He was a literate, witty, kind man, who dearly loved the Church he served. We never had the chance to have an extended or deep conversation, but I did know him sufficiently to consider him a friend. And, once again, this blessing was all because of St. Victor's Church, where I have been parishioner since 1983.
At the time I first met him, along with the several remaining "old timer's" of our parish, he was rector of St. John's Seminary, teacher and spiritual director. This was sometime around the late 1980s. He had well known friends in the California area, like the man who would become Cardinal William Levada and Archbishop/Cardinal Roger Mahony. Those two men had been at St. John's with him, when they all were students. But he also was a friend to our then pastor, Monsignor George Parnassus, something of a big brother, at nine years older, and when he was available during his tenure as rector, he'd come down from Camarillo some Sundays, and celebrate Mass for us, as well as often to join in parish celebrations. When his five year term as rector ended, he became involved in the House of Prayer, in Los Angeles, but now could spend more Sundays and other occasions with us at St. Victor.
He was one of the few people who could jest about Monsignor's formal, professorial way of being. At the time they were both Monsignors, and when someone would run in the sacristy and say, "I'm looking for the Monsignor!", he'd say that he was just "a" Monsignor, but that our pastor was "the" Monsignor.
He could call up quotes from prose and poetry. He was an old movie fan, and we often talked about the classics. He was a fan of and expert about Flannery O'Connor. Because of him, I made another stab at reading her short stories in order to understand how her grotesque tales were in fact optimistic about Catholic theology and the meaning of redemption in a fallen world. I never quite warmed up to O'Connor's fiction, but I did become an admirer of her letters, and thought, and her stoicism.
He even got to know my father, then a non-practicing Greek Orthodox who appreciated the intellects of my pastor and his friend. Though Dad was not a regular Churchgoer until 2003 when he finally decided he would convert to Catholicism, he was very much part of our parish through all the years that the two Monsignors were together at St. Victor. But that didn't last terribly long.
When he was designated to become the Bishop of Salt Lake City, I have a vague memory of some conversation in the sacristy before Mass among the lector (me) and the servers and one or more of us asking how he felt about the new position. He responded in a priestly fashion, that it was apparently the Will of God that he do this. I could only imagine how hard it would be to go to an unfamiliar place where he knew few if anyone inside or outside of the Church. I was among the lucky invitees, along with my father, to the Cathedral of the Madeleine in Salt Lake to attend his installation in 1995. I had lunch with him, once, on a second trip to Salt Lake, along with a friend who had moved there in 1995.
It was hard to stay in touch, but occasionally I would send a note, and he always sent Christmas cards to Dad and to me and his other friends at St. Victor's. Then in 2006, he would be coming back to California, to become the Archbishop of San Francisco. I was able to go the Cathedral to see that installation, although this time, I didn't get to talk to him afterward. I let him know when my dad died in 2008. When his friend Monsignor Parnassus died in 2013, I got to speak with him a few times, to get some advice I needed at the time, but far too much in passing on a personal level. I never got to speak with him after the funeral. He had already retired as Archbishop by then, likely because of health issues that had been thrust upon him by circumstances. Still I got a Christmas card as did his friends and acquaintances at St. Victor, and I wrote him a note in early 2017 to say that I hadn't sent any cards in 2016, and that I was however thinking of him.
I heard that he was having new health issues and he was residing somewhere where he could be cared for, but somehow, despite all the losses of this past year, it didn't occur to me that he was on the precipice of death. I realize I had that feeling about dad even when he was in extremis at Cedars. He had had so many close calls and he always came back. But just as it had for my dad, the time had come for the Archbishop (funny I still think of him as he was, Monsignor Niederauer) and I found out he was gone as I read the intentions for the dead on Sunday. He had already been dead six days.
I have prayed for his eternal rest. I will pray for it again, and for that of the friends and mentors who have died who contributed to my life, and for whom I am grateful.
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