Four days before the horrific events in Dallas in November of 1963, I left Niagara in the dead of night and boarded a train bound for my native Chicago.I was at once relieved and saddened: relieved because I was finally able to come to terms with the fact that I had neither a vocation to the religious life nor to the priesthood, saddened because I was leaving a place that had become home to me in the finest sense of the term.

These days, when I ask myself who I am and what I have become in my nearly seventy years, what always comes to mind, first and foremost, is my life in Carmel, for I  have found that the Carmelite way transcends time, place and one’s state in life.

Time spent in prayer, meditation, reading the scriptures, doing what we used to call spiritual reading and having a spiritual director have become as necessary for me as the air I breathe.  And in a strange way it is the vows which I foolishly thought I was putting behind me that have had the greatest impact.

Prior to my novitiate year I thought of the vow of poverty as a negation, of having the use of only the bare-bones amount of “stuff” necessary to sustain me.  It wouldn’t be till many years in the future that I would come to realize that there are other dimensions to poverty, that to be truly poor in the spirit of the vow means leaving behind not just Armani suits and expensive cars but whatever it is that keeps one from giving oneself to God totally.  This can mean baggage from one’s past, it can mean narcissism and materialism, it can mean one’s ego and even the desire for holiness.

Detachment from one’s false self is more important than detachment from things.

I have come to realize that those of us who live “outside the walls” are called to live in this same spirit of poverty as those who have committed themselves to the religious life.  The committed layperson, in the spirit of the Gospel, is required to know the difference between needs and wants and to live accordingly.

We are called to separate ourselves from all that is not Christ, no easy task in a society that can make us users not just of things but of others.  In this sense, poverty is linked to the first of the Commandments and challenges us to name the idols we worship and renounce them.

***

As with poverty, my view of monastic chastity was literal and framed as a form of self-denial.  It meant the same thing as celibacy, that I could never marry.   Of the three vows it was the one I understood the least.  It would be decades before I came to realize that I understood neither community life nor chastity as it relates to community.

As I have grown older I have come to see the aim of monastic chastity as the creation of an environment where members of a religious community are free to dedicate themselves totally to the practice of the Great Commandment.  Ideally, chastity is the voluntary letting go of anything, even a good thing like marriage, which can be a distraction from the pursuit of the kind of relationship with God that spouses ought to have with one another.

I believe that regardless of our marital status and state in life we are called to lives that model the relationship of the Creator with every one of His children.  And further, we are called to live our lives in such a way as to model the relationship of Christ and the Church, lives where true intimacy and friendship are lived faithfully and offered freely to each and every person we encounter in our daily lives.

What the vow of chastity does for members of a monastic community is to serve as a daily reminder that life is to be lived not for oneself but for God and all humankind.  This witness, the living model of love of God and love of neighbor that is the monastic life, is perhaps the most valuable contribution monastic chastity makes to the contemporary Church and to the world.

In this sense, chastity is incumbent on us all.

***

I’ve done my level best, without success, to come up with something more alien to the spirit of our times than the concept of monastic obedience.

Especially in the United States where individualism has been elevated to the level of a secular religion, the idea of obedience, or any kind of personal sacrifice for that matter, to something outside of ourselves and greater than ourselves is by and large too ridiculous to be taken seriously.  Idolatry is our national sin and narcissism is its outward manifestation.  We worship money, comfort, success, sex, social status and the accumulation of things, all in the name of self-actualization.

I believe that the contemporary religious lives as a sign of contradiction to the conventional wisdom and hears a most different drummer.  His or her life requires unflinching assent of the heart, mind and soul to the spirit of the Rule and the vows which together represent a way of life as opposed to a black and white yardstick of acceptable behavior.

Members of religious communities are called by their vow of obedience to listen for the whisperings of the Holy Spirit in the rhythm of the daily life of the community, in interactions with others, in the Liturgy of the Hours, in work, in scripture, in meditative reading, in all of creation.

It is in some ways the vocation of the religious simply to listen constantly, to be ever vigilant to God’s mysterious utterances as they are found in all aspects of life.  The vow of obedience requires this recollected state, as it requires the religious to internalize and act upon what he or she hears in the great silence.

It seems to me that in this sense obedience is at the core of the monastic calling.  It is in fact central to the calling of all who would aspire to follow Christ.  Obedience is the most dangerous of the vows.  The monastic, like all Christians, must take great care not to let the Rule, the ‘letter’ of the vows or the demands of the institutional Church become a subtle substitute for God, a place to hide from the requirement to form one’s conscience, to act on it and to live with the consequences.  This is a challenge that will follow the seeker, be he lay or religious, to the grave.

Like the spirit of poverty and chastity, true obedience flows from the first commandment of the Mosaic Law: “I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods before me.”

Such is the shared calling of us all.

The article is remiss, I think, for failing to recall the individuals who were around at the beginning.

Credit should have been given to Father Frederick Manion, O.Carm., who was instrumental, or so the story goes, in convincing Cardinal Cushing to approve the project.  He was the prior of the household at Hamilton during those years and was a tireless promoter of the Carmelite Order and the Chapel.

Cardinal Cushing was a major player in the formation of the Chapel and he was of legendary proportion even during that time.

I don’t remember all of the players, but I believe Father Joel Schevers , recently deceased, was involved as well as Father Lambert Yore from the Retreat House.  Brother Felix ran the gift shop and always gave the seminarians a break.

