In 1981 the Legion had celebrated its first ever General Chapter. This is a solemn gathering of the top brass with representatives from all the ranks, to examine and approve or revise the Constitution –the laws which govern the day to day life of the members. At that time I was the Director of the Legion’s house in Rye, New York. I fully expected to go to Rome to the somewhat mysterious General Chapter. We all knew this was a landmark occasion, and most of us knew that the real purpose was to have General Chapter ratify the Constitution during the life of the Founder. That way the rule of life, the Constitution, would to a large extent be “hewn in granite� because, having fulfilled the requirements of Canon Law which govern the frequency of such Chapters, it would be a long, long time before there would be another Chapter. This, politically, was a very smart thing for the Founder, Fr. Maciel, to do because he had a far greater chance of controlling the outcome than he would have if he waited til he was dead. It he had a little more faith he could have waited til he was dead and supervised day to day operations from heaven. It seemed obvious to me that the representatives to the Chapter would be carefully selected. This Chapter was in no way intended to encourage any real examination or to introduce new ideas. It certainly was no place for dissent. The sole purpose, I believed, was to rubber stamp the Constitution and any changes that might be made by the “yes men� at the meeting.

Fr. Anthony Bannon and other “in� people

Indeed, for several years before the Chapter the Congregation had started to take on a “new direction�. Lay members of an ancillary group known as the “Regnum Christi�, R.C. for short, had been given more and more importance. To be precise, the Legion was more a part of the “Regnum Christi�. So, now, the tail was wagging the dog. The Legion which I had joined was now the “clerical section� of a new lay “Movement�. The meanings and implications of the term “movement� was to become a constant topic in the Founder’s writings an in our weekly conferences. Methodology was becoming far more important than the Spirit. Such things as efficiency, integration, and blind obedience had taken the place of an earlier emphasis on the virtue of charity, which had given the congregation its earlier appeal and charism. Coldly calculated tactics were the new name of the game. Deep down the unstated objective was to do better than the rival, secret group know as the Opus Dei. Monsignor José María Escrivá de Balaguer, the Founder of the Opus, a Spanish group, was also alive and, although there was no doubt they were doing well, they were also very vulnerable. We were going to make sure that they did not consume our part of the spiritual pie, and unflattering comments on their style and operations were a constant theme of conversation in the Legion’s inner circle to which, I felt, I belonged. They, just like us, were extremely active in the fertile and somewhat naïve environment of Mexico, and again, like us, the name of their game was secrecy and tight-knit isolation.

Despite all this I was so sure that I had been successful enough and had demonstrated sufficient consistent loyalty to the congregation that I knew I would be invited to the General Chapter. On the other hand, according to Canon Law, in order to participate in the Chapter, one should be an ordained priest and have finished the full course of theological studies. I was O.K. on both counts since I had been ordained by Cardinal Biaggio in 1976, and received my M.A. in theology from the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas in Rome. I knew that others, like Anthony Bannon, a cold-hearted right-winger from Dublin, would be excluded because of the studies’ requirement, despite the fact that he was the regional superior for the U.S. He, like so many other Legionaries, had been ordained a priest in a hurry, without formally finishing his studies of theology, while the advance guard like myself and Murphy, had toiled in our “apostolic practices� –a sort of internship introduced to the Church, I think, by the Jesuits. Despite all this, Bannon was called as a delegate. I wasn’t.

The Chapter, which I did not attend, was the central event of that year. The final document became required reading and the subject of private meditation. I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get to go but I wasn’t totally surprised. Besides, I had other exciting things to do so I certainly don’t think I overreacted. Like all the other pious Legionaries I prayed hard for the successful outcome of the deliberations in Rome. I knew that Declan Murphy from Dublin was there, as was David Owen, and I felt that at least they might represent the unstated views of those of us who did not consider ourselves “holy Joes� and yes men. When the final Chapter documents were released I knew that the Congregation which I had joined and to which I pledged my vows had changed. I felt cheated because the rules had been changed during the game. Many of us had longed and hoped for some relaxation of the rules governing visits to our families. There had been some suggestion that this might happen. In fact I had hoped that even in small ways, now that the Congregation was more established and stronger, that some of the more stringent requirements of membership might have been eased. Small things like being allowed to listen to vocal music and not only instrumental; or to become more involved in local parish life; or to be allowed to speak to priests and seminarians from other orders; to have dinner at the homes of benefactor families who supported us and who, especially in the States, could not understand our isolationism. The fact that I had hoped for some of these changes is probably a sign of how far I had drifted from the new order.

