The Miter and the Mentor (A Personal Eulogy for My Father in Christ, Bishop Jerome Dhas - Rev. Robert John Kennedy)

 

The Miter and the Mentor

(A Personal Eulogy for My Father in Christ, Bishop Jerome Dhas - Rev. Robert John Kennedy)

The halls of Loyola taught me how to read 

The cadence of a line, the weight of light;
But you, my Bishop, taught me how to bleed 
For a fledgling flock in the watch-fires of the night. 
I came to you with a scholar’s restless mind, 
With Horace and with Hopkins on my tongue; 
But in your Salesian heart, I came to find 
The sturdier prose to which a priest is hung.

I remember the "Yes" that built the stone— 

The birth of Kuzhithurai from the sea. 

You did not claim a kingdom or a throne, 

But carved a home for men like you and me. 

How many times, in the quiet of the room, 

Did your "kindness" (that old Salesian art) 

Dispel the shadows of a gathering gloom 

And stitch the fraying edges of my heart?

You were the architect of more than walls; 
You were the architect of us, your sons. 
And when the long, slow, silent shadow falls, 
The race is finished, and the course is run. 
I watched the tremor take the steady hand 
That once had laid the chrism on my brow; 
I saw the silence sweep across the land, 
A Master-work complete, and silent now.

Today, the March winds carry salt and prayer, 
From the Citadel down to the southern shore; 
The scent of incense lingers in the air, 
But your gentle footstep sounds upon the floor 
No more. Yet in every verse I write, 
And every broken bread I hold on high, 
I see your face—a beacon in the night, 
A shepherd’s star against a Tamil sky.

Sleep now, my Father. 
Let the bells ring out 
The Annunciation of your final peace. 
Beyond the reach of tremor, pain, or doubt, 
The Shepherd rests; the labors find release.