The last few days for us were laden with history in the making. The touching description written by our son, Davi Charles Gomes is worth reading to get a feel of what is happening at Mackenzie University and in the Presbyterian Church of Brazil where he is a servant-leader.


Wow!  What ten incredible years!  That thought could not leave me during all of yesterday... a different day from the days this past week, different from the last more than 3,000 days. I woke up a little later (different from the dawn that marked my other days this week).  I did not arrive at the office rushed or running to a class... There were only a few loose ends that needed attention... I did not find things waiting for solutions – just friendly faces with sweet-sour expressions, half loving, half missing – at least that was the way my heart looked at my colleagues at CPAJ with whom I had invested the last ten years of institutional ministry.

The previous day had already been ridden with emotion. I had entered the classroom early to finish my graduate course in Ecclesiological Identity in Church Revitalization and Multiplication – a touching time with beloved student-pastors and my last class administered as director of CPAJ. Naturally I went overtime, thus, after saying goodbye to students, holding back my tears (both because of that strange feeling of dismissal and because of hearing pastor-students speak of the deep things of the heart) I was half an hour late as I raced toward the last meeting of the CPAJ Graduate Chamber’s farewell meeting...

At my office my brothers and colleagues were already patiently waiting for me. I began the meeting still as president. After prayer led by pastor Valdeci Santos, I said some words of thanks to my colleagues -- authentic sentiments that I shall not try to reproduce here, leaving them only in the memory of those brothers who mean so much to me. I thanked them because they were instruments of God’s grace in my life... I will tell you only two little humorous tidbits: seeking relief in humor, I thanked them because in all these years everyone managed to always leave the director "looking good on tape"; and borrowed a few lines from a song that expressed to those brethren how I felt: 

You Give Me Strength (Snow Patrol)

I choked back tears today
'Cause I can't begin to say
How much you've shaped this boy
These last ten years or more
My friends, we've seen it all
Triumphs to drunken falls
And our bones are broken still
But our hearts are joined until
Time slips its tired hand
Into our tired hands
We've years 'til that day
And so much more to say
You give the strength to me
A strength I never had
I was a mess, you see
I'd lost the plot so bad
You dragged me up and out
Out of the darkest place
There's not a single doubt
When I can see your faces
My friends, we've seen it all
When it made no sense at all
You dare to light my path
And found the beauty in the aftermath
Let me hold you up
Like you held me up
It's too long to never say this
You must know I've always thought 

After using pieces of the song to speak to them I asked to pray and did so thanking God for each of the brothers present, for their lives and specific moments of friendship and closeness to each of them. After the prayer, I heard some loving and encouraging words from pastor Heber Carlos de Campos. Once more resorting to humor, I passed the presidency of the faculty to the Vice-director that with my leaving would assume the direction. I did something I’ve always wanted to do since I used to watch Captain Kirk or Captain Jean Luc Piccard ("Star Trek" and "Star Trek, The Next Generation", for the non-initiated). I turned to pastor Mauro Fernando Meister and solemnly declared: "Number one, you now have command..."  All that was missing was hearing him say: "Warp speed ahead!"

After fraternal embraces, the remaining teaching body (the Graduate Chamber is composed only of Coordinators and Tenured Professors) was called in.  I saw the younger professors enter, each of which had joined CPAJ under my direction. Only two beloved colleagues were missing -- pastors João Alves and Augustus Nicodemus, both also Chamber members, absents at that moment for necessary reasons, though still near to the heart. With the faculty were also our valorous co-laborers, Sunamita, Hothir, Márcia and Rafael.  

My heart was already pressed but it was harder still when I saw them enter with a beautiful light-wooden chair -- and I could already imagine what was coming...  Pastor Valdeci explained that, according to a tradition from other reformed schools of theology, they were giving me a chair that represented my chair at CPAJ and would follow with me as a permanent  remembrance.  He read the writing on the plaque fixed to the beautiful chair: The CPAJ seal was accompanied by the following words: "Rev. Davi Charles Gomes, PhD. In honor of your work done with excellence and dedication in the direction of Centro Presbiteriano de Pós-Graduação Andrew Jumper - 2004 to 2013. Faculty - CPAJ". 

