Father Hoge. Photo courtesy St. Leo University.

Word has come to me through St. Leo University that God called Father James C. Hoge, O.S.B. to Himself last Saturday afternoon. Father Hoge was 96 years old and had been professed with the Benedictine community of St. Leo Abbey since 1938. Had he lived long enough to come to next Tuesday’s Chrism Mass I would have honored him on the occasion of his 70th anniversary of his priestly ordination. What makes Father Hoge so unique in our diocesan history was his service to this local Church in its northern counties (Pasco, Hernando and Citus). Instrumental in the establishment and founding of all six parishes in Citrus country, he became known and beloved by almost all Catholics living in our northernmost county. He also was instrumental in pushing for the establishment of Pope John Paul II elementary school which began its life as “Citrus County Catholic Elementary School.”

St. Benedict, in founding the religious community which bears his name, told his monks in their “way of life” that two things were absolutely essential: “ora et labora” or “Prayer and work.” Tireless in spreading the Gospel in the church, first as a teacher at St. Leo Prep School in Pasco County, and then for many years as a parish priest and pastor, this man was truly a builder. He was a model of Benedict’s view of the perfect monk, working hard and praying harder. It was painful for him when retirement finally came and he did not take to it well. Ever ready to help out in parishes on weekends, especially in those he founded and where he left such great friends, returning to the routine of monastery life was hard for him.

So many people were the beneficiaries of his priestly presence, diocesan priests, religious women, lay men and women, children. He was there for them all. To be cut off from his pastoral life-blood was very hard and he suffered physically and emotionally in his final years. I, too, dread the time when my medical-surrogate, a long time priest friend, comes and says to me , “Bob, I need the car keys.” I hope I will be more at peace in that moment than dear Father Hoge was for most of the time it is a moment of “tough love” of those who care for us in our old age. When he was a the “top of his game” the priesthood was very much in vogue for Father Hoge and he gave it his all, and wished to do so until his last breath.

In addition to being a great pastor of souls, Father Hoge was born in Charleston, West Virginia, as I was, and he loved railroads, as I do. He would bring me books about the railroads of west central Florida, where they went and what they carried. It was great fun for me when I first came to the diocese to learn the history of the “northern exposure” of the Church of St. Petersburg. What he did not share with me, Monsignor George Cummings did, and he would have been sitting right next to Father Jim next Tuesday at the Chrism Mass. See, Monsignor George will be ninety-five this year and will observe very quietly he has warned me, his seventieth anniversary of priestly ordination. These men were truly priestly pioneers, giants of their time, and devoted evangelizers of the Gospel. Father Jim, rest in peace, dear friend, with Benedict and his sister Scholastica, with your parents, the five abbots of St. Leo whom you knew and under whom you served and your many deceased Benedictine brothers. We send our prayers and sentiments of sympathy to the monks of St. Leo Abbey and the Sisters of Holy Name Monastery and members of your family on the occasion of this significant loss.

When Hoge was in vogue, the faith was alive and the love of Christ abounded.

NOTE ADDED 3/22: I will be celebrating a Memorial Mass for Father Hoge at 6:00PM on Wednesday, March 27, 2013, at St. Scholastica Parish in Lecanto. All are invited to attend.

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Bishop Norbert Dorsey at his 50th anniversary mass of ordination to priesthood on April 28, 2006. Photo credit: Diocese of Orlando

Today is the day when the church universal  celebrates what is called “The Chair of Peter”. I intended to use this day to reflect on the papacy of Pope Benedict XVI which will come to an end  next Thursday at 2p.m. EST as the Holy Father vacates the papacy for his remaining years in prayer and solitude. But that reflection will have to wait because last night about 850pm Bishop John Noonan, the Bishop of Orlando notified me of the death of Norbert Dorsey, C.P., third bishop of Orlando, a few minutes earlier. Bishop Norbert was a brother in the episcopacy, a friend, a wise, lovely, cultured, deeply spiritual man. So I have lost a brother, not Tim or Jim, my blood brother, but a brother bishop, a neighbor, and a dear friend.

