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This
morning I received an email from a Jesuit confrere announcing that
my beloved mentor had passed away. I was shocked and numb. My memory
of him flashes back...
The
first time I met Fr. Dominici was in October of 1979, when he came
from Tanjung Pinang, Indonesia, to my refugee camp on Araya and Kuku
islets in the Anambas archipelago. He came every few weeks to
bring mail and to offer Mass and counseling for us. In Easter
1980, the Kuku camp was closed as a permanent refugee camp, and all
Vietnamese refugees were relocated to the Galang Camp. That
morning, we celebrated the Eucharist together for the last time in
Kuk. Fr. Dominici accompanied us to the ship to Pulau Galang, our
new home. For three months in Galang, I learned from him the way of
life of the Focolare movement, and my life was not the same since. I
came to the U.S.A. in July of 1980, not expecting to meet him again.
But
God had a way to reconnect us. In 1986, I met Fr. Dominici again in
California, at a retreat house. It was the first of many
correspondences between us. By this time, he was already moved
from Galang, Indonesia, to Bataan in the Philippines, to work with
the refugees. Because of his stand for human rights against
abuses in the camp by the Philippines’ authority, he received many
death threats. He left Bataan around 1988-89 and moved to
North America. Around 1990, he came to Quebec, Canada so that
he could minister full-time to the resettled Vietnamese refugees in
North America. This time ministry was predominantly on the spiritual
side.
Since
1985, he came to North America every summer to lead Ignatian
retreats, a few of which I helped organize. Working with him
on retreats was a wonderful experience. I remembered the first time
he assigned me to lead a morning prayer. I failed miserably,
but he did not give up on me. He continued to guide me and allowed
me to grow in the Ignatian way. The last time I met him in person
was in 1995 when I was a Jesuit novice of the California province.
He was so happy for my vocation, and told me that he would pray for
my perseverance. He kept his word and still keeps it.
We
never met again, but kept in touch through mail and phone
correspondences. I knew the love of his life was the Focolare
movement. He once told me that he found the Focolare’s
spirituality more fitting for him than the Ignatian spirituality.
Yet, he remained a faithful Jesuit all his life.
A
few years later, Cha told me God had called him to a new assignment,
and he would not come to America anymore. Exiled from Vietnam—the
country he fell in love with—he had always wanted to go back to
serve it. He told me that he wanted to live his remaining days
serving the poor in Vietnam. His dream was partly fulfilled. Around
1997, when the political climate was better in Vietnam, he visited
the country to explore possibilities. He made several trips to
Vietnam to teach Canon Law for seminarians, a project cut short
because of his health – he was diagnosed with cancer.
In
the past couple of years, his health deteriorated, but he was
hopeful. I knew that his cancer had recurred, but he was cheerful.
In the last letter he wrote to me in January, 2003, he said “...my
health is stationary. The cancer progress has been stopped, but I
still have to live with it. It is obvious that the Lord does not
want me to die yet. He wants me to be sanctified through suffering
so I can attain more love.” Yet he went home with the Lord
at 12:30 am on March 3, 2003.
I
do not have a complete biography of Fr. Dominici’s life, but here
are some high lights from his life. I owe this information to Fr.
Julian Elizalde, S.J. – his friend and Jesuit confrere in Rome.
Gildo
Dominici was born on March 5, 1935 in Assisi, Italy, in a worker
family. He was the eldest son with a younger brother and sister.
When he was eight years old, his father died in a work-related
accident. His widowed mother struggled to take care of three young
children. Life was hard. Poverty was compounded by the effects of
World War II. But the whole family was living in faith and hope.
Gildo joined the diocesan seminary and was ordained in 1960. His
brother became a carpenter and his sister a seamstress.
Working
in the parishes for a few years, he joined the Society of Jesus in
1964, and earned an STD in Canon Law from Gregorian University. He
came to Vietnam in 1968 as a Jesuit missionary. After two years of
learning Vietnamese, he joined the theology faculty at the Jesuit
run Pius X Pontifical Seminary in Dalat. He taught there until
expulsion by the new Communist regime. He went to Indonesia
afterwards. He quickly learned the Indonesian language and joined
the Indonesian province. But his love for the Vietnamese people
propelled him to find opportunities to work with the refugees.
Around 1978, he started ministering full time for Vietnamese boat
people in various camps in Indonesia. At Pulau Galang, he was a
tremendous influence in the spiritual, cultural, and social life of
the refugees, regardless of religion. He and some of his helpers
published the monthly roneo-copied newsletter called “Töï Do”
(Freedom) as a forum for refugees to share their experience and
voice their needs. When the United-Nations-sponsored Galang
camp was closed in the mid-1980s, Cha Dominici went to Bataan
refugee camp in the Philippines and continued to work with the
refugee for a few more years.
He
also served the Vietnamese in North America spirituality and
pastorally. He gave Ignatian retreats and became the
Ecclesiastical Liaison and Chaplain for the Vietnamese version of
the Christian Life Communities, also known as “Ñoàng Haønh
Movement” from 1991 to 1993. He published three books in
Vietnamese: “Ra Khôi” (Sailing Out), “Vietnam, Queâ Höông
Toâi” (Vietnam, my country), and “Ñi Tìm Anh Em” (Searching
for brothers and sisters). The first two books are his reflections
on the experience of the Vietnamese refugees. The third book
reflects his works among young adult, especially with his experience
of the Focolarini. After a few more years living in North America,
he returned to Italy in 1997 to work in the retreat house Galloro at
Ariccia.
In
1998, he was diagnosed with cancer. He had several operations and
underwent chemotherapy for a year. He seemed to improve for the
cancer was in remission for a few years, but it did not go away.
Last year, it came back. Though he suffered with the cancer
pain and chemotherapy, he remained always cheerful. About a
month ago, the cancer was out of control and his liver failed. He
died in peace at 12:30 P.M. on March 3, 2003—two days short of his
68th birthday.
All
I can say about Fr. Dominici is that I have known a saint. Gildo,
pray for us!
Anh
Tran, SJ
Jesuit School of Theology, Berkeley,
California.
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