Beth Salerno

Connections

April 16, 2008 Author: Beth Salerno

The following is a true story.  I have only made up some of the facts.

On a late afternoon in 1950, a Benedictine army chaplain stepped off a train in Seoul, South Korea. Or maybe he stepped off the train months before and was working in an army camp.  Four other men stepped off the train, into the army camp.  Perhaps they were wearing black robes with hoods, perhaps not.  They were Benedictines just the same.  The army chaplain asked from where they had come.  “North Korea” they answered, “we have been thrown out.  We were the lucky brothers.  All the fathers were killed.”

The army chaplain called the bishop who called an abbot who called a meeting.  In two years a new monastery was created for these North Korean monks.  They thought they would soon head back.  New monks vowed stability to a place they had never seen.  They still have not been back.  After 50 years, they celebrated what they had accomplished - six dependent houses, 3 retreat centers, 5 hospitals, 30 churches, 2 high schools, 2 middle schools, a retirement village, more than 150 monks, artisan workshops for gold, stained glass and wood, and a major Catholic press. 

But they had not forgotten that chaplain.  In preparation for their celebration, a few monks and nuns came to the U.S. to visit him. They told him he was remembered as an honored founder.  His confreres were shocked.  They had long assumed those good, old stories, so well-told and funny, could not possibly be true!

The chaplain became Abbot Gerald McCarthy of Saint Anselm Abbey.  He died just after those Benedictines visited and vindicated his stories.  I arrived at Saint Anselm College later that fall, but I did not hear the stories until seven years later.   

On a late afternoon in 2008, a teacher stepped off a train in Waegwan, South Korea.  She was met by a man in blue jeans, but he was Benedictine just the same.   She was chasing stories.  I’ll post more of them soon.

Entry Filed under: Saint Anselm College, religion, History