What's In a Name?

When I was born in 1953, I was given the name Paul Joseph Diveny at baptism. This was the exact same name as my father’s brother, Paul, who died at age 17 in 1946. After graduation from Immaculate Conception H.S. in Montclair (he was in the same class as my mother), my Uncle Paul left home in July to join the Friars of the Atonement (Graymoor Friars) in Garrison, NY. During his first week there, the new arrivals went for a hike. On their way back to the seminary, they stopped at a lake for a swim. When the group got ready to leave, they realized that my uncle was missing. He had drowned in the lake, from which his body was recovered. When I was about 6 years old, my grandmother gave me my Uncle Paul’s missal, which I still have. So, my name has always had a special meaning for me and my family.

When I arrived at the monastery in 1976, the community was still working through many of the changes brought about by Vatican Council II. One change had to do with one’s religious name. The pre-conciliar notion of religious vows as a “second” baptism had been abandoned in the light of the Council’s reaffirmation of the centrality of baptism in a Christian’s life of grace. While at that time, someone entering the community was theoretically permitted to keep his baptismal name, the practice was to take a different name, if another member of the community already had the same name. When I became a novice, there was already a Fr. Paul (Huber) in the community. His feastday was June 29, the feastday of Sts. Peter and Paul. Since I had already expressed to the community that I did not wish to seek ordination, I was allowed to keep the name Paul, because I would be Brother Paul, not another Father Paul. I was assigned January 25, the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, as my namesday.

Two interesting things have happened because of my name. One occurred while I was working at Sant’Anselmo in Rome. I was graciously invited to a luncheon on the day that Fr. Avery Dulles, S.J. was made a cardinal.  A Delbarton alumnus hosted this luncheon for a group of people from the Archdiocese of New York, who had traveled to Rome for the consistory. When I arrived at the designated meeting spot, there were two other clerics waiting. I heard them introduce themselves as Graymoor Friars. They were older than I, so I wondered whether either of them had known my uncle. When it was time for me to introduce myself, the look on their faces said it all. I quickly explained who I was and the connection. As it turned out, neither of them actually knew my uncle, but both had joined a few years after the incident and the memory of the accident was still quite vivid.

The second incident occurred after my mother died. She was buried in the same cemetery as my grandparents and my Uncle Paul. On one of our visits, my father took me to see my grandparents’ grave. While we were standing there, he said “You can see your Uncle Paul’s grave from here. He then pointed out my uncle’s headstone. I walked over to the grave and read the inscription “Paul Joseph Diveny”. If there ever was a moment when one’s mortality became clear, that was such a moment.