Where the Journey Began: New Book Honours the Formation Houses That Shaped Marist Brotherhood in the Province

For those pursuing a religious life, a formation house is more than just a building - it’s a sacred space where one discerns their calling and undergoes a deep transformation. Within these walls, young men and women come to understand what it truly means to live lives of obedience, simplicity, and service - and to ask themselves, with honesty and courage, if they are ready to embrace the mission and charism of their order.

**Co-authors Br Brian Etherington and Br Julian Casey.**

Across the Star of the Sea Province - spanning 11 countries - formation houses were once the beating heart of Marist life. These houses shaped and sent forth countless Brothers, all inspired by the dream of Marcellin Champagnat.

But as vocations have steadily declined - shaped by shifting cultural landscapes and other external forces - many of these houses have grown quiet. Fewer Brothers now enter formation, and some of these once-vibrant spaces have been transformed into retreat centres, ecological hubs, or have been sold. Still, their legacy lives on in the memories and stories of those who once walked their corridors.

It is this legacy that Br Brian Etherington, Br Julian Casey, and Br Edward (Ted) Clisby sought to preserve before it faded too far from view. Their newly released book, A Brief History of Formation Houses in the Star of the Sea Province (1872–2024), traces the story of these houses - from Australia to Samoa, and even the former Marist mission in Tonga, among others. Launched on 10 April, the book is more than a historical record; it is a deeply personal exploration of Marist identity, mission, and the quiet legacy of the Brothers in the Pacific and parts of Asia.

The Star Post sat down with Br Brian to learn how the book came to life, the unexpected discoveries made during research, and what it feels like to witness - and record - the probable conclusion of an era that he and his co-authors lived and shaped. What emerges isn’t simply nostalgia, but something more enduring: a quiet affirmation that this story, once lived in humble corners of the world, still deserves to be remembered.

What inspired you and the other Brothers to write A Brief History of Formation Houses in the Star of the Sea Province?

The idea for the book actually came from Br Peter Carroll and the Patrimony Committee. Br Peter asked the committee if someone might be willing to write something on the formation houses, and they approached me. I agreed to do it. It wasn’t really about inspiration - it was more a request, and I was happy to take it on.

As for the content, I was an archivist here for many years, so I already had a good sense of what we had available, which was very handy. I was also lucky that a former Brother, Geoff Williams, had taken a lot of photographs during his novitiate and juniorate in the 1950s. He documented Mittagong extensively. I was able to access those images, and Edward Clisby also sent through some wonderful pictures from Aotearoa-New Zealand. I was fortunate to be able to get all the New Zealand photos properly developed at a place in Sydney, which helped a lot.

**Berith Park Wahroonga, Postulancy House, 1972-1975.**

How did the three of you come together for this project? Can you walk us through your collaboration process and how you divided the responsibilities?

I acted as the overall editor for the book, and at the beginning, I made a few suggestions to the others about what they might want to include in their sections. But beyond that, there wasn’t much collaboration during the actual writing process.

Br Ted, who’s based in Aotearoa - New Zealand, wrote chapter two - all the content relating to that country. He also sent over a collection of photos, which I used to help put the chapter together.

"For Fiji, I drew heavily on Br Ted’s earlier book Far Distant Shores, which is an extensive history of the New Zealand Province. I read it cover to cover and found it fascinating."

Br Julian, based in Melbourne, worked on the part covering the Melbourne formation houses - specifically, his contribution forms half of chapter four. We mostly worked online, sending files back and forth, and compiled our respective sections that way.

I wrote quite a bit myself, especially the remaining chapters, but many other Brothers contributed too. For instance, Br Anthony Hunt - who speaks fluent French and had lived in New Caledonia for several years - compiled most of the material on New Caledonia.

Similarly, Br Robert Spear, over in Timor-Leste, provided all the content for that section.

**Our Lady of the Hermitage Novitiate c.1960.**

For Fiji, I drew heavily on Br Ted’s earlier book Far Distant Shores, which is an extensive history of the New Zealand Province. I read it cover to cover and found it fascinating. It was the first time I’d really learned much about what had gone on in New Zealand, and it also gave me a feel for places like Lomeri, which was a former formation house in Fiji. I had also lived in Fiji for a couple of years, so I had some firsthand knowledge to draw on as well.

