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I have before me as I type this a two-page fold-over that I received nearly thirty years ago. It is the memorial card given out at the Funeral Mass for Archbishop Fulton Sheen at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York.
A group of us in the Seminary in those days were admirers of "Bishop Sheen" and read his books; and listened to his tapes. Many of us remembered him from our childhoods on the "Life is Worth Living" telecasts that were among the most popular TV shows of the 1950's. He was simply the most well-known and respected American Catholic clergyman of the 20th century. Very much like the Church he loved and served in that era ( from his priestly ordination in 1919 to his death in 1979) his career reflected the ups and the downs of success and suffering, praise and criticism, promise and failure.
"In his day" though I'd venture to say no Catholic in America and very few Americans in general had not heard of Bishop Sheen. ( The best biography of him in my opinion is Thomas Reeves' America's Bishop.)
When he died on this day 30 years ago I was a "yearling" priest in my first assignment at St. Dominic's Parish in Oyster Bay. A classmate phoned me to tell me that he had heard that any and all priests who wished to participate in the solemn Funeral Mass at Saint Patrick's Cathedral were welcome to do so. We agreed we would head into the city on the day of the funeral and see if this were true. I wasn't sure if we would be allowed to concelebrate the Mass or just attend in cassock and surplice, so I packed an alb as well as the latter vestments.
I arrived early at the Cathedral and found that the doors were locked as the great church was being prepared for the Mass. I was probably two hours early for the afternoon Funeral Mass and thought I'd just enquire about the arrangements. I went around to the Parish Office of the Cathedral and entered the lobby and asked about visiting priests being allowed to concelebrate or attend. The very nice woman at the desk assured me it was true. I asked where I should go to vest ( meaning later in the afternoon) and she indicated the door that led into the "inner sanctum" of the Cathedral complex and kindly told me to go in, since "they're all having lunch."
I was a bit surprised at this but went in. I found a room where I hung up my coat; and thought I might as well put on my cassock, plain black, then as now.
I followed the sounds of dining and entered a large room.
There before me were at least thirty or so diners. I stood there, a "black crow", amidst a room full of black suits with gold chains slanted across the chest, or violet and violet-trimmed cassocks. The "they" the receptionist meant were the Cardinals, Bishops, and Monsignori who were to be in the sanctuary in about two hours time!
I was about to flee, when one pleasant Bishop beckoned me to come in and "get a plate".
Well, "in for a penny, in for a pound" I thought and in I went to have lunch.
I have no idea who they thought I was, but when asked I just politely informed my interlocutor that I was "Father Hewes from Oyster Bay."
Suddenly, I felt two big strong hands planted on my shoulders. I turned around to see the looming face of John Cardinal Krol of Philadelphia looking down at me and greeting me as if I were "somebody."
I mumbled something that I no longer remember. He might have thought that anyone dressed so plainly in this gathering HAD to have been "somebody".
As soon as lunch was winding down I scurried away to breath a sigh of relief; and to cherish a good story.
The special day did not end here. When finally I found my classmates we were noticed by an attendant Monsignor who asked why we were there. Within moments we were vesting in the sacristy of the Cathedral amidst the Cardinals and Bishops with the permission of the kindly Cardinal Cooke, of happy memory.
I wound up sitting in the sanctuary during the Mass and then approaching the High Altar of the Cathedral and drink the Precious Blood from the very chalice that Bishop Sheen had used for his Masses ( featured in his book This is the Mass.)
Bishop Sheen is entombed under the High Altar in the crypt of the Cardinals and Bishops of New York and I always pray there when I visit.
It was also quite the time for a young priest!
As he used to say: "God love you!"
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