Page 12 - The Gonzaga Record 1988
P. 12
'Goodbye at last'). It was an instrument he could not resist. His ear was
attuned to pick up a phone's ring from quite a distance, and he would
move automatically towards it. It was a symbol of his accessibility that
he laid himself open to. In the community we were jealous of his
attention, and often saw him exhausted by his unwillingness to protect
himself. One remembers him slipping through the Gonzaga hall,
summoned to the first parlour by one lady, to the second parlour by
another, and to the telephone by a waiting caller - all on the way to
dinner; or on another occasion reaching the community house for six
o'clock dinner after a working day that began at six a.m., to be grabbed
by a parent with the pretty ruthless remark: 'I knew I would catch you
now, Father'. Others might fume, but not Bill; his face would light up to
the visitor and he was listening again.
Not merely listening, but containing. He took bad news on board in
a way that metabolised it, made it easier to bear. He could listen to
tidings of hopelessness, depression, sickness, estrangement, and by
sharing the bitterness, heal some of the pain, though he knew that no
practical solution was in sight. When someone remarked on his gift of
empathy, he traced it to his father, who he said was much better than he:
old Mr White was known in Carrick-on-Suir as the man to contact in the
aftermath of some particularly cruel tragedy, a man who would not
shrink from the pain but could place himself alongside the sufferers,
sharing their cross. As the years passed, Bill moved more and more into
work (in Marriage Encounter, and with sick Jesuits in Cherryfield) that
engaged his extraordinary gift of compassion.
A dear friend who revered Bill used to speak of the 'other dimension'
that he revealed: the BMW cruising down the avenue through the
February rain gets a wave and smile from Bill White cycling up from a
hospital visit: or, as Rector, carrying across hot coffee to the staff-room
for the teachers' break; among us as one who serves. His life would not
make sense if God did not exist.
His faith sustained him to the end, with a manifestly aching body, but
a face that became more radiant and transparent as his health declined.
He had resolved as a young Jesuit that if ever there was an apparent
conflict between the religious rule and the Gospel, he would opt for the
Gospel, which for him was summed up in one or two truths: 'I have loved
you with an everlasting love' - his favourite phrase from Scripture; and
the need to cast out fear, which he saw as the most damaging and
pernicious effect of original sin.
We will not run out of administrators, or teachers, or priests. Fr Bill
White was more; he was a healer, and the gap he left is still felt with pain
by hundreds of friends.
Paul Andrews SJ
10
attuned to pick up a phone's ring from quite a distance, and he would
move automatically towards it. It was a symbol of his accessibility that
he laid himself open to. In the community we were jealous of his
attention, and often saw him exhausted by his unwillingness to protect
himself. One remembers him slipping through the Gonzaga hall,
summoned to the first parlour by one lady, to the second parlour by
another, and to the telephone by a waiting caller - all on the way to
dinner; or on another occasion reaching the community house for six
o'clock dinner after a working day that began at six a.m., to be grabbed
by a parent with the pretty ruthless remark: 'I knew I would catch you
now, Father'. Others might fume, but not Bill; his face would light up to
the visitor and he was listening again.
Not merely listening, but containing. He took bad news on board in
a way that metabolised it, made it easier to bear. He could listen to
tidings of hopelessness, depression, sickness, estrangement, and by
sharing the bitterness, heal some of the pain, though he knew that no
practical solution was in sight. When someone remarked on his gift of
empathy, he traced it to his father, who he said was much better than he:
old Mr White was known in Carrick-on-Suir as the man to contact in the
aftermath of some particularly cruel tragedy, a man who would not
shrink from the pain but could place himself alongside the sufferers,
sharing their cross. As the years passed, Bill moved more and more into
work (in Marriage Encounter, and with sick Jesuits in Cherryfield) that
engaged his extraordinary gift of compassion.
A dear friend who revered Bill used to speak of the 'other dimension'
that he revealed: the BMW cruising down the avenue through the
February rain gets a wave and smile from Bill White cycling up from a
hospital visit: or, as Rector, carrying across hot coffee to the staff-room
for the teachers' break; among us as one who serves. His life would not
make sense if God did not exist.
His faith sustained him to the end, with a manifestly aching body, but
a face that became more radiant and transparent as his health declined.
He had resolved as a young Jesuit that if ever there was an apparent
conflict between the religious rule and the Gospel, he would opt for the
Gospel, which for him was summed up in one or two truths: 'I have loved
you with an everlasting love' - his favourite phrase from Scripture; and
the need to cast out fear, which he saw as the most damaging and
pernicious effect of original sin.
We will not run out of administrators, or teachers, or priests. Fr Bill
White was more; he was a healer, and the gap he left is still felt with pain
by hundreds of friends.
Paul Andrews SJ
10