That was when it was very difficult to hold back my emotion, for my colleagues made me sit on the chair and pose for a final photo with the faculty seated and outlined around me.  Sheepish at being honored in this way, I acceded, feeling profound  gratitude for those men who I wish so much to honor at this moment of leave-taking and yet they made me agree to being honored by them in a way I normally would find very hard to accept – because the honor belongs only to Christ and these are men who always honor Christ, but who at that moment wanted to honor, in submission to Christ, a lesser brother whose greatest honor was serving them for these last ten years, and with them, serve the cause of the Kingdom of Christ and the Presbyterian Church of Brazil!

 Meeting ended, still touched by deep feelings, I went with them to a simple nearby restaurant for some moments of informal fellowship.  The beloved pastors Augustus Nicodemus and Fernando Almeida joined us.  Breaking bread in deep fellowship still carried the flavor of farewell, but in a different sense, maybe due to the choice of an everyday, unpretentious place; it also had the same delicious everyday flavor of thousands of times we ate and communed together at the table...

Finishing lunch, we walked back to CPAJ.  Some colleagues went for better coffee at a place nearby, others had various appointments.  I walked back with pastors Mauro, Jedeías, Augustus and Fernando.  I talked a while with pastor Fernando, chief of staff at Mackenzie Chancellery, who is helping pastor Augustus and me in the transition of offices and then, both of us continued to the João Calvino Building where pastor Augustus Nicodemus and all of Mackenzie’s chaplains were waiting for a transitional meeting. Of

I was kindly received by dear Augustus, who introduced me to each of the chaplains and then presented a report about the last ten years of his work as Chancellor of Mackenzie. Even though I have been close to Augustus and the Chancellorship all these years, and have regularly substituted the Chancellor in his absence, therefore knowing well the actions he has always developed, I must confess that watching the presentation left me proud of my friend, colleague and predecessor in  the position.

The presentation summed up the principal actions, challenges and victories for the Kingdom, developed in the chancellery in the last ten years, reminding me how much was accomplished, making me admire the faithfulness with which Augustus developed his ministry there, and agree with the members of the  Board of Directors of Mackenzie, that had received the same report the previous week with such appreciation and respect. I was also very happy to remember how my dear friend Augustus leaves his position with so many protests of admiration and e respect, from his superiors (The Board of Curators and The Board of Directors of Mackenzie), his colleagues at the Institute and the University and all the people he led.

Pastor Augustus Nicodemus Gomes Lopes leaves his position by his own initiative  and under protest from many. Also under my protests.  Not negative or misunderstanding  protests. He goes forth because he desires new challenges, because he hears the attractive, memory-laden song of his  pastoral-academic work, because he feels from God the tranquility that his task, by the marvelous grace of God, was faithfully fulfilled – at least this is what I clearly perceive, though I don’t  presume to speak for Augustus, but I think I know well such a feeling, for it is the way I leave CPAJ!

After Chancellor Augustus Nicodemus’s presentation, he asked each chaplain to make a ten-minute report, relating the ministries developed at the various campuses and the diverse areas of activities as chaplains of Mackenzie.  I was happy to perceive what they have done and the important ministries they have in the Mackenzie community, for the Igreja Presbiteriana do Brasil, in whose name they work, and for the Kingdom under whose greater authority they minister.

At the end of the presentations, pastor Carlos Henrique (institutional chaplain), chosen by his peers to speak in their names, said words of honor and gratitude to the friend Augustus – at moments he was clearly moved...  Beautiful words of admiration, respect and regard – all clearly visible in the looks and words of all the other chaplains. They gave Augustus a beautiful gift and the opportunity to make his feelings known. Then, pastor Carlos Henrique concluded with what I believe sums up the entire sentiment. He said, “Pastor Augustus, we are very sad with your leaving..." But he then  graciously added something that did good to my heart, "...but we are also happy that pastor Davi is the one appointed to come and continue with us what you, and above all, the Lord, have done”.

