Not that anybody would ask me to nominate a person for sainthood in the Catholic Church, but if they did, there is only one name on my list. The name is Alfred Deignan, SJ. Fr. Deignan did not do anything magical or supernatural in front of an audience. Instead, over 50 plus years, he quietly but steadfastly taught about 16,000 young school boys, perhaps more, directly or indirectly, to mature into ethical, able and productive citizens of Planet Earth. That to me is mighty spectacular.
Fr. Deignan is not a close friend of mine. He was my secondary school principal when I was in 7th to about 9th grade. He also taught me Western History once. Details are kind of fuzzy now as it was more than 50 years ago when I was a perfectly average student at Wah Yan College, Hong Kong (grades 7 to 13). I never distinguished myself in anything — not in academics, not in sports. I never got in trouble either, so there was no reason for the principal to remember this transparent kid. I passed his history class although I can’t honestly say I enjoyed it. I was the type of silly kid who liked to create my own fantasy stories but not to read and memorize dates, names and events other people made up.
Why would I write to and about Fr. Al if I do not know much about him? Well, have you ever met a person that you know is kind, wise and just indefinably special in an unassuming way? That is Fr. Al. And if I have an iota of empathy and humanity in me, part of that probably came from him by osmosis.
Fr. Al is a Jesuit priest from Ireland. In his twenties (I think) he left his homeland to spread the Word in Hong Kong. The way he did it was through different teaching and administrative positions at Wah Yan. Even a brief internment by the Japanese army in WWII did not lessen the pluck and persistence of this freshly ordained cleric in his mission to educate the young boys in Hong Kong. When I was going to Wah Yan in the 60s, I would see him often in the playground during recess. I never talked to him much as my Irish English was probably as awful as his Hong Kong Chinese. But he was always smiling to the kids, and he would give them postage stamps from different countries. I was one of the occasional beneficiaries. After five years, I left. He stayed, on and off. Whenever Wah Yah needs a guiding hand, he is there. Wah Yan is his home. The kids are his kids.
I just heard that Fr. Al was quite ill. The picture above was taken a few days ago in his hospital room. And look at that pleasant face – it’s even got an inviting dimple in the bargain! Wouldn’t you want a teacher like that, for life? Fr. Al, you’ve done so much for Wah Yan, for mankind, we don’t expect you to worry about us anymore. We just want you to be hale and hearty real soon, OK?
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