Brother Ambrose (John) McCarthy (1905-1935)

Killed in An Automobile Accident*

From the writings of Brother Ernest Ryan, CSC.

Brother Ambrose died on All Souls Day, November 2, just a few months after being appointed manager of the Association of Saint Joseph. Thirty-one years of age he had pronounced his final vows on August 16 after having given every evidence of a most successful religious life.  He possessed a keen, well-disciplined mind, able to brush away every interference with the business at hand, and he inspired confidence and respect.

His body lay in the Postulate Chapel overnight before removal to Notre Dame for burial in the Community Cemetery.  Postulants watched, a group being relieved each hour; and all, perhaps, learning more during their vigil than they will from any other experience of the Postulate days.  Death had struck swiftly; they had seen Brother at Night Prayer and in the morning were told of his death.  “Let us be convinced,” said Father Dever’s (John A), beginning a Mass of the repose of Brother’s soul, “of the absolute certainty of death.”

But the impact of even sudden death is softened in the religious life. Brother Ambrose attended Mass and received Holy Communion every day of the short five years he had as a Brother. Every day, too, he had prayed at least three hours in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament; every week he had made the Way of the Cross and a Holy Hour; every summer he had made an eight-day retreat.  And shortly before his death he had attended the 40 hours at the College.  God gave him five years of preparation; thousands each year do not receive five minutes.  Death to the good religious is the crowning experience of life.

*Brother Ambrose met death in an auto accident on the Milwaukee Highway east of Watertown, Wisconsin.  Before coming to Watertown, he was stationed at Holy Cross College, New Orleans, Louisiana. His religious name was changed in 1934 from Sulpicius to Ambrose.

My grandmother was quite possibly the most intuitive person I have ever known: without measuring, she could consistently add the exact right amount of pasta to a pot of boiling water; her refrigerator was a collection of dozens of differently-shaped containers of delicious foods that fit just right among the various shelves and drawers; she always had the right thing to say; she always knew the right time to act.  In a world that is obsessed with an intellectual and technical version of things, she revealed to me that there is a deeper and truer way to live.  Her intuition, however, was not just a personality trait, but rather a faculty of her soul that developed over time through practices like attendance at daily Mass, regular recitation of the rosary, and prayerful reflection.  Indeed, this process of removing all of the specks of dust opens up in us a knowledge that is so pure and so good that we will never rely on our exalted discursive mode of thinking again. We can especially trust this intuition if we, like my grandmother, have taken up the interior cross as the purifying agent that refines our thinking and allows resurrected light to shine forth on the other side. Let us therefore take a risk on these depths and become grandmothers in our own right, as we build up the human family with our love. Ave Crux, Spes Unica!

Sister M. Claudine (Marie) Lederle, CSC (1882-1918)

First CSC Member to die from Spanish Influenza

Marie Lederle was born in Endignen, Germany. She entered the Congregation of the Sisters of the Holy Cross from Germany in 1905, receiving the Holy Habit on January 12 and the religious name of Sister Mary Claudine.  Her first profession was on December 8, 1907 and final profession on August 15, 1911.  All these ceremonies took place at Saint Mary’s, Notre Dame, Indiana.  Sister’s ministry was at Holy Cross Convent, Notre Dame, Indiana from 1906 to 1918.  She served in the laundry and helped with the fluting of the big cap–the headdress of the Sisters of the Holy Cross.   She also helped in the kitchen and in the Student Infirmary.  

In October of 1918 she was nursing a young Minim, Bob Corrigan, who died from pneumonia on October 13.  In a letter printed in The Notre Dame Scholastic, vol. LII, no. 3, October 26, 1918, Notre Dame President Rev. John W. Cavanaugh’s words are preceded by the editorial statement that “The following letter of the President of Notre Dame University ought to check any wild rumors about sickness at the University.”  Father Cavanaugh writes: “Altogether there are now fifty boys ill enough to require any kind of nursing. These are distributed as follows: The University Isolation Hospital (SATC) 25; The College Infirmary 16; The Minims 1; [and in] St. Joseph’s Hospital 8.  At the present time there are just three very sick boys.  They have pneumonia.  All others are in a very satisfactory condition, and there is no cause for special worry.  In general, we have very little of the presence of the so-called Spanish Influenza.  I make this statement so as to prevent ignorant and malicious people from frightening the public needlessly and, also, to clip the wings of sensation mongers.  I believe that the happy conditions existing at Notre Dame are due to the tireless labors and intelligent care of the Sisters of the Holy Cross.”  The following obituary was published in The Notre Dame Scholastic, vol. LII, no. 4, November 2, 1918.  “There was general sorrow and regret at Notre Dame on Sunday October 20, at the news of the death of Sister M. Claudine, the gentle and unselfish nurse who for several years past had ministered to the students in the college infirmary.  Sister Claudine contracted pneumonia which caused her death, in caring for the sick students.  She will be prayerfully remembered by the faculty and students of the University.” Sister Claudine died seven days after Bobby Corrigan. And, finally, in 1919, Father Cavanagh wrote to theologian Francisco Marín-Sola that “we have gone through serious experiences since my last letter to you.  The influenza was almost the death of all human joy.” 

