Echoes from the Bell Tower

The remembrance for Fr. Louis Mulcahy, OSB, given by Fr. Tobias Colgan, OSB, at the Office of the Dead on August 27.

A few moments ago, Fr. Joseph read for us several verses from Psalm 118. Many of the lines of this psalm have special resonance with the life of our dear confrere Fr. Louis. Studious by nature, and an avid reader and researcher, Fr. Louis could relate to many verses of this psalm. “Lord, how I love your law! It is ever in my mind.” “I have more insight than all who teach me for I ponder your law.” “Your promise is sweeter to my taste than honey in the mouth.” And finally, “I gain understanding from your precepts and so I hate false ways.” Words and phrases like these—Ever in my mind. Insight. Pondering. The sweetness of God’s promise. Gaining understanding—all these help us to understand better the essence of who Fr. Louis was.

First and foremost, Fr. Louis was a gentleman. He carried with him a positive attitude and an enthusiasm for life. As best I can recall, I never heard him speak a cross word. A voracious reader himself—and a constant recommender of books and articles for others to read—his opening of many conversations went something like this: “How are you doing?” And after you answered, he would often follow with this: “What are you reading these days?” As curious as he himself was, he was also very interested in what others were reading, pondering, and thinking.

In the same vein, Fr. Louis was always on the lookout for stories. Not just stories for their own sake, mind you, but stories that he could incorporate into his homilies. If memory serves, I believe that every homily I ever heard him give was built around a story that helped him to make his point. And, because he read so widely, there were always myriad stories available to him for all occasions.

Despite his age—he was already 56 when he first arrived here—Fr. Louis was always very forward-looking in his views. A progressive in the truest sense of the word, he was a strong advocate for the role of women in the Church. His ministry as confessor for the Carmelite nuns in Terre Haute—and especially his 20+ years as a commuting chaplain for the Benedictine sisters in Ferdinand—both of these ministries allowed him to show in a very tangible way his appreciation for all the contributions made over the centuries by religious women.

And a little personal footnote to Fr. Louis’ service at Ferdinand: Those of us who, over the years, have also served as commuting chaplains at Ferdinand have always known that, hands down, Fr. Louis was the sisters’ favorite! And nothing we could do would ever change that! Nor did we want to!

Fr. Louis was a man of many interests, and at some point, he took up the practice of calligraphy. A great friend and admirer of Fr. Eric, Fr. Louis not only championed Fr. Eric’s calligraphy, but also couldn’t resist giving it a try himself.

Fr. Louis was full of ideas but, being a strong N on the Myers-Briggs, he was not always the most practical thinker. He almost always saw multiple possibilities and frequently shared his ideas with the superiors. I remember the many times he would come into the prior’s office with a burning question or idea—and start the conversation in mid-paragraph. He would start by saying something like, “You know that man, well, I think …” I would have to stop him and say, “Fr. Louis, could you please start from the beginning?” Those encounters showed both how fast his mind worked and how much he cared about the good order of the community and our apostolates.

A devoted man of community, Fr. Louis was so until the very end. Over the past number of years, while living in the infirmary, he walked over to the morning coffee break pushing his wheelchair. Even though he was profoundly deaf and had diminished eyesight, he wanted to be part of the fraternity provided by the coffee break—populated mostly by the most senior members of the community. And he loved sweets, so that was always another draw for him!

For years, he had tucked under the cushion of his wheelchair the photo of himself in his Navy uniform, which was taken when he was in his late teens. Genuinely humble as he was, he still delighted in showing that photo and hearing people comment on his striking good looks when he was a young man.

Even though his eyesight had dimmed, he—who prided himself on being well dressed and groomed—could always spot a shirt or a jacket or a pair of trousers that someone else was wearing, and that he suddenly coveted—and, in a number of cases, negotiated for—and received!

Benefactors who knew and befriended Fr. Louis occasionally sent him gift certificates to this or that restaurant. Apart from a really stylish article of clothing, these were probably his favorite things to receive. He eagerly looked forward to the occasional doctor’s visit that would allow him to make use of one of these certificates for a nice lunch.

One more thing: Fr. Louis’ coffee cup—the one he used every day at coffee break—depicts a group of monks, following their abbot, all helping to carry what looks like a piece of furniture. Working together, moving in the same direction, following the lead of the abbot—all of these traits were present in the life of Fr. Louis.

Now that he has crossed the threshold into eternal life, I can imagine him receiving greetings such as these:

• From the Blessed Mother: “Thank you, Fr. Louis, for all your efforts on behalf of women, honoring them and building them up.”

• From the Holy Spirit: “Thank you, Fr. Louis, for being so open to my promptings in so many diverse ways.”

• From Jesus, the Son of God: “Thank you, Fr. Louis, for being a disciple who was so focused and creative in preaching me and my Word.”

• From God the Father: “Thank you, my dear son, for being so true to the person I created you to be!”

• And from all four together: “Come now, beloved son, and enter the place that has been prepared for you!”

Rest well, dear friend. You have earned it. And be sure of this: you will look very stylish in your gleaming white robe!

Fr. Louis died on August 24. He was 97, in the 43rd year of his monastic profession and the 36th year of priesthood. Read the obituary here .