Fr. Tom Madden, SJ

Recently, I have had several occasions to reflect back on my years in college and graduate school at Loyola University.  I was inspired to reminisce after a chance encounter with an old college friend a week or two ago.  And, even more recently, I travelled to Louisiana to undergo a directed retreat with my old Boss, mentor and friend from Loyola.   There is so much to think about from my college years-- and most of it good.  I studied in New Orleans, and so it goes without saying that it was non-stop fun.  By and large, I enjoyed my classes and my professors very much, except for the Statistics class and the creeper who taught it.  I could have lived my entire life without that particular experience and am relatively certain I wouldn’t be a lesser person today.  Nevertheless, in the end, I proudly took away two diplomas from Loyola.   But, more valuable than sheepskin by far was the opportunity to develop and sustain a relationship with the great man I have come to call my mentor in life:  Fr. Tom Madden.

A mentor is so much more than a teacher or a counselor.  Admittedly, I am not a fan of counselors, but that is based upon a somewhat negative personal experience.  I think it is a valid profession, and accept that counselors have assisted many people who find themselves in trouble; however, I really believe that in any successful mentoring relationship, several things have to be in place--things that may or may not necessarily be inherent in counseling relationships.  Most importantly, at least for me, the conversation has to be Christ-centered.  I think that there needs to be a level of complete trust, which is sometimes difficult to achieve when you’re paying someone to listen to you.  And finally, it helps tremendously if the one listening holds personal interest in and genuine affection for the person he or she is listening to. 

As for teachers, well, I have had plenty of great teachers at Loyola, and I think of them all fondly and with tremendous gratitude.  I was thrilled to see one of my favorites, Fr. Jerry Fagin, this morning at breakfast at the conclusion of my retreat.  He is a fantastic man, a great priest and incomparable in the classroom.  I still cringe about the day when we were acting up in class, forcing him to sternly tell us to quiet down—something that was NOT in his nature.  It was painful—obviously so, because I still feel badly about it and remember it all too clearly.  Something tells me that he isn’t hanging on to that particular memory though.  He seems to have gotten over it.  Back in December, wandering through the halls of Loyola University, I encountered my favorite teacher, with whom I had four classes in Philosophy.  Upon saying hello and re-introducing myself, he had the nerve to blurt out “I don’t remember you.”  I was shattered.  Fine.  See if I invite you to my next graduation party Dr. Herbert.   You spent the whole time ignoring me and talking to Fr. Rowntree anyways.  Dork.

My mentor never forgot me, and that’s because the relationship wasn’t one-sided.  I am in no way suggesting that I ever taught the Boss anything.  In fact, that’s laughable.  That’s VERY laughable.  (Wow, I’m still laughing.)  But for some reason that I was never able to fathom, I knew without question that Fr. Tom genuinely liked me, and, more importantly, genuinely cared about me.  Maybe he saw something redeemable in me, who knows?  I am not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.   I never felt that the time he spent with me was obligatory on his part.  I knew, intuitively, that he was happy to talk to me about whatever seemingly great (and usually pathetically small) problem was troubling me.  And, unless he is just a really good actor, I am still certain of his friendship to this day, and am grateful beyond all proportion.  I do not question why I am fortunate to be a party in this relationship.  I take it as a sign that I must be somewhat special to have earned the affection of such a great man.  It is one of the best things in my life.

There are few people in my sphere that can get away with saying some of the things that Fr. Tom has said to me.  I will take it only from him because I know two things:  1) He always has my best interest at heart and 2) He’s almost always right.  Damn.  That can be rather annoying.  A word to my friends:  don’t try it.  Don’t ever try it.  You are NOT Fr. Madden.

The Boss is everything you would want in a mentor.  Sagacious, kind and gentle, but firm enough to be willing to give you a good kick in the seat of your pants when he sees that you need it.  But most of all, what draws me to him, and what drew all of my friends to him as well, is, quite simply, his goodness.  Fr. Madden was, for many of us, a compass of morality and the barometer of what was right, true and just.  I joked with him recently that the phrase “What would Fr. Madden say?” was uttered so often after our transgressions that it was a mantra.   More importantly, it preceded the “What Would Jesus Do” fad by years. We should have marketed it and made bracelets.   Disappointing the Boss was just about the worst thing anyone could envision doing.  My favorite such story, which illustrates this very point, occurred one evening in the French Quarter, when I was an undergraduate.  I was out with a group of friends, and, at about 2:00am, someone suggested the very un-Fr. Madden like idea of entering into one of those seedy, vile places that were quite prevalent in the Quarter.  I instantly balked at the suggestion, because it seemed to go against everything I had been taught about right and wrong.  My friends were very persistent, and one asked me if I wasn’t curious about going inside.  My response went something like this:  “Of course I’m curious, but what if Fr. Madden sees me coming out of here.”  And the reply from one of my brighter friends:  “What would Fr. Madden be doing in the French Quarter at 2 in the morning?”  I saw her point.  We went in, and I remember being somewhat repulsed by the experience and relieved when we exited.  God punished us because when we left to go find the car to return home, it had been stolen.  For the record, Fr. Madden wasn’t in the Quarter at 2:00am. 

It is difficult, or perhaps, impossible to envision how our lives would be different had we chosen other paths or never met certain people.  I cannot say for sure how my life would be altered had I not had the opportunity to know Fr. Madden.  When I think of what I have learned from him, and then I mentally remove those things from my psyche, I'm slightly frightened at the thought of what I would be lacking.

What I have learned from the Boss isn’t at all complicated.  It is, however, incredibly difficult to master.  And this is why I claim him as my mentor—because he has mastered it, and I want, more than anything, to be like him (sans the SJ after my name), and to maybe, once in my life, be able to impact the life of some young person as he has impacted mine.  And it basically boils down to this:  quietly and humbly live out what you believe without being overly demonstrative.  Speak the truth, especially when a person needs to hear it; and if it’s a very difficult thing to say, do so kindly and with love.  Treat everyone as Christ would.  Be kind, be gentle.  Be sincere and honest and wise.  Pray.  Pray a lot.  Make Christ the absolute center of your life.  Never utter a harsh word.  Strive to be saintly, not sanctimonious.  Never be embroiled in scandal.  Go where God leads you, even if, maybe, it’s not what you might want. Take time with the people who need you and teach them by word, or example, or both, what it is they need to know.  Be congenial, make jokes and laugh when something is funny.  Be compassionate.  Be mature.  ESPECIALLY be mature.  Defend what is good and what is right.  Always take responsibility for your actions.  Don't make excuses.  And, most importantly, when someone does something wrong, give them the “you just disappointed Fr. Madden” look, and then…nothing further need be done.  Point made.

I suspect, perhaps, that Fr. Tom might be a bit put out with me for writing something akin to a panegyric, because, in the end, he seems to exude humility.  But I am reminded of a conversation with a college friend of mine, Steven, years ago, when we were talking about something entirely different.  His words to me were something like "For crying out loud, what is this world coming to when you can't tell people how you feel about them?"  Nothing earth shattering or especially revelatory, but those words stuck with me.  At the end of the day, I think it's important, not only for the person expressing those sentiments to do so openly and honestly; but also for the recipients of those words, in order for them to be aware of how they have affected others in the most positive ways as they go about their lives and ministries.  There is, in this world, far too much negativity and it is way to easy to get caught up in an inimical vortex; and, sadly, we become all too used to speaking and thinking that way.  So, thanks for everything, Boss.  You’re a star.   Your life has clearly been lived AMDG and you will always hold a most special place in my heart.