The DirectFund Foundation
Your Subtitle text
Padre Daktari Pedro
Following is a story from Cornell Medicine about Reverend Doctor Peter LeJacq, the Maryknoll Missionary who has spent most of his adult life in Tanzania. Father Peter was a founding board member of the DirectFund Foundation and served as medical advisor.
written by Linda Errante
Flashback 12 years to Peter LeJacq's first assignment as a Maryknoll seminarian at a Mennonite mission hospital in Tanzania. The Mennonite doctor was sick with cerebral malaria. A young man arrives at the hospital tied to the trunk of a tree - a tree dragged by a steer ... AKA the local ambulance service. The man's leg has been mangled by a crocodile and is turning gangrenous. The mission doctor is too sick to operate so his wife says, 'All I can do, Peter, is give you his cut by number book.' "So I go back and hand the book to the nurse and say 'please turn the pages when I nod.' My goal was to avoid cutting nerves and tie off blood vessels. Eight hours later the leg was off and we prepared the stump... and the boy was still alive. Now that's the sort of thing that Cornell gave me the confidence to do," says Peter.
What do you call this rare breed of doctor? Doctor Father or Father Doctor? It turns out that of the half-million Catholic priests in the world, only about 100 are also medical doctors. Peter LeJacq, CUMC Class of '81, is one of them. A vocation to be a priest in his early teens led him down a remarkable path of decisions to combine this goal with the healing arts of medicine.
A Real Calling?
Peter first wrote about his ambitions in an eighth grade religion paper. One might question the sincerity of a 12-year-old boy - born on Christmas eve in 1954 - who outlined how he wanted to become a doctor and a priest. Maybe it was a combination of a religious family, his parochial school background, and having a father who published medical journals that led Peter to his vocation. But Peter credits the words of his hometown priest. "Our priest talked about how happy he was as a priest for one reason ... because the people in the parish let God love him through themselves," said Peter. "I really didn't have any great theological or philosophical insights later on. That was my calling. A little boy hearing about how happy this priest was letting God work through him." "The priests were very encouraging. They said if this is a real vocation of God it will last. However, they also advised me to keep dating, to keep making sure that I would want a celibate lifestyle, that I would want to go to the Third World, that I would want to give up all the comforts of America. So I kept dating, but whenever I mentioned that I wanted to be a priest ... that would usually put the 'kibosh' on the date."
Despite the amusing way in which he chronicles his decision, Peter was quite serious about pursuing his vocation - even though he was facing nearly 30 years of education between completing high school, going to college, and pursuing medical school and divinity training. Peter says that he is a selfish man, with a need to seek his personal salvation by ministering to the physical and spiritual needs of the suffering. His belief that there is a reward for enduring the pain and suffering of all types of physical and emotional conditions - whether that of an African mother dying of AIDS or a New York City police officer paralyzed by a bullet wound - gives him the strength to have faith in a spiritual purpose.
A Stop Along the Way
In 1976, Peter entered Cornell University Medical College and commenced a special 12-year program that combined medical training at Cornell with theological studies at Maryknoll Seminary." The Gospel says, 'Go preach and heal.' "I didn't have the gift of healing," says Peter, "but Cornell would give that to me so that I could do it the traditional way."
When asked why he wanted to be a doctor during his Cornell interview with psychologist David Clayson, MD, Peter responded, 'Because I want to be a priest.' Asked to expand, Peter went on to say, 'As a little kid, I wanted to be a priest doctor in Africa. Cornell is a great school, and I think it will prepare me to be in the middle of nowhere as a doctor and also as a missionary priest.' "I knew I was going to Cornell to prepare to do more than most Cornell graduates would be asked to do," said Peter. "And I would be doing it alone. So I studied as much as I could to learn as much as I could in as short a time as possible." His classmates would joke that he did all the reading. "I read every page we were assigned because I thought I may miss something that would save a life in Africa."
At Cornell, Peter found great support from his classmates, both for his vocation as well as for his studies. "I would always end up doing well enough in the difficult courses because classmates would spend time with me." Among his biggest supporters were Charlie Waisbren '80 and Greg Naus '80. Charlie really believed Peter was going to be a great priest and told him so. Greg put it another way, saying to Peter: 'That's the only way you could get by in this world. 'Cause no one else would understand if you weren't a priest.' (Peter became godfather to Greg's son.)