All of this was day before yesterday, Thursday, May 23, 2013. After the meeting with the chancellor and chaplains, I stayed briefly with Augustus in his office and then the two of us went down to the garage, along with pastor Fernando.  I drove home, and upon arrival, went with my beloved to the home of my parents for a little more heart-comfort. Pastor Wadislau heard me tell about the day, expressed his paternal support and then we said goodbye.

With such an emotion-packed day, Adriana and I decided to stretch our night a bit and so some hard labor on the farm on which we live... With rubber boots and raincoats, wheelbarrow, shovels and spades, we spent some time and energy, spreading stones and gravel on our inside road that had been damaged by the rain of the day before. This hard work for our arms sometimes does good to the body and soul, specially when our emotions are erupting. Of course Adriana only pushed the wheelbarrow when it was empty, and I did not let her handle shovel or spade... When I got tired we went to bed, me and the one who is my reward for the work with which I fatigue myself under the sun (Ecclesiastes 9).

Back to the beginning, yesterday I got up later, at eight AM, instead of the 5:30 of previous days. At the very beginning I wrote about the friendly faces that I found upon arriving at CPAJ for my last day of work there. I entered my office finding comfort in the fact that CPAJ does not belong to me, does not even belong to my peers, to our students, to JET or IPB – it belongs to Christ, the One who is my Lord, Lord of my peers, of my students, of Mackenzie, of JET,  of IPB and of all things...  Therefore, there really is no saying goodbye, because I proceed, serving the same Lord and in the same Harvest Field.

Soon after arriving, I went to pastor Mauro’s office to call him to the office that no longer would be mine...  On returning, I found pastor Emílio Garófalo Neto, my beloved cousin, blessed pastor and multi-talented professor – he was saying goodbye after a week giving a graduate course as visiting professor at CPAJ.  A cup of coffee with Mauro, brotherly, affectionate greetings from Hothir and Sunamita, a strong hug from Valdeci... It was now time to proceed to a churrascaria for the official farewell luncheon. As we got there, what was my surprise at finding, not only all my partners at CPAJ, together, but also RE Solano Portela, a friend and Vice-president of IPB’s National Board of Theological Education, and pastor Roberto Brasileiro, friend and president of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Brasil. Only my friend Tarcízio was absent, due to family duties, and my friend Augustus, who is in Recife, preaching the gospel as always, and my friend Jedeías, in Paraíba, caring for the expansion of our church...

How pleasant to be at the table with all my colleagues!  But how difficult to hold back the heart when Mauro began his short speech, followed by speeches by RE Solano and pastor Roberto.  Each one expressed personal, affectionate words, recognizing supposed merits and qualities in me that I myself cannot recognize – word of which I am not worthy, except for the fact that we are in Christ and used by Him, which make us receive a dignity that would never exist in and of ourselves. At the same time, the three orators quieted my heart as they clearly left the message that  all this was only the end of one phase of the ministry done together in the Lord and for the Lord – our fight and our co-laboring continues! This is what, summed up, I heard from them and it comforted my heart!

We returned to CPAJ and pastor Mauro and I went to his office where we wrote the last documents that needed both of our signatures. It was time to go, and I was in a hurry because there was still a doctor’s appointment at the end of the afternoon. I spoke by phone with pastor Roberto Brasileiro, said goodbye to Sunamita and Hothir, then Rafael and Márcia, and then my friend Mauro, who now answers alone for the direction of CPAJ, decided to go with me on the last long walk leaving the institution which I had been honored to serve these last ten years. He carried the chair I had been given to take with me and we went to the parking lot, where we embraced and said words of brotherhood and friendship that will remain only between us and in our hearts. Hurriedly we said, "see you next week..."

