For over 54 years, I have been remembering, always with joy and gratitude, this "Camelot" period of my life. So I read with interest the horror stories of fellow conservative culture warriors, somewhat younger than myself, notably Larry Chapp and Fr. Stravinskas, about the toxic, progressive atmosphere they found in seminary in the 1970s. How different was my four year "durational event!"
To start, ours was college, not theological seminary. Our curriculum offered only small doses of theology. We studied philosophy, sociology, and English as majors.
More importantly, it was a very specific time and place and cast of characters.
Time.
When we arrived in September 1965, the seminary was a strong, vigorously functioning system, bursting with the masculine energies of young men. I took to the semi-monastic routine like a duck to water: study and reading, sensible routine of communal and personal prayer, wholesome meals, moderate portions of manual labor, recreation including sports, and a little free time. Silence was practiced from 10 PM until after morning praise. Sound sleep. Good friendships and tons of camaraderie. During our four years together there, the system fell apart. By our senior year: communal prayer was effectively optional, many did not attend, some lost their faith, a few worked and hung at a local bar, others dated, many gravitated into leftwing social activism or psychology as a religion. The class a few years behind us was openly contemptuous of all things traditional. None of this affected me: I retained my posture as a good seminarian: studying, praying, lots of reading, enjoying my friends, and holding to a very comfortable routine.
1965 was the high point, the pinnacle (and the last gasp) of the Great Post-War American Catholic Revival. Catholicism was surging with confidence and energy: thriving economy, large families, huge Catholic institutions, full acceptance into society, defended in its working class interests by unions and the Democrats. Bishop Sheen, Thomas Merton, the Kennedy family, Notre Dame football, Father Patrick Peyton and the family rosary, missionary surge into Latin America, virtual unanimity about the Cold War. Maryknoll was the epitome of this virile confidence and energy: the American Catholic missionary presence around the world. In the early 60s the Society was ordaining close to 50 priests a year. The iconic building in Ossining and the athletic fields around it were exploding with virility.
The weird thing was that we had zero contact with women for four years. But that served me well in a way. I was extremely girl shy: self-conscious and awkward with women. Later, when I re-entered a world with women I quickly discovered that I was excessively, actually insanely, fascinated by and attracted to them. Happily, I immediately fell in love and married a princess of a woman; this mitigated the effects of my dysfunction. So it was on the whole a good thing for me to be sequestered away from women in that period of early manhood. The "latency" period of sexuality, which usually predates puberty, was in my case extended to the age of 22. I highly recommend this: the more latency the better. I have encouraged my own children to emulated this by postponing serious romance until after college. On the whole they have replicated my happy path: abstinence throughout adolescence, and then throw yourself madly into one romance with one lover.
Immediately after the Council, we were in the "eye" of a perfect storm of interacting revolutionary movements: civil rights, antiwar movement, the defining cultural-sexual-contraceptive shift, massive change in the Church. Explosive intellectual energy, especially in Catholicism, but from all directions of the society. For one, like myself, interested in ideas-understanding-argument, it was the most exhilarating time. I consider it an immense blessing to come of age, enter early adulthood, in those specific years. I would not exchange the timing for any other! This was pre-Roe so The Culture War had not engaged; there was not yet, in politics or theology, the hard binary of conservative/progressive that emerged in the 1970s and after. One could still entertain and merge traditional, liberal and radical perspectives in creativity without interior contradiction or exterior censure. The overwhelming atmosphere was liberal, experimental, innovative, and creative without being reactive against the past. A euphoria of novelty prevailed. Immense optimism.
Place and the Priests
The college was a spacious, pleasant, sequestered place; but what mattered was Maryknoll. This is a magnificent Society of priests, and was reaching its pinnacle of vigor as we arrived. The "Maryknoll Type" (of the post-war period) was clear: confident, virile, energetic, generous, altruistic, pragmatic, intelligent but not academic or metaphysical, largely Irish and working class, softly patriotic but zealously internationalist, obsessed with the poor and suffering, pious in a low-key and quiet mode, liberal leaning in politics and theology but practical-moderate rather than ideological.