"At first, the professors didn't share my classmates' view out of concern for my career," recalls Peter. "Once they understood that I didn't have that concern, they supported me as well." Kevin Cahill '57 was a particular influence in Peter's life and education, and he continues to play a role in his ongoing work. It was Dr. Cahill, a professor and chairman of tropical medicine for the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons, who directed Peter to the Royal College for additional training in tropical medicine and international health. Today, Dr. Cahill is not only Peter's personal physician (and physician to Pope John Paul II as well), he is a close family friend.
On the Road Again
"If there's a heaven, I don't need to live comfortably in this world," says Peter. "I figure I'll have all eternity to be comfortable. And I'll do exactly what Jesus said to do in his life, which is sell what you have and give to the poor. And what I have is my Cornell education. I want to give that to the poor."
Throughout his seminary and medical school training, Peter spent time overseas, including stints as a medical missioner in a Cambodian refugee camp, a Guatemalan Jungle Hospital, and in Ireland's inner cities. But he has spent most of the last 12 years of his career in Tanzania working in various capacities at Bugando Medical Centre. It is Africa that has captured his attention and heart. With Tanzania the second most impoverished country in the world, this was Peter's first choice for assignment as a doctor/priest. So, in 1987, upon receiving his Masters in Divinity from Maryknoll Seminary, Peter was assigned to the Bugando Medical Centre, becoming one of 10 doctors for the catchment area's population of seven million. Here he would deal with a raging AIDS epidemic, leprosy, and a host of tropical diseases. Salary - two dollars a day.
During his first few years in Tanzania, Peter was sick 20 percent of the time. He had malaria a dozen times, bouts with tuberculosis and hepatitis, and dysentery monthly. "It's all part of the missionary experience of identifying with the poor," said Peter. "The people know if you stay on even after a bout of malaria, you must really like them." When the droughts brought famine, survival of the village and himself depended on his ability to hunt - something neither the seminary nor Cornell provided training in. So twice a month, Peter or another priest would go out and kill a dozen antelope with which to feed the village. An African guide would keep the lions and hyenas at bay while he butchered the animals in the field.
Every year, Peter would return to the United States for one month to raise funds for the hospital. "We needed about $100,000 for a flush fund. Most people say slush fund, but we needed the money to keep the water system going. So it was a flush fund," says Peter. "Most people don't see the Third World in their life. It's unimaginable because seeing it is only one-third of it. Smelling it is two-thirds. The stench of poverty is the hardest thing for me to take." With no functioning morgue or garbage disposal system at the hospital, Peter got used to using a handkerchief over his face. "For most of the time I was there, the whole hospital smelled like dead bodies." "When my parents visited, my father asked, 'What's that smell?' I said, 'It's dead people.' He said, 'Get rid of that.' And he helped, publishing a letter in his medical journals inviting his readers to get rid of the smell at his son's hospital. He raised a quarter of a million dollars, enabling the hospital to install a contained garbage dump, refrigeration in the morgue, and running water. It was such a pleasure not to be nauseous walking into the hospital," said Peter.
Often calling on his family's local parish and Wall Street friends, Peter has proven to be quite a fundraiser, at times resorting to his connections above. "One of my more successful friends said, 'Peter, I'm on the back nine, I'm thinking of the clubhouse, what can you do for me?' I said, 'I can do a lot, I have the keys. And if you're really good, you'll get a locker with your name on it.' And he's been really good - coming through with $50,000 when the hospital needed it most - at a time when the World Bank withdrew all funding for health care in Tanzania."
