“The Catholic Priest is a Man for Others.” That was the lesson I learned my first days in college seminary. The word was out. The Benedictine Abbot would call each of us, one by one, to his office. We all knew that he always asked: “Young man, why do you want to be a priest?” I was prepared. I wrote my answer on paper, memorized it, kept it in my shirt pocket for two weeks. Several times a day I recited the answer to ingrain it in my memory.

It was dramatic enough to make the angels sing, or at least weep. One day in study hall I was tapped on the shoulder. “The Abbot will see you now.” I was at that moment every bit as enthralled as if I were meeting the Pope himself. I relaxed entirely when the Abbot’s interest was captivated by my being a farm boy who knew how to work, and that I was from an area where his abbey farm did business with a cattle pavilion near my South Dakota farm home. “Ah! I get off easy without that question,” I thought. Suddenly he pointed his finger at me and loudly demanded: “Young man, why do you want to be a priest?” My memorized answer was gone with the wind. I stammered, “There are many little reasons.” “Ah! Many little reasons” - “Yes, Father Abbot, `many little reasons.’” His interest returned to farms and cattle, and I relaxed again.