The Maryknoll fathers who taught and formed us were "stand up" men of fine moral caliber, common sense, modest piety, gentle virility, and intelligence. Thoroughly American, they were pragmatic rather than theoretical or academic. They had chosen a missionary life but then been chosen, for their intelligence, for graduate studies to form younger men. They were competent in their fields but not enamored of the work; most later returned to their prime vocation, missionary work. Part of the Great or Silent generation, they had about them a certain autonomy and individualism, in the tradition of Ignatius of Loyola and the Jesuits which them resembled in many ways. They imagined themselves in a foreign land, possibly unaccompanied, working in a new culture, in a certain solitude. Think John Wayne in The Searchers, Gary Cooper in High Noon, Gregory Peck in Keys of the Kingdom, or Marlon Brando On the Waterfront. We are dealing with the Quiet Hero, like our fathers who had returned from the War, but didn't talk about it. Emotional availability was not their strength. And so, along with immense affection, gratitude and respect, we consider two limitations.
Emotionally, they did not befriend us. The mood resembled a Prep School, with teachers distant and removed. I noted that later, after college and novitiate, theologian seminarians seemed to be finally accepted in as partners, equals and friends. There were exceptions in our college, Fr. John Bergwall, an extraordinary man who suffered severe multiple sclerosis, was cared for and befriended by a number of our class. Celebrity-Priest-Psychologist-Author (later laicized and married) Eugene Kennedy was an influence on many of us, including those who became psychologists. I was alone, as far as I know, in my visceral distaste for him (even in my most liberal days I was instinctively a culture warrior.) And so, as I look back over the years, I feel a missed opportunity: as 18-22 year old males, we were unconsciously eager for closeness to strong men. We did not get that. I personally was fortunate to be befriended and mentored by our lay librarian, Pat Williams, who wonderfully "elected" me as family friend and protege. That for me was a singular blessing in my early manhood!
Secondly, our priests were devoted to their task but were not intellectuals in the sense of being infatuated with with ideas, theories and argument. They seemed to be largely oblivious to the colossal cultural argument and revolution exploding around us in those years. Therefore, there was go real guidance or protection in the chaos, confusion, and invasion by cultural liberalism. For example, I was myself mesmerized in my last two years by Ivan Illich and his blistering critique of the missionary effort in Latin America as a kind of toxic, cultural imperialism. This was, of course, a direct assault on the very purpose of Maryknoll. He was at the time quite controversial. I do not recall any priest engaging him, affirming what was helpful and identifying what was imbalanced in his argument. We were left to ourselves to sift through the barrage of new ideas, especially from psychology and politics. The result is that most of us succumbed, in varying degrees, to the "Spirit of the Time" and swallowed the cool aid of progressive theology, politics, and therapy-as-salvation. In this, Maryknoll and specifically our instructors were emblematic of an American Church and the Great Generation who had no answer for the Cultural Revolution.
Spirituality
In regard to prayer life, the culture there was at best steady and low key; at worst, monotonous and uninspired. There was energy the first two years around the changes in the Church: informal liturgies and guitar music; ecumenism; spontaneous prayer; attention to Scripture; and other. I remember a traditional custom at the time of walking around the building, after supper, and praying the rosary together in groups of 2 or 3. That is a fond memory! In the last two years however, piety was being diminished by progressivism. The intense intellectual questioning was a distraction from and often an attack upon the simplicity of faith. There were holy, quiet priests; their hallmark was modesty and humility; they were not influential. The life of the intellect was overstimulated; the life of the praying, childlike heart lethargic. I recall no memorable homilies, retreats or conferences. Again typical of the broader American Church, our Maryknoll mentors were practical, active men. Metaphysical depth and rigorous academic scholarship were not hallmarks. Nor did the Irish Catholic background lend itself to evangelical fervor, charismatic enthusiasm, or a steady mysticism of prayer.
Maryknoll in its founding and early days, especially of mission to China, was the epitome of classic Tridentine Catholic piety, sacramental and especially Marian. In the wake of the Council, there was an unfortunate diminishment in such fervor. It was replaced, in quick order, by messianic political activism and salvific therapy.
The seminary became a barren place in regard to prayer, as I recall. Just a few years later, my own spiritual hunger would draw me to a series of flaming spiritual encounters. Nothing of that sort occurred, to my knowledge, during our college years. We graduated in 1969 with a faith diminished in fervor and depth; a loss of the innocent idealism and piety with which we entered in 1965. We were products of our age.