As living beings with hands and feet, our biology informs our anthropology – we are built precisely for journeying to a destination and being of service to others along the way. Human experience nevertheless shows that we are wayward people whose feet sometimes take us to places that are dead-ends or simply cause us to get stuck in life, while our hands can often be tricked into falling into greedy and selfish patterns.  The transparency of the Cross can be a great reminder of our true human identity and motivation for us to change our habits.  The very hands that anointed and healed are spread wide and exposed for all to see.  The same feet that made those daring steps to Jerusalem, the city of destiny, are nailed in place and put on display. Being conformed to Christ means going through that long process of purification whereby we learn to let go of all of those things in our hands which prevent us from reaching out to others, and to discern being on a pilgrimage from mere wanderlust of the feet. We shall indeed one day put out our hands in trust (cf. Jn 21:18) and run the way of the Father’s commands (cf. Ps 119:32).  Ave Crux, Spes Unica!

Father Jerome Lawyer, C.S.C. (1912-2006)

P.O.W. World War II

Jerry Lawyer was born in 1912 in Dayton, OH and entered Holy Cross in 1930 making perpetual profession in 1934 and being ordained in 1939 following studies at the University of Notre Dame and the Foreign Mission Seminary in Washington, DC.  Following ordination, he pursued Arabic and Islamic studies at Catholic University in Washington in preparation for missionary work in East Pakistan (today Bangladesh).

In 1941 he set sail from San Francisco for East Pakistan with a group of 18 CSC priests, brothers and sisters on board the USS President Grant.  On December 4, the ship arrived in Manila in the Philippines and all passengers were ordered to disembark.  World War II had begun and the ship took off to avoid enemy submarines leaving all the passengers behind. 

Eventually, the Japanese captured Manila and all Americans were marched off to a prison camp in Los Baňos.  Until liberation in 1945, all the American CSCs suffered physical abuse and starvation.  For two years he and Father Bob McKee were kept busy organizing basketball games for young men and boys to keep them off the streets.  When liberated by the US forces in 1945, Lawyer recalled “Soldiers entered our barracks, glanced at our flimsy shelters, threw packages of cigarettes on our beds, told us to grab our valuables, not a lot of books or clothing, and to assemble on an open field near the camp main gate where amtraks were waiting for us. We were told to walk fast as the troops set fire to our barracks.  Brother Rex raced along while Father Julien, a Canadian Holy Cross priest, who had opened a can of hidden corned beef, began feeding it to Brother Theodore who was very thin and weak.  I asked a soldier, ‘Why the rush? You captured the place.’ He told me that there was a battalion of Japanese in a quarry nearby who would reach us quickly. I was being separated from the brothers and Fr. McKee so I told them I would tie a red bandana around my head so I could be identified once we reached our destination.”

Once back in the States and recuperated, Father Lawyer was assigned to assist Father Patrick Peyton in the Family Rosary Office in Albany, NY, and in 1950 he was named the Director of the Family Theater in Hollywood, CA.  During this time, he designed 15 half-hour films on the Mysteries of the Rosary and went to Madrid for eight years to oversee their production. They were exhibited in the World’s Fair in Belgium, and for this project he received the Bene Merenti award from Pope Pius XII.

Back in the States he served as assistant provincial to Father Robert Sullivan from 1964-1969 and then was assigned to Christ the King Parish in the South Bronx where he worked for 17 years in a largely Black and Hispanic community.  These were some of his happiest years as a priest.  In 1986 declining health forced his retirement. He went to Florida for one year and then back to New York until 1998. Returning to Notre Dame, he lived in Holy Cross House until his death.  Prior to his death, in 2003, he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Stonehill College in recognition for his contribution to the Church and Holy Cross.

The Newsletter for this new month for Holy Cross Educators!