On my way home, I spoke by phone to several of these dear ones (using the car’s hands-free device, of course, because I would not be breaking any laws...). I talked with Solano, Mauro, Valdeci and Jedeías, and also talked with Sunamita. Arriving at home I found the tenderness of Adriana, of my sons Daniel and Rafael, my parents, Wadislau and Elizabeth and my brother Daniel.  Every one of them was waiting to hear about this last day and encourage and comfort me: it was celebration and emotion.

Then, before going to sleep, I thought about sharing this narrative with those that might be interested – I decide I would write this in my blog.  More than just sharing the story, I desired an opportunity to honor and thank the many people who have been part of my story, doing this on my terms, in a written register, in this transitional moment. 

I shall have three rest-days next week, then we have a short national holiday.  I will be speaking at the Fiel Jovem conference during next weekend. Next Monday, June 3rd., I will be with Augustus celebrating his ten years in the Chancellery with thanksgiving to God and then being installed as the XIII Chancellor of Mackenzie Presbyterian University. The thanksgiving and installation ceremony will take place at noon of that day

If you are reading this report, do not seek or see it more than a mere expression of a grateful heart to God, full of affection and emotion, ready for the new challenges, but most of all, depending on the grace of the Lord!  This grace makes me lift my voice in gratitude for the many people who have blessed me and have been my companions in the marvelous adventure of living coram deo! 

To Him be glory, power and honor, always!

Davi Charles Gomes
Mogi das Cruzes, May 25th, 2013


To God, my gratitude, for brethren and coleagues...

  • for my wife and children: Adriana, Rafael and Daniel;
  • for my parents, Wadislau and Elizabeth;
  • for my siblings, Deborah and Daniel;
  • for my extended family, Joarez and Marisa, John, Márcia, Flavio, Bianca, Andrea, Deborah and Claudio;
  • for my nephews: Matthew, Felipe, Timothy, Leticia, Davizinho, Nicoli, Ruth, Jonathan, Luca;
  • for my local church and  colleagues in the session: Wadislau, Heber, Alderi, Márcio, David and Rinaldo;
  • for pastor Roberto;
  • for JET, the present one and the two previous ones;
  • for Solano, Eli, Jaime, Damócles;
  • for CRIE: Eliezer, Solano, Ludgero, Roberto;
  • for the Curators and the Board at Mackenzie;
  • for chancellor Augustus;
  • for the administrators at Mackenzie: Mauricio, Solano, Anaor, Jose Paulo; Wallace; Benedito and Marcel;
  • for my co-workers at CPAJ: Sunamita, Andrea, Marcia, Hothir and Rafael,
  • and, today, especially for my brothers, partners -- my pares:
Heber Jr,
João Alves,
João Paulo,




History in the making has always been part of my mental-emotional makeup. A legacy from parents who tried to relate whatever was happening in our lives with what was thought, said or happened in the past, from grandparents who made sure that we heard the stories of Pilgrim family arriving to Massachussetts in the days of Cotton Mather, participating in the Revolutionary War that gave birth to the USA in 1777, active builders of the nation and economy through thick and thin, a grandmother, daughter of a German immigrant who came soon after the Civil War to Richmond, Virginia, and became chief (?) of police, while she, exemplary Christian mother, raised twelve children alone during the Depression under the shadow of an absent actor-artist-landscape architect husband.

So when I was not yet thirteen I read the newspaper headlines on August 13, 1961 about erecting of the Berlin Wall and wrote in my diary: “War! The war between Communism and the West has erupted. I most surely will become another Ann Frank, though there are no secret annexes in our Goiânia apartment, and presently Brazil still favors the United States…”

My historical perspectives were always present, but in an impossible potpourri of fact, fiction, legend and wanna be “crazy creole samba” (a humorous song about the mélange of Brazilian history invented in the early 1960’s). I read Orwells’s “1984” that year. When today I see the ubiquitousness of surveillance through computers, I know that the prophecy: “Big Brother is watching you” has come to pass more thoroughly than anyone could have imagined.

