Two young American Catholic seminarians in 1943, standing in front of the entrance sign to St. Joseph’s Seraphic Seminary in Callicoon, New York, USA. The young man on the left, then 17, is my father, William Moynihan, who died six years ago in 2020 at the age of 93.
He entered the seminary in September 1943, at age 17, and left the seminary two years later, in 1945, at the age of 19, entering the United States Marine Corps, where he remained for four years.
I have wished to understand why my father entered the seminary, and why he left, a decision which in a roundabout way led to my own coming into the world.
This letter continues an attempt to go back to those beginnings.
It is based on my father’s seminary journal from 1943, which my sister recently sent to me.
St Joseph’s Seminary is now permanently closed.
Below, a photo of the seminary, as well as photos of three pages from my father’s journals, containing the pages which recount his second and third days at the seminary, September 9 and 10, 1943…
“It is here now, where I hope, pray and work toward the goal of goals: the Holy Priesthood in the Franciscan Order.” —William T. Moynihan (1926-2020; he was my father), in his journal from September 8, 1943, when he entered the Franciscan seminary in Callicoon, New York, to begin studies for the priesthood
“The glory of God is man alive, but the life of man is the vision of God.” —St. Ireneaus of Lyons, in about 180 A.D. (link)
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Letter #21, 2026, Friday, June 12
Departures
I am sitting in a hot kitchen/dining room beneath a lazily spinning fan, no air conditioning, temperature above 90 degrees Fahrenheit.
Tomorrow I depart for Split in Croatia, to rendezvous with Bishop Athanasius Schneider.
We will then proceed by ferry across the stretch of the Adriatic Sea to the holy island, Badija.
There we will pass a week in retreat, seeking… seeking… seeking to be, and become, more truly conformed to the mind of Christ.
We are old friends, and we will be joined by 33 other pilgrims, from all over the world, to listen to the reflections of the bishop, to celebrate Mass together, to simply “be” together.
It is the other end of the spectrum from the rest of the world.
It is the search for Christ, and for deeper understanding and knowledge of Him, not a search for the coming Antichrist.
For Christ is our light, our life, and our hope. Through Him,
We will stay on the “holy island” of the Franciscan Order, open to every seeker of truth, every pilgrim of prayer, every soul seeking meaning and peace.
We will stay on the holy island, where there is not a single road, only a footpath, and not a single car, only water taxis from nearby Korcčula.
In its silence, in its focus on God, on the Virgin Mother, we may perhaps think of Badija as a kind of “anti-island” to a similar island, larger, more strategic, a couple hundred miles to the south, off the same Adriatic coastline, that the son-in-law of Donald Trump is (evidently) buying, or trying to buy, in order to privatize it — despite the protests of many thousands of Albanians.
On the holy island of Badija, there is only one building, a 630-year-old monastery built by the Franciscans in honor of Our Lady, the Virgin, of Mary, the mother of Jesus, which has stood for these six centuries as a place of prayer, of study, of retreat from the world, and of longing for the divine.
Around the edge of the island is a little path, wide enough for two or three people to walk side-by-side, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, first the two of them, then the two of them with a third.
There, Sunday evening, Bishop Athanasius and I will be walking together, speaking or in silence, awaiting the companionship of the Risen One.
***
So, tomorrow I depart. But as I prepare, I look again at the journal of my father, and his days in a Franciscan monastery in 1943, when he was 17.
And in the pages he penned on September 9 and 10 of that year, he writes, just in a handful of words, about the departure from the seminary after only one day, of his friend, Joseph Kelly, who had traveled with him from Haverhill, Massachusetts, to Boston, to New York, to New Jersey, to Callicoon, New York, with the goal in their hearts of studying for the Catholic priesthood, of becoming “priests of God.”
And already on the second day, one of the two travelers toward God had decided to take a different path, and had left the seminary.
Here is the record of those days.
—RM
The following passage is taken from my father’s diary (the photos of these pages of the diary are above):
By William T. Moynihan (1926-2020)
Wednesday, September 8, 1943
A M D G [“Ad majorem Dei gloriam” = “For the greater glory of God” — but recall, God’s glory is… man alive…]
D M E O [“Deus meus et omnia (mia)“] = “My God and my all”
12 For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood; but (…) against the spirits of wickedness in the high places.
13 Therefore take unto you the armour of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and to stand in all things perfect.
14 Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of justice,
15 And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace.
[Note: These words seem to be written in a different hand from that of my father. I therefore wonder if the words were not written by his high school teacher, Sr. Eucharita, as an encouragement to him on this journey. He always told me that it was she who organized his acceptance into the seminary, and urged him to set out on that path. —RM]
Thursday, September 9, 1943
Today we were woken at 7:00, after a night of conflicting thoughts and emotion. Recalling how Joseph Kelly had delayed in coming off the train to send his bag home. Then the long climb up the steep hill that reminded one of a roller coaster.
My first sight of St. Joseph’s Seraphic Seminary was the statue of St. Joseph with the child Jesus. Then looming out of the drowsy night like its namesake, the venerable St. Joseph, was the seminary, putting its strong and comforting arms around all whose ambitions are so exalted as could only be nested in such a fitting repose.
Love serves.
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Friday, September 10, 1943. St. Joseph’s
Today we woke at 6:30. It was a much better day than yesterday but colder by far. After mass, the Fr. Prefect announced that the regular school year would begin. My first subject at St. Joseph’s was Intermediate Algebra.
On Thursday, I met Father Rayner. I told him about J. Kelly. He said Joe had left. Joseph Kelly was to me a sort of ideal to follow in seminarian life, but I see my judgement was rash and too quickly concluded. I felt that Fr. Rayner came to my rescue knowingly or not by offering his priestly aid on any subject which should bother me. My faith in the Franciscan way was restored and enlarged immensely. Ideals are within, not in people.
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