Holy Presence, Deep Relationship

By Ellen Jewett, religion teacher at Mercy High School (Burlingame, California)

Every spring, my colleagues and I bring our seniors on retreat. We spend a couple days reflecting on healthy transition and change, how to hold both excitement for and fears about the future, and what students want to carry forward from their high school formation. It is a simultaneously beautiful and intense experience; for many students, this is when the reality of moving away from home in just a few months truly sets in for the first time.

Halfway through the retreat, I read the Emmaus story and invite students to go on a walk, two-by-two, to talk about what has come up for them so far. I send them out for half an hour and promise to call them back by ringing a bell. Last spring, one pair didn’t return. My mind instantly began running through worst-case scenarios – a twisted ankle, a tumble into the creek, an unfortunate encounter with a cactus. A colleague began the next activity, and I went out searching for our wayward sheep.

As I walked up the hill, I heard the two students before I saw them. Laughter echoed from up the road, punctuated by silences in which I could hear the birdsong. My annoyance and mild panic melted away, and I could only think, “They are fully present to each other.” I rounded a corner and saw the two of them sitting on a bench overlooking the valley, deep in conversation. As we walked back down the hill together, they apologized for not hearing the bell and spoke about the “fire” bench they were sitting on that had “aura.” I’m sure the bench was spectacular, but even more important was their caring, attentive presence for one another.

This is the Mercy charism in action – deep presence in moments of both joy and struggle, laughter, storytelling. Being fully there for one another. Feeling at home.

Mercy is stopping by a coworker’s house after they’ve had surgery and spending more than an hour on the couch together, talking about everything under the sun. Heartfelt, painful stories interspersed with levity and joy.

Mercy is a student coming to your classroom before school every day to talk about everything and nothing, finding footing at school after yet another rough night at home.

Mercy is dozens of juniors and seniors welcoming doe-eyed, nervous freshmen to campus in August, showing each and every one of them that they are seen, they are loved, and they truly belong here.

Catherine wrote that, “‘Love one another as I have loved you’ should be engraved on our … souls, and shown in our whole conduct.” As I begin my fifth year at Mercy Burlingame, I’ve lost track of the ways my colleagues and students have manifested love through their conduct. I can’t help but be reminded of the wisdom of Richard Rohr, who speaks of the experiential knowing that leads to deep understanding. As a religion teacher (and ethics nerd), I too often find my brain tied up in theological knots, forgetting the hands-on nature of our faith. But the Mercy community constantly pulls me back into experiences, into grounding myself in love. This is where we truly meet God and one another.

I know this holy presence and deep relationality does not end at the doors of our school. Our students bring this out into the broader world as they grow up and encounter all the beauties and difficulties of our current environment. After four years of Mercy formation, love for the other is engraved on their innermost souls. It gives me hope for our collective future.