Born: 04 October 1929, Portrush, County Antrim/ Glenavy, County Antrim / Belfast County Antrim
Entered: 24 March 1950, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Ordained: 31 July 1963, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final Vows: 02 February 1966, Collège Saint-Michel, Etterbeek, Belgium
Died: 22 April 2020, Cherryfield Lodge, Dublin

Part of the St Francis Xavier's, Upper Gardiner Street, Dublin community at the time of death.

Transcribed HIB to ZAM: 03 December 1969; ZAM to HIB 1999

by 1952 at Laval, France (FRA) studying
by 1957 at Monze, Zambia - Regency, teaching
by 1966 at Mukasa, Choma, Zambia - teaching
by 1967 at Kizito, Zambia - Director of Training Centre
by 1971 at St Louis MO, USA (MIS) studying
by 1993 at Upper Gardiner Street (HIB) Mission Office
by 1996 at St Beuno’s, Wales (ANG) working
by 2007 at Upper Gardiner Street (HIB) - working

◆ Jesuits in Ireland : https://www.jesuit.ie/news/fr-frank-keenan-sj-a-faithful-servant/

Fr Frank Keenan SJ – ‘a faithful servant’
Fr Francis (Frank) Keenan SJ died peacefully in Cherryfield Lodge nursing home, Dublin, on 22 April, 2020. He was an Irish Jesuit missionary who spent 30 years in Zambia. Due to government guidelines regarding public gatherings, a private funeral took place at Gardiner Street Church, Dublin, on 25 April followed by burial at the Jesuit grave in Glasnevin Cemetery. The main celebrant at the funeral Mass was the Gardiner Street Superior, Fr Richard O’Dwyer SJ, while Irish Provincial Fr Leonard Moloney SJ and Parish Priest Fr Gerry Clarke SJ concelebrated. His death is deeply regretted by his loving sister Bernadette, by his nephew John and his wife, Sally, and family, and by his Jesuit confreres and friends in Ireland and Zambia.
Francis was born on 4 October, 1929, in Portrush, County Antrim. He was raised in Belfast and in the village of Glenavy and attended St Mary’s CBS before entering the Society of Jesus at St Mary’s, Emo, County Laois, in 1950. After taking his first vows, he studied in Laval, France, for two years followed by philosophy studies in Tullabeg and regency as a teacher in Monze, Zambia. Upon further Jesuit formation in Ireland, he studied Catechetics in Brussels, Belgium, and then returned to Zambia where he was a teacher of the local language at Mukasa Secondary School.
From 1967 to 1979, he worked in a variety of roles in Monze including Director of Catechetics, Parish Priest, Retreat Director and as Vicar General for Religious in the Archdiocese of Lusaka. He also studied Pastoral Theology at St Louis University, Missouri, USA. Later, he directed the Spiritual Exercises at the Jesuit Education Centre in Lusaka and worked in the Kizito Pastoral Centre in Monze before returning to Ireland in 1993.
Fr Francis was Director of the Jesuit Mission Office, Spiritual Director and Parish Assistant while living in Gardiner Street Jesuit community in Dublin. He was also a community member of St Bueno’s retreat centre in Wales for 11 years and directed the Spiritual Exercises there. From 2007 to 2017, he continued active ministry in Gardiner Street as Spiritual Director, Parish Assistant, Chaplain, Assistant Treasurer and Pastoral Worker. He prayed for the Church and the Society at Cherryfield Lodge nursing home right up until his death.
Fr Richard O’Dwyer SJ, who gave the homily at the funeral Mass, noted that Francis grew up in difficult circumstances. He experienced the death of his father when very young and witnessed bombing in Belfast during the Second World War. His family supported each other and moved to Glenavy village about 15 miles outside of Belfast. He came to appreciate the gift of life and told his sister Bernadette in later years, “I have loved every day of my life”.
Fr O’Dwyer said that Fr Francis became very proficient in the Zambian language of Tonga and taught it for a number of years and wrote a book on grammar. He said, “Francis was very humorous and a very kind, considerate man.”
Fr O’Dwyer noted that when Fr Francis came home to Ireland after 30 years in Zambia he was a very committed presence among his community and very much appreciated. He said, “He was always very willing to offer Mass, hear confessions, and he had a very good reputation as a very compassionate and“He was also a very sympathetic preacher and explained the Good News in a very compassionate and understanding way”. Fr O’Dwyer referred to his chaplaincy work at St Monica’s Nursing Home in Dublin City, saying he was “utterly reliable and very faithful in his ministry with the elderly”.
Fr O’Dwyer said, “He was a very faithful servant. Any work he undertook he did so with a great spirit of service and dedication. I’m sure now the Lord will welcome him with these words: ‘Well done my good and faithful servant, come and enter your master’s happiness.'”
Mr Colm Brophy, art psychotherapist and former Jesuit missionary in Zambia, paid tribute to his late friend.
“Frank, as we called him in Zambia always wanted to be known as Francis. This I only discovered in Cherryfield. He was renowned for his sharp, even acerbic, wit coupled with kindness, hospitality and generosity. He did not suffer fools gladly and hated hypocrisy as the gospel hates it.
And so he could bring a person down to earth with a brilliant, yet highly humorous thrust of the verbal dagger. He was kindly towards wisdom and kept another person’s honesty close to his heart. I always enjoyed joining him for a meal over his years in Kizito.
He had four roles in Kizito’s. First, Kizito’s was built as a compound of family cottages where Monze diocese catechists and their families lived while following a two-year program. Then it became a diocesan pastoral training and retreat centre for a wide variety of groups. Francis was the director. One of the groups was the ciTonga language school. He wrote a grammar of, and taught, the local language for a period.
He also wrote a book for those directing the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius for retreats in daily life. He was also a great confident of Bishop James Corboy and a member of the diocesan consult. He dealt with a great number of different people coming through the centre and had a gracious ability to adapt.
His other time in Zambia was a number of years he spent in Lusaka archdiocese in the role of Vicar General for religious. It meant having the listening skills to sort out two sides of an argument where strong personalities were involved.
I miss meeting Francis in Cherryfield. May he rest in peace.”
A recording of the funeral Mass is temporarily available on the Gardiner Street website. Under recordings,
see the funeral Mass for 25 April. Click here for the link ».
Fr Frank spoke about his missionary work in Zambia with Irish Jesuit Missions in 2010. Click here to watch
the video ».
A Memorial Mass will be held at a future date. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam dílis.

