In Memoriam - Special Edition

Today's entry has nothing to do with Venezuela really. But maybe in a certain sense, it does. I am a faithful "born-again" Catholic who was raised as such, then found the whole thing ridiculous as a young man, till somehow I wound up again in mass, as a student in Leyden, in a beautiful Franciscan church with a magnificent Latin mass and an excellent Gregorian choir, and listened in amazement at the fantastic sermons and the dutiful priests whom you could contact day and night. For those whom it doesn't say much, let me say that for someone who feels at home in the Roman Catholic Church, what I describe is tops. 

Spiritual growing is a process done in a strictly individual way. Many don't need a faith, others do. Personally, I think all roads are valid and have the same unique worth, as long as they all lead to spiritual growth. For me, Catholicism is my spiritual castle from which I have been able to manage the world around me, and refresh my energies. I studied St. Augustine's and St. Thomas of Aquinas' teachings and couldn't do anything but agree with them. During my studies, I had lots of friends from all denominations. Protestants, Muslims, Mormons, Jehova's Witnesses, Bahai's, atheists, hedonists, non-conformists (the people who say no to everything), we all got along well, learned from each other and respected each others' idea's. As for me, I rediscovered Catholicism and for more than a quarter of a century I rarely missed a mass on Sunday or Saturday evening. 

When I moved to Rotterdam about twenty years ago, I came across a run-down church in the southern part of the city, went in, and was amazed. I saw young people waiting in a queue to confess. Something you only saw in old movies. The church was filled to the back during High Mass. What was going on in that parish? I then came eye to eye with the parish priest, Cor Stam. A short, stout man in his early sixties with curly, greyish, well-kept hair and piercing yet kind blue eyes looking through small spectacles, walking around in his soutane (the long black robe buttoned top to bottom worn by priests in the old days) topped with the eternal dog collar. He seemed soft-spoken but had won a reputation within the Dutch Catholic community as a bulldog who wouldn't be bent to new or liberal ideas. I won his confidence, became involved in the parish's daily activities, taught cathecism to boys (not girls!), and became one of the acolytes assisting him every Sunday during High Mass.  From him I learned the true Roman mass ritual. It looked to others like some silly ballet, but Stam took it very seriously, and demanded that from us too. Every rule and movement was to be made in full respect because what we all did - celebrate Mass - is a truly holy thing with a capital H. Do it well and with dignity, he said, because you are serving God. He believed from the bottom of his heart, a former law man and notary who became a priest in his forties, in what he was doing, every single moment of his life as a priest. His inmaculate, unblemished example of living was even copied by many single members of the parish. To many others, like me, he was the ideal priest. He was not a fanatic, but his faith was unshakeable. He could be a true pain to those who didn't reach his standard of perfection. Like the poor church choir, with whom Stam was always quarreling. I remember one particular mass  when during the Sanctus - Stam was sitting on his chair, eyes closed, behind the high altar - one of the singers slightly missed a tone. Within a second, Stam opened his eyes wide, and during the rest of the singing it seems like he was shooting arrows with his piercing blue eyes at the hapless singers. Poor choir. Stam gave them hell after the mass. He could tolerate many imperfections, except when it came to the rituals and the Holy Mass. In that, he was unrelenting.  

Needless to say, Stam suffered serious blows from people who hated the Catholic church (for whatever reason), and even from within the episcopate, he was attacked continuously by liberal-minded persons who wanted this priest to be put away and replaced by a kumbaya-singing clergyman with a guitar. The enormous success of the St. Michael and Clement parish, which so contrasted with the emptyness of other more liberal-minded church buildings, stung in the eyes of the liberal Catholics, because they knew that the packed church every single Sunday was thanks to one factor: the man at the helm, the unwavering, Don Camillo-like priest who fought for every single member of his parish, who answered to every smear, every low attack on his ministry, and whose acting as a priest was an example to us all. I learned from him that whatever you believe or do,  do it with your heart and your mind, from the bottom of your soul. You will always win, and people will come to you, because in a world with so much artificiality, a genuine thing is like a diamond. Brilliant and not to be destroyed by anything.

After my divorce, I lost contact with Father Stam. It seems the right thing for me, as I didn't want to embarrass him, doing what a married Catholic should never do. He never told me anything, but the only letter I received from him after my separation, had a bitter, dissappointed sound to it. I felt, and still feel bad that I let him down. When I came to Venezuela, officially a Catholic country but with little true observance to the teachings of the Church, I felt lost. I stopped going to church here, as it wasn't the same as I had lived before, and kept my faith to my own home from then on.

On December 5 last year, I got notice that father Stam had passed away, 79 years old. Strangely, I miss my teacher more than ever now. I don't know if you have ever met a teacher, or a mentor, who put an indeleble stamp on you, making you the person you are in a positive sense. I did. And I am glad that I was able to be with Father Stam, help him, assist him and learn from him and his example. He was a strong-willed, stubborn man at times. But he was filled of love for mankind, for his people, for his church. Many who knew him, declared in blogs and the like that he was a true holy priest. I think so too. And I an grateful to have met and known a man like Cor Stam. With a thousand priests like him, the Catholic Church would be shining new. 

Today I asked myself: would Father Stam have agreed with Pope Francis? He would never ever have said anything negative to anyone about the Holy Father. But knowing Stam, I am sure he wouldn't have agreed with the style of this pope or with the social, almost political character of his pontificate. Christianity is a social religion who has in her banner the compassion for the weak, the sick and the poor. Why put an extra emphasis on that? There are many priests who don't do enough for those who stand at the margin of life. But there are even more who sacrifice themselves for them. Father Stam was one of those brave, humble little persons who against all odds, managed to influence the lives of all of us and give them a bright shine of the true love of Christ. Even to Muslims, he was patient and compassionate. And I noticed that many respected him because of the genuity of his faith. 

The persons who stand up for what they believe in, whatever it may be, are the most attacked and the most ridiculed. But they always win in the end. Father Stam gave me that example I will follow for the rest of my earthly existence. Rest in peace, Father Stam.

"C" Adriaan van Ginkel 2015