On March 8, 1998, Father Paul McHarness died in his room at the abbey while reading the bulletin of the Tekakwitha Conference, a national organization for which he was one the secretary.

Fr Paul was born on March 14, 1919 in Wallace, Idaho. When he was in grade school, his family moved to Spokane, Washington. He attended Gonzaga University where he earned a degree in chemical engineering. Father Paul was an officer in the US Navy during World War II and was recalled to duty during the Korean conflict. Returning to civilian life, he became involved with the Marquette League which led to his teaching at a Jesuit school on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota.

He came to Blue Cloud Abbey in 1954 and entered the novitiate the following year. He professed solemn vows in 1959 and was ordained a priest in 1960 at the age of forty-one. His assignments in Blue Cloud's apostolate among the Indian people were on the Ft Totten Reservation in North Dakota and the Yankton Reservation in South Dakota. He was also the pastor at Wilmot and Milbank. For several years, he was the community's treasurer. In 1994, he became chaplain at Mother of God Monastery in Watertown. He retired to the abbey in 1996, after having suffered a stroke.

Fr Paul had the reputation of being a curmudgeon. He thought some of our monastic practices were merely "romantic" and he was quick to label certain ideas and proposals as nothing but "a bunch of pious bull." We were more often amused by his crankiness than intimidated by it. Although he said monastic life should be counter-cultural, his parting words as he set off for his assignment in Watertown were: "Yippee! I'll have my own car and TV again." He viewed a lot of television. "Junk!" he said after a night in front of the TV. Fr Paul did not have to depend on television for enlightenment, thought. He was well read and liked discussing books. He enjoyed poetry and even wrote it.

          Now sixty, I reach the boundary of my being.
          I begin a new and different search,
          A deeper pilgrimage with freer longing.
          I am in a holding pattern of serene and exiting wait.
          I smell flowers I cannot see.