Delegates from the Chapter were dispatched to all the houses to inform the entire Congregation of the wonderful workings of the Holy Spirit, mostly though the person our Beloved Founder. Those of us on the east coast of the U.S. gathered at my place in Rye, N.Y. to hear the news from an unlikely representative: fellow Synge Street H.S. graduate, Declan Murphy. Murphy was responsible for Legionary operations in Washington, DC.

Before his conference I found myself in my room, a tiny little place on the top floor of our three storey residence. I had purchased the property 5 years previously when I was assigned to New York. It was quite an imposing mansion, nestled on the edge of the town’s nature center. It was spacious and quite cheery, perched on top of a hill overlooking Rye High School. God knows what I might have been thinking about when, contrary to all Legionary norms which forbade entry into another Legionary’s room, Murphy came right in and, in the limited space with only one chair, made himself at home. As usual, I was happy to see him. Mr. Gregarious, the charming Irish priest which whom I felt particularly friendly. He stood a lean 6’ 3� and considered himself good-looking. This not unfounded belief had probably been reinforced by countless Spanish and Mexican women who thought that any priest who was not a grubby little imitation of the potbellied caricatures they were used to was to be considered handsome and, in a way peculiar to Mexico, somehow very attractive. Both of us were dressed in our long black cassocks. Murphy, despite his jocular friendliness, wasn’t as relaxed as I might have expected. Although I well knew the anxious, insecure side of him, Declan, for most of the time was jovial, competitive and fun to be with. He enjoyed the pleasures of the sense more than most Legionaries, with the exclusion of the Founder. He was more up to date than any of us on the latest music, movies, and news. He traveled extensively with the Founder who used him to great advantage. Declan was probably an excellent companion and gave Nuestro Padre the aura of youthful vitality, charm and good looks that Maciel reveled in. What Murphy got out of this was some great trips to exciting places, the enviable status of “insider�, and the opportunity to spend a lot of time far from the rules and regulations what bound the rest of us. He, too, in a very special way, was above the law.

The Simmer of our Discontent

The problem, it seemed, was that the news he had to deliver was not very good. It became immediately clear to me that the Chapter, as I had feared, was a farce from beginning to end, although I couldn’t quote Declan as saying that. However, the final Chapter document, unanimously approved, had not been seen or read by all those who approved it. Now Declan had to tell us all that this was the Will of God for us. That’s why he was nervous. The bell rang signaling time for the conference. Murphy went down first and I followed a discreet few moments later. There were about 15 of us gathered in the conference area; all of us observed a sort of relaxed relative silence.

The brooding presence of Fr. Anthony Bannon at the back of the room inhibited any subversive jovial activity. I didn’t like Bannon and he didn’t like me. When his mother was gravely ill I had to persuade him to ask for permission to go visit with her. I knew Mrs. Bannon, a kindly woman who lived in a basement flat on Leeson St., Dublin. He did go, but I don’t think he felt any need to be there. His forever gaunt appearance, accentuated by his steel-rimmed eye glass gave him the classic look of a Nazi. He fancied himself as a “hard man�, impervious to heat or cold. On one occasion, in a burst of generosity I bought him an overcoat out our my scarce funds because I felt that his stoic blue-knuckled refusal to admit that he was cold in the freezing New York winter was doing the image of our congregation more harm than good. The feistiest of the men at the conference was Fr. John McCormick, another Dubliner and Synge St. graduate. John and I, although we had been class mates since 3rd grade elementary, were never particularly good friends, though we liked each other. He was raring to go. He couldn’t wait to fire pointed, aggressive, angry questions at Murphy. He obviously wasn’t happy with the outcome of the Chapter. I admired him for throwing caution to the winds and for voicing his concerns with such conviction. I also knew that, sooner or later, this public display would catch up with him and would not go unnoticed or unpunished.

