Dinner with Fr. Tony Percy last night: He is one of those rare natural, consummate hosts who can direct an evening like a symphony, and I think (I don't know him all that well) it is because he loves being with people. Fr. Percy is the Rector of the Good Shepherd Seminary in Strathfield, which is a beautiful old town and also now a Korean area of Sydney.
This wasn't my first visit to this seminary; when we visited Sydney for our interview in August, Fr. Percy invited us down to the seminary to see a new statue he'd commissioned. The seminary struck me then as one of those places where a little door to heaven seems open. Perhaps it is the beauty, the peace. I don't know, exactly. I've been in just a few places like this in my life, places that seem more full of light, where each leaf seems perfect even in its falling; one other place was St. Edmund Campion retreat on Ender's Island, where we spent glorious weeks long ago with the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal. Sometimes I think these places are more visible representations of the reality of the Man-God who rests nearby in the Tabernacle. I have never had this feeling except where I felt God is "walking in the cool of the garden" and calling to us. This place is about a three-acre property, with small brick bungalows peeking out from behind beautiful hedges and trees, quiet lawns. It is one of those places where the buildings seem as much a part of the nature as the trees and bushes; it is an ordered beauty, though, like a formal garden, not wild, but carefully and lovingly kept. You can always tell when a home, a garden, an institution, is loved. The simply beauty of a well-kept garden brings much peace to a soul, especially a newly up-rooted one. It reminds me of the idea that Eden was ordered beauty, that this was Adam and Eve's vocation: to provide like order for God, for the peace of all.
Fr. Percy's home lays at the end of a brick pathway, and his door was open, with William the Conqueror laying across the stoop, barking at us just as a doorbell; his big English Labrador head was soft and his eyes gentle. Quiet light poured out into the early, sultry summer evening. Fr. Percy was cooking for us, and in the formal Australian style, we had entree and then the main course, in separate sittings, punctuated by lively conversation. He made the kids as comfortable as he did us, with thoughtful touches for them, surprising in a man used to living alone: 'lemonade' (which is actually 7-Up), some Pringles, and little candy bars set out just for fun.
Fr. Percy seems to love life; he enjoys almost every minute to its full; this was my first impression of him in August, and it was carried through this dinner. He showed us a few clips of Australian-rules football, a game he said was about two hundred years old and one of the bigger sports in Australia. The field is more round, and the ball is kicked, punched, bounced; the players are helmet-less and pad-less. They look like big, muscular, lean soccer players and the tackling looks more like wrestling. The game was fast and fun to watch, because the players' faces could be seen. They looked sometimes like ballet dancers throwing the ballerina, and other times, like baseball players, and at other times, like Greek wrestlers.
I took the kids out across the campus to see the statue; it is a realistic, slightly larger-than-life bronze of a Pharisee in mid-movement to stone the woman caught in adultery. His right hand is gripped still around a large stone with razor edges (something thrown to kill not simply bruise), and his left foot is arrested in mid-throw step, his toes curled up before the writing on the sand. It is a brilliant statue. I wonder if the choice of this statue has meaning for those aspiring to the priesthood: It may be one of the greatest temptations for them, the temptation to judge harshly those messed-up souls whose care they will have in hand. For a priest to become a good shepherd, he must reckon with the Pharisee, the messed-up soul, inside himself.
Fr. Percy says that vocations seem a bit up for the Good Shepherd seminary. Sr. Prudence Allen's sister, also a brilliant nun, works with him in some capacity. We talked about American culture (Fr. Percy lived in the US for a few years), Australian culture, the Church--just about everything with equal liveliness. We talked about the openness of Australians to those who disagree with them: he said, "We like blunt, honest people, but we don't get excited about disagreements."
He then sat us down to watch a funny movie. 11 pm came before we knew it.
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