Full text of the homily at the funeral Mass
Francis Keenan was born in Portrush, Co Antrim, and grew up in north Belfast, the second youngest in a happy, close-knit and united family of 5 children with his parents John and Mary Agnes.
When Frank was only 7 years old, his Dad, John died suddenly at the age of 39. Just 2 years later, World War 2 began. As you know Belfast was heavily bombed especially in 1940 and the area where Francis and his family lived at the intersection of the bottom of the Cliftonville/Duncairn Gardens had a number of houses destroyed and badly damaged. I remember Francis mentioning to me once that sadly the local school survived unscathed and I said to Frank that his story reminded me of John Boorman’s film Hope and Glory set in London during World War 2. John’s school was destroyed in the London blitz and when he sees the bombed-out school, he murmurs “thank you Adolf”. Francis said to me I would have liked to have uttered the same words about my school!
Francis’ sister Bernadette said that because of the danger of bombing, she and Frank were evacuated from Belfast out into the country to the village of Glenavy about 15 miles west of Belfast very close to Lough Neagh. Bernadette was 5 and Frank was 10. They grew very close to each other and forged a deep bond between them. It would have been easy for Francis to opt to play with boys his own age but after the death of his father, under the care of his mother, the family grew very close and supported each other in their loss and grief. They had to pull together to survive. Out in the country, Francis grew to love nature and the countryside, something which never left him.
I can only imagine how the death of his father and his experiences of the mortal danger and evacuation had a profound effect on the young Francis and I believe it gave him a profound appreciation of how precious the gift of life is and that that gift is there to be fully appreciated and lived to the full. Frank much later in life told his sister Bernadette, “I have loved every day of my life”. At his birthday last year when he turned 90, Francis told his nephew, “Life is a gift from God, enjoy every moment”.
At age of 20 in March 1950, Francis entered the Society of Jesus, at Emo, County Laois. Bernadette told me that she and his family missed Francis during those 2 years. Francis spent 2 years in France, followed by 3 years philosophy in Tullabeg and then he went to Zambia, or as it was then Northern Rhodesia in 1957 where he spent 3 years. That was the beginning of 30 years spent as a missionary in Zambia, as a teacher as director of training of catechists, working closely with Bishop James Corboy in Monze. Francis became very proficient in the Tonga language and taught it for a number of years and wrote a grammar book of Citing.
I just want to turn to our gospel reading for today. “That is why I am telling you not to worry about your life and what you are to eat, nor about your body and how you are to clothe it. Surely life means more than food and the body more than clothing. Look at the birds of the sky. They do not sow or reap or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them.” I wonder when Francis walked on the shores of Lough Neagh or on the savannah of Zambia, did he ponder and treasure those words of Jesus, knowing that with the love and support of family, of his fellow missionaries and lay catechists that one can keep going, and continue with our life’s journey and mission, despite the loss of a beloved father, despite have one’s home badly damaged by Nazi bombing. Those words of Jesus, “Will not my heavenly Father not much more look after you?” I believe that no missionary, Jesuit or lay could never undertake work anywhere in the world, without a sense of being called and accompanied by God and the prayers of family, fellow Jesuits and friends.
When Francis came home on leave from Zambia to his beloved family in Belfast, to visit the wee Ma and his sisters and his brother in England he regaled them with wonderful stories of the people he worked for in Zambia, whom he greatly loved. Francis was a very considerate and kind man. He referred to their houseman in Zambia as his gentleman’s gentleman!
After his 30 years of service in Zambia, he returned go Ireland. He continued his mission as director of the Jesuit Mission Office, working in spirituality and as a retreat director on the staff of St Beuno’s in north Wales for 11 years. He then came back to Gardiner Street and Francis was a committed presence and church priest. Always obliging for Mass and confessions, and a reputation as a preacher with a good message, and a compassionate confessor both in the confessional and for people who called to the parlour for confession. I am deeply grateful for his ministry when I was parish priest. Latterly, he was chaplain in St Monica’s Nursing Home around the corner from us in Belvedere Place and again he was utterly reliable and very faithful in his ministry to the elderly.
Almost up to the end of his life, Francis continued to visit his family in Belfast, and in particular, his sister Bernadette. He always travelled on the Dublin-Belfast Enterprise train and he was on first name terms with the train staff and was usually given an upgrade to the First Class carriage. This had many advantages, and one time he met the President of Ireland, Michael D Higgins. Bernadette as she awaited Francis’ arrival was amazed to see him coming down the platform accompanied by the Irish President!
Frank lived a long life, he saw the darker side of life in the premature death of his beloved father and he learned to appreciate, rejoice and be glad. He was grateful for the most important aspects of life and loved both his natural and Jesuit families. He was a faithful servant who loved those who were entrusted to him. He trusted in God and in God’s providence.
I’m sure now the Lord will welcome him with these words, “Well done good and faithful servant, come and enter your master’s happiness”.
Fr Richard O’Dwyer SJ

