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Homily for Leon J. Hogenkamp, S.J.

July 20, 2005
by Jim Dolan, S.J.

If Leon could speak to us right now he would probably say very little.  Maybe "Carry on", or possibly, as Bob Schwartz used to sing, "Be good to each other", or maybe he would use Jesus' expression, "Peace be with you."

Whatever he would say to you and me, we would have to read between the lines - for his brief words had a depth of meaning and feeling that on the surface were not immediately discernible.

Francine Ryan and Frank Kamp did a splendid job trying to collate Leon's diverse accomplishments, contributions and leadership positions over the years.  On reading the list it seemed simply too much for just one person to possibly achieve.  Obviously, Leon's rest has come after sixty-five years of service.  And it will certainly be a rest, joyful beyond his wildest dreams.

Growing up with ten folks around the dinner table prepared Leon for Community Life long before his novitiate in the Jesuits, with Helen, MaryAnn, Ruth, Roger, Ray, Robert, Dick and Mr. & Mrs. Hogenkamp.

At Canisius High School Leon achieved academically and contributed in extracurricular  activities, like winning the Speech and Debate Trophy, being editor of the yearbook, and being on the stage crew for the school's many dramatic performances.  The Jesuits he worked with Barth, Bosch and Meehan were ?stand-up guys" intelligent, hard working and happy.  In his senior year Leon decided that was the direction he wanted for his life.  So he joined the Society of Jesus with a fine group of classmates referred to as the "Cream of the Crop".

In Plattsburgh, NY he donned the black robe of the Jesuit Order and dove headfirst into a heavy dose of liberal arts where his study of French, Greek and Latin would later serve him well during his Regency at McQuaid.

Leon was "the voice" for us in Philosophy.  There were daily readings at lunch and dinner to the almost 300 scholastics. Very few of them enjoyed reading to such an indifferent, cynical or at least unappreciative crowd.  Celibacy was tough enough!  Often desperate classmates would ask Leon to substitute for them; invariably he would calmly take the book.  It was as though he cherished jobs that provided no reward and that were quite unappealing. Throughout the long course of studies: novitiate, juniorate, philosophy, regency, and theology Leon had leadership positions.

We were study partners at Woodstock, our Theologate.  What a break for me! I was careful about doing the specific required readings for each subject, while Leon drifted toward a longer list of "Recommended Readings".  We were a good team.  I recall being a bit nervous about going in for my one hour oral exam before three professors.  Just as I was approaching the examination room, he said, "Don't intimidate them." I went in laughing.

I never could figure out how or why Leon got more enjoyment from work than from recreation.  With Pete Schineller he worked faithfully on the greens and grounds at our nine hole golf course in Maryland and helped build four complete fairways at Shrub Oak, and yet I never saw him play golf.

For the ten years of studies we never got report cards.  The assumption was that you were doing your best so why do you need to know what the numbers are?  When Leon applied to Columbia University to do doctoral work in education, they needed his transcript.  Only then did he find out he had been an "A" student.  He kept that record through graduate school.  As he was about to begin his thesis, he heard a rumor that McQuaid High School was in trouble and might be closed.  At the same time an opening occurred for the job of principal.  He dropped everything; this is something he always wanted.  So, at age 31 he became the youngest Jesuit headmaster ever.

He welcomed the incoming students with his famous "Black and Gold" speech.  A former student and friend of Leon's, Joe Carney recalled Leon saying, "Black is the sign of humility, carry it with you and it will never fail you.  Gold is the symbol of excellence, be sure to reach down and give your best always."

Leon could have a tough exterior.  Some of the students saw him as Ole Stone Face; in the east they might have referred to him as "Buddha".  Beneath his strict or stoic exterior, appropriate for the teenagers of his era, was a heart big enough to endure every test and challenge imaginable - even death.

I think Leon was sadder when he thought McQuaid might not survive than when he was told he had a short time to life.  And the latter was a great shock to him.  He loved his life and talents, his gifts and responsibilities and they were completely and exclusively focused on the McQuaid family: the students, that they would get everything available, and far more than their tuition's worth; the teachers, that they would have support in their endeavors, huge amounts of joy in their work and that they would realize a yearly harvest of satisfaction; administrators, much was expected of them from behind the scenes, unwavering labor in the vineyard, not unlike his own often unseen and unrequited efforts.