It may not be well know, but the chapel played a role in the conversion of Scott Hahn to Catholicism.  Hahn was a student at Gordon Divinity College, formerly the Carmelite Junior Seminary, and was discerning conversion.  He was having difficulty with the doctrine of the Assumption.  He attended Mass at the Chapel in the Mall and went to speak with the priest who said the Mass about the question of the Assumption.  The priest was Father Kilian Healy, who presented Mr. Hahn with a copy of his work The Assumption of Mary.  When speaking about his conversion he frequently refers to this incident at the Chapel in the Mall and cites the influences of Fr. Kilian’s work.  He also relates that the Carmelite Shield had not been removed from the vestibule outside the refectory during his attendance at the former seminary.

Sadly, no reference was made to the Carmelite murals of P. Carrera, which adorned the chapel and the seminary.

Incidentally, the phrase, “The Carmelite”, was used by the locals to refer to all of the Carmelite facilities in the area, particularly the seminary.

The article brought back memories.  Thanks for remembering.

Yours truly,

Robert R. Gregory

Dear Sal,

Hendrickson Painting

In response to your recent letter asking for information regarding the picture I sent you, my mother attended art school but only painted for her won amusement and gifted her works to family and friends. She was widowed at a young age with four children, me the oldest, during my second year of high school at Mt. Carmel, Niagara. A bachelor uncle took over responsibility for financially supporting the family and insisted I return to the seminary where I remained until time for my final vows in D.C. After counseling, I left for home and found a job sorting checks for a local bank (PNC) but found my classical education did not provide me with the skills required in the world of business. So I attended night school classes in accounting, law, etc. In brief, I remained there for some 40 years and retired 20 years ago as a Senior Vice President in charge of all corporate lending.

Mother painted the picture while I was a novice during my year at New Baltimore and it is me she tried to portray on the occasion of taking my simple vows.

God has been to me all of these years, providing me with a wonderful wife and seven great children plus sixteen grandkids. Unfortunately, my health has been poor recently and I ask for the prayers of my fellow X Carms for strength during this period.

Yours in Carmel,
George C. (Bede) Hendrickson
X Carm

John W. Hauck

Fr. Boniface Hund was the pastor at St Joe’s until his death. Then Fr. Mark Gardner became the pastor. Over the years Fathers Clarence McGuire, Claude Engerman and Henry Goodwin served as assistant pastors, and each one of them inspired me. My uncle Herm was a Jesuit and eventually became president of Santa Clara University in California. He was a major influence in my life – but not that major that I ever seriously thought of becoming a Jesuit. All through grammar school at St Joseph’s, I knew that someday I would become a priest, and that it would be as a Carmelite.

After grammar school, I went to Teaneck High School for three years and then to the Carmelite Seminary in Hamilton, to Niagara, New Baltimore, Washington and the priesthood in 1960. My priestly ministry brought me to Peru and Chile, the retreat house in Mahwah, and finally to the married priesthood and a long career in the addiction recovery field. I am still married with a wife and three daughters and I remain a priest and a Carmelite. The Carmelite priesthood is an indelible and defining part of who I am. It enters into my daily life, into every decision I make, into the counseling work I do for a living and into every breath I take. I can’t change that or leave it behind. Nor would I, if I could. I’ve had the opportunity to administer the sacraments from time to time and I have not turned away. All of this takes place in the context of marriage which some may consider a distraction. I’ve found the opposite to be true. Married life brings in a new spiritual dimension that fits well with priestly ministry.

What does Carmel mean to me? It means that I’ve studied with, been taught by, prayed with, worked with and been friends with Carmelites most of my life. The friendship goes deeper than blood ties between brothers and is not compromised by distance, or time or even death. It is unconditional and based on spiritual values that are held in common and which lead us to God through our human contacts with one another.

John W. Hauck

Chapter Seven says to meditate on the “Lord’s law day and night.” And this emphasis on prayer is the foundation of Carmelite spirituality that results in ministry. I’m not a saint and I don’t /ead a holy life, but I’ve never forgotten Chapter Seven.

Brennan Hill, my class mate, wrote in one of his books that the “true center of Christianity is not a set of doctrines, a code of laws, a number of sacraments and rituals, church officials, or such controversies as birth control and which parishes should be closed,,, All of these have their importance but the center of Christianity is a person -Jesus Christ! Without him, his life, his teachings, his risen presence among us, the other aspects of church life are without meaning and purpose. All discussion on Christian faith must begin and end with Jesus, the one who is the Christ.” This observation and the many years that I was able to participate in daily Mass have been for me the focus of Carmelite life.

Last, but certainly not least, is devotion to Mary, Our Lady of Mount Carmel. I pray to her a lot. I’ve always pictured her as a small, strong, dark skinned and dark haired lady who was an active and forceful person in what is called the “economy of salvation.” Truly Our Sister by Elizabeth Johnson is a good book to read and ponder. And Elizabeth Johnsons’s other book, Quest for the Living God, is also worth reading.

I remember the day I left Whitefriars Hall to go to Middletown for ordination. At the top of the driveway stood Warren Carlin. He was thin in those days, had his hair in a brush cut and he was wearing black pants and a t-shirt. He waved good bye. And then he raised a clenched fist in the air and with a wide grin on his face he shouted, “Remember that you are joining the greatest group of men in the world!”

He was right.

With all my love, my deepest respect, and my sincere thanks, I remain always…

Yours in Carmel,
JACK HAUCK