Why the history lesson?

Learning about our history informs how we understand the present and think about the future. I think there are several lessons to derive from this history but for those of us entrusted with carrying on this legacy, I think the takeaway is that Brophy matters — what we do is uniquely important. It’s important to our students and their families, our alumni, the local community and the local Church. Brophy had only been open for five years, there were only 81 students in the whole school, and everyone from the editorial board of the newspaper to the flying priest to the Moose Women to Walt Disney rallied to try to save the school. This was true in 1934 when the school closed, it was true in 1952 when it reopened, and it has been true ever since. Brophy matters.

For the last 17 years, I’ve been privileged to experience this each spring when we read the applications of eighth grade boys — and the compelling notes from their parents — who clamor to be a part of this place. Since 1997, my predecessors, Fr. Eddie Reese and Adria Renke, have raised nearly $200 million from people who want to support us. I don’t think they employed flying priests or moose women but they tried just about everything else.

Walt Disney, flying priests, long waiting lists of students, and $200 million…. Why? What is the driver? Some would say community. Yes we have community but there are lots of places to go for community. Join a country club. Or Orange Theory. Some would say facilities. But many public schools have state of the art facilities. Some would say academics but we know we don’t have the corner on that market. Athletics? I’m sure our coaches wish that Brophy was a mecca for athletes. We know what it is because it’s ultimately what matters to each of us in this room: our Jesuit mission.

That is what mattered in 1932, it’s what first attracted me to Brophy in 2000, it’s what I’ve observed in abundance ever since, and it’s what will guide us into the future.

Growing up, I had no exposure to the Jesuits as there wasn’t a Jesuit presence in central Ohio. I’d heard of the Jesuits because my mom’s brothers all attended Loyola Academy in Chicago and my grandparents raved about the Jesuits but I was never sure why, I didn’t understand what the big deal was. I was a Notre Dame guy and I was deeply ingrained with the Holy Cross priests. After college, I moved to Phoenix for a year of volunteer work. I lived and worked at Andre House, a large agency downtown that serves the homeless. Each Sunday night, I was in charge of the soup line which meant I went to the foodbank in the morning to secure all the materials for the chili and rice dinner. I'd open the doors and organize the 30+ volunteers who would prepare and eventually serve the dinner to 600+ people. It was only a few weeks into the year before one volunteer established himself as a weekly regular and began to assume responsibility and ownership of the operation. He was a Brophy senior. Each week, Tom Danforth, Seamus Walsh, and a few other former Brophy teachers would rotate driving a busload of Brophy students down to volunteer. I didn’t have language for it then but it was clear to me that there was something special about this place called Brophy.

Ever since, I’ve continued to experience and observe the impact of our Jesuit mission:
› In 2005, Brophy adopted a 1:1 technology platform, one of the first schools in the state and the Jesuit network to do so. Of course, you’d be hard-pressed to find a school today that doesn’t embrace technology but think back to 2005. Try to remember how audacious this was at the time. On one hand, this was a technological and pedagogical innovation but it was also born of our charism. Former superior general of the Jesuits, Adolfo Nicolas, said this: “The starting point for us, will always be what is real: what is materially, concretely thought to be there; the world as we encounter it; the world of the senses so vividly described in the Gospels themselves; we start there. We don’t run away from there.”
› In 2011, we opened Loyola Academy. We’ve been doing it for so long now that it’s become common and I think we can take it for granted. But take a minute and ponder how remarkable this is: Each year, we welcome 25-28 sixth grade boys and make a seven-year commitment to them. Not only will we provide them a no-cost junior high experience but we’ll support them through high school. A few weeks ago, the Assistance League was on campus for their annual “Operation School Bell” event and provided a full wardrobe of clothes to each scholar. Kendra [Krause] and I were talking to Aimee Runion, CEO of the Assistance League who told us, with tears in her eyes, that one of the boys she outfitted in our very first year is now a college graduate and is on her board of directors. She said, “This is pretty much the dream. He went from receiving our assistance and now he’s my boss!” Now there are two other schools with similar academies in the Jesuit network, inspired by our Loyola Academy model, additional evidence of the impact of our mission.
› In 2012, when President Obama announced DACA which provided a pathway to legal residency for dreamers, a number of our alumni and parents came together to organize workshops that engaged volunteer attorneys to counsel our eligible students, alumni and community partners. As a result, dozens of young people were able to achieve legal status and the Brophy community responded to this question posed by the 32nd General Congregation of the Jesuits: "What does it mean today to be a companion of Jesus? To commit oneself under the banner of the cross to the crucial struggle of our time: the struggle for faith and the struggle for the justice that faith itself demands."
› This photo was taken outside the Phoenix Greyhound station in March of 2019 and this boy is one of thousands of asylum seekers who arrived in Phoenix that spring. There was no infrastructure in place to receive these refugees so DHS would just drop them off — busloads at a time — at the Greyhound station. A few Brophy teachers convened a number of nonprofits and public officials here at Brophy for a meeting to coordinate a response. Throughout that entire spring and early summer, a long list of Brophy teachers and staff members rotated driving three Brophy buses each night, transporting asylum seekers who had just been dropped off by DHS to temporary shelters around Phoenix. Brophy matters.
› At the risk of triggering my own PTSD, I would be remiss if I didn’t reflect briefly on our experience during the pandemic. Those were unprecedented, confusing, difficult times and no one knew the right way forward but I was acutely aware during that entire ordeal that Brophy mattered, our Jesuit mission was something people were looking to. I heard countless times from many of you, from parents, other school leaders locally and beyond, and even leaders of businesses and other organizations who were trying to figure out the way forward, “We were looking to see what Brophy would do…”
› I think about Game Day each year and how much Brophy means to hundreds of people, young and old, who have intellectual disabilities, and their caretakers. Each spring, I stand on the verge of tears in the door to Robson Gymnasium, watching our awkward freshmen quickly warm up to our visitors and make them feel at home.
› I’ve been privileged to bear witness to the comfort people find in our mission during difficult moments in their lives. Multiple times, our community has been able to intervene in the deportation proceedings of a student’s mother or father; we’ve assisted families experiencing homelessness or provided comfort to those in the aftermath of a tragedy. Most recently, this summer I had the privilege of meeting with the mother of Robbie Simpson ’23 a month or so after his death. For over an hour, she told story after story about him and one after the other spoke to the impact that Brophy had on him. Most poignant however were the stories she told about how Robbie’s friends have cared for each other and for Robbie’s family. She said, “I don’t totally understand what happens at Brophy, but it’s special.” Amen.
› Finally, the more years that have gone by, the more and more aware I become of just how much Brophy means to our alumni and their families. For the rest of their lives, this place, and their experience of our Jesuit mission, becomes an anchor, a reference point, a compass of sorts. It’s also clear just how much our alums mean to our community. I think Mike Ward is in training to become a private investigator because it’s amazing what he finds online about people. On almost a weekly basis, often at 11 p.m., I’ll get an email from Mike that simply says, “pretty cool” with a link to a webpage about one of our alums doing amazing things.
› Of course, our Jesuit mission does not animate itself, when people talk about how “Brophy” did this or that, they’re referring to each of you and it is a grace for me to observe all the ways the members of this community give witness to this mission each day...

