By Thea Jarvis

The great portals of heaven have a new assistant gatekeeper.

The laughing eyes and Irish smile of Brother Pius Laflin, who spent his last 30 years at the Trappist Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, will now be on hand to welcome new arrivals to the Kingdom.

Brother Pius passed away on Oct. 15 at the age of 82. Until two days before his death, he had been at his post at the monastery gate and bookstore, welcoming visitors and seeing to their needs.

This job he had held since 1952, when his good friend, Brother Hugh Reardon, needed an assistant “up front.” In 1969, Brother Pius was put in charge of the gate due to Brother Hugh’s failing health.

“Brother Pius not only put in his time at the bookstore, but kept the coke machine and cheese, candy and honey stocked,” said Father Joachim Tierney, one of the original founders of the Conyers community.

“He was quite a worker. He was in charge of the relatives’ guesthouse by the lake and did all the purchasing for the monastery in town. I offered to help him with the cleaning of the gatehouse, but he declined, afraid he wasn’t doing enough.”

Father Joachim also remembered Brother Pius as “one of the earliest in church,” rising around three in the morning for prayer or private Mass followed by Scripture reading. His full day ended at 8:15 at night, with perhaps a short nap in between.

Brother Pius Laflin first visited the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in 1946 when he was still a stockbroker on Wall Street in New York City. His successful career there had been preceded by a fondly remembered childhood and graduation from Holy Cross College in Massachusetts.

Though encouraged by the monastery to come back, it was to be four years before his return to Conyers. He made this important decision during the Christmas holidays of 1950.

“All the electricity in New York City had gone out” due to a severe winter storm, Father Joachim explained, beginning the story Brother Pius had told him years ago when the two men were discussing the Blessed Mother.

“That morning, going to Mass, Pius remembered that a statue of Our Lady of Fatima was to be brought to a church some 20 miles away,” he continued. “There were no streetcars or subways--everything was off.”

But the determined New Yorker would not give up his pilgrimage. He walked the 20

miles.

“When he got there, he couldn’t get in,” said Father Joachim. People were overflowing the pews and aisles and doorways. Undaunted, Brother Pius went around the back and made his way through a side door.

When he finally got in, “he was facing the altar and at that moment, the priest carrying the statue came out from the other side directly across from him,” remembered Father Joachim. “He looked at Our Lady and was so thrilled. ‘Oh! She’s looking at me,’ he thought.”

The 20-mile trek back through Manhattan gave the seasoned broker the opportunity to ponder his experience and commit himself to a religious vocation.

It was Brother Pius’ feeling that the encounter exerted a great influence on his final decision to enter monastic life and that “his vocation came through Our Lady,” according to Father Joachim. “He was very devoted to Our Lady.”

This past summer, Brother Pius celebrated 25 years as a monk. A late vocation, he was past 50 when he entered Conyers and 57 at the time of his profession in 1956.

His funeral Mass last Saturday was to be “a celebration,” said Father Joachim. “Many of the monks recall him saying ‘I hope I don’t have a long illness before dying.’ He died the way he wanted.”

Brother Pius’ body was received by his community last Friday and, in accordance with the tradition of the order, placed on an open bier in the church, where two watchers remained until the time of burial.

Following the Mass of the Resurrection on Saturday afternoon, the community of monks brought their brother’s body, clad in his monastic habit, to the cemetery behind the church.

Abbot Augustine Moore gave the final blessing and placed the first shovel full of earth at the feet of the monk. The community responded singing, “Lord, Jesus, have mercy on me a sinner,” and returned to church chanting penitential psalms.

Brother Pius Laflin was a gift to those who knew him. His easy, friendly manner welcomed all who passed through the monastery gates.

His love of children--even the noisy ones--was unaffected. His patience for those searching the racks for the right book, or those for whom the monastic life was a hopeless enigma, was unfaltering.

The knowing smile that moved gently from his mouth to his eyes and spread across his whole face bespoke the joy that filled his life.

These memories are the treasures he has left us. Remembering them, we can smile, too.