Drumbeat of duty

Agood man does the right thing. A great man does the right thing and allows himself to recognize the moment, to allow for pains of regret or tears of joy. A man should understand that his actions will either ripple through the years or reverberate through the generations. That’s the difference between existing as a good man versus thriving as a great one.

I was thinking about my predecessor Father George W. Tribou the other day. Who am I kidding, I think of Fr. Tribou almost every day. Sitting in his office at the same desk he used will do that to a man. But the 20th anniversary of his death is coming up in a few days. It doesn’t seem as if he left us that long ago; Fr. Tribou stories still float freely in the hallways of Catholic High School. This, despite the fact that not one student in the building was alive when he was.

Father Tribou’s closest friends will tell you he had many faults. They’ll also tell you that his innate belief that the world was temporary, that mistakes could be overcome, that in order to be more one must do more, filled his every waking moment. He counseled freshmen and business leaders. He advised parents and presidents. He used his own intuitive leadership style to elevate those around him.

Fr. Tribou believed that the individual was a pivotal part of something greater than self, but the individual could never lose himself to the crowd. The essence of Fr. Tribou boiled down to one word, his favorite word in secular vocabulary: duty.

His definition of duty meant to stand for beliefs with compassionate determination. Duty to offer correction that stems from care. Duty to hold one’s honor in the highest regard, and never to use one’s honor as a weapon instead of the fortifying force that it is.

Fr. Tribou was a disciplinarian, and from the outside his methods sometimes seemed harsh. But from the inside, one knew that discipline is a vital step in redemption. The imperfection of our humanity demands it, demands that the communal aspects of our lives have boundaries while the internal dreams and aspirations we house have none. When we fall short of those boundaries or aspirations, that’s where redemption ignites the will to begin again.

Fr. Tribou believed that duty is that inanimate object within each of us that, when joined with other inanimate objects like purpose, drive, and love, inspire us to put cause, family, country before self.

As the awful scene in our nation’s capital unfolded a couple of weeks ago, I found myself in Fr. Tribou’s old office looking to the ceiling for guidance. I was struck by the memory of a scene in St. Louis. Fr. Tribou and President Bill Clinton had been friends long before Clinton entered the Oval Office. President Clinton, knowing of Fr. Tribou’s admiration for Pope John Paul II, invited the priest to be part of the official welcome when the Pope visited St. Louis in 1999. A great moment unfolded.

With cameras rolling, President Clinton is by Pope John Paul II’s side. Clinton moves away for a second and then approaches again with an uncharacteristically stunned Fr. Tribou. The president of the United States introduces the high school principal to the Pope, “Your holiness, this is Fr. George Tribou. He’s from my hometown and is the most outstanding educator in my state.”

The Pope reaches for Fr. Tribou’s hand and Fr. Tribou says, looking at Clinton, “He’s a good man. I didn’t vote for him, but we’re great friends.” Clinton laughs and echoes, “He’s my great counselor, he never votes for me, we’re just friends. I love him!” The Pope, now the one appearing stunned, likely wondered what was going on in Arkansas.

Later, the school’s yearbook featured a photo of the meeting with the caption: “Fr. Tribou talks with two other guys.”

Therein lies the essence of duty. It is recognizing differences in one another but using them as opportunities to learn, debate, change our minds or to become more secure within them. Duty involves disagreement without damnation, opposition without hate. To do one’s duty requires one to be open to the possibility there may be a better way. It then requires one to have the courage to do what’s right.

It’s abhorrent that issues have amplified in a manner designed to raise ire and, thus, raise money. How many enrich themselves by fanning flames of passion, by creating conflict instead of solutions? This is the polar opposite of doing one’s duty. Instead, it’s occupying the lowest of Dante’s rings.

Fr. Tribou, humanly flawed as he was, found perfection in his attention to duty. Do the right thing even when no one is watching, find the honor in one another, persevere in work, and rise to the occasion.

It’s daunting for one to follow a legend, especially knowing full well you’ll never fill his shoes. So here I sit, typing, glancing at the ceiling he stared into when searching for inspiration, the same ceiling that was the only barrier between him and the heavens. Twenty years later and the lessons of duty are still relevant, still necessary, still vital. If we’ve learned anything in this wild ride from insurrection to inauguration, it is that fact.

Are we fine with the ripples that good people create? Rather, we must seek the reverberations that guide the generations, the reverberations echoing to the drumbeat of duty.