I think about Jack Labonte who is here today. Jack was a long-time Brophy English teacher who invited me to join his prayer group in my first year of teaching. Jack retired almost twenty years ago but still sends me post-game analysis after most Brophy football and basketball games.

Several weeks ago during the Mass we had at the end of our faculty in-service, I was really moved as I watched Deena Sellers serve as a Eucharistic Minister. It was obvious by the ear-to-ear smile on her face and her posture as she leaned in and practically embraced everyone who came forward that she truly cherished each and every person.

During COVID, Theresa Angus was a beacon of light for students and their families through her work on our cura personalis team.

One of my favorite images of the last few years is seeing Chris Ramsey and his Blue Army praying the rosary each week in the middle of the mall.

I’m grateful to Sue Hornbeck, Gil Martinez, and Chris White for their many years of support for our gay students.

There are dozens and dozens of young people in rural El Salvador who are now educated and in a position to provide for their families as a direct result of Tim Broyles’ efforts and the work of Family to Family, the organization that he founded.

Another image that stands out for me from the past few months is Chris Rapa bringing his young daughter to the Sunday Mass we celebrated a few weeks ago after the death of Devon Conner.

I’m really proud of the work we’ve done in recent years to support our Black students and their families. But as the Black Student Union and Black Family Alliance have gained traction, I’ve been mindful of all the years that Sandra Dennard served, often in isolation, as the constant source of support and solidarity for our Black students and their families.

In response to our call to care for our common home, I’m grateful to Patty Mazier who has been calling us to greater stewardship for twenty years and more recently, Cooper Davis and the impactful work of the Student Climate Coalition.

I think about the work of Kristin Venberg and Ann Wolf in 2016 when Brophy sponsored the resettlement of Theo Baravura, a refugee from Malawi. We welcomed him to our ASC program but Kristin and Ann helped him learn how to navigate life outside of a refugee camp where he’d lived his entire life. Largely because of their efforts, Theo is now self-sufficient and married with two beautiful children.

And I want to express gratitude and admiration for all of our coaches. The hours they devote to students is crazy — insane actually. For pennies on the dollar, they forego evenings, weekends and school holidays because of their commitment to their players. Jason Jewell somehow found time and energy to spend one of his rare free Saturdays driving one of his players — who otherwise had no means of transportation — to Flagstaff for a recruiting opportunity. When most of us are taking a huge exhale as we walk to our cars Friday afternoon, Jim Welty is usually walking toward the bus or the airport for a weekend speech and debate tournament. For Matt Hooten and Mike Schwertley, Christmas break means daily practice and out-of-town holiday tournaments, not two weeks of uninterrupted vacation with their young children.

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