The late Roman Catholic Archbishop, Samuel E. Carter
Father Richard Ho Lung, Contributor
IT HAD been five weeks our Brothers went each night to Holy Cross Church Rectory to sleep at 'grandpa's' bedside. He had terminal cancer and we loved him very much.
He was truly the spiritual grandpa of the Missionaries of the Poor. It was under him that the first permission was given to form Missionaries of the Poor in 1981. On the part of his consultors it was not a popular decision, but Archbishop swept aside all misgivings and objections and decided against the general consensus that it not be allowed. His 'yes' gave birth to Missionaries of the Poor in Kingston, Jamaica, and has now spread all over the world in Uganda, Haiti, India and the Philippines. We also have associate members in the United States and Canada.
If he is the grandfather, then I am the father of the Missionaries of the Poor. Today there are 170 members of our religious community serving hundreds and even thousands of poor destitute people as well as giving witness to thousands upon thousands, through preaching, music and our works.
Wealth of knowledge
For 35 nights the Brothers slept on the floor in Archbishop Carter's bedroom at Holy Cross Rectory. Each night we went after supper and settled in his room with the beddings he gave. First of all he would welcome the Brothers with the broadest of smiles and the warmest of embraces. He would sit up and tell stories about the Lord, about the saints, and about his experiences as archbishop. He would quote Latin to them, quote the Bible, speak of Saint Augustine and Saint Ignatius, and draw on his immense wealth of knowledge about holy men and women in the history of our church. He would tell about his 25 years experiences as archbishop, and especially the turbulent post-Independence Day of Jamaica and post-Vatican II years. He would also tell us of how it was like to be the first native bishop appointed in the Caribbean islands.
His eyes were full of warmth and friendliness; the Brothers really enjoyed being with him. After making sure he was comfortable, after they had given him a glass of water and tucked him into bed, the Brothers would fall asleep on the floor, and cover themselves with a bed sheet. Archbishop Carter would stay up late reading, writing, organising so many church matters. He would sleep a few hours, tiptoe on the floor to the bathroom. He laughed and told me how one night he stepped on an arm, on another night it was a leg, and then one night it was almost a mop-headed MOP. He jokingly called us the MOPs, which stands for Missionaries of the Poor, the clean-up men who picked up the debris of humanity, once forgotten or cast off by society.
There was a swift decline last Sunday night and Archbishop Carter was taken to the Thwaites Wing at the University Hospital. That day Deacon Thwaites told me that it was serious. Father Ambrose and myself left after supper for the hospital. All the Brothers wanted to come and had prepared a few songs for him, including This is the Day that the Lord has made.
When we arrived, there was his faithful secretary, Monica Marr, seemed tired, but clear-minded as always, and most concerned about Archbishop Carter to whom she had been devoted all her adult life. There was also Fr. Michael Lewis and Fr. Burchell McPherson, Deacon Ronnie Thwaites, and four of our MOP Brothers.
He greeted me with a great big warm smile, and we held hands for a long time. I could feel tears welling up in me. Just a week ago I had called him: "The cancer I hear is terrible but you don't want to talk about it." He replied, "It's painful but never mind." Then he proceeded to sing the Stevie Wonder's song "I just called to say I love you. I just called to say I care." At that time the warmth of his love flowed even over the telephone. I thought of all this as we held hands in the hospital. I thought of what courage, what kindness. Even as Fr. Ambrose, myself, and the four Brothers visited with him, he was evangelising us, rather than the other way around. "Archbishop, when you get to heaven tonight, since you will be so close to the Father in heaven, will you promise me to tell Him our Brothers and priests need lots and lots of special care and blessing from Him?" Archbishop broke out in a great big smile and nodded his head at least three times. "It's near the end, I can tell," he said. He kissed my hands. I hugged him. Fr. Ambrose and the four Brothers lined up and hugged him. We prayed over him, blessed him, and asked him if he needed anything. When he was in a seizure of pain he asked us to turn our faces away; when the pain was gone he welcomed us with a smile once again.
Thus it was all night long. Fr. Ken Richards came and visited and knelt by his bedside and prayed with him. He was given the same treatment: lots of love and blessings. When he died at 1:15 on Tuesday morning, the Brothers were at his side, holding his hands.
Enchanting smile
That smile he had on his face has remained deep in my soul. It was so beautiful and interesting. All along in his life he was masterly, masculine, direct and decisive. On his deathbed he was gentle and like a child with the most enchanting smile. He never stopped smiling between his immense and agonising attacks of pain. Why that continuous smile? Archbishop Carter wanted us to celebrate at his death, to laugh, to be happy. He was about to enter heaven's doors, to be with the Father and all the saints and the angels. He was giving witness in the most profound way at the most difficult time in any man or woman's life. Just at the point of being engulfed by that cynical and frightening reality of death, when this entire world would come to a closure and most would scream in terror, Archbishop Carter was at his happiest! Gladly and fearlessly he accepted death. What a statement of faith! What a call to live out the depth of our true self - Christ in complete service of others, Christ on the cross about to deliver His human body to the place of skull! But no, it was not Golgotha; rather it was to deliver himself to God's heavenly kingdom. His smile defied death and will encourage us forever, for those who live in the Lord, work in the Lord and die in the Lord, there is only heaven. In the 70s Archbishop Carter and I had a very direct relationship. Often we were one of heart and mind but often we had differences. Always he was straightforward. Likewise, I was direct with him. Even when we were at odds we respected each other, and there was always a resolution.
At the time I established Missionaries of the Poor I was shocked to find we were very one at the moment of truth. He had a complete love for the poor. I loved them also. Both of us cannot live the Gospel without service to the poor. He is a simple man but never loved the wealth and riches of the material world. I too am trying to remain faithful to that ideal lived out by the Lord. To the end he remained Jamaican that I am and will remain until I die. To the church he was faithful, and while being a faithful churchman he seeks to serve the nation; likewise, that is my vision and intention.
Grandpa, I am sad, the Missionaries of the Poor are sad, all of us Jamaicans and Catholics are sad. But we know you are happy and you want us to be happy. Thus you have forced us to be happy at your death - correction - at the moment of your entrance into heaven.