Early Education at Star of the Sea, Belfast; St Mary’s CBS, Barrack Street, Belfast

1952-1954 Laval, France - Studying
1954-1957 Tullabeg - Studying Philosophy
1957-1960 Monze, Zambia - Regency : Teacher at Chivuna Station
1960-1964 Milltown Park - Studying Theology
1964-1965 Rathfarnham - Tertianship
1965-1966 Brussels, Belgium - Catechetics Studies at Lumen Vitae
1966-1967 Choma, Zambia - Teacher of local language at Mukasa Secondary School
1967-1979 Monze, ZA - Director Kizito Catechist Training Centre
1968 Parish Priest St Mary’s Parish; Chair of Diocesan Catechetical Commission; Member of Diocesan Consult
1969 Transcribed to Zambian Province [ZAM] (03/12/1969)
1971 St Louis, MO; USA - Studying Pastoral Theology, at St Louis University
1975 Retreats; Workshops / Seminars; at Kizito Pastoral Centre; CiTonga Language Course
1976 Vicar General for Religious, Archdiocese of Lusaka; Member of Archdiocesan Consul
1979-1984 Chelston, Lusaka, Zambia - Directs Spiritual Exercises at Jesuit Education Centre, Xavier House
1984-1993 Monze, Zambia - Kizito Pastoral Centre
1987 Superior
1993-1996 Gardiner St - Director of Mission Office, Dublin; Spiritual Exercises; Assists in Gardiner St Church
1996-2007 St Bueno’s, St Asaph, Wales, UK - Directs Spiritual Exercises
1999 Transcribed to Irish Province [HIB] (05/01/1999)
2007-2020 Gardiner St - Directs Spiritual Exercises; Assists in Church
2010 Chaplain in St Monica’s Home, Dublin
2012 Assistant Treasurer
2014 Pastoral Work
2017 Prays for the Church and the Society at Cherryfield Lodge