Meanwhile Murphy was saying something about it “not being convenient� for us to listen to music with lyrics, another Chapter mandate. McCormick wanted to know why not. Murphy, trying to think on his feet, said something along the lines of Nuestro Padre –was we called Fr. Maciel- in his wisdom believed that if one vocation were to be lost because of the pernicious influence of contemporary music, it would be better that none of us ever listen to it. Then I asked: “What about the 99 of us who might lose our vocations –not to mention our minds! -because we couldn’t listen to contemporary music? Wouldn’t it be smarter to get rid of the screwed up fool who was going to lose his vocation anyway and make life miserable for the rest of us to boot? Bannon’s dry cough signaled that I too would be included in the little black notebook with McCormick. There was always a Gabon for people like me. Frankly, at that stage, I didn’t give a damn! I knew that his discontent was going to get out of control. Unlike other occasions when the same sentiments had surfaced, this time I did not care. It had taken me a long time to see the light, and God knows I had tried very hard to be faithful to rules I no longer believed in. I also felt that the Rule to which I had vowed obedience had been radically changed by a rigged Chapter. A time comes when carefully considered thoughts, after having been prayed about, need to be acted on. Now, I welcomed these rebellious thoughts and intended to express them and act on them. That’s all I remember from that conference; except that I knew I was not alone.

Gabon Full Circle

Eventually, going to Gabon was compounded by Collette. To understand why, you need to know something of several other women in my cloistered life. I’ll get to them some other time. Meanwhile, “cloistered� may not be the right word. From the early days of the Novitiate I was appointed as community driver; this job carried with it a certain “cachet� –or at least I thought it did!; in hindsight, it probably wasn’t good for me. The brief respite afforded by the various sorties mitigated the wear and tear that the Legion methodology works on the personality. I would be down in the dumps but would revive at the opportunity to get outside and drive to the central post office; later on, in Rome, Italy and Salamanca, Spain I would drive our Mercedes Benz 64 seat bus. That would help bring my spirits back up, and to help me convince myself again that my spiritual directors were indeed right. God was definitely calling me. Doubt and unhappiness were signs of my lack of generosity.

So, now, in Bethesda, Maryland, despite the fact that he did not like the Legion and consequently felt ambiguous towards me, my brother kindly offered to help me survive in Gabon. That is how I came to get my pills from the National Institute of Health. He knew far better than I that Gabon was disease ridden; the big problem being the endemic “river blindness�. He was aware of some research in which he got me involved so as to provide me with some experimental medication; this would keep me immune to the dreaded disease. N.I.H., in order for me to participate in the study and receive the medication, required me to have a physical. Interestingly enough, my cholesterol levels seemed to be fine –despite a diet of two eggs and a quart of milk every day for the past 20 years! Thanks to the medication I did not become ill in Africa. I lost about 30 pounds, grew a decent-looking beard, and developed a refined taste for bananas. Other than that I was fine, although I never really got to appreciate fishes’ eyes. An Italian nurse who worked there with us was less fortunate. She left Gabon the same day I did, in a wheel chair, a victim of loa loa.

The Italian nurse reminds me of two, or perhaps three, Italian missionaries at another mission station in Gabon. What they did was never totally clear to me. What was evident was that they were “wild men�: their idea of fun was to go gorilla hunting for the dangerous black gorilla. In typical missionary fashion they would go out under-equipped and tempting fate every step of the way; probably another instance of the bravado that comes from working directly for your Creator. Luis used to go visit them now and then and I’d tag along. They were quite excited about the first dinner I ever had with them. In fact, it was my first dinner outside Franceville. The vegetable, though unfamiliar, were palatable. The meat was gamey, tending towards white, and not appetizing even thought I have always been a meat and potatoes man. What they were having was a man-eating leopard that had been caught and killed that same day by the villagers. I saw its skin salted and stretched out to dry in the sun in the middle of the compound. The taste did something to me. I excused myself and took a little walk around the Italians’ compound. Someone invited me to peek into their propane powered freezer. The sight of the frozen monkeys, squirrels, and God knows what else finished the work began by the leopard, and I retired to throw up discreetly at the edge of the jungle.