1989 is the title of this essay. A great year for me and my family in Wyncote, Pennsylvania, when Lau was finishing his work at CCEF. I changed jobs (from Assistant Librarian at Elkins Park to office manager-assistant to a dear friend, freelance editor, inserting words of marvelous hymns to music for Great Commission Publications, thus being a tiny part of the making of a great hymnal, “editor” for a computer service company that served the US Navy, and, during the summer, English Instructor at American Language Academy on the beautiful campus of Beaver College (where Edith Schaeffer had studied years before). The Berlin Wall fell in November 1989. Six countries from the Soviet Union declared independence. And I got a job at ALA. I had always taught English, from the time I was a teenager in Porto Alegre, but teaching international students in 1989 was a continual history lesson for me. Students came from China (one from Beijing, one from Hong Kong – with the same language written in classic characters but spoken in entirely different ways, contrasting world views and dreams of freedom or foreseeing nightmare of Hong Kong`s return to the dominion of Mainland China). My mother had made her own historic-dream-pilgrimage to China and several Far Eastern countries with OMF supporters[1] and had been on Tienamin Square a week before the Massacre of June 4th, 1989. Now she was before my eyes, a bright and beautiful girl hosted by a Jewish-American woman with international ties to human rights organizations. I wanted to know Mei better, tell her story – and was forbidden.

There were several Muslim students: the son of one of the ruling sheik`s concubines from Saudi Arabia, who, when his car got totaled in Philly, had it shipped to Arabia to be revamped at the palace mechanic`s. A Turkish young man who timidly declared: “Mrs. Gomes, you teach with love and beauty, reminding me of my mother, who is a teacher in Istambul”. A Yemini who said that his grandfather was a Berber from the desert, but his father a government official.

Then my Israeli student, whose cousins grew up and live in New York. Yoram wanted to become an American like them, but had family loyalties with his Israeli parents who were important to the Jewish nation (and I was reminded that Benjamin Netanyahu attended Cheltenham High where our son Daniel was studying).

A Spanish student scored high on every test and demonstrated ability and drive, letting me know English was important for his future career as lawyer and possibly politician. I do not doubt he became a man of great leadership in Spain, though there is no way to verify, because even his name flees my mind today.

There were Korean and Japanese students – Evangelical Christians, Buddhists, Shintoists and agnostics of many stripes. My Swiss, German and French students were world class from the European Union, but this American raised in Brazil kept wondering about their true historical origins. Silly conjectures.

Several Latin American students – from Peru, Venezuela, Colombia and of course, Brazil (one, daughter of a famous news anchor in Venezuela, another, of a shrimp magnate, still another, a child of a well-heeled bureaucrat) and their dreams. Oh, the dreams were everything from becoming an international singer or actor (I sort of envision one of the girls as Shakira before she was famous!). My African and South Asian students ranged from the daughter of a government official from the Côte d`Ivoire to a Methodist Thai industrialist`s daughter. Each student let me know piecelings of their stories – but none were as poignant as those non-commented by emigrants from the USSR. An older student— in her thirties— economist in Kiev who was beginning to learn about her Jewish heritage through the sponsors for her family`s arrival in Pennsylvania, weeks before Ukraine left the Soviet Union. She took her own sandwich to lunch for meals, because for the first time in her life as a free person, she was submitting to kosher laws. Another Russian engineer got a job at TJMax and was enjoying hard work and results of her labor in a non-demanding job free from soviet directives.

At the end of our two months, I invited the students to my home for dinner. They contributed five dollars apiece for the meal and arrived to help prepare it – my kitchen was teeming with people of all stripes, who also invaded the yard to help mow the lawn and sweep the porch. Not pandemonium — but only pan, because demonia they were not – they were all image-bearers of the Lord of the Universe. I had shared only English grammar, pronunciation and practical usage – not any of the story of redemption – but hoped that when those who would return to the country of their origins, as well as those who had adopted a new land, would perceive that Christ motivated my teaching.

So, as I remember the year of momentous historical develpments in the world ending the Eighties, most of all I remember the histories, the stories, of people of all nations whose lives touched mine, and hopefully, that my insignificant life, dubbed with eternal meaning, had touched them with grace.
Elizabeth Gomes