Part 3
By Father J. Scott Duarte, J. C.D., Postulator
Published in the Alumni Magazine
of the
Pontifical North American College, Fall 2002
Frank J. Parater, Seminarian of the North American College class of 1925, has been declared a Servant of God. Two previous articles have covered aspects of his early life and his death. This final article explores his life at Belmont Abbey College and Seminary in North Carolina, relates some aspects of his rule of life and writings, and recounts some of his experiences in Rome.
Frank Parater began studies at Belmont Abbey Seminary College in the fall
of 1916. He had been deeply influenced spiritually and academically by
his parochial school, where he engaged in the nascent Scouting movement,
athletics, and debate, and graduated valedictorian of his class. Frank
became an exemplary seminarian, leading a devout life and striving by
every possible means, as he recorded in his journal, to become a pure and
worthy priest, a true alter Christus. He sustained this admirable
tenor of life until the very day of his death, less than four short years
later.
Life at Belmont Abbey suited Frank well, immersing him in the public liturgy of the Church, Holy Mass, and the Liturgy of the Hours. His letters reveal an enthusiastic and bright young man who enjoyed hiking, cooking out, and savoring the great outdoors with fellow seminarians and often some of the Abbey's monks. Frank frequently swam in the Catawba River, against the current, in order to increase his strength and swimming ability. One day this strong current overpowered another student and Frank had to dive to the bottom of the river, haul the grateful lad ashore, and resuscitate him. His true aspiration, however, lay in the resuscitation of souls. Inspired by the pioneering Benedictine Monks, who founded the Abbey against great odds and who eventually won the affection of the non-Catholic people of North Carolina, Frank joined a special program to educate black children in the area. During the summers, he was active in the wartime activities for youth run by the Knights of Columbus and twice helped coordinate summer camps for the Boy Scouts of America. Indeed, Scout leaders noticed Frank's virtue and ideals and appointed him Camp Director, well ahead of his peers and even his seniors. Most importantly, however, it was at the Belmont Abbey College that Frank decided to study for the diocesan priesthood because he saw the great need for priestly ministry in his native Virginia. His writings reveal his intense desire to share his faith. In the last journal entry of 1918, he writes that:
Saints were not made overnight: they were not born saints; they were of the earth earthy; they had all our frailties of the flesh; they had the same temptations as me. If they were saints, why can't we be saints? The same God is in Heaven. The same Church is on earth. We have the same weapons - prayer, mortification and the sacraments. And yet, oh my God, how much do we differ from the saints. Born in a luxurious age, we ever seek more and more ease; we shun hardship; we scorn virtue; we pamper our senses; we even slap our backs in pride, when we only commit venial sins. Good Heavens, and we are to some day be their co-dwellers in eternal bliss. Cor Jesu, Miserere Nobis.
(Journal, December 17, 1918)
During this time Frank imposed on himself a rule of life, composed of practices that he had followed since his youth: daily Mass and Holy Communion, praying the rosary and Memorare daily, weekly confession, reading a chapter of Scripture daily, and living with the abiding conviction that "the Sacred Heart never fails those that love Him." His philosophy of life is compelling and virile:
Be a man and then you'll be a good priest. Don't be petty; be large minded. Don't be a bluffer; no man can keep from having his bluff called. Don't boast; an egotist is the worst boast; cultivate humility. 'Learn of me for I am meek and humble of heart.' Be frank, but not critical. A word of praise does more good than a sermon on fault finding. Be gentle - 'a gentleman never inflicts pain.' Love the poor…Remember all mean are humans and let your charity be unbounded: but be strict with yourself (not scrupulous) remembering that some day God will judge every action of your life as a merciful Judge. The sunny smile with hearty handshake is the foundation stone of a successful life. (Rule, 1918)
More than anything, Frank desired to fulfill the will of God in his life. The following entry to his mother was written within the year of his death.
Pray hard for your boy. The path God has destined me to walk glistens before me like the shimmering path of moonbeams on the water. But how many pitfalls, briars, and thorns have been hidden along that way. Beg God to give me the grace of one thing - 'to do His will perfectly.' That alone is enough. However hard the cross may be, however rough the way, I know it is God's will and I shall have grace to persevere until the end. 'Thy Will be done,' beg the Cor Jesu to give me the grace to make it my motto, the standard of my life. And then whether I die within the year or live to a ripe old age, I shall die happily and willingly, praising the Lord.
(Letter to Mother, February 11, 1919)
That fall, Bishop Denis J. O'Connell, Bishop of Richmond and former Rector of the North American College, sent Frank to study theology in Rome. He arrived in Plymouth after a month's delay in New York and a long voyage aboard H.M.S. Saxonia, and then sailed to Harve where he disembarked and began the lengthy overland journey to Rome, traveling and staying in third-class accommodations. Upon his arrival at the Pontifical North American College on Via dell'Umilta on November 27, Frank was warmly received by the seminarians and student-priests, who together numbered fifty-nine. Before the "Great War," there had been 150 students at the College, but it had plummeted to thirty-two by 1918. When our young seminarian arrived in 1919, the number was climbing again, and in fact over half the students were "New Men," recently arrived in Rome.