Born: 27 February 1921, Belfast, County Antrim
Entered: 14 September 1943, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Ordained: 28 July 1960, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final Vows: 05 November 1981
Died: 09 November 1986, St Mary’s Parish, Emmitsburg, Maryland, USA

by 1974 at Emmitsburgh MD, USA (NEB) working

◆ Fr Francis Finegan : Admissions 1859-1948 - Post office Official before entry

◆ Irish Province News
Irish Province News 62nd Year No 1 1987

Obituary

Fr Bernard O’Neill (1921-1943-1986)

22nd February 1921: born in Belfast. Schooled at St Mary's secondary school (CBS) and for three years at a Belfast technical institution. For three years he was a postal clerk in London.
14th September 1943: entered SJ. 1943-45 Emo, noviciate. 1945-48 Rathfarnham, juniorate (BA course at UCD). 1948-51 Tullabeg, philosophy. 1951-53 Clongowes, regency. 1953-57 Milltown, theology. 1957-60 Belvedere, teaching. 28th July 1960: ordained a priest. 1960-61 Clongowes, prefect of Lower Line. 1961-62 Rathfarnham, tertianship.
1962-73 Gardiner street: 1962-4 at Jesuit Missions office: 1964-72 bursar, adj. dir, SFX Hall, pastoral work.
1973-86 Mount St Mary's seminary, Emmitsburg, Maryland, USA: adj, rector. 9th November 1986: died.

Irish Province News 62nd Year No 3 1987

Obituary

Fr Bernard O’Neill (1921-1943-1986)
(† 9th November 1986)

“True joy is a sure sign of the presence of God” These words of the French philosopher, Léon Bloy, ring so true in the life of Father Barney O'Neill. An Irish-born Jesuit, Barney brought joy into the lives of everyone he met, and during his lifetime he met many people. There was always a smile wherever he went. He was a master story-teller and knew every new joke before anyone else. Above all, he was an excellent priest, an insightful spiritual director and good friend. He knew what priesthood was about.
He was born in Belfast in 1921 and was ordained for the Society of Jesus in 1960 in Dublin, He taught and did parish work in Ireland and England before coming to the United States. In 1973 he came to Mount St Mary's Seminary in Emmitsburg, Maryland, as dean of men and Director of Field Education.
As any priest or seminarian who knew him found, there was never a dull moment when Barney was around. He had a mask, puppet, or joke for every occasion. His humor could touch the heart of anyone, especially if they were hurting. He also had a special gift of being able to size up a situation and offer a solution to it. Bishop Harry Flynn, former rector of the Mount, recalled a time when he was faced with a difficult situation. Fr Barney came into his office and said to him, “In Ireland we have a saying about problems like this. You look it straight in the eye and then you walk around it”.
Fr Barney's life was always deeply rooted in prayer and the Eucharist. He prayed constantly, while walking, running, with the community, even in the car. He never learned to drive, so the seminarians would take him to the air- port or train station so he could get to his destination. As you'd be driving along he'd say, "Can I hit you with some Day time Prayer,' or 'Can I give you a bit of the rosary?'.
Barney had a special affinity to the ‘unimportant, especially the poor, dis advantaged, the homeless. He saw Christ in everyone and everyone was important. If he knew a seminarian was far from home and could get home only for Christmas, he would make sure he would not feel left out. He would take him to a restaurant for a good meal, later would pick up the tab for a movie and on the way home would stick a $20 bill in his pocket and say, 'Go out this week on me.'
As dean of men, the seminarians always felt welcome at his door whenever they had a problem. He did whatever he could and always listened compassionately. Even in his last days on earth, he continued to give of himself and bear witness to Christ.
He was diagnosed as having cancer on 6th October, 1986 and died just a month later, As the cancer spread he was increasingly confined to bed. Wishing to be part of the community, the seminarians carried him on a chair wherever he wanted to go. The Thursday before he died he met with the entire seminary community. As he was brought in we rose to our feet in applause for the priest we loved so much. Though very weak, he soon had us laughing and smiling as he sang his favourite song, “New York, New York”. God was to let us have him only three more days.
He died the way he lived, at peace with himself and with his God. He will be remembered for his kindness, his generosity, his simplicity of life and above all his unfailing humor. He taught us much by the way he lived, but he taught us even more by the way he died.
As the weeks pass, we spend less time talking about Father Barney, yet he is closer than ever. He instilled in us a spirit of joy that will remain forever. We thank God for the many blessings we have received from his faithful servant and we confidently pray that he may now enjoy his heavenly reward.
Kenneth Borowiak

◆ Interfuse
Interfuse No 49 : September 1987
In Memory of Barney O’Neill
Albert Ledoux

The move from Gardiner Street to the United States must have been a difficult one for our late lamented Barney. Yet he managed to retain his sense of humour, as this tribute tells us.

