Priests and religious were not foreign to my family. Dad had a brother who was a priest (Msgr. Henri A. Hamel), two aunts who were Sisters of Holy Cross, an uncle who was a Brother of Christian Schools, a first cousin who was a priest for the Archdiocese of Boston, and six first cousins who were religious women.

Not to be outdone, mom had three brothers who were priests (Msgr. Gerard J. Chabot, Father Luke M. Chabot, OFM, and Father Bertrand R. Chabot), a sister who was a nun (Sister Armand Marie Chabot, SUSC — the same community as we had in school.

She also had an aunt who was a Religious of Jesus and Mary, plus a first cousin and a second cousin who were also women religious. Both of mom’s parents also had relatives in religious life, some of whom functioned in this diocese (Msgr. Alfred Bonneau, Msgr. Louis Prevost, Father Daniel Gamache) … and the list still isn’t exhausted.

As a youngster, I wanted to be a priest. Serving as an altar boy and being so close to the altar while Mass was being celebrated and Christ was made present was for me the best thing possible. Things took a serious turn when I was in high school and met the diocesan director of vocations, Father John J. Smith.

To finalize my entry into the seminary college, I had a meeting with Father Smith at St. James Rectory in New Bedford, where he was parochial vicar. I remember the meeting as though it happened last month, even though it took place in 1973.

Father Smith, knowing at least three of my four priest uncles, commented that they must have had an extraordinary influence on my decision to pursue a priestly vocation. He was somewhat taken aback when I responded with a simple, “No.” 

“No?” he asked. And I responded “no” a second time. “I really don’t know my uncles all that well,” I replied. “They work when my parents have time off, and my parents work when they have time off. We really only see them on holidays, and at that point, the adults talk, and the kids stick to themselves.” 

And it was true. While I “knew” them all, and was likewise so proud to say that I had four priest uncles, they really didn’t have that much of an impact on my life — aside from explaining to my friends why we had so many priest pictures on the lowboy.

“Well,” asked Father Smith, “if they didn’t have that much influence on your decision, how do your explain the fact that you might have a vocation?” 

I thought about it for just a moment and answered him with another question. “Do you suppose that it’s because my parents created in their home the same type of environment that my grandparents created in their home where the seeds of a religious vocation could take root?” I don’t think he was expecting that response, but he agreed that it was probably the case.

I did mention, too, that I was very lucky as a kid to have some great priests as role models in the parish: Msgr. Alfred Gendreau, Father Dan Gamache, Father Andre Jussaume, Father Dick Beaulieu, Father Ray Robillard, and Father Paul Canuel.

I guess the answer must have satisfied him since he continued to recommend me to Bishop Daniel A. Cronin as a possible candidate. Bishop Cronin is the one from whose hands I received the sacrament of holy orders, as a deacon and as a priest.

Priesthood ordination was in June and I still have so many vivid recollections of the Mass of Ordination. My favorite moment, after the laying on of hands, was when I got to kneel before the bishop so that he might anoint my hands with sacred Chrism. There was not a spot on the palms of my hands or the underside of my fingers that was not anointed. 

While “all of me” was ordained, the hands in particular are singled out for the priestly work that we do. From that point on, my hands would hold the gifts of the community that the Lord Jesus himself would consecrate into his Body and Blood through me, as his tool. And what an extraordinary joy it was the following day to celebrate my first Mass and know beyond doubt that Jesus himself was using me to bring the gifts of his Body and Blood to the community of believers. 

My voice. My ritual action. His power. His presence. His Eucharist. 

As a young priest I had the good fortune to be assigned to a parish that also had a hospital attached. Father Frank Wallace took the hospital as his ministry and he excelled at it. I got to cover it on his days off. 

One evening when I was talking to my mom on the phone, I recapped the previous 24 hours that I had spent at the hospital with six anointings involving some pretty serious, if not horrific, circumstances. Once I was done telling her of the various scenes, she said: “You know, Phil, I don’t care what some people might think. You have one tough job, and I wouldn’t want it for all the money in the world.”

I suspect that it might be the grace of the sacrament that prompted my response to her. I said: “Great. I have no intention of giving it to you. You could have gone into all of those same situations, said the same things and not have had the same impact. A lot of what I did today wasn’t so great to these people because Phil Hamel was there, but because the priest was there. Christ used me as a priest to bring his grace and healing to his people. And I wouldn’t give it up for all the money in the world.”

My uncle Bert — Father Bertrand R. Chabot — baptized me and also honored me by vesting me in chasuble at my ordination as a priest. Anyone who knew him heard him say on many occasions that he had the absolute best job in the whole world. He was absolutely convinced of it.

So maybe my uncles influenced me a bit more than I suspected. God is good.

Father Hamel was ordained in 1985 and is pastor of St. Joseph-St. Therese Parish in New Bedford.