My father, William “Pete” Gallagher, loved the priesthood and had life-long friendships with dozens of priests over the years. My Dad died in November 2014, after 87-years on this earth. His love of the priesthood was both vital but also derivative. His first love was the Eucharist, his closeness to the Lord. My Dad went to daily Mass and often prayed before the Eucharist. As a young man, my Dad attended seminary for the purpose of discerning his vocation. He loved his seminary days and years. But he eventually discerned that the priesthood was not what God was calling him to be.
Over the years when my Dad shared fond stories about seminary life, my Mom would often interject that she and Dad met well-after he left the seminary. Mom and Dad went on to have ten children and 58-years of a wonderful, faith-centered marriage. But transitioning to married and parental life was not automatic for my Dad.
One family story describes a time when there were 2-3 young children at home, all under 5-years of age. Mid-week my Dad mentions to my Mom that there is a silent, weekend retreat at a local Catholic parish that he thought he might attend. My Mom, being quite practical, responded by saying, “You can spend the entire weekend in the attic, but you’re not going off to a silent retreat.” My Dad stayed home that weekend. Every time that story is told we all break out in laughter. My Mom says to this day that my Dad was very involved in raising the kids in all aspects of parenting, which was not so common decades ago.
My Dad dedicated most of his professional energies as a Catholic school teacher and superintendent of Catholic schools. In his retirement years, he was hired at our parish in upstate New York as a “pastoral associate” which required him to help young parents get ready for baptism of their newborns, among other such duties.
One of the hallmarks of my Dad’s spiritual life was his devotion to the Blessed Mother. Growing up, my siblings and I would routinely “complain” about being called to the living room after dinner in order to assume a position kneeling against a chair or a couch, as my Dad led us in
praying of the Rosary. My Dad knew the decades of the Rosary intimately and what intentions to pray for during each decade of the Rosary. Periodically, we kids gang-tackled my Dad after praying the Rosary since he was already on his knees and was an easy target.
The Eucharist, the love of the priesthood, the abiding friendships with many priests, daily Mass, praying the Rosary was simply the air my Dad breathed. It was therefore the air my family breathed.
I cannot experience Holy Thursday – which celebrates the institution of the Eucharist as the true body and blood of Christ and the institution of the sacrament of the priesthood – without the concomitant recognition of my Dad’s deep devotion to the Eucharist, to the priesthood, to his many priest-friends and to his closeness to our Blessed Mother.
For us as a church, as it was for my Dad, it’s all connected. One begets the other. One needs the other. We cannot have a church without the Eucharist and the priesthood. And what would we be without our Blessed Mother?
One of the highlights of my Dad’s retirement years as a pastoral associate at our home parish was the arrival of a seminarian in his transitional deaconate year. Routinely, the seminarian and my Dad instantly hit it off and my Dad was a mentor to the priests-in-training. Later at the time of ordination my parents and family would travel an hour to the cathedral in Syracuse, New York, to attend the ordination of the family’s “newest priest-friend.”
There is a church tradition that when a priest dies, his fellow priests sing the beautiful Salve Regina when the casket leaves the church and is being delivered to the waiting hearse. At my Dad’s funeral, the coffin was held at the back of the vestibule of the church before moving down several stairs.
The dozen or so priests who con-celebrated the funeral Mass formed two rows down the stairs to the street between which the pall bearers carried my Dad’s body to the waiting hearse. As the pall bearers descended the stairs, the priests broke out a cappela singing the Salve Regina. It’s was a beautiful tribute to their dear friend who loved the vocation to the priesthood and each of them as priests. My family and I were visibly moved.
Latin Text of the Salve Regina
Regina, mater misericordiae:
Vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
Ad te clamamus, exsules, filii Hevae.
Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes
in hac lacrimarum valle.
Eia ergo, Advocata nostra,
illos tuos misericordes oculos
ad nos converte.
Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,
nobis, post hoc exsilium ostende.
O clemens: O pia: O dulcis
Virgo Maria.
English Translation of the Salve Regina
Queen, mother of mercy:
our life, sweetness, and hope, hail.
To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve.
To you we sigh, mourning and weeping
in this valley of tears.
Turn then, our advocate,
those merciful eyes
toward us.
And Jesus, the blessed fruit of thy womb,
after our exile, show us.
O clement, O loving, O sweet
Virgin Mary.
On this Holy Thursday may we deepen our relationship with Jesus in the Eucharist and renew our appreciation of the priesthood and of our many priests-friends, as we sing praises to our Blessed Mother.