Given that the Star of the Sea Province spans across 11 countries, how did you approach this research? How did you decide which stories to be included and what to leave out?

My brief was fairly simple: to write a history of the formation houses. So that’s the lens I used throughout.

For places like Samoa and Tonga, I didn’t have much prior knowledge, but again Br Ted’s book was a great resource.

Similarly, he had done very extensive research on the whole history of the New Zealand Province (including Fiji, Samoa, Kiribati and Vanuatu), which covered a lot of ground. That gave me a foundation to work from, and I followed up by contacting Brothers who had served in those places.

For example, Br Fergus Garett, who spent most of his life in Fiji, gave me a lot of material.

I reviewed all the material and made editorial decisions about what would help tell the story clearly, and what might bog it down. I included what I thought was relevant and would resonate with a broader audience, and left out what might have brought people to tears - out of sheer detail fatigue! It was all about selecting what would bring the history to life without overwhelming readers.

Were there any surprising or lesser-known stories that you uncovered while working on the book?

Yes, quite a few actually.

Now, I had never been particularly interested in formation work itself, but working on this book got me thinking more deeply about what formation really means. Br Michael Green helped me a lot in that area.

One thing I came to understand is that throughout the history of our Institute, the concept of formation houses has evolved quite a bit. I hadn’t really thought about that before. For example, I started looking into the origins of juniorates - where did they come from?

That’s when I discovered that back in the 1880s, Br Louis-Marie developed the idea of juniorates, and the reasons why he did so. Then, in the 1960s, a few major things happened. First, there was the Second Vatican Council, which really brought about a revolution in the Catholic Church. We started to see things very differently from how they had been before.

"But starting in the 1970s, there was a big shift toward integration and community. There was a very healthy emphasis on engaging with the wider world."

At the same time, the Brothers themselves began to take more responsibility for formation - people leading formation programs had proper training in psychology and related fields, which changed the way things were done. There was a growing awareness that many of our earlier methods needed to evolve.

And then, something quite dramatic happened - young people stopped joining us. When I joined the Brothers in the 1950s, you’d expect to see about 25 novices each year. That was the norm. But by the 1970s, that number had dropped off almost completely. No one was coming. So that raised big questions - What does this mean for our formation? For our houses?

When I was going through formation, we lived in isolated communities - up in Mittagong or some remote location. We didn’t mix much with others - just our group, for better or worse.

But starting in the 1970s, there was a big shift toward integration and community. There was a very healthy emphasis on engaging with the wider world. That influenced everything - from where formation houses were located, to how they were built, and how they operated.

Learning about that evolution was quite interesting!

While doing your research, was there a particular story - perhaps about an individual or a formation house - that moved you emotionally?

Yes, there were a few. One that touched me came from the early days in New Zealand when they first established their juniorate. From what I gathered - especially reading Br Ted’s book - it seemed like a very humane, warm environment.

There was a sad story I came across, though. A group of the boys were apparently daring each other to do risky things, and one boy had a terrible accident - he was killed. It wasn’t deliberate, just a tragic accident, but it meant that the environment had to tighten up after that. I found that quite moving and a little heartbreaking.

And then, more personally, when I reflect on my own time in formation, I have a deep affection for some of the Brothers who were part of that journey. My novice master, for example, was such a warm, kind man - I remember him so fondly.

**Marist Scholasticate 1977-1984, Onslow Avenue, Auckland.**

One of the Brothers who taught me in the Juniorate is still alive today. He left the Brothers later on, but I hold a lot of affection for him. Back then, we were only 15 or 16, and we didn’t realise it, but he wasn’t just teaching us. He was the one getting up at 5am to get the boiler going so we could have hot showers. He probably did the shopping, kept the place running - all those little things you only understand in hindsight.

"I have a deep affection for some of the Brothers who were part of that journey. My novice master, for example, was such a warm, kind man - I remember him so fondly."

Those memories, they stay with you.

With fewer vocations and formation houses today, how do you see their role evolving within the context of the contemporary Marist mission?

I think they have already evolved. Take Mittagong, for example - it’s just wonderful how the space has been repurposed. It’s now a hub for Marist spirituality and is also used by the Diocese, so the space remains vibrant and meaningful. It’s the same over at Lomeri in Fiji, which is now the Champagnat Marist Centre for Ecology and Spirituality. The old novitiate in New Zealand has been sold, but many other former formation houses are still active.