Hearing Peter LeJacq speak, one realizes that this articulate and passionate man intertwines his life and medical work in such a manner that bears witness to his belief in divine guidance. With his feet firmly planted in the dusty streets of Tanzania, there is one story that perhaps epitomizes his work there. Bear in mind that Tanzania is suffering from an AIDS epidemic with approximately twenty-five percent of pregnant women HIV-positive. Carrying a pair of latex gloves anywhere he goes is second nature and self-protecting. One day while walking down a local street a woman started to give birth right in front of him. Luckily, he recognized a nurse midwife who was nearby and was able to assist the woman. Peter gave the midwife his only pair of gloves to help protect her from the HIV virus. But complications set in during the birth and Peter's skills as a doctor were needed to save the baby and mother. The midwife could not remove her gloves fast enough to return them to Peter ... and as there was no time to waste, he had no moral choice but to work unprotected to save these lives. "There I am on the ground delivering a baby with people asking, 'What is Father Peter doing on the ground?' They think that every priest is sort of a doctor. They don't realize that I actually went to school for this," noted Peter. "I had to pull the cord off the baby's neck, then I put the placenta in my left hand, put the baby in my right hand, and walked several blocks to the hospital. People greeted me along the way. 'Good morning, Father Peter. What time is mass today?' Where else but in Tanzania is it normal to walk down the street carrying a baby in one hand and the bloody placenta in the other while saying hello to friends? That's the shocking part. Not the delivery, but the greetings afterward. And if I had gotten AIDS, well, I figured I got two for one. My Wall Street friends would say that's a good bet."
In 1990, Peter was asked to be a special consultant to Pope John Paul II on matters related to AIDS in East Africa. "He said to me, 'Father Peter, what can I do to help with AIDS in Africa?' I thought I misheard him. The Holy Father could not be asking me what he should do. So I ignored the question. He looked at me as if to say, 'What a typical American.' Two minutes later, he repeated the question. And I looked at him with amazement when I realized that he was turning to a man half his age with a problem bigger than all of us. I finally replied, 'It doesn't matter what I think you should do, it matters what the Africans think you should do,' and with that we proceeded to discuss HIV and AIDS prevention. Cornell gave me the self-confidence to be a papal consultant. It helped me to try greater things than I thought I could do. If I hadn't gone to a school as great as Cornell, I wouldn't have this confidence."
In 1993, Peter initiated a Cornell international medical elective in Tanzania, welcoming students of all faiths, and those who may have none at all. "I want Cornell students to have the advantage of living in disadvantage," says Peter. "Some of those who go with faith will lose it, some of those who don't have faith will gain it. Inevitably, when I hear from them afterward, their first message is always, 'I miss Africa. I miss the conversations about what is really important in life, and I miss the opportunity to just take care of the sick.'"
Homeward Bound
In July 1996, Peter returned to the United States for a six-year assignment with Maryknoll's Mission Promotion Department, where he is involved in mission education, vocational recruiting, and fundraising in New York and Connecticut. "It was a logical progression," he says, "from curative medicine, to being a bridge between Africa and the U.S.A." They say that clothes make the man, but this man of the cloth makes his own life-directing choices with a lot of thought to how "the guy upstairs" measures his success. "God works with very human instruments," says Peter. "Cornell was my instrument. It has opened doors that no priest has ever walked through."
When Father Peter talks, you listen. You cry. You laugh. You may end up agreeing to give money to the mission. You may agree to give your time. But you will not be bored. So call him. He would love to hear from you.
What do you call this rare breed of doctor? Doctor Father or Father Doctor? It turns out that of the half-million Catholic priests in the world, only about 100 are also medical doctors. Peter LeJacq, CUMC Class of '81, is one of them. A vocation to be a priest in his early teens led him down a remarkable path of decisions to combine this goal with the healing arts of medicine.
A Real Calling?
Peter first wrote about his ambitions in an eighth grade religion paper. One might question the sincerity of a 12-year-old boy - born on Christmas eve in 1954 - who outlined how he wanted to become a doctor and a priest. Maybe it was a combination of a religious family, his parochial school background, and having a father who published medical journals that led Peter to his vocation. But Peter credits the words of his hometown priest. "Our priest talked about how happy he was as a priest for one reason ... because the people in the parish let God love him through themselves," said Peter. "I really didn't have any great theological or philosophical insights later on. That was my calling. A little boy hearing about how happy this priest was letting God work through him." "The priests were very encouraging. They said if this is a real vocation of God it will last. However, they also advised me to keep dating, to keep making sure that I would want a celibate lifestyle, that I would want to go to the Third World, that I would want to give up all the comforts of America. So I kept dating, but whenever I mentioned that I wanted to be a priest ... that would usually put the 'kibosh' on the date."
Despite the amusing way in which he chronicles his decision, Peter was quite serious about pursuing his vocation - even though he was facing nearly 30 years of education between completing high school, going to college, and pursuing medical school and divinity training. Peter says that he is a selfish man, with a need to seek his personal salvation by ministering to the physical and spiritual needs of the suffering. His belief that there is a reward for enduring the pain and suffering of all types of physical and emotional conditions - whether that of an African mother dying of AIDS or a New York City police officer paralyzed by a bullet wound - gives him the strength to have faith in a spiritual purpose.
