If I close my eyes, I can still see it.
You know, the path leading up to the chapel, the last leg of the journey to the summit of Mt. Irenaeus.
It is beautiful, still, quiet.
What defines it is not so much the chirping of birds or the feel of soft wind on your face as you climb,
by step, toward that wooden chamber of refuge.
No, what marks this particular journey is a sudden absence.
An absence of hurry.
Of speech.
Of haste.
Of doubt.
Of the cell phone’s ding, ding, ding, listen-to-me pull that makes us wonder what we’re missing someplace else.
The path, like the friars who built it, who keep it, whose sandals gently trod it each time the sun comes up, calls you to contemplation. To reflection. To a simpler place.
It’s a place to take stock. To reflect on what we’ve gained, what we’ve lost, what we’ve felt as we’ve stumbled through this blur of hours we call life.
For me, it’s place to remember.
I still see Chris Novak, ’08, leading the way up the path on a dark September night.
Brother Joe Kotula, O.F.M., stayed behind with the rest of us, still teenage in our years but with longing in our hearts. Longing for something more, for something different, for something fun.
We got it that night at the Mountain, all 20-something of us. We felt the peace of Christ in the chapel.
We felt the comfort and love as Father Dan Riley, O.F.M., shared the feelings of his heart with us and, in doing so, taught us how to share our own.
We felt the warmth of the bonfire as our ragtag group of Bona guys, “Wildmen, Warriors and Kings,” puffed stogies and told jokes into the night.
We felt the guilt of a late-night pantry raid. The belly laughter of good jokes.
And the joy of a bright morning.
We felt the warm embrace of God and each other…
…by walking up the path…at the Mountain.
Tomorrow marks the 30th year that the mountain has given people a place to learn about themselves, to grow in their faith and to simply “be still.”
For each one of those 30 years – and for the many more we hope will come – the St. Bonaventure community is blessed. Thank you to Father Dan and to all the friars who have made the mountain such a special place.
-Charlie Specht ’10
