A CALL TO ORDER : A Carmelite Retreat in North Hollywood Is Set Up to Help a Handful of Men Decide Whether a Life of Service to God Is Reality or Romantic Notion

“I’ll be honest with you,” Carl Markelz told the dozen men seated in the living room of Carmel West, a Carmelite priory in North Hollywood. “I don’t know if I want to do this for the rest of my life.”

Most of those seated around Markelz shared his uncertainty. They had gathered for a recent three-day retreat to get a closer look at the Order of Carmelites and the priesthood.

It was a time of intense self-examination as each man tried to decide whether the calling he felt to join the priesthood was a romantic notion or a real possibility.

“They’re looking for a deeper prayer life, whether it’s individual or communal prayer life. Some of them don’t know why. It’s been haunting them since childhood,” said the Rev. John Knoernschild, vocational director for the Carmelites’ Western province in the United States.

The retreat at Carmel West, a white, two-story house on a residential street that dead-ends at the Hollywood Freeway, was not a recruiting weekend, he said. But for the Order of Carmelites, whose numbers have been dwindling since the early 1970s, the retreat was an opportunity to attract the rare few willing to sacrifice the rest of their lives in service to God.

“In June of ‘88, I have to renew my vows,” explained Markelz, a 26-year-old student at White Friars Hall theology school in Washington. “But I’m not sure if I will make my solemn vows yet.”

Markelz pressed the palms of his hands against the sides of his head and closed his eyes when he prayed. He was one of four young Carmelites who arrived at Carmel West from the theological school to share their experiences with men who were considering life in an order.

It was an eclectic group that met to contemplate a life of celibacy, a monthly stipend of about $125, daily prayer and ownership of nothing that cannot be easily transported.

They ranged in age from 21 to 43 and included:

A Chatsworth certified public accountant who will finish law school in June. “I’d be in a job with practically no income versus a job that’s going to be paying $60,000 plus,” he said.

But “there’s a part of me that really is attracted to simplicity and not being so controlled by money and a job,” said the man, who asked not to be identified.

A recovering alcoholic, dry for the past 11 years, who ran a retail store and then worked in a bill-collecting agency before returning to school. “I didn’t even believe in God back then,” said the Westchester man. “This is the biggest consideration of my life. It’s a time of extreme caution.”

An ex-computer programmer from Malibu who said he has been considering the priesthood off and on for 14 years and, as part of a charismatic group called Singles for Jesus, has been celibate for the past eight years. “I’m at a stage where I know . . . I’m pretty sure I’m going to go into the religious life, but what order I don’t know,” said Mark Dillon, 36, a soft-spoken and intense man. “So I’m just checking them out and trying to get a representative sample.”

And the Carmelites checked out the retreat participants. They also did their best to convey the positive aspects of a life many consider full of self-denial.

“If you want to be with people at their key moments, at real important moments in their lives, then consider the priesthood,” said the Rev. Peter Liuzzi. “When someone gets married, I’m there. When someone has a child, I’m there. When people are dying, when they’re grieving, you get to be privy to all that.”

Across the nation, the number of theologians--men who are completing academic study before ordination--dropped from 7,855 in 1968 to 3,934 in 1988. Students enrolled in high school seminaries dropped from 15,737 to 2,448 over the same period, according to the Rev. Adrian Fuerst, who compiles statistics at the Washington-based Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate.

“I think the general, overall feeling is it’s not going to get any better. There’s not going to be a miraculous upturn,” Fuerst said.

The Carmelites also have felt the pinch. Since 1970, the order closed seminaries in Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada, and Hamilton, Mass. And since June, two of the order’s three college programs, one in Purchase, N.Y., and the other in Chicago, Ill., have been phased out due to lack of interest and staffing expenses.

“They say by the year 2000, there will be half the number of priests that there are now,” said Knoernschild.

The first evening of the retreat began with dinner and a slide show on the history of the Carmelites. Then the visitors introduced themselves.