A Stop Along the Way
In 1976, Peter entered Cornell University Medical College and commenced a special 12-year program that combined medical training at Cornell with theological studies at Maryknoll Seminary." The Gospel says, 'Go preach and heal.' "I didn't have the gift of healing," says Peter, "but Cornell would give that to me so that I could do it the traditional way."
When asked why he wanted to be a doctor during his Cornell interview with psychologist David Clayson, MD, Peter responded, 'Because I want to be a priest.' Asked to expand, Peter went on to say, 'As a little kid, I wanted to be a priest doctor in Africa. Cornell is a great school, and I think it will prepare me to be in the middle of nowhere as a doctor and also as a missionary priest.' "I knew I was going to Cornell to prepare to do more than most Cornell graduates would be asked to do," said Peter. "And I would be doing it alone. So I studied as much as I could to learn as much as I could in as short a time as possible." His classmates would joke that he did all the reading. "I read every page we were assigned because I thought I may miss something that would save a life in Africa."
At Cornell, Peter found great support from his classmates, both for his vocation as well as for his studies. "I would always end up doing well enough in the difficult courses because classmates would spend time with me." Among his biggest supporters were Charlie Waisbren '80 and Greg Naus '80. Charlie really believed Peter was going to be a great priest and told him so. Greg put it another way, saying to Peter: 'That's the only way you could get by in this world. 'Cause no one else would understand if you weren't a priest.' (Peter became godfather to Greg's son.)
"At first, the professors didn't share my classmates' view out of concern for my career," recalls Peter. "Once they understood that I didn't have that concern, they supported me as well." Kevin Cahill '57 was a particular influence in Peter's life and education, and he continues to play a role in his ongoing work. It was Dr. Cahill, a professor and chairman of tropical medicine for the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons, who directed Peter to the Royal College for additional training in tropical medicine and international health. Today, Dr. Cahill is not only Peter's personal physician (and physician to Pope John Paul II as well), he is a close family friend.
On the Road Again
"If there's a heaven, I don't need to live comfortably in this world," says Peter. "I figure I'll have all eternity to be comfortable. And I'll do exactly what Jesus said to do in his life, which is sell what you have and give to the poor. And what I have is my Cornell education. I want to give that to the poor."
Throughout his seminary and medical school training, Peter spent time overseas, including stints as a medical missioner in a Cambodian refugee camp, a Guatemalan Jungle Hospital, and in Ireland's inner cities. But he has spent most of the last 12 years of his career in Tanzania working in various capacities at Bugando Medical Centre. It is Africa that has captured his attention and heart. With Tanzania the second most impoverished country in the world, this was Peter's first choice for assignment as a doctor/priest. So, in 1987, upon receiving his Masters in Divinity from Maryknoll Seminary, Peter was assigned to the Bugando Medical Centre, becoming one of 10 doctors for the catchment area's population of seven million. Here he would deal with a raging AIDS epidemic, leprosy, and a host of tropical diseases. Salary - two dollars a day.
During his first few years in Tanzania, Peter was sick 20 percent of the time. He had malaria a dozen times, bouts with tuberculosis and hepatitis, and dysentery monthly. "It's all part of the missionary experience of identifying with the poor," said Peter. "The people know if you stay on even after a bout of malaria, you must really like them." When the droughts brought famine, survival of the village and himself depended on his ability to hunt - something neither the seminary nor Cornell provided training in. So twice a month, Peter or another priest would go out and kill a dozen antelope with which to feed the village. An African guide would keep the lions and hyenas at bay while he butchered the animals in the field.
Every year, Peter would return to the United States for one month to raise funds for the hospital. "We needed about $100,000 for a flush fund. Most people say slush fund, but we needed the money to keep the water system going. So it was a flush fund," says Peter. "Most people don't see the Third World in their life. It's unimaginable because seeing it is only one-third of it. Smelling it is two-thirds. The stench of poverty is the hardest thing for me to take." With no functioning morgue or garbage disposal system at the hospital, Peter got used to using a handkerchief over his face. "For most of the time I was there, the whole hospital smelled like dead bodies." "When my parents visited, my father asked, 'What's that smell?' I said, 'It's dead people.' He said, 'Get rid of that.' And he helped, publishing a letter in his medical journals inviting his readers to get rid of the smell at his son's hospital. He raised a quarter of a million dollars, enabling the hospital to install a contained garbage dump, refrigeration in the morgue, and running water. It was such a pleasure not to be nauseous walking into the hospital," said Peter.