First of all, let me introduce myself as a member of the deacon class at Mount Saint Mary's Seminary, Emmitsburg, Maryland. Barney O'Neill was a personal friend of mine. Here are a few, brief glimpses of his last few months among us.

My association with Barney began in August of 1982. It's traditional at the seminary to hold welcoming parties for the new man. Usually 50 - 55 men are involved: all of first theology as well as the pre-theologians and transfers. It is also customary to entertain the entire house at these parties, which are held in the basement recreation room amid ample quantities of beer, lemonade, crackers, cheese, etc. This was probably where I got my first memory of Barney. Several faculty took their turn entertaining the new men. Barney's version of the entertainment was a stand-up comedy routine, some singing (favourite song: “New York, New York”) interspersed with some of his famous jokes. Some of these jokes tended to be real 'groaners', a fact which only served to make Barney more delightful.

Whether his listeners laughed or groaned at his jokes, Barney was there to entertain them. He didn't mind making himself vulnerable, open to rejection, even on as simplistic a level as telling funny stories at a party. It was this vulnerability that characterized his dealings with the seminarians in general. His unpretentiousness was almost legendary. This was rendered all the more noteworthy when compared to the attitude of certain other faculty who, shall we say, have a much loftier notion of themselves than would reasonably be necessary.

I had the opportunity to work with Barney three times on the assigning of rooms to seminarians. This ordeal takes place twice a year, once in September and once again in January after a number of the deacons return to their dioceses for a semester of parish work. All seminarians concerned are expected to submit a piece of paper with room preferences. The pieces of paper are then drawn at random, and a precedence list is drawn up. I remember spending hours with Barney in his room, pouring over diagrams of the seminary, trying to fit each seminarian into one of his room choices. This was where I came to appreciate the extreme difficulty that Barney experienced in saying “NO” to people. Wherever Barney felt there was a need, he was first to offer help. Certain older seminarians were sure to find an appreciative ear in requesting particular rooms on lower floors or in more remote corners of the building. One of Barney's mottoes was obviously that it was preferable to err on the side of charity than to judge too hastily.

I returned to the seminary a few days early last August in order to help with seminarian orientation for the new men. Since there were only two seminarians in the building at the time, and since Barney needed some sort of transportation to the hospital the next morning, he approached me for the favour. He said it was a matter of “some blood work” that needed to be done. The mention of blood work sounded rather serious, but the next morning he explained that the doctors merely wanted to check the uric acid content of his blood. He had been experiencing a certain difficulty in walking which the doctors were tempted to attribute to gout. I drove him to the hospital, waited for his tests to finish, and drove him back to Mount Saint Mary's. Barney was not one to waste time in the car. He graciously offered to read his divine office aloud so that may time in the car would not be entirely “wasted”.

Well, the tests came back negative, to the stupefaction of the doctors. He was then given some pain medicine and told to ease up on his activities. The doctors suspected by now that the problem had to do with muscular strain.

Yet the problem refused to go away. During the ensuing weeks, when ideally the pain should have subsided, it only got worse. Barney took to hobbling around the corridors and to climbing the stairs with great difficulty. (He lived on the third floor above the ground in a building without elevators). We heard no complaints. If anyone asked, Barney would explain that he was feeling some discomfort. Very few people knew to what extent Barney was feeling pain.

The first clue that the problem was not trivial came in early October when Barney was hospitalized for a week. All manner of tests were run on him. The conclusion was that he had cancer, although for the time being it was not known where the cancer was principally located. Hence treatment could not be started. When it was established that he had lung cancer and that the cancer in his bones was a side-effect therefrom, the condition was too far advanced to merit therapy. This was when Barney decided to return to the seminary to die among those with whom he had lived, worked and prayed.

The Rector announced the news to the seminary community one evening at the weekly Rector's conference. Still, in this day and age, we have become accustomed to people living for years with their cancer. When we heard the news, the doctors had not yet concluded that treatment would be fruitless. That judgement would come the following week. There was a general feeling of dismay among the seminarians, but certainly not one of gloom, for we were all anticipating a successful treatment.

One of the seminarians set up a rotating schedule whereby twenty-one other seminarians took their turns bringing Barney his meals. It was principally through these seminarians that the remaining 140 of us found out details about Barney's condition. A few days after Barney's last diagno affixed a note to Barney's door advising all those without official business to kindly keep their distance. Barney was fading fast.