Leon was fiscally responsible, wanting to keep costs to parents at a minimum so that most could afford this unusual education for their sons.  He kept an eye on the best paid school teachers in the county and wanted McQuaid's mentors and professors to be at the top of the scale.  He told me he had one regret - that he had not fought harder to keep the retirement bonus that he had originally helped negotiate for the teachers.  But Leon for all his industry was not a fighter; he would simply state his case, state his intentions and leave each issue for hearers to hear and accept or not.

"Love is shown in deeds," St. Ignatius said.  Leon loved deeds; he loved work.  He showed incredible love for 65 years.

After being Principal for a decade he moved into retreat ministry, first at Christ the King Retreat House in Syracuse and then another three years at Manhasset.  Retreat work especially directed retreats with adults, and Sisters in particular, does not require discipline, rules and order as with high school students. And Leon was considered a softie or even a marshmallow, a far cry from ole stone face.  His favorite themes on retreat were those that spoke of God's unconditional love, that Love keeps no records and that God is Love.

Leon was always a loving person, but the years in high school had shaped him into a very reserved "closet-joyful person."  Retreat ministry opened the doors and his later assignments at McQuaid reflected this gradual revelation of a well-kept secret.  Still he was very hard to read for he asked for nothing for himself.  Just last week when Leon was at St. Mary's Hospital Hospice so they could get his pain under control, the Doctor came in while Leon was sitting apparently comfortably, and said, "Father, on a scale of ten, what would you surmise your pain has been these last two days?"  Without the slightest visible emotion, Leon said simply, "Ten." "And Father," the Doctor continued, "What number is it right now?" "Ten," Leon said serenely. The Doctor said, "Well Father, you can have a pain pill anytime you want; that is what we are here for."  And she walked out. I said to Leon, "I don't think she heard what you said."  Leon said, "I gathered that."  I followed the Doctor out of the room wondering what she had understood.  She said, "He must have a high pain tolerance."  I said, "If that were the case he would have said zero or one out of ten. Leon, doesn't complain or give signals nor does his face contort, but he always means what he says and his pain is truly ten out of ten."  She went in immediately and gave him a pill.  Leon smiled at me.

Just two weeks before Leon put himself in the care of Sr. Fran Wegman at the Mercy Motherhouse Infirmary, he was celebrating Mass. Master of the understatement, Leon, during the homily said, quoting a Psalm, "It says here we ought to have a song in our heart.  I can't remember having that gift.  But if I did I think I'd like it to be "Alleluia".  I am sure he has broken into song this week!

Leon asked me almost a year ago to give the homily at this funeral Mass and ever since he was critical he would inquire when I would be back from each retreat.  That was so typical of the way he shared.

 I would often ask him questions about fear and death, faith and the future.  He would always answer directly and succinctly.  "Fear," he would say, "must be somewhere on the backburner; I spend most of my thoughts on the here and now, just trying to live."  Regarding faith, "Real faith is like a leap, a holding onto nothing."  And the future, "It has not even entered into the mind of man what God has prepared." After that I tried asking easier questions - like what were the high points in his life?  All he could come up with were peaks of kindness. As one approaches the God of kindness and compassion those are the only stories that count anyway.  His awards and accomplishments were nothing compared to his taking the side of those in need.

One story he told me was about a student who flunked seven subjects.  Anyone familiar with Jesuit education knows that one flunk is critical, with two you're pretty much history.  Well this parent comes to Leon's office and said, "Father, we have a serious problem." Leon says, "Yes I know, how could your son flunk seven subjects when he only took six courses?"  "Oh, he flunked health during the first semester," the father said.  "The Father crying said, I know my son doesn't deserve McQuaid and McQuaid does not need my son, but I know my son and he needs McQuaid."  Leon as usual did not show what he was feeling inside.  The parent without knowing it by praising McQuaid had said the magic word and Leon gave the son a second chance, or was it seven?  He graduated and McQuaid has another extended family of grateful folks, making Chancellor Jim Fischer's job just a tad easier.

Kindness is actually at the center of the Ignatian vision and seal; it is the focus of the Jesuit mission and the McQuaid mission.  Alas it is not always visible.  The love of Christ is not always immediately visible in our daily lives either.  Leon in spite of his huge trials and suffering during these past years was a joyful person. He was so clearly focused, even these last months, as he approached ever closer to the Source of all joy.  Last Sunday Leon was greeted by the God of kindness and joy; and Leon became fully like Him.