Often calling on his family's local parish and Wall Street friends, Peter has proven to be quite a fundraiser, at times resorting to his connections above. "One of my more successful friends said, 'Peter, I'm on the back nine, I'm thinking of the clubhouse, what can you do for me?' I said, 'I can do a lot, I have the keys. And if you're really good, you'll get a locker with your name on it.' And he's been really good - coming through with $50,000 when the hospital needed it most - at a time when the World Bank withdrew all funding for health care in Tanzania."
Hearing Peter LeJacq speak, one realizes that this articulate and passionate man intertwines his life and medical work in such a manner that bears witness to his belief in divine guidance. With his feet firmly planted in the dusty streets of Tanzania, there is one story that perhaps epitomizes his work there. Bear in mind that Tanzania is suffering from an AIDS epidemic with approximately twenty-five percent of pregnant women HIV-positive. Carrying a pair of latex gloves anywhere he goes is second nature and self-protecting. One day while walking down a local street a woman started to give birth right in front of him. Luckily, he recognized a nurse midwife who was nearby and was able to assist the woman. Peter gave the midwife his only pair of gloves to help protect her from the HIV virus. But complications set in during the birth and Peter's skills as a doctor were needed to save the baby and mother. The midwife could not remove her gloves fast enough to return them to Peter ... and as there was no time to waste, he had no moral choice but to work unprotected to save these lives. "There I am on the ground delivering a baby with people asking, 'What is Father Peter doing on the ground?' They think that every priest is sort of a doctor. They don't realize that I actually went to school for this," noted Peter. "I had to pull the cord off the baby's neck, then I put the placenta in my left hand, put the baby in my right hand, and walked several blocks to the hospital. People greeted me along the way. 'Good morning, Father Peter. What time is mass today?' Where else but in Tanzania is it normal to walk down the street carrying a baby in one hand and the bloody placenta in the other while saying hello to friends? That's the shocking part. Not the delivery, but the greetings afterward. And if I had gotten AIDS, well, I figured I got two for one. My Wall Street friends would say that's a good bet."
In 1990, Peter was asked to be a special consultant to Pope John Paul II on matters related to AIDS in East Africa. "He said to me, 'Father Peter, what can I do to help with AIDS in Africa?' I thought I misheard him. The Holy Father could not be asking me what he should do. So I ignored the question. He looked at me as if to say, 'What a typical American.' Two minutes later, he repeated the question. And I looked at him with amazement when I realized that he was turning to a man half his age with a problem bigger than all of us. I finally replied, 'It doesn't matter what I think you should do, it matters what the Africans think you should do,' and with that we proceeded to discuss HIV and AIDS prevention. Cornell gave me the self-confidence to be a papal consultant. It helped me to try greater things than I thought I could do. If I hadn't gone to a school as great as Cornell, I wouldn't have this confidence."
In 1993, Peter initiated a Cornell international medical elective in Tanzania, welcoming students of all faiths, and those who may have none at all. "I want Cornell students to have the advantage of living in disadvantage," says Peter. "Some of those who go with faith will lose it, some of those who don't have faith will gain it. Inevitably, when I hear from them afterward, their first message is always, 'I miss Africa. I miss the conversations about what is really important in life, and I miss the opportunity to just take care of the sick.'"
Homeward Bound
In July 1996, Peter returned to the United States for a six-year assignment with Maryknoll's Mission Promotion Department, where he is involved in mission education, vocational recruiting, and fundraising in New York and Connecticut. "It was a logical progression," he says, "from curative medicine, to being a bridge between Africa and the U.S.A." They say that clothes make the man, but this man of the cloth makes his own life-directing choices with a lot of thought to how "the guy upstairs" measures his success. "God works with very human instruments," says Peter. "Cornell was my instrument. It has opened doors that no priest has ever walked through."
When Father Peter talks, you listen. You cry. You laugh. You may end up agreeing to give money to the mission. You may agree to give your time. But you will not be bored. So call him. He would love to hear from you.