Frank was popular among his peers, displayed a warm and cheerful sense of humor to all, and continued to deepen his spiritual life. His letters from Rome give a glimpse into the life and customs of seminarians at that time. He was awestruck at being in the Holy Father's private chapel for Mass and receiving Holy Communion from the Pope's own hand, an extraordinary privilege still known by seminarians today. He recounts taking in the Vatican art galleries, visiting Roman churches, and climbing the dome of Saint Peter's Basilica to enjoy the lofty panorama of Rome. After a month in the Eternal City, Frank relates that "we new men find some things rather hard…but there are so many advantages that compensate for anything we may have to endure." Among these hardships was the bitter cold in poorly insulated buildings. "It is no joke about the cold here. This whole building is always cold as ice. I almost always keep my overcoat on."
(Letter to Mother and Sisters, November 26, 1919)
Eight decades later, other comments also still ring true. Frank was bemused, for instance, by the frequent and short-lived Roman strikes, but was ceaselessly impressed by the spiritual treasures of Rome. After visiting the Shire of St. Stanislaus Kostka, Frank relates that "I cannot describe the feeling that came over me, when I knelt beside his tomb, and later kissed the floor in the room in which he died. It is a beautiful little church and I was very sorry to leave it."
(Letter to Mother and Sisters, November 26, 1919)
He served for a Cardinal celebrating Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament at the Church of San Andrea della Valle, attended the Novena of the Immaculate Conception at the Church of the Twelve Apostles, the parish church of the College, and met the College's Cardinal-Protector. After the ceremony, he remembered with amusement, "one little Italian altar server told a big tall American seminarian that he only wanted to be a cardinal when he grew up, not Pope!" Rome began to grow on Frank. He admitted in a letter to his sister, "As I become more acclimated I love the place more and more; it is the perfect life for a student."
Frank threw himself into his course of studies at Propaganda Fidei, expressively describing the brilliant array of cultures he found there:
All races and nations are represented, all are studying for only one thing, to be the instrument of God in the salvation of the world. They are from all corners of the globe, some poor, some rich, some bright and learned, some dull. Some will return as missionaries to China and India, perhaps suffer martyrdom and in time be canonized saints: others will return to their countries as professors in seminaries and universities; some will be authors using their pen to spread God's kingdom here below; others will in time become bishops - perhaps cardinals - in all portions of the world; some will return to Rome as rectors or professors in colleges - but most of us will be only simple, devout, and humble priests laboring in some portion of the Lord's vineyard, unknown by the world beyond their parish, but happy, contented and loving and thanking God, and loved in return by the lambs confided to his care. Beg God that I may always belong to the last class; they are the real fruits of God.
(Letter to Mother and Sisters, December 20, 1919)
In one letter, Frank describes a ritual then celebrated at the College on Epiphany, when he received the bean in the cake served for dessert and thereby was proclaimed "king" for the evening. He presided over much fun and music, but prior to it each New Man received a present. Frank recounts that "one received a miniature broom to keep his room clean, another a tiny Ford to remind him of the one he had left home; and so on, each present some joke on the man receiving it. Mine was a toy soldier or scout - I am the scout here. Each present was received with uproarious laughter and applause."
(Letter to Mother and Sisters, January 8, 1920)
Frank summed up his experience as a seminarian at the Pontifical North American College with these words:
Every day here brings a new joy, a new delight, a grander inspiration. Time has begun to fly now that I am getting down to work, and I am anxious to use every moment for my great purpose, that when the five years are up, I may look back and say - 'I have done my best. Should God grant me to relive those years I would do exactly as I have done.'
(Letter to Mother and Sisters, January 8, 1920)
In his last letter home, on the very day that his illness began, he described a Nativity scene that he passed on the way to his room, and how he enjoyed stopping to pray at it. He expressed his hope that his mother would recover from her illness so that she might see him ordained a priest. He asked that the addresses of some friends be sent to him.
Little did he know that, within days, God would accept his sacrificial offering of his own life. After his death, the Rector asked another student, Frank Byrne, to search for Frank's home address. Byrne found among Frank's private belongings the Act of Oblation to the Sacred Heart of Jesus which Frank had sealed and marked to be read only in the event of his death. In it, Frank expressed his motivation to make this courageous offering of his life.
I have nothing to leave or to give but my life and this I have consecrated to the Sacred Heart to be used as He wills. I have offered my all for the conversion of non-Catholics in Virginia. This is what I live for and in case of death what I die for…Since my childhood, I have wanted to die for God and my neighbor. Shall I have this grace? I do not know, but if I go on living, I shall live for this same purpose; every action of my life here is offered to God for the spread and success of the Catholic Church in Virginia…I shall be of more service to my diocese in Heaven than I can ever be on earth.
(Last Will, December 1919)