By Julie A. Ferraro | FāVS News Columnist
This reflection could begin with the famed line from the Star Wars franchise:
“A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…”
The late 1970s seemed like a totally different universe from what we’re experiencing in the 2020s and, for a girl in her mid-teens, the future looked quite uncertain.
That girl was me, and I played the organ for Sunday Mass at our parish church. Our new pastor had health issues, so he requested assistance from the young men studying for doctoral degrees at a nearby university.
Gene was one of those priests, an Irishman taking time from his teaching ministry at a seminary in Canada to finish his studies.
We were sort of thrown together purely by chance, given the way the church was laid out: essentially, the basement of the school, with a wall partitioning off the sacristy and organ from the congregation.
While we waited for Mass to begin, we’d talk. Periodically, I’d sneak a peek at his notes for the day’s homily — a uniquely illegible script. When I asked him about it, he related how, as a child in an Irish school, he’d been left-handed, but his teachers forced him to write with his right hand.
I’ve known others who were subjected to similar restrictions in their education, quite a traumatic ordeal.
Gene, though, was the most grounded individual I’d met at that stage of my life. He was born in 1940, so was old enough to be my father — though my own father was quite a bit older than that. Gene had a practical view of the world and, being the youngest of four raised with a love of fishing and learning, could hold an intelligent conversation on a broad range of topics.
His wisdom fed our friendship — a friendship that lasted well over 47 years, until his passing at age 85 on Dec.18.
After writing his thesis on a topic related to hermeneutics — I still have to look up that definition in the dictionary — Gene graduated and returned to Canada, where he eventually became rector of the seminary where he taught. In 1998, he was elected vicar general of his religious community — second in command, if you will — and moved to Rome, spending 12 years in leadership.
From rector to Rome
He’s the reason I got to travel to Europe and, later, took my youngest son to show him how not to drive (drivers in Rome are scary, to say the least!).
Gene loved a pint of Guinness and Irish pubs, of which there are a couple in Rome. We enjoyed dining Italian style — meaning late in the evening — and marveled at the bustling piazzas at midnight. Excursions to churches where tombs were marked with frightening skeleton sculptures were eye-opening experiences for me.
Moreover, Gene was a faith-filled priest. His homilies touched on real life and how people can find God in everyday life, facing every challenge that comes our way.
He faced his death the same way. He’d dealt with hereditary kidney issues, and, when those organs could no longer function properly — in his 70s — he went on dialysis. The toughest challenge of that situation: he could no longer travel to his beloved Ireland for his annual summer visits and fishing excursions.
One of my fondest memories involved my visit to his family’s modest cottage in Ireland, when we stood in a river that flowed near the house, in waders, dipping our lines in the current. I caught a couple perch and, jokingly, mentioned I could’ve done as much in the States! I’d wanted to nab a salmon or a trout, in order to match the stories he told about his impressive catches — a trait of many Irishmen.
In more recent months, a tumor was found in his colon, and as the doctors were determining how best to treat that ailment, Gene’s heart failed. He’d had a heart attack back in 2007, dying briefly on the table while being given an angiogram, which led to another humorous adventure: the two of us climbing a hill in Assisi, Italy, and me worrying about what would happen if he collapsed, since I didn’t know CPR. (He managed the ascent better than me, with my bad knees!)
My favorite photo of us, in fact, was snapped during that adventure: we are both looking at a sculpture on the grounds of the Eremo delle Carceri, but we’re seeing totally different aspects of it. That complementarity of perspectives, a willingness to differ without division, will remain with me always.
Those by Gene’s bedside in his final hours attested that he expressed a readiness to go home to God. For me, though — who’d expected him to live forever — his wisdom, kindness, compassion and honesty will be sorely missed.
Gene was unique, and I’m so glad to have had him in my life for so many years. He inspired me, comforted me and guided me on my spiritual journey and through life as a whole.
If only there were more like him, so everyone could enjoy such an enduring and genuine friendship.
The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.
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