This doesn’t make for good dinner conversation. In a way its indicative of so much that happened in my life. You can tell people about it, but you always remain wondering if they really understand; if they have any sense of the loneliness and sense of isolation that you felt. Now that I’m married I realize that you really “had to be there� to understand what it was all about. You had been through Novitiate, a year of Juniorate –Humanities- in Salamanca, Spain, two years of Philosophy studies and five years of Theology in Rome, Italy; you had almost no feeling, let along sex, no friends in the accepted sense of the term, and very little contact with the “outside world�. A cold discipline reminded you that you were doing God’s Will, and blind obedience kept you on the straight and narrow. Strict poverty kept you detached from things material. You were devoid of most of the experiences of people your age, and yet, had a vast amount of experiences they would never share.

I have read that former military people, who have seen active duty, enjoy a deep sense of satisfaction when they get together with old companions. They need to talk with the “brothers in arms� about things which they believe only they can understand. Those of us who have been so marked by our experience in the Legion probably share a very deep need to “stay in touch�. I know that I do!

1965:
On July 10th, two weeks after graduating from high school, at the age of 16.6, Peter entered the Legion of Christ RC Religious Congregation [i.e. order] as a postulant. This was at Belgard Castle, Clondalkin, Co. Dublin, Ireland.

James Coindreau, ‘Jimmy’ in his previous lifetime, recruited Peter and led the Postulancy/Candidacy. Born in Monterrey, Mexico, as Santiago Coindreau Farías. [In northern Mexico it is fashionable for young people in the middle-upper classes to use Anglo names such as ‘Billy, Bobby, Jimmy, Henry…’] In the Legion always addressed respectfully as Father James or Padre Santiago, long before he was ever ordained a priest. Native Spanish speaker who spoke fluent English with a Mexican accent, which made him more endearing to us Irish teens of the 60s. Very ‘simpatico’ with ‘the gift of the gab’. First came to Ireland circa 1960 to found the LC in that country and recruited the first Irish members from the provinces and Dublin. Very enthusiastic leader. James made a tremendous impact on recruiting in Ireland for over a decade. He was ordained in his thirties and continued to do promotional work. He left the Legion on entering middle adulthood and joined the US air force as a chaplain.

Typical Legion ‘flexibility’ with the truth: When James C. worked in Ireland in the 60s he always called himself ‘Father James Coindreau’ despite the fact that he was not yet an ordained catholic priest. It would not have been acceptable for a non-priest to do vocation work in Ireland. But the Legion did not have a suitable English-speaking priest at that moment. James was their best shot. So he dressed like a priest and talked like a priest and called himself a priest and got by. When some of the Irish pastors later found our about this they were pretty upset.I assume Peter Cronin and his buddy, Kevin Carty, [he left after about 7 years, married a Spanish woman, had children, runs an English language institute in Santander, and founded a Legion alumni network still active in Spain;] thought he was a priest when he approached them.

Juan Manuel Correa: a Mexican LC seminarian, also simpático, who was very young at the time, was assistant to James C. He was never ordained to the priesthood but was also good working teen vocations. Possessed a sunny and optimistic disposition. He left about ten years later, before being ordained, and settled in Mexico City becoming a successful businessman. He bonded well with Ireland and the Irish, as did Father James. Remains on friendly terms with the Legionaries in Mexico.

1967
Peter professed simple temporal [for three years] of Poverty, Chastity and Obedience according to the Constitutions of the Congregation of the Legion of Christ.

Juniorate Classical Studies in Salamanca: Spanish, Latin and Greek. Peter was good at Biblical New Testament Greek [koinoné] and later taught it in the LC seminary.

