December 17, 2021
Rev. Thomas Peterson, O.P. ’51, ’85Hon., reflection on Aquinas Hall fire
Very Rev. Thomas R. Peterson, O.P. ’51, ’85Hon. offered this communion reflection on Dec. 7, 1997, at a Mass of Remembrance marking the 20th anniversary of the Aquinas Hall fire, Dec. 13, 1977. Father Peterson, PC’s president at the time of the fire, was chancellor of Seton Hall University when he presented the reflection. He died in 2000.
For the past 20 years, on each December 13, I have said Mass early in the morning and then spent time going over and over again the list of the 10 names whose presence will always be with me. I would arrange to have 10 white sweetheart roses placed in two vases and put on the altar in Aquinas Hall Chapel which we turned into a shrine dedicated to the memory of our special daughters.
God sometimes has a way of writing straight with crooked lines. In the unfolding of the story of Divine Providence, even dark days of tragedy can evolve into brighter times of hope. Only God can snatch from what is terrible something that is truly transcending. Did not the sentinels witness such an occurrence when they say angels roll back a boulder from a tomb and then saw life emerge victorious over death.
We can never forget the tragic events of 20 years ago. They are signed into our hearts and cast in the concrete of a memory never to be set aside. Ten of our loved ones went to God. Never did we experience so acutely the sharp pain of a Good Friday. Never were all of us called upon more strongly to stop our tears from blurring the meaning of Christ’s message from the cross, “it’s Friday now, but Sunday’s coming.” The horrible hurt of that day seemed to be and was so far away from the healing which the goodness of God and the longing of God’s people called for. Time stood still while an eternal message changed what was thought to be changeless. Would we ever recover? Some said no, but, by His grace, God empowered us to know that we must, and that the presence and the power of God would be with us in our efforts. Hour by hour, day by day, year by year, we tried. We never succeeded entirely. The hurt was too deep. But little by little, we gained strength. Thoughts of unbelief grew into faith. Acts of caring grew into compassion. Despair grew into determination. Longing grew into love. After the commencement exercises that year during which the vice president of the United States came to speak to us and to join us in our grief, one of the students came up to me and said, “Smile, father. It’s spring. God loves us. We made it.” Since the cold days of December, I had found it very difficult to smile, but the warmth of this greeting of our most recent graduate urged me to try.
The single strongest factor that enabled all of us to forge ahead was our faith. St. Paul tells us that “faith is of things unseen” and how painfully true this was in our case. Put very simply, we all wondered “Why?” Ten of our brightest and our best snatched from us in the full bloom of their youth. “Why?” Gladly would I have given my life to have saved one of theirs, but that was not what God wanted. “Why?” The full answer to these questions must await our vision of the Face of God. When we thought God was farthest away, He may have been closest at hand. A loving father is frequently closest to the one which is his suffering child. By his very presence he knows and tries to assuage that child’s pain. So it was with us.
The faith of each of the families was truly inspiring to the rest of us. When He seemed so far away, God’s presence was with them and somehow sustained them through those very long days. While the rest of us tried in very faltering fashion to help the families, in reality it was their courage and faith which became the foundation of our own belief in the ultimate care of the one we rightfully call upon as Our Father.
There were many remarkable people who were pillars of strength when we needed them most. This commentary would go on forever if I tried to name even a majority of them. May I mention just a very few. Father Walter Heath, who, as director of residence, brought stability to the campus. Dr. Donna McCaffrey, whose selfless concern knew no bounds. Father John Peterson, whose untiring service to everyone made Christ’s presence live in our midst.
One individual deserves particular and special remembrance, Bishop Louis E. Gelineau, then Bishop of Providence. Like the Good Shepherd, which his actions always proved him to be, he was always there. His kindness and concern were contagious. To the families he brought heartfelt sympathy. To the PC community, he brought a call to faith and the assurance that even in their grief, they could rejoice in hope. To the people of all faiths in Rhode Island, he brought the clear call to have the courage to understand that God loved us even though the imprint of His footsteps seemed to turn from our paths. During those days when we all needed someone to look up to, Bishop Gelineau proved himself to be a giant of a man.
We all share the very life of God by His grace. We are called upon to exemplify this divine life by our faith, by our hope and by our love. You, the families of our beloved ones, showed us your faith by your belief in the mysterious presence of God, even in events that defy understanding. You showed us your hope and in an extraordinary manner, you lent us your courage in the accomplishment of what we were trying to do. And in an unforgettable manner, you shared with one another and with us the love of God that was emblazoned on everything you did. Yes, God does write straight with crooked lines. In what you did and in what you are, he sent us a clear message of incredible heroism, a message we cannot and will not ever forget.
Again this year, on the 13th of December, I will say Mass early in the morning and in the Mass recite by name each of my beloved adopted daughters. I shall arrange to have 10 white sweetheart roses placed in two vases at their altar shrine in Aquinas Hall Chapel. I know that these roses have long since turned to gold in God’s kingdom to which the girls were called. Will this again be a day of sadness? Yes, of course, but I take hope once again in the beautiful message that was given to me by an extraordinary young woman, the sister of one of the girls, and was etched in John Cavanagh’s beautiful plaque over their altar.
“Those we love are with the Lord,
And the Lord has promised to be with us.
Since they are with Him
And He is with us,
They cannot be far away.”
Kathy
Jackie
Barbara
Donna
Sallyann
Gretchen
Cathy
Laura
Debbie
Dorothy
We know that you are at peace with God. May God’s peace also be with all of us.