Butterflies blossom forth from the soul that is close to the living God.  This act of worship – the essence of our eternal life – nevertheless can only ever be the result of a slow and long process of dying to self where that ugly caterpillar spins its own deathbed.  Enveloping its entire being, the cocoon indeed is a self-emptying project which demands the worm’s entire energy, effort and focus.  Only when all things have been consumed in this single-minded undertaking, is the death final enough for some new and unexpected life to begin.  Though we are built for a butterflied way of being, how easy it is to not complete the cocooning process!  There are relationships we simply care not to examine, certain habits we never allow ourselves to be conscious of, and attachments that we cannot bear the thought of relinquishing.  Yet, the message is unambiguous, the tomb that lets in even the slightest amount of light will spoil the brilliant colors and the glorious emergence of the new creature.  Let’s therefore not be afraid to go all the way and ensure that everything is covered in silk.  Then, out of this dark and narrow place, that same everything shall taste life for the first time.  Ave Crux, Spes Unica!

BROTHER THEODORE (DAVID) KAPES, C.S.C. (1901-1995)

P.O.W. WORLD WAR II

Brother Theodore was born in Pennsylvania and at the age of 16 convinced his family that he wanted to join the Holy Cross Brothers.  He entered the Congregation in 1924 and taught one year in the States after which he was assigned to Bengal where he taught at St. Gregory High School in Dhaka (Dacca) for ten years.  He was a missionary’s missionary: master of all things Bengali.  In 1945 he wrote “Memories of Bengal – 1930-1940” and in the Preface he states that “The following collection of incidents, experiences, letters and articles was written in Bengal, India, and they were originally published in The Bengalese.  The Diocese embraces a vast territory, including diverse races, tribes, languages and dialects.”  The Table of Contents includes 51 entries with articles on everything from jungle trails, monsoon days, “Missionaries are Human,” snakes, Indian music, Bengal’s pagan noises and “The Missionary with His Camera.” 

In 1940 he came back to the States for a year of study, and then while heading back to Bengal in 1941 was one of the nineteen CSCs who were interred for four years by the Japanese in Manila.  Brother Rex Hennel, one of the missionaries, recalled that in December of 1941, just a month before the formal internment, “Brother Theodore was going along his merry way, making history for all of us. Teddy had obtained a movie camera before we had left on our journey, and he wanted pictures of everything.  It so happened that while we were in Manila, he decided to take some pictures of the boat on which we were traveling.  That would have been fine, except that the spot he chose to take the pictures was just below a large sign reading Taking pictures in this area is absolutely forbidden. Teddy got the pictures, but the police got him.  How Teddy got away with keeping his camera, we do not know.  He would not talk about the matter.  But he was arrested and did lose the precious pictures he was taking.”

After a year of recuperation upon returning to the States, he went back to Bengal (Bangladesh) for another eight years, and then back to the States for a 34-year assignment at the Ave Maria Press.  In 1990 he retired to Columba Hall where he was noted for his continuous work ethic.  Not being able to work disturbed him.  Gardening was his favorite pastime. He would shuffle around the house or grounds singing to himself or whistling.  Although he was very hard of hearing, he always managed to know exactly what was going on. This inveterate missionary was always soliciting money for the missions, collecting stamps to be sold for mission funds, and gathering many things (some not his to give away) to send to the missions.  Toward the end of his 94-years he looked very frail as he pushed a wheeled cart around the grounds picking up twigs, but he had the strength of heart to outlast a man 50 years younger.

Hallelujah!  O death, where is thy sting?  Hallelujah!  Why do you seek the living among the dead?  Hallelujah!  I have seen the Lord!  Hallelujah!  Horse and chariot he has cast into the sea!  Hallelujah!  Their eyes were opened at the breaking of the bread!  Hallelujah!  Now have salvation and power come!  Hallelujah!  My Lord and my God!  Hallelujah!  I have been crucified with Christ!  Hallelujah!  Even if I walk in the dark valley, I shall not fear!  Hallelujah!  The wedding feast of the lamb has begun!  Hallelujah!  The Lord is my light and my salvation!  Hallelujah!  This is the night!  Hallelujah!  Peace be with you!  Hallelujah!  Do not be afraid!  Hallelujah!  He is not here!  Hallelujah!  He has risen just as he said he would!  Hallelujah!  Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, his love endures forever!  Hallelujah!  In the twinkling of an eye!  Hallelujah!  Who can separate us from the love of God!  Hallelujah!  Every knee shall bend and every tongue confess!  Hallelujah!  He has been raised from the dead!  Hallelujah!  Jesus, remember me!  Hallelujah!  Love is patient!  Hallelujah!  The Lord is my shepherd!  Hallelujah!  I am the resurrection and the life!  Hallelujah!  Ave Crux, Spes Unica!  Hallelujah!

The spiritual life is no joke! Let the grace rain down all month long!

(The entire Moreau Daily Reader can be found at the bottom of the Blessed Basil Moreau tab with even some voice recordings!)