Norbert M. Dorsey was a passionate Passionist. No one my age who ever thought of being a priest in the ’40′s and ’50′s could possibly forget something called SIGN magazine. In many ways, next to Catholic Digest, it was THE Catholic magazine. My paternal grandparents in Boston, surely worried about that wing of their family living in Protestant West Virginia and Virginia gave my family an annual subscription to SIGN magazine hoping that it would keep the “Catholic” flame of faith alive in the “heathen” lands where their son, daughter-in-law and three children were living. And in many ways SIGN did just that. When old enough I always read it and looked at the advertisements for priests in the back. Passionist priests also preached parish missions in the small churches of my youth. They all seemed to come from the east coast and Boston with their distinct local dialects and to me that seemed especially sent as messengers from God.

I recalled this feeling once in conversation with +Norbert and he told me that I was not far from wrong – they were messengers from God sent to preach the faith and win souls for God. Bishop Norbert was from western Massachusetts (Springfield) and he did not have to travel far to enter the religious community which he loved all his life. A gifted musician, after ordination, his religious superiors sent him to Rome to study sacred music and to teach in their seminary. So loved and admired was he that in time he was called to the Passionist generalate in Rome to be their world-wide orders Assistant to the General Superior for English speaking countries. It was there that he was eventually surprised one day to be called and told that Pope John Paul II wished him to come to Miami as an auxiliary bishop. Shocked at this sudden news and saddened deeply to leave the comfortable climes of his Passionist community of priests and brothers, he consented and started his new life as an Auxiliary to Archbishop Edward A. McCarthy, whom he had never met, in Miami where he had seldom visited except for its airport on his way around the world visiting his community.

“Who is this man?” the Miami priests asked. It did not take them long to discover a kind, holy, loving and sympathetic bishop. Auxiliary bishops in Miami did not do a lot of administration in those days and were used mostly for sacramental purposes like confirmation and show the flag at things the Archbishop either did not wish to attend or could not attend. Bishop Norbert lived in a small two-room apartment at the Cathedral rectory. He “cut his teeth” as a bishop in multicultural and multilingual Miami and the priests came to like him as a person, though they had not known him as a priest or pastor.

When Bishop Thomas Grady reached the retirement age in Orlando, Bishop Norbert was called north to become the third bishop of that diocese. He started new parishes in the rapidly growing area, bought the downtown US Post Office and turned it into the Pastoral Center or Chancery Office for the diocese. Ever the gentleman, ever the kindly priest he was often tested, mostly by testy priests, but he calmly stayed the course and led by humble example. When the time came and he felt his energy diminishing, he asked the Holy Father for help and getting it, retired soon thereafter, turning over this beloved diocese to others. Two bishops have served Orlando since Bishop Norbert’s retirement and he has been in diminishing health for almost all of his retirement. Living with a Passionist brother, Gus, he privately celebrated Mass, prayed, read, and smoked cigarettes.

As his neighbor to the West for a few years prior to his retirement, he was always encouraging to me, ever ready to lend a hand or an ear. He loved priests, even those few who gave him occasional fits and that is what I will always cherish as my memory of him – he loved priests. It hurt him as we all hurt when a priest was credibly accused of misconduct with a minor and it was on his watch when many cases came to light. Each was a crucifixion for him as were their acts for their victims. So last night, after a long period of illness which ended as a result of cancer, he went home to the Father. The church in Florida was blessed by his presence among us, the people of Orlando knew they had a good shepherd, and I lost a brother bishop last night, a friend, a wise counsellor, a genuinely good and holy man. Your own passion is now over, dear +Norbert. May you rest in peace.

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Father Evaristus Mushi
1956 – 2013
Photo credit: Diocese of Zanzibar website

I first learned of the death of Father Evaristus Mushi yesterday while checking my emails from a retired pastor who once enjoyed the presence and priestly service of Father in his parish. The details were astounding to me and crushing. This good priest, whom the people of St. Benedict’s parish in Crystal River and Our Lady of Grace parish in Beverly Hills came to know and love, was murdered at the entrance to his parish church in Zanzibar, an island in the Indian Ocean off of and a part of Tanzania, by at least two men who gunned him down on Sunday morning before Mass. Police investigating the murder think they now have in custody the men who killed Father Mushi but only time will tell. Father is the third clergy victim of such attacks since Christmas including a second priest,  but one of the clerics attacked was an Islamic cleric.

We remember Father Evaristus as an extremely kind, generous and genuinely holy priest who helped us here out for three years before returning to his country of Tanzania. He may well be a martyr for the faith. But for now, his parishioners, family and friends mourn this senseless act of violence and pray for the peaceful repose of his soul.