My Class
About 100 of us arrived that September as a very specific self-chosen cohort: we aspired to give our lives, including celibacy-obedience-frugality, in service to the Church and the poor overseas. Obviously, we were all: idealistic, altruistic, prayerful (but not ostentatious about it), confident, risk-friendly, adventurous, internationalist, gregarious, pragmatic, competent, from thriving Catholic families. Together, we received an extraordinary double blessing: first the wholesome, stimulating, protective seminary routine still in place; secondly, together we were to live through and process the most cataclysmically turbulent times one could imagine. We were an entirely homogeneous group: I recall no awareness of class distinction, ethnic/racial tension, or cultural divide. We did have jocks, nerds, and the regular stuff.
But a specific dynamic in our program had great positive effect. We lived in rooms of three or four; but once a quarter we would change roommates. It was assigned, by the administration, and seemed to be random. But we would not repeat roommates and could not choose them. The result was, we got to room with lots of our classmates; and therefore made friendships with almost everyone in the class. This was extraordinary: by senior year, I had roomed with almost everyone or their best friends. This created an overall unity of friendship within the class. Imagine: we are making friends constantly; enjoying a vigorous schedule of study, prayer, work, recreation; and at the same time coping with the greatest Cultural Revolution in human history, all in a safe, wholesome environment, undistracted by romantic/sexual attractions! Although it was the 60s, we had no sex, no drugs, and very little Rock N Roll! DOES IT GET ANY BETTER THAN THAT? Do you see why I loved my college? I'm sorry: nobody had a better college than we did. I don't care about Princeton or Notre Dame! In 65-69, I would always go with Maryknoll College Seminary!
Going into the Future
Were those the best years of my life? No Way Jose! The best was yet to come! My marriage and family; my faith journey with two Jesuits, mystic Joe Whelan and theologian Avery Cardinal Dulles, Cursillo, Charismatic Renewal, the Nuptial Mysticism of Balthasar-JP-Benedict; new and precious friendships; continued theological/cultural study along with catechesis of the young; the actual reality of being friend to the poor, to which we then aspired.
It is striking how much of Maryknoll College resonated in my later life, even secular employment. I supported my family for 30 years in UPS, a company that has been called quasi-martial, but is really more resembling of a Catholic religious order. The brown uniform, obsession with honesty-urgency-integrity-efficiency-partnership, an ethos of service, sympathy for the labor movement, preference for simplicity over privilege-status-ostentation. The founder, Jim Casey, was Irish, a lifetime celibate, who donated billions to the Casey Foundations that honor his mother and serve poor women with children. He seemed to replicate in this corporation the culture of a strict parochial, nun-run school.
I have always been happy and comfortable in retreat houses, rectories, monasteries, friaries. Our residences for women use abandoned convents; and we are aware of emulating the holy women who lived there before us.
I cherish the paradoxical relation of this early period and the remainder of my adult life. I exulted in the freedom, innovation, excitement, serendipity of youthful liberalism in a time of immense creativity and turbulence. Only a few years later I assumed the posture of a conservative cultural militant. And yet, underneath there is a consonance between the two. I have never disallowed my liberal-radical youth, in the manner of a converted communist. Rather, I am the same person with the same Catholic faith.
It was, of course, the world around me that changed, more than myself. That post-Council period of four years was short-lived: the excitement, euphoria, innocence was not to last. By 1970 the progressive cultural left was solidifying: we had Roe, dissent in the Church from the left, and eventually a vicious political polarization at every level.
In college I had remained rooted in Catholicism including its traditional elements: steadiness in liturgy and prayer; the neo-Thomism of Maritain and Gilson; the eccentric, brilliant, maverick mysticism of Illich; the catechetical mentoring by Pat Williams; practice of the acts of mercy by the Catholic Worker, and other.
The more liberal loyalties of my youth also endured into my maturity: concern for the poor, appreciation for theological creativity that is organic and in continuity, passion for small Christian community, political sympathy for labor-solidarity-subsidiarity that refuses still to venerate Ronald Reagan or Donald Trump.
I like to align myself with a theological cohort, older than myself, that advocated for renewal at the Council but then pivoted to confront the attack on Tradition sometime around 1970: Dulles, Neuhaus, Ratzinger, Danielou, DeLubac. Today my hero is Cardinal Mueller, the impressive adversary of the Francis project, who was the chief theologian under Benedict but also friend of Gustavo Gutierrez and liberation theology. In such figures, we find a vital Catholicism that is at once liberal and conservative, in the very best senses.
Conclusion
The exciting era, the wholesome routine, the precious friendships, the fine Maryknoll fathers...this was a distinctive, unrepeatable blessing, a breathtaking convergence of people, place, time. I can never be grateful enough!
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