Father Rafael Arumi Blancafort, one of the first Spanish priests recruited to the Legion by Father Maciel, was Peter’s superior. From Catalonia, Spain, Fr. Arumí was, at the same time, Rector, Novice Instructor and Spiritual Director of everyone under his rule, a highly unorthodox triple role according to Canon Law. Peter will refer later to this double/triple role prohibited by RC Church Law [ i.e. Canon Law]

1968
Juan Manuel Duenas Rojas, Rector of the Center for Higher Studies, Via Aurelia 677, Rome, Italy. He was also the Religious Superior and the Spiritual Director to his own subjects. The bystander, studied in Rome from 1963-1970, a theology student while Peter was a philosophy student. Except for the occasional game of intra mural soccer, there was no contact between these two ‘communities’, living on separate floors. So, altough we lived under the same roof, we had never ‘met’ or ‘known’ each other yet.

1969
Pontifical Gregorian [Ecclesiastical] University, Rome, where Peter began his studies in Scholastic Philosophy.

1970
Month-long Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius of Loyola in Salamanca, Spain, under the guidance of
Don Antonio Oyarzábal. A Basque, like the Jesuit Founder, but not a Jesuit. [There is a whole history of Marcial Maciel’s relationship with the Jesuits. He was in an out of their seminaries, he plagiarized much of their rules and structure, availed himself of their hospitality during the foundation in Northern Spain, but he was always uncomfortable around them. He never invited a Jesuit. I doubt whether they would have come- to direct Spiritual Exercises.] So he would choose diocesan priests who had been trained by the Jesuits to lead the exercises. As the Founder and Superior General, and as the person who was paying them for their services, -generously, I assume- he could give them advice on what points to stress and thus how to direct ‘his’ religious during the week or month of exercises. Therefore, as Legionaries, we never experienced 100% pure Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. It was always ‘according to Maciel’.

1971
Father Dueñas, Peter’s Spiritual Director, College Rector and Religious Superior in Rome, gives Peter orders to interrupt his studies and leave immediately for Mexico to work at the Irish Institute, thus beginning his period of Apostolic Practices. Peter was allowed to visit his home country, Ireland, for three days. The nights would be spent at the Legion house, not in his own home, in accordance with the rules. Apparently he was sent to the Irish Institute in Monterrey, Nuevo León State, Northern Mexico, to see how he would adjust to life outside the seminary and to learn the ropes. Soon he would be sent to the Instituto Irlandés in Mexico City

Irish Institute
The original bilingual middle and high school for upper class Mexican boys, in the Tecamachalco, Mexico City Metropolitan area. Founded in 1966 by [Spanish] Father Juan Manuel Fernández-Amenábar and three Irish ‘brothers’, religious and students for the priesthood, Jack Keogh [Dublin, left Legion and priesthood, married with a daughter], John Walsh [Enniscorthy, Co. Wexford, active Legionary priest, Women’s Section, Mexico], and David Hennessy [Dublin, left before ordination, married with children, successful businessman in Mexico].

Thomas Moylan: By 1971 ordained a priest [Rome,1969], had joined in 1961, beginning his novitiate in Ireland in 1962, a native of Dublin, Ireland, a high school graduate from St. Vincent’s Christian Brothers School, Glasnevin, Dublin, who, together with school mates Paul Lennon and John Devlin, had joined the Legion becoming part of the first official group of Irish candidates [about 20 traveled to Bundrowes House, Co. Donegal, July 1st, 1961]. Father Moylan would be the religious superior of the ‘brothers’ working at the Irish Institute, Mexico City.

1975
Leopardstown: Novitiate of the Legion of Christ, Leopardstown, Co. Dublin. Part of the building was used to house Mexican ‘exchange’ students visiting for the summer or staying the year to learn English.

1976:
Peter is referring to ‘brothers’ Brian Stenson, Desmond Coates [Legionary priest in Australia, on the fringe of belonging to the Legion. His brother Peter Coates LC is still a prominent Legionary priest in in Monterrey, Mexico high society.

October, 1976
Peter is named Assistant [superior] to Philosophy students in Rome. It didn’t last long. I don’t remember how he explained his short career as Legionary superior; maybe something to do with not following the rules closely enough, or letting the students off the hook. That would be typical of him.

1978 Summer:
Peter spent the summer working with male 3rd degree members of the Regnum Christi lay movement in Spain. These were mostly young catholic university students.