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Last Friday a week ago I received a phone call in the morning from the Bishop of Covington, KY informing me of the death at age 91 of the former bishop twice removed, Bishop William A Hughes. Sixty-six years a priest and 29 a bishop, he had spent recent years in Carmel Manor, an assisted living and nursing home in his diocese owned and operated by the Carmelite Sisters. I thought the world of the good bishop and missed him very much in these later years. Amazingly, Bishop Foyes call was to inform me that Bishop Hughes had asked me to preach the homily at his funeral Mass which was yesterday (February 15th) in the beautiful Covington Cathedral. It was a labor of love so I wish to share it with all of you who have the time and patience to read it.

I must admit that I was somewhat taken aback when Bishop Foyes called me on Friday morning to inform me of the death of Bishop Hughes and indicate that in his funeral directions, he had asked that I give the homily this morning. I am honored since I have long held Bishop Hughes in admiration and once had the privilege of working for him.

Death allows for no survivors and is one thing which all humanity shares in common. No amount of money or any position of prestige buys a “pass” from death’s embrace. It is a reality which we all must eventually face and for which many of us prepare. Seeking a dwelling place in the Father’s house is our life project for “God shows no partiality.” Kings and Queens, Popes and Presidents, bishops and priests, religious and lay all await that moment when we either will or will not be called to the “mountain top” where we will either have the veil which hides our vision of eternity lifted and are invited to join the elect, or face an eternity doomed to never see the face of God. The person of true faith fears not that moment and often when they pass from this life to the next, few tears are shed because there seems to be a surety of a life well lived.

Ninety-one years was a long time to wait for that moment, but unlike Thomas in the Gospel, when one has a fairly certain instinct where Jesus has gone, where He is to be found among us today, and how we follow the path of holiness by following the one person once on earth who came as “the way, the truth and the life”, then a peace sets in and waiting and watching take second place to reflecting on and thanking God for the manifold blessings which have been at the heart of one’s life. So today we gather not in grief but rather in gratitude, today we lift our voices not in lamentation but in praise, today we celebrate a life well lived according to the Gospel and we rejoice, strangely enough, in Bishop Hughes’ passing to the place for which he longed, one with Jesus, Mary and all the saints, and reunited with James and Anna his parents, and with others among his family, friends, and the faith communities of the dioceses of Youngstown and Covington where he served as priest and bishop.

I first met the bishop in 1969 when he was Superintendent of Schools for the Diocese of Youngstown and I as a young, cocky layman interviewing for a position with the Catholic Conference of Ohio. All of the Ohio superintendents interviewed me that day but there was one who scared the daylights out of me, saying little and staring me down. That was Monsignor Hughes. I was sure I would not get the job and I didn’t. But they created a position for me anyway and in the ensuing months I came to know, appreciate and admire all the Catholic school leadership of Ohio and especially Monsignor Hughes. He believed in Catholic education and with the help of several highly talented religious women and one fine lay man, they ran the best diocesan school program in the state.

After my own ordination as a priest, almost ten years later, and my subsequent involvement as a staff person for the United States Catholic Conference, I came to know Bishop Hughes much better, as a friend, mentor, supporter, and defender. He helped me especially come to understand and deal with his seminary classmate, friend of many years, and eventually his bishop, James Malone, a formidable figure of our Church in this country in the ‘80’s who was capable of striking fear in any other person’s heart. Involved as almost a charter member of the new NCCB Committee on Priestly Life and Ministry, Bishop Hughes was a silent author of many of that committee’s best efforts in defining the post-conciliar hope for the priesthood.

He, like his friend Bishop Malone, were bishops of the Second Vatican Council, the latter an attendee and the former a disciple. Excited by the possibility of preaching the Gospel with new enthusiasm and shepherding the Church in the modern world, Bishop Hughes devoted his truly pastoral years to implementing what he saw as the Council’s spirit and vision. I have reflected the last several days on the first reading of this Mass from Isaiah and truly believe that Bishop Hughes and his contemporaries in the episcopacy saw their roles in the Church in a new and prophetic manner – to reconcile all people to Christ and one another through collegiality, subsidiarity, and liturgy. Those three words, collegiality, subsidiarity and liturgy, led them to long for a more sensitive, loving, caring, inclusive Church, which would be at its best when “the People of God” gathered for Eucharist and the other sacraments. What he may have held sacred, as he was ordained as priest almost 66 years ago gave way to a somewhat albeit slightly different vision of Church when he was ordained a bishop 29 years ago. Those two men, both bishops from Youngstown, OH, could at times be stubborn, but they felt it was Gospel and Council driven stubbornness. And in the face of criticism at times from some who did not share their vision, they stayed their course and led as they believed their Lord would wish of them.

