a people to form and train me.
Then one Sunday I went to Newman, as Fr. Paul Rospond CSP gave what I later discovered to be one of his last homilies. He held back tears as he extolled the diversity, even the tension, in the parish, and claimed it as a space for everyone to fill. The choir sung a beautiful choral piece, and their harmony filled the cavernous temple I once thought abhorrent in its stark grey heaviness. It looked and felt lighter that day. I remembered seeing Fr. Paul in Santa Barbara, where I did my undergraduate studies. That Sunday at Newman, events and experiences collided into what people used to call kismet, but what the heart of faith feels as Providence. I knew where I would like to serve.
But would you accept me, a Johnny-come-lately Jesuit cleric, in his last year at Berkeley before moving on? Would you see an unfamiliar face standing at the altar when so many faithful, familiar faces came weekly, even daily, to Mass and would not be seen in the sanctuary? Would you hear an unfamiliar voice attempt to preach to a congregation already formed so well, already zealous in faith?
After preaching a noon Mass one weekday, some of you students offered to take me to lunch at a dining hall. I hadn’t been in a college dining hall since 2004, and never with a clerical collar. Sitting in the hall with FOCUS missionaries and students, having just shared at the table of the Lord and now in the table of the cafeteria, I felt welcome to be present and minister in little and ordinary ways.
A few months later, on a Sunday, I stressed over writing a homily after a busy weekend and the disturbing revelations of abuse by a man who many, including me, once revered. I had some trepidation when I felt like mentioning it in the homily. But after the Mass, many of you wanted to speak with me and thank me for what I said in the homily. Conversation ran long after the coffee tables were cleaned and folded. You encouraged me to continue.
I didn’t expect it to end like this. I cannot adequately express my gratitude to you for forming my priesthood by your priesthood, expressed in welcoming others at the door and front desk, praying for others to Our Lady, leading others in spiritual conversation and study, giving food to the hungry, dancing, and singing. As a Jesuit, I felt welcomed, comfortable, and challenged in traditional and progressive spaces, and honored to be a part of the Empty Tomb that contains and loves us all. Pray for me. One day, I hope to celebrate together with you again at the altar. May God continue to bless and strengthen you in your mission to the university and the local community. Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life!
— Justin Claravall, SJ
————————
Deacon Justin is being assigned to Dolores Mission in Boyle Heights (Los Angeles). If you are down there, pay him a visit. He will leave Berkeley in mid-June. His ordination date has yet to be determined given the shelter-in-place. After ordination, he will be assigned there as Associate Pastor.
So you might be wondering what he has been doing with his time given he is sheltered in place and hasn’t been able to deacon at our streamed Masses?
Besides the Jesuits making sandwiches for the homeless, one thing he has picked up is being an icon writer.