1979 January:
Muddle in Mexico: the writer was at the time the first director of the School of Faith in Mexico City. Father Maciel wanted me out of there and sent Peter to replace me overnight. I remember Peter coming into my office and without guile telling me he was my replacement and could I ‘tell him all about the School of Faith as soon as possible’. I was to go to Cozumel, Quintana Roo ‘to accompany Cardinal Eduardo Pironio, Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for Religious in the Vatican, a Legion supporter, to help him rest during his vacation’. Provincial Superior of Mexico, Fr. Carlos Zancajo LC, knew nothing of the change. When he realized what had happened, after a couple of weeks, he sent Father Peter to Monterrey and brought me back. A year or so later Father Carlos was demoted. He ended up in Caracas, Venezuela, where, still officially a legionary, he teaches at the local Metropolitan University and as far as is known is still a member.

1979 July 8th,
Peter is sent from Cuernavaca, Morelos State, Mexico to Orange, Ct, USA, and is given the post of Assistant of Candidates.

1981, January 3rd,
Peter is Ordained to the Catholic Priesthood shortly before his 32nd birthday.

AFTER THE LEGION:

As I read his curriculum I am surprised by how long it took Fr. Peter to be ordained and how soon after ordination he started thinking of leaving. He had probably seen and experienced enough during the previous years to realize that the Legion was not for him. He did not want to make a rash decision and leave precipitously. Besides, he probably was not ready mentally or emotionally for the big step. He takes the step in July 1985 with a visit to Ireland. From Ireland he considers his options and prepares his move out of the Legion and into the diocesan priesthood with the help of contacts in the USA, some of them xlcs who have already made that transition. November I, 1985, he flies from Miami to Baltimore-Washington International Airport and is met by Fathers -both then with the archdiocese of Washington DC- Declan Murphy, [exit 83? from the Legion house in Potomac, Maryland] and Kevin Fagan [exit 1984 from Monterrey, Mexico, where he had been spiritual director of Regnum Christi men, presently auxiliar bishop of Washington DC diocese].

At that time the writer [exit from Quintana Roo Missions, Mexico, January ‘85] was at St. Matthew’s Parish in DC. Peter joins the archdiocese of Washington, feels comfortable in this lifestyle, ‘pays his dues’ with difficult assignments, is later incardinated and finally becomes pastor of St. Michael the Archangel Parish, Silver Spring, MD on July 1st, 1994. My reading is that Peter wanted, above all things, to be a priest. His experience with the Legion did not dissuade or make him deviate from his goal and calling. He remained sufficiently intact to be able to detach from the Legion and persevere in his priesthood.
———-

IN RESPONSE TO OCCASIONAL INQUIRIES REGARDING FR. PETER’S PASSING.

Father Peter Cronin,
then pastor at St Michael de Archangel Parish in Silver Spring, MD, diocese of Washington DC, died suddenly at the age of 50 on September 19th, 1999; the cause of death appears to be an aneurysm. Peter was reading the Sunday papers during breakfast at the rectory between Masses when the tragedy occured. We, his friends, can only speculate in hindsight that Peter was experiencing very strong headaches during the months before his demise and that he may not have recognized the danger.

Peter was an organized and orderly person, and in general took good care of his health, visiting his doctor with regularity for check-ups, etc.. He was endowed with a good sense of humor and a hearty laugh [not entirely Legionary-like]. He was a kind, helpful, and wise person and priest. He was an enthusiastic golfer, and loved music, cultural diversity, family, and friends. Peter was an excellent administrator with a very pastoral touch and was at the height of his personal and priestly faculties and productivity when he died; this saddened all who knew him. He is dearly missed.

His friend,

Paul Lennon
————-

Appendix:

September 1992, on ‘retreat’ at a parishioner’s beach-front condo in Myrtle Beach, SC, as he stroll the sands with his friend, now Mr. Paul Lennon, they brainstorm about the isolation of ex-members. Soon after, Peter launches Network, a low key periodic letter to a short list of contacts he has collected in his characteristically friendly and organized way.