Early in my own life as a bishop, I needed the support of other bishops and through the kindness of the late Archbishop Kelly of Louisville, I was invited to join the bishops of the province of Louisville in their Jesus Caritas support group. I had to fly farther and travel longer but it was a grace to be with these brothers who were also bearing the “heat of the day.” Bill Hughes once again sat opposite and facing me on many occasions but this time there were smiles exchanged, words of comfort and support instead of the sharp questions of our first close encounter. He had retired and Bishop Muench had succeeded him so he seemed freer. He would come to my diocese on the Gulf coast in the winter for a few weeks in the sun and to play golf. And in the Fall, we would often meet in South Bend for a Notre Dame football game. He lived long enough to see the Fighting Irish in a national championship game but its final result may have hastened his death.

Nonetheless, I know that he felt secure that on the day when death and the Lord would come to claim their servant, he felt that he had served the Lord well enough. Last Friday was that day. We pray that he rests now in peace, having heard the words for which everyone in this beautiful Cathedral longs to hear: well-done, good and faithful servant. . . .come now to the place which the Father and I have prepared for those who love me.”

He was a humble, simple, loving and caring servant of Jesus Christ who like the Lord he served came not to be served but to serve. Rest in peace, dear Bill, and may perpetual light always shine upon you.

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Reverend Felix Sanchez

Bishops must love their priests. The priests of a diocese are co-workers with the bishop in the vineyard of the Lord and together they sow the seeds of the Gospel. On the human level, of course, not every priest is always easy for the bishop to deal with and the reverse is equally true but the relation of the two is somewhere between that of father and son and brother and brother. In my time here, I have come to cultivate anew my love for my brothers, to appreciate their different gifts and even when there may be disagreements to be patient. But today I learned of the death of a dear priest, a “bishop’s priest,” I might say and his passing will be mourned by many more than just myself. Father Felix Sanchez, pastor emeritus of St. Joseph parish in West Tampa went home to God today on a park bench in a plaza in Salamanca, Spain on a bright, warm and beautiful morning.  Once again for me, no time to say a final thanks, no time to say good-bye. I mourn his passing and will long remember his presence.

When I came to the diocese, Father Felix was happily ensconsed as pastor of St. Rita parish in  Dade City. I do not think he ever planned or wanted to go anywhere else. He was happy and the people loved him. It was a bilingual and bi-cultural ministry.  A year after my arrival, I upset his life and asked him if he would go to St. Joseph’s parish in West Tampa to replace the Redemptorist Fathers who were leaving the diocese. He said, “Bishop, I will do anything you ask me. I love St. Rita but it would be a privilege to also serve St. Joseph. So off he went in 1997 to serve for fourteen years.

His own priestly ministry began in Spain as a member of the Vincentian Fathers, begun by St. Vincent de Paul, and their charism for the poor and marginalized never left him. He had a heart for the poor, a priestly heart.

A major moment occured soon after arriving at St. Joseph when his doctors recommended amputating his leg. I was at his side at St. Joseph Hospital when they took him on the gurney from the pre-op room to the OR. Peaceful, resigned, placing himself in the hands of the the Lord, he gave up his leg but not his dynamic and active priestly ministry. When the prosthesis was in place and hurting like the devil, he returned to full ministry at St. Joe’s and to the school children who he loved. He would never say no to a funeral home who called him because a family wished a service there or at a graveside. Worried about his health, I asked him to cease and he “yes-ed” me to death and continued to serve. I recently found out that all the gifts he received from these services went to help children attend St. Joseph’s school. St. Vincent de Paul would have been proud of him.

As I write this, we are trying to arrange a memorial Mass for Monday, October 1, at 11:30am at St. Joseph’s. He will be buried, as is the custom in Spain, on Saturday morning in Salamanca with his priest brother saying the Mass. How I wish I could be there. Rest in peace, Felix, you were simply “una linda persona.”