One man said he attended the weekend retreat to rid himself of romantic idealism and “to see how mundane the life can be.”

Liuzzi, a gregarious, dark-haired man, shared his own first impression of the Carmelites.

“I guess the thing I was captured by, taken by, was the brothers seemed like normal guys. They were just a bunch of raggedy-ass cadets,” recalled Liuzzi, 49. “But as ordinary as they were, they always seemed willing to reach for bigger and better things.”

He addressed a topic that looms large for those considering the priesthood: celibacy.

Liuzzi explained that even with the vow of chastity, priests do not necessarily limit their emotional growth. He said he hates it when someone describes him as “single.”

“I’m not single. I’ve got a home, I live with five people, and I live in intimacy with them. I know their pain, and they know mine. I live in a regular house where ordinary stuff happens, and we’re trying to eke out an existence and rise above the baloney just like everybody else.”

Several of the retreat leaders expressed their own longing to have families and raise children.

Markelz said sharing his feelings with a woman “can be a real gray area.” And 27-year-old Glenn Snow, a deacon living in Washington, said celibacy is “a very messy vow. It tears me apart in a way that I would rather not be.”

The next day, the discussions continued: Poverty was the subject in the morning, while the afternoon’s conversations centered on chastity.

The first thing to remember about celibacy, said Greg Haupt, one of the theology students from Washington, is to accept one’s sexuality. “Celibacy does not mean asexuality,” he said.

One of the visitors commented that in this century, there has been too much emphasis on sexuality and suggested that perhaps the Roman Catholic Church should consider the shortage of priests when considering celibacy.

Another asked if the vow of celibacy might ever be modified.

If it is, answered members of the Carmelites, the decision will only affect diocesan priests, not the Order of Carmelites, who live according to their own rule.

At the end of the discussion, Dillon solemnly concluded that while priests may sacrifice a spouse, “you end up having children and brothers and sisters a hundredfold.”

The road to the priesthood is a long one.

Should one of the participants in the Carmelite retreat decide to travel it, he first would have to fill out an application, take a medical examination, submit recommendations and high school and college transcripts. An applicant also must write an autobiography and take a battery of psychological diagnostic tests. A panel of Carmelites then decides if the candidate can enter the priest formation program.

Five years later, the candidate makes his solemn vows--the verbal commitment to live according to the values of the order--and becomes a brother.

With solemn vows, the Carmelite brother joins a spiritual fraternity that was established in 1226 by Pope Honorius III. The cloistered order is made up primarily of women who spend their lives in prayer, rarely leaving the confines of the monastery, while the brothers, Liuzzi says, are more like “public servants.” They teach, hold administrative posts, work with the sick and run parishes and evangelical programs.

Two of the most famous Catholic spiritualists came from the ranks of the Carmelites--St. John of the Cross, who wrote “Dark Night of the Soul,” and St. Teresa of Avila, who wrote “The Way of Perfection.” Both stressed the power of solitude.

Solitude may dissuade many from joining the order today. The Order of Carmelites, which numbers around 375 in the United States, has lost about 100 men during the last 20 years.

In the late afternoon of the retreat’s final day, the participants have a few hours of free time. Liuzzi helps prepare a huge meal of pasta and Italian sausage.

“This is what it comes down to,” he said, draped in a plastic apron. “Cooking.”

The men who had come to Carmel West to get a glimpse of life as a Carmelite arrived at a variety of conclusions.

The red-bearded Dillon said the order was not for him. He said he wanted more prayer.

Paul Henson, a 23-year-old elementary school teacher from Sylmar, said he was sure he wanted to be a priest, but did not want to return to seminary life yet. He attended St. John’s Seminary in Camarillo for two years before becoming a teacher.

But Michael Hicks, 42, of Arizona, said there was not a doubt in his mind. In fact, he said, he felt like he had “found a home in the first hour.”