Today I went to Mass a little disconsolate from a perceived slight at the office. The Mass, at least at the outset, was more lightly attended than usual. The lector came out and announced the prayers for today would be for the optional memorial of St Louis de Montfort. After the opening prayer, the priest, Fr. Jerry, announced, with deep sorrow, the death of Fr. William Newman, "a great theologian"
My heart dropped out of my chest. While I have no doubt Fr.Newman was a great theologian, for me he was a good friend, a cherished confessor, and my all-time favorite priest. This is my tribute to him.
I first met Fr.Newman about 12 years ago when I contacted the church down the road asking if there was a priest available for confession on short notice. I needed healing. Like many Catholics, I have never relished the idea of face to face confession, but in this case I was willing to fore go my trepidation. The receptionist lined me up with Fr. Newman. We discussed the issue at hand, and he discussed things with me with wisdom and compassion. And then we talked about baseball.
I moved away for a while, but three years later I was back in Washington, and attending daily Mass at St. Dominic's in SW Washington DC. In those days Fr. Newman was in the rotation of celebrants, and would typically began every sermon with, "My dear friends" . He also continued to hear confessions on a regular basis. As time went on his 6 foot 3 frame became more noticeably stooped, his glasses got thicker and it was clear that he was slowly losing his eyesight. With that his balance was starting to suffer, and as he walked from the rear of the church after confessions, he would deliberately place his hand on the wall to keep from falling as he walked. For a while he disappeared and I found out that due to concerns for his health, the pastor felt it best he not celebrate Mass in the large church. After a while he returned to hear confessions, this time using a walker. He would often hear confessions well after Mass started and then sit in the back of the church before returning to the sacristy. I would walk with him and we would chat about all sorts of things, such as the St Jude veneration, preaching in the Basilica, and the black and white Dominican vestments and the impression they made on Protestant clergy.
About a year ago, he stopped hearing confessions. I called him on the phone and we chatted about all sorts of things. Six weeks ago I dropped in and we chatted for what would be the last time. He talked about his long life as a Dominican, including a teaching stint in Ohio that he absolutely could not stand. I found out that even though he was a doctor of theology and was eligible to wear the berratta with gold (or was it red) piping, his real passion was Civil War history. He was frank about his impatience with movements to return to pre-Vatican II traditions, including lace albs. I asked him about scrupulosity, and he became almost wistful, referring to "the scrupes" as if it were a person. He related how St. Alphonso Liguori was plagued by scruples towards the end of his life. As I departed that afternoon, it briefly crossed my mind that I might not see him again.
On April 7, I gave him another call, but got his answering machine. Like a lot of seniors, Fr. Newman was not one to return calls. All the same I left a message wishing him a blessed Holy Week and good Easter. I have no doubt he is celebrating his eternal Easter. I will miss his warmth, joy and wit.
Pray for our priests!
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