*11:00AM Friday, September 21 Update:  A Memorial Mass for Father Felix will be celebrated at 11:30am on October 1, 2012 at St. Joseph Catholic Church in Tampa (3012 Cherry St. Tampa, FL 33607). I will be the main celebrant. A rosary will be said at 11:00am and a reception after the Mass will be held in the parish hall.

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At noon today, the Lord came for Thomas A. Horkan, first director of the Florida Catholic Conference, husband, father and friend. Eternal Rest Grant onto Him, O Lord.

Thomas A. Horkan. Photo courtesy of the Florida Conference of Catholic Bishops.

If you read my previous entry on the death of Bishop Agustín Román, Auxilary Bishop of Miami last Wednesday evening, you will likely not be surprised that I still carry the image of that loving and deeply caring bishop with me. On Saturday, the Church and the people whom he loved and served said good-bye to him in a style and manner which would have clearly been an embarrassment for him. After long hours of people passing by his body which laid in rest at his beloved Ermita de la Neustra Señora de la Caridad (Shrine of Our Lady of Charity), his body was driven through the streets of Little Havana to the Cathedral of St. Mary for the funeral Mass and hundreds lined the streets throughout the procession route.

I was able to be present only by deeply disappointing the parents of and confirmandi at the first county-wide celebration of Confirmation in Citrus county history. Since I had asked for the favor of a combined ceremony, it was deeply embarrassing to miss it and I apologize to the parents, sponsors, confirmandi and priests of the county. But I felt I needed to be in Miami to prayerfully say farewell to a great man, priest and bishop. The liturgy was lovely, totally in Spanish, and the Cathedral full to overflowing. The relatively newly appointed Papal Nuncio to the United States of American, Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò was also present representing the Holy Father which is unusual for anyone other than cardinals and archbishops of larger sees who die.

When the casket was carried into the Cathedral, the congregation welcomed it with vigorous applause. Several times during the homily of Archbishop Thomas Wenski, the congregation responded with sustained, prolonged applause for their dear bishop. I gazed at the body lieing on the floor of the sanctuary and thought to myself, +Agustín, your legacy is guaranteed and your love will not soon be forgotten.

In the earlier blog, I wrote one of many stories in my mind about the bishop being out very late at night. There was another time when the Spanish Cursillo group would hold large Masses in the Chapel of St. John Vianney College Seminary where I was Rector on Sunday nights. They filled the place every time and when it rained as it often does in South Florida, they thought nothing of driving their cars straight up the lawn from the front entrance to let off or pick up their family members leaving deep tire tracks embedded in the lawn carefully manicured and cared for by the seminarians on their work-list days. One night I had had quite enough and with umbrella in hand I was out scolding those driving on “my” lawn. I knew it would make little behavioral difference but I sure felt better. Bishop Román, the celebrant that evening watched me rant at the cars turning my lawn into a mudpit and when they had left he searched me out in my room to first apologize and then said, “but Bob, remember that grass grows anytime here but the faith was being cultivated tonight and it might not last past your upset.” He was right, as always, and gently chided I took to heart his words and never again thought about whatever they might or might not do when they came to clausura on their (not mine) seminary property. In a quiet moment, I looked down at his casket before the altar and on the floor and quietly said, +Agustín, come to rest whereever you wish.

I needed to be back in St. Petersburg by 6:30pm so a four o’clock return flight was essential. I could not stay with him through the final commendation and transfer to Mercy Cemetary. I shall always regret that in my remaining years. In the first year I was ordained a priest (1978), the crusty old Rector of St. Mary’s Cathedral in Miami, Monsignor John Donnelly, said to me once, “young man, you really find out who your friends are if they come to the cemetary. The funeral Mass is easy but the cemetary – there your true friends gather.”

Bishop Román was a saint. He likely will never be officially declared this by the Church but everyone who knew him, was around him, was ministered to by him – we all know it. He sets a standard for episcopal ministry so high that most of us do not have even a chance. I shall always be grateful that even if only for a short while in my priestly life, in Miami, he and I walked the same aisles, myself unworthy even to tie his shoe. Rest in peace, +Agustín.

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Retired Auxiliary Bishop Agustín Román in front of the Shrine of Our Lady of Charity in Miami, Florida. Photo provided by the Archdiocese of Miami.