"Mittagong, for example - it’s just wonderful how the space has been repurposed. It’s now a hub for Marist spirituality."

And now, we have got a new generation of young Brothers coming in - from Timor-Leste, Papua New Guinea, and other parts of the region. The international formation programs are much stronger. When I joined, I knew we were part of an international order, but I never experienced it until much later in life - working in Kenya, the Philippines, and even a bit in Thailand.

A few years back, I was lucky enough to represent our Province in Davao City in the Philippines, where I stayed with a group of young postulants. It was like a little United Nations - Timorese, Vietnamese, Cambodians - all learning to live and grow together.

It was such a rich experience. And then, of course, they move on to Sri Lanka for their novitiate.

The formation experience today is much more global than what we had. And I think that’s a beautiful evolution.

What does this book mean to you, personally, as someone who’s lived the Marist journey?

For me, the book is a contribution to preserving our history. At the very start, I explain what a juniorate actually is and why it existed - because to modern ears, it probably sounds quite strange. We were taking in 12 and 13-year-old boys! But I included a quote that shows why that was attractive to boys at the time. Today, it might seem odd, but back then, it made a lot of sense.

"And that’s part of the reason I wrote the book. In ten years, most people won’t know what a juniorate was - or a novitiate, or a scholasticate."

And that’s part of the reason I wrote the book. In ten years, most people won’t know what a juniorate was - or a novitiate, or a scholasticate. These were such central parts of our lives, and we have used these words assuming everyone knows what they mean. But they don’t anymore. So, it’s important to capture that.

Also, in the 19th century, these boys - 13, 14, 15 - went on to become what we called 'student teachers.' This practice of junior student teachers was common not only among the Marist Brothers but also for all young teachers in training, whether for Catholic or state schools. They were teaching kids their own age. It sounds bizarre now, but it was completely normal then. That is something worth recording.

At the back of the book, I have also listed all the key people involved in formation across the Province. If someone wants to know who the novice master was in, say, 1973 - they can find it. It’s all there. I think it’s good to have it all written down.

And how does that make you feel? You mentioned that, in ten years’ time, people might not even know what a juniorate or a novitiate is. As someone who has lived that life - who’s gone through all of that - how does that make you feel?

I just think that, for us as Brothers - particularly here in Australia - it feels like we are coming to the end of the road. In twenty years’ time, there may be no more Brothers. And I have come to terms with that.

I place it all in the hands of God. God’s providence works in its own mysterious way. He doesn’t need us. We were here for a time. We did what we were called to do. And maybe, in the fullness of time, our presence is no longer needed. I can cope with that. I have had a very happy life.

And this might sound a bit light-hearted, but I am in a Bushwalking Club, and half the people there are worried because no one new is joining. And I just say - why worry? We have all had a great time in the club. We have enjoyed it. If it's not relevant anymore, why spend all our energy trying to keep something going that no longer resonates?

I feel the same way about being a Brother. I have had a wonderful life in the Brothers, and I am still very happy in the life. I go home to a community that brings me joy.

"He doesn’t need us. We were here for a time. We did what we were called to do. And maybe, in the fullness of time, our presence is no longer needed. I can cope with that. I have had a very happy life."

When we were younger, we had a role to play. And when I look at Catholic schools today, I honestly think they’re probably doing it better than we did. Maybe I am wrong - but they’re certainly doing a great job. And if we’re no longer needed, then… why worry?

It's all in the hands of the good Lord.

Finally, what do you hope readers - especially young Marists or those considering religious life - will take away from this book?

I am not sure they will get a great deal from it, but perhaps they will take away a bit of our history. And maybe it will help them understand the Brothers a little better.

"The book could offer a small glimpse into who we were, what our life looked like, and why it mattered."

For young people today, I suspect the idea of a Brother is something of a puzzle. Take where I live now - right next door to a school in Eastwood. The students see us coming and going, but they’re not taught by Brothers anymore. To them, we are just a group of feeble old men with walking sticks. They smile at us, we smile back - but that’s often the extent of the connection.

**Casa Marista Teulate, Baucau, Timor-Leste.**

So if this book can offer even a small glimpse into who we were, what our life looked like, and why it mattered - it might give them some inklings about a bygone era and what it was all about.

A few photos from the launch on 10 April