Eulogy for Brother Alban Herberger

2006-09-29T19:12:00.000-07:00

It seems as if a chapter in the Abbey is closing with the death of Br. Alban, as if an era has just passed. His chair at the front desk or his presence at the head of the table in the infirmary seemed such a permanent fixture in the monastery that it seemed to be part of our identity. He communicated the feeling of "The Man Who Got Even With God", Raymond's book, that drew so many of us to the monastic life. As a young man he worked the farm in Cleveland, had a dream as a youngster and followed through with it at the age of fifteen. The following words that he expressed in a letter to Dom James when he sought entrance to the monastery at the close of his sophomore year in high school, were a surprise, considering they are from a fifteen year old, especially this fifteen year old. He wrote: "I am willing to try to give up this earthly world and its pleasures which I think can be said 'the world and its occasions of sin'. Before my retreat I thought that if God meant for a person to become a Trappist that the prayer and labor have to be easy for the person but I have found out different. I figured out that (these things) are difficult for everybody and if the labor and prayer were easy that there would not be much reason for me entering! Because there is no reason for the Trappist unless they did work hard and pray much and it is hard for them." Surprising words for a fifteen year old. He said he had been thinking of the religious life for two years and his words were backed up by the Sisters who sent in references, saying he was a faithful altar boy. It's the background of a life that was full of surprises for a young man who wanted to dedicate his life to God. A man who retained all the enthusiasm of youth throughout his life including his love for sports. Notre Dame will be missing a faithful devotee. Jerry Faust, a former coach of Notre Dame, once phoned him before a game asking for prayers. Somehow he knew the scores of a night game before Vigil at 3 am during his years of illness, and could fill in the rankings during the basketball tournaments. The radio at the side of his bed kept him current. His enthusiasm for life never waned.

He was a symbol of a Gethsemani era of the past, whether the stories came from him or were about him, somehow when you heard of Alban's exploits, you were hearing the story of another side of Gethsemani, part of the lore that will go down in history. His work career in the house chronicled a former period: driving a bull dozer at the age of 17; working the farm at 19; farm manager at 25 in a period when there were more than two hundred monks within the walls; took over as herdsman at 35 and construction six years later. They were colorful years in the monastic enclosure of Gethsemani, years of penance and yet of joy. He was a lay brother, committed to work but also familiar with all the neighbors who worked the same kind of field labor, admired by some of the monks because he was able to supervise with a light heart and looked askance at by others of a more serious nature. The Lord calls a varied group, and Gethsemani had them all. Alban carried his fifteen year old enthusiasm with him throughout his life. He never grew old.

It was at this point in his life, 1976, as a farm boss and apparently the top of his monastic career in an abbey committed to work and prayer, that he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis which defined the remainder of his days. It was typical for a man with his macho inclinations, to try to hide it. It was discovered the day some noticed he couldn't climb the ladder of the silo. No longer able to hide, he was sent to the doctor where he spoke of dragging his foot. That was the year I entered the monastery and I remember trying to lend him a hand as he tried to climb the steep step in the chapter room and having him yank his arm away, knowing something was going wrong in his life. It was the beginning of a journey into the depths of God, as he slowly yielded his autonomy to others, piece by piece, until the moment he was laid up in bed, forced to allow others to help him with every little thing - learning to adapt to the new way - and he learned to do it with a smile. There was something about his persistent humor from the moment he was diagnosed in 1976 to 2006, thirty years of dying to himself until he finally yielded completely the morning of Sept. 20, to the one he first committed himself to fifty six years before, to enjoy the reward offered to those who give their all. On that day he joined those clothed in black and white, and those still in brown down at his end of the banquet table of Heaven.

If we opened the door to Alban stories, we would be here all night. Here's mine. I learned of Alban by accident, when first deciding to become a monk. I was working for the City of Chicago at the time and finally decided to reveal to my boss that I was going to leave for the monastic life. I told him it was to an Abbey called Gethsemani, feeling confident that he had never heard of the life. He surprised me saying he had a cousin there named Br. Alban. He said this Brother had a taste for beer and asked if I would bring him a case. I innocently agreed, not knowing the rules. Of course, it was a surprise to the vocation director when I informed him I had a case of beer in the trunk of my car for a Brother Alban. He closed the door and told me in hushed tones that I should bring the case later in the day to the back and slide it under the gate to be picked up later. The gesture must have had some influence, because he later suggested I try three other monasteries.

Alban was a man who never ceased to enjoy life. HE discovered the freedom of discipleship through the continual emptying of self that he experienced in his illness. Just as the Lord emptied Himself of His divinity to become a man, Alban was emptied in preparation for taking on the fulness of God. An example to the rest of us of the gospel we just heard, of the seed being cast into the ground to die in order to bear much fruit. He was a lesson in dying to self. God the Father empties us out in preparation for filling us with Himself. The retreatants knew him since his illness confined him to being a greeter, along with other duties, at the front desk. He became the model of Cistercian hospitality, phoning friends when slack time grew boring. The story I never ceased telling as guestmaster in former years, was of this monk whose identity was in his youthful prowess, quickly becoming a leader in the work force among the lay brothers, then, called by the Lord to a more profound life through his illness, emptied out to become totally dependent for the last half of his monastic life. He became a model of perseverance, good humor in spite of the cross, combined with the caustic touch when it became too much, and still a blessing to the community. His was a seed that blossomed in place, never losing his humanity. His seed was cast into the ground of Gethsemani 56 years ago, now to be firmly ensconced in the plot next to all the Brothers he formerly laughed and jostled with. HE persevered to the end and left a legacy of wit, of light heartedness at times combined with a touch of the caustic to stir up laughter, of endurance through all the humiliations of helplessness, and of a great love for the brethren and the place. He will be missed.

Alban's Eulogy

Eulogy for Brother Alban Herberger