I was enjoying a perfectly wonderful evening tonight when a phone call to a priest friend in Miami brought me the news that one of my episcopal idols had been called home to the Father earlier in the evening. Bishop Agustín Román, for thirty-one years the auxiliary bishop of Miami died tonight, reportedly in his car at the very Shrine to Our Lady of Charity, which he erected, staffed, and called home for over forty-six years. Eighty-three years old last night, he was to Miami’s Cuban community their “bishop.” They loved him, they adored him and they will miss him greatly. And already I feel his loss as well.

Death came yesterday morning to William T. Tapp. For more than twenty-five years, Bill Tapp was Director of Music and organist at the Cathedral of St. Jude in St. Petersburg and after his retirement and following the death of a dear friend, he took on the responsibilities of directing the choir and organist at the same city’s St. Paul Church for an additional ten years. Every priest of this diocese ordained prior to 1998 has good memories of working with “Mr. Tapp” on the music for their ordination and many married couples will remember him for his presence at their weddings. Born, raised and educated in Philadelphia, Mr. Tapp served in the army during World War II and was wounded in the invasion which followed D-Day. He loved his regiment and faithfully attended annual reunions until he was no longer able to do so. Returning from the War, he pursued his love of music, particularly Church music in Philadelphia and while being the organist and director of music for Our Lady of Ransom parish, he taught and assisted throughout the archdiocese including occasionally even St. Charles Borromeo seminary and Villanova University. He was that good!

Bill Tapp with Kathy Ayo, his daughter in 2009

Responding to an invitation to audition for the Cathedral of St. Jude position and being given it, Mr. Tapp moved his wife and family of eight children (Kathy, Terri, Bill, John, Jim, Christopher, Mike and Mary Elizabeth) to St. Petersburg which would be his and their adopted home for the rest of his long life. I came to know him very well and wish to share with you one of the many things which I so admired about him. After the War when Mr. Tapp began to pursue his love of Church music, our musical idiom, liturgy, and worship were more a part of the rich patrimony of a Church which had undergone reform at the Council of Trent and invited the great artists of the Renaissance and Enlightenment periods (Mozart, Hayden, Bach, Palestrina, etc.) to compose a rich library of beautiful church music to be “performed” at Masses throughout Europe and parts of the New World. We listened as they sang and there is no doubt that our thoughts and prayers were enriched by the musical tradition of our Church. Mr. Tapp loved the library of sacred music which was his as he began his life working for the Church through the sharing of his musical and voice gifts. Then, with the Second Vatican Council and the changes in the liturgy which placed a new emphasis on the “full and active participation of the faithful at Mass,” this good man watched the patrimony give ground  to some pretty awful post-Council music. It was like the Church he loved had taken away from him something other than his family that he loved just as much. He adjusted, and this is the point I wish to make. His love for the Church, its bishops and priests, allowed him however sadly to make the change and he seldom if ever complained. He did not always “cotton” to what he thought was masquerading as the new music of the Church, but he gave his best to making it work. That is why today, one day after his death yesterday, I wish to pay him public thanks for his selfless and sometimes sacrificial service to our Church. I am not sure that we fully realize and/or appreciate the sacrifices we asked gifted people like Bill Tapp to make in the late sixties and seventies.

No one whoever sang for him had any feelings other than love and admiration for Bill. He was a very classy man. I remember how difficult it was for him to sit in the front row of the Cathedral with his wife Mary Ann and his growing family of children, their spouses and children (when he died I think I counted twenty-nine grandchildren and one great grandchild) while the choir out of love for their director sang their hearts out for him during his son John’s first mass following ordination the previous day (which found Bill, of course, in the choir loft). He lived a long life, even after losing his beloved wife Mary Ann some fourteen years ago but the last few were spent in that darkness which is the tragedy of Alzheimer’s. In life, Bill Tapp certainly paid his dues to his Lord and on Wednesday morning, I trust those angels came to greet him as he so often sang at funerals to lead him into paradise. What faith!

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I know this blog site is becoming somewhat like the “Obituary” page in any local newspaper and I am sorry for that but today I write with a particularly heavy heart. At about 1150am this morning, Archbishop Joseph Kurtz of Louisville called me on my cell phone to tell me that my dear friend and his predecessor, Archbishop Thomas Cajetan Kelly, O.P. had died in his sleep sometime this morning. It was horrible news for me for there have been few figures as prominent in my journey to priesthood and its subsequent ups and downs as +Tom Kelly. He was present at my ordination to the priesthood and all smiles at my ordination as a bishop, soon sixteen years ago. Always a phone call away, my day was often brightened when I would pick up the phone and hear, “Kelly here!”

