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Fr. Paul Natale Zammit, O.P.
Lives of the Brethren
The Spanish Zammit-Morales family settled in Malta during the Crusades.  Do you suppose that heritage might explain his willingness -- his eagerness -- for a good fight?   His grandfather, born about the time of our American Revolution -- yes, the late 1700's -- built the docks that made Malta a major naval base from the Napoleonic Wars through World War II.

His father was a very wealthy man and a power to be contended with in Victorian Malta.  He had been widowed twice and had twelve children.  He married again, produced two more daughters and, at 78, his last son to be born after his death.

So, on February 4, 1904, Natale Zammit was born, potential heir to substantial wealth.  Spoiled rotten by his mother, he learned quickly to get his own way and punched noses when he didn't.  His main early disciplinarian was his nanny and, doubtless, he tried to cajole her to his views if things got difficult.

The young lad attended, later served, daily Mass.  His technical schooling was to prepare him for future responsibilities.  His family did their part by including among his playmates the little girl who was deemed suitable one day to become his wife.  Fr. Paul had barely entered his teens when, in his own words, it became quite clear to him, "I was to be a Dominican."  He also said he wasn't quite sure at the time what all that meant, but his surety of his call was unwavering.   It brought quick changes: cramming Latin and liberal arts courses, family opposition to overcome, the little girl's family to be delicately informed.  Things had changed.

So, at 15, Natale Zammit was off to Italy to be received as Br. Paul, a name taken for his oldest brother, 50 years older than he.  Now there was a wooly habit and scratchy socks, and a diet that made him throw up day after day.  There was, too, a Novice Master with whom he crossed swords and whom he punched in the nose.   The Novice Master didn't fight back but gently informed him that he was now under obedience -- a new and quite different experience.  Still, young brother Paul found a way to sneak cigarettes with his brethren, including a Cardinal Ciappi.

Fr. Paul said that he had always wanted to be a missionary.  His superiors said he was to have an academic career.  Studies at the Angelicum, the State University at Rome, the London School of Economics and the University of Lyon.   Amidst all that, ordination in 1928 at age 24, then a professorship in sociology at the Angelicum in Rome.

Were we in the Medieval Age, we would send his heart back to his first house of assignation, the Angelicum, for that was where he really left it.  It was there that he knew Pere Garrigou-Lagrange and other leading lights of the Order; there he came to know "Pacelli" and "Montini" (as he called those two popes); there he worked on the drafts of Pius XI's "Quadragesimo Anno"; there he wrote all sorts of papers for the League of Nations, the International Labor Organization and scholarly journals.  And there he taught Pope John Paul II.  That was where, too, he smoked like a chimney, drank pots of espresso, and when he had problems to resolve, would take a long walk to see his girlfriend as he called her.  Off to the Catacombs of Santa Cecilia, prayers at her tomb, and then the walk back home with problems resolved and spirit renewed.

Perhaps a part of Fr. Paul's heart should go to England where he knew Fr. Bede Jarrett and where he spent World War II, after fleeing the Fascists.  He taught at St. Edmund's Seminary College and was chaplain at the orphanage run by the Franciscan Missionaries of the Divine Motherhood, founded by his dear friend, Mother Francis.  He took babies to the bomb shelter and back, scooted about on his motorcycle, lost his hair in the blitz, learned to love unrationed stewed rabbit, and consoled many a person who had lost family and possessions in that terrible time.

In 1950, the Order ended the category of "Sons of the Master", those friars who had no province but worked as the Master directed.  Fr. Paul was one of these and so was assigned for the first time to a province -- ours.  In 1951, we laity at the 5:45 a.m. community Mass watched from the balcony as a new Dominican in woolly habit appeared.  Who was this person, quite wide awake, unlike the rest of us, who zipped into his place in choir with sure fleet foot?  We and the Province soon found out!

The Professor of Sociology and Economics with four degrees arrived just as the second term was about to begin.  Two days before it started he was assigned to teach logic and philosophy, which he had never taught, and he was to teach it in Latin, no problem for him; but to teach it to young men who for the most part really did not know Latin -- a problem.

No wonder, then, the survival of his spirit lay outside plodding through syllogisms and the questions of St. Thomas.  Fr. Paul more enjoyed teaching the summer courses at Catholic University of America's branch at Dominican College or, later, classes at Notre Dame, Belmont.

He soon began to be involved with successive study groups.  One was "The Thomists," originally a group of scientists from the Livermore Lab to whom he taught Thomistic principles, and with whom he discussed all sorts of relevant political, social and economic questions of the time.  These men could then "preach the word" in their environment, more sure of their faith and how to live it in the world.

The other group was the Catholic Teachers Fellowship, which met each month during the school year for fifteen years.  During the Evenings of Recollection, we who taught in public school, came to St. Albert's to pray, to learn Church teaching and how to use that teaching in our classrooms so that we could teach moral and spiritual values without teaching religion.  These two long-term commitments nurtured Fr. Paul and nurtured us; and those who participated are deeply grateful.

This recounting skips quickly over trips back to his large family in Malta, years of teaching at Mission San Jose and serving as chaplain there, giving conferences and hearing confessions at Corpus Christi Monastery, preaching retreats to religious and lay groups and being available for weekend supply to many parishes.

God alone knows how many marriage cases he worked to resolve.  In another area, I know only that I was often asked to pray for the resolution of one or another priestly case so that one priest could return to the priesthood, another could have the laicization process successfully completed, yet another be helped to find a diocese in which he could serve better.  Who these priests were, how many there were, God knows.  I was only told, "Well, I think I've gotten that case settled, now will you pray that I can help this priest?"  I trust these men will welcome Fr. Paul home.

The Order gave him its highest degree, Master of Sacred Theology, and the Knights of Malta gave him their ancient split red and white cross and special honor in appreciation of the work he had done for them.

It is my hope that some of the good things done during a long life will not be forgotten.  You who are lay people here tonight know some of the facets of that good; you who manage the finances of the Province know that the resources of the Thomists now provide an annual source of revenue for both students and retired members of the Province; you, my brothers and sisters of the Dominican Laity know how much he taught us and worked for us during his years as Provincial Promoter of the Laity and chaplain of St. Albert's Chapter.  He showed us how to go forth, to be, to do, to preach by word and work Christ's work in the world.

He loved this house and those who dwelt here.  May you be as he was at his best in his prime: open to new ideas, willing to work with lay people to challenge them to be Christ's witnesses, and always there to visit the sick.  In sum, to fulfill his favorite phrase about himself in those days, "I'm like the Kaiser cement truck that has written on its side, 'Find a need and fill it' -- that's what I try to do."  May you love and value your priestly vocation as much as he.

In one of my last visits with him shortly before he died, I said, "Dying is hard and you don't like it".  His lips pursed, his jaw jutted just as I'd watched over the years when things didn't go his way.  There was recognition in his eyes as I said, "You haven't changed a bit!"

Last night I discovered the holy card souvenirs of the great events of his life: Ordination 1928 - "you are a priest forever"; Silver Jubilee 1953 - "I will sing forever of your love, 0 Lord"; thirty-fifth anniversary, 1963 - "For in him, our heart shall rejoice, in his holy name we have trusted"; Golden Jubilee, 1988 - "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith."

Yes, Fr. Paul, the fight is over, and you enjoyed most of its battle rounds.  You have kept the faith and He in whom your trust was so strong welcomes you home.

- Ellen Logue, O.P.L.

• Pictured with the pope

XII: 341