What day was it? A month ago? Cardinal John Foley telephoned me. We have spoken with each other at least weekly for many years. We have been in each other’s presence often. The call in itself was not unusual. The message made it unusual, being as it was literally about life and death.
“Pray for me,” he said, “The doctors have just told me that I have only a few months or maybe weeks. Pray that I will be worthy to meet the Lord." What do you say in reply? Long ago, as a priest, I learned that such are times for honesty.
“If you are not ready,” I answered, “I wonder who is.”
I was utterly honest. No one met the cardinal without seeing in him his profound faith. His Christian faith formed everything about him. He was a disciple, unquestioning and forever eager. It enriched his priestly and episcopal vocations. It was a gift to him in grace, and it was a gift to the Church.
Over the last year, I have made the point to visit him in Philadelphia every month. The sequence of these visits enabled me to see the deadly progress of his illness.
My last visit was just over three weeks ago. A mutual friend, Matt Gambino, the very capable editor of Philadelphia’s archdiocesan newspaper, The Catholic Standard and Times, accompanied me.
Ever the gentleman, the cardinal could not stand as we entered his presence, a sign of his decline. Anxious about tiring him, I suggested several times to Matt that we should be going. The cardinal each time insisted that we stay longer. He knew that it likely would be our last meeting. I knew as well. At last, time came to part. Long ago, we formed the habit of saying farewell by conferring our blessings on each other.
I gave him my blessing. He took my hand and kissed it. “I love you, Owen.” I said, “And I love you. Promise me that you always will pray for me.”
I shall, he promised. In that promise I find consolation. In thanksgiving I pray that I knew him and loved him. I give thanks that the Lord gave him, disciple, priest and bishop, to the Church. May he rest in peace.
Msgr. Owen F. Campion is OSV associate publisher.
“Pray for me,” he said, “The doctors have just told me that I have only a few months or maybe weeks. Pray that I will be worthy to meet the Lord." What do you say in reply? Long ago, as a priest, I learned that such are times for honesty.
“If you are not ready,” I answered, “I wonder who is.”
I was utterly honest. No one met the cardinal without seeing in him his profound faith. His Christian faith formed everything about him. He was a disciple, unquestioning and forever eager. It enriched his priestly and episcopal vocations. It was a gift to him in grace, and it was a gift to the Church.
Over the last year, I have made the point to visit him in Philadelphia every month. The sequence of these visits enabled me to see the deadly progress of his illness.
My last visit was just over three weeks ago. A mutual friend, Matt Gambino, the very capable editor of Philadelphia’s archdiocesan newspaper, The Catholic Standard and Times, accompanied me.
Ever the gentleman, the cardinal could not stand as we entered his presence, a sign of his decline. Anxious about tiring him, I suggested several times to Matt that we should be going. The cardinal each time insisted that we stay longer. He knew that it likely would be our last meeting. I knew as well. At last, time came to part. Long ago, we formed the habit of saying farewell by conferring our blessings on each other.
I gave him my blessing. He took my hand and kissed it. “I love you, Owen.” I said, “And I love you. Promise me that you always will pray for me.”
I shall, he promised. In that promise I find consolation. In thanksgiving I pray that I knew him and loved him. I give thanks that the Lord gave him, disciple, priest and bishop, to the Church. May he rest in peace.
Msgr. Owen F. Campion is OSV associate publisher.