For most of his life, his Dominican community laid claim to his heart. He loved being a Dominican. When he was working in the office of the Apostolic Delegate in Washington or as Associate General Secretary of the episcopal conference, he lived and thrived in one small room at the Dominican House of Studies, large enough for a small bed, a desk, a chest-of-drawers and one chair – a desk chair – no bathroom, that was down the hall. The source and summit of his day was Mass with the Dominican community and praying the divine office in choir. The rest of his day was the spiritual equivalent of “chump-change.” He had no bank account, little money, no car, and when not in his Dominican habit he wore clothes I was sure were from the local St. Vincent de Paul Thrift shop. He thrived on being and living a monk and how he loved his Dominican brothers.

As a General Secretary of the Conference (he was brought to the service of the Conference by Bishop Joseph L. Bernardin) he was known to all of us as witty, humble, the best listener in the world, and a thorough product of the Second Vatican Council which he embraced with joy and deep commitment. At the time the General Secretary’s position entailed almost automatically becoming a bishop and how he dreaded that inevitablility. Soon he was ordained an auxiliary of the Washington archdiocese so for about four years he shouldered the twin burdens of working in an office from nine-to-five Monday through Friday and confirming many evenings and on week-ends. It was at that time that he had to give up living with his Dominican brothers, who knew him by his name in religion, “Cajetan.”

He had never had a bank account in his adult life so one day the Chief Financial Officer of the NCCB/USCC took the new bishop to a branch bank to open a checking account. The whole hierarchy of the bank was there to meet the mendicant since the Conference also did its banking there. Forms were filled out and completed and then came the awkward moment when the branch Vice-President said to +Kelly, ‘usually to open an account there is an initial deposit. Bishop, how much would you like to deposit?” Kelly looked stricken with fear. He opened his wallet and all present saw there one ten-dollar bill. He pulled it out, gave it to the Vice-President and said, “will this do?” The conference CFO was turning red with embarrassment but the bank VP said, “yes, that will do nicely.” After securing the deposit slip for ten dollars all rose and headed to the door when +Kelly suddenly said, “can I write checks now?” to which the bank official said, “as long as they are not for more than ten dollars!”

At the end of his term, in 1983 he was named Archbishop of Louisville. Wanting no part of an episcopal residence or an omnipresent priest secretary or an elaborate vehicle, the monk chose quickly to sell the house he inherited as Archbishop and move into two rooms on the third floor of the Cathedral rectory in downtown Louisville where he was as happy as that proverbial “clam at high tide.” He quickly fell in love with the priests and people of the archdiocese driving himself (rather dangerously I would say) in a small car.

Like most archbishops and bishops of the late eighties and nineties, Archbishop Kelly became entangled in the clergy sexual misconduct issues of the day and I know that he later wished he had handled some of them differently. But he was so proud of his archdiocese and its good priests and as an archbishop, he loved and cared for his suffragan bishops in the dioceses of Kentucky and Tennesee also. He also cared deeply for his friends from other times and Archbishop Michael Sheehan of Santa Fe and myself were two of those more lucky ones. +Michael and I will be present in Louisville on Monday and Tuesday for the final farewell on earth of our friend. It’s the least we can do for someone who was always there for us.

There are not many people left at the bishops’ conference who will remember the +Kelly years but those who are there and who do would all say the same thing: he was a joyful and humble servant of the Lord and of the Church. We liked working for him and with him. He was always happy where he was be it in the cubicle of a monk in a monastery or presiding at liturgy as a bishop. A great story teller, the people of Louisville will remember him as a wonderful preacher (as a son of Dominic in the Order of Preachers, the Dominicans, one would expect as much.) While he never lost his love of his religious community and his brothers, +Thomas Cajetan Kelly, O.P. died in love with the Church of Louisville which he inherited through God’s plan. Installed in the same Louisville arena where the night before “Hulk Hogan” had wrestled with some nemesis (he made mention of that in his inaugural homily), this priest of God never ever wished to call attention to himself, but only to the Lord whom he served. I was blessed to be in his company, to be counted as a friend, and to have a mentor so deeply committed to leading a Church in the years following the Council. I feel his death very deeply and very personally.

+RNL