Three days before Barney died, I asked one of the fellows on the meal list if he would mind terribly if I brought Barney his supper. I had a few things to tell him before it was too late... When I knocked on Barney's door that evening, I found him sitting at an angle in his hospital bed. It took him several minutes to get his bearings, for he had been sleeping. It became apparent that Barney was becoming disorientated since his train of thought would trail off, and he tended to make illogical connections when he spoke.

Still, his spirits were good. He had been receiving visitors constantly for the last few days. He had been on the phone several times with friends and relatives in Britain and Ireland. Apart from the lapses in conversation, he seemed alert. In short, his condition did not seen as serious as I had thought.

When I returned with his supper, thinly sliced roast beef and potatoes with some tea to wash it down, Barney wasn't alone in his room. A seminarian who worked as a male nurse prior to coming here was there in the room with him. This fellow would get Barney up in the morning, bathe him if necessary, see to it that he took his medicine, and the like. I never did get the chance to tell him what I had on my mind, namely that he had been one of the finest Christian models to which I had been exposed at the seminary, and that I was grateful for his being there.

Coincidentally, this was also the night when Barney wished to attend (what turned out to be) his last Rector's conference. He had already attended Mass in our large lecture hall the previous Monday, a Mass which he himself used to say for seminarians whose apostolic duties conflicted with the community Mass on Monday and Tuesday afternoons. Anyway, he was hoisted into a chair and carried down to that Mass by four seminarians.

After the gospel was read, the celebrant asked Barney if he had anything to say. Barney, true to form, then attempted to turn a gloomy situation into a happy one. He noted that in the gospel passage the crippled and the beggars were the ones ultimately invited to the wedding feast. “I want the word to go out!” he exclaimed, “I am a cripple! And I want to know what's been happening to all these party invitation I'm supposed to be getting?!”

He did strike a more serious note at the end of the Mass, however. He was heading to the hospital for his last round of tests, and just wished to express how much it meant for him to be spending these days and weeks among the seminarians, those who had meant a great deal to him during the past several years. Here the customary happy face disappeared for a moment as he choked back a sob.

That Thursday he was back in the lecture hall, having been carried down from the third floor by some seminarians. Another faculty member gave the talk, after which Barney, still seated in his wheelchair, took the microphone. He expressed his sentiments to the community, giving no indication with his manner of speaking that things were as far advanced as they were. A fellow at the piano struck up the chords to "New York, New York". We all joined in on what was universally perceived to be Barney's theme song. Barney was at Benediction that evening. He spent Friday and Saturday receiving visitors and giving other cancer patients courage over the telephone.

Friday morning, I summoned up my courage to ignore the Rector's "No visitors" sign on Barney's door and intruded to ask if he might like some of the Lourdes water that I had in my room. I brought him some after class, cautioning him at the time that the water had been all bottled up for over a year, ever since I collected it myself at Lourdes. I told him that I wouldn't recommend it for internal use. At that, with the customary gleam in his eye, he removed the cap and took a hefty swallow. Upon looking up he explained that he had been into the baths at Lourdes on several occasions, upon none of which the waters had looked as clear as did the heavenly elixír which he now held in his hands.

Ken Borowaik and I stayed with him for a good half hour, during which Barney spoke a near-monologue on his family in Europe, especially his nephew who resides in Italy with his wife and children. I found myself wondering if the kinder thing would be to excuse myself or to just allow him to continue talking. I eventually left the room to allow Barney to rest.

Sunday, as I'm sure you already know, Barney had the opportunity to say his last Mass. This took place during the afternoon. That night, after Benediction, the seminarian ex-nurse of whom I already spoke, went into Barney's room to make him comfortable for the night. That's when it was discovered that he had died. Several days earlier, the Rector had arranged to have an electrical speaker installed in Barney's room that would relay the sound of all our chapel exercises. It is reasonable to suppose that Barney died while listening to solemn Benediction.

At about 10.40 that night, various seminarians ran about the building knocking on doors, spreading the news that Barney had died and asking everyone to assemble in the chapel to recite a rosary for Barney's happy repose.

The next afternoon, Barney's remains were brought back to lie in state in the seminary chapel. His coffin was of oak, in a rich brown shade. The lid was entirely removed to reveal Barney vested in an off-white chasuble with gold trim. For the first time since I met him Barney looked his age. In his last two months of life Barney seemed to have aged fifteen years. After his death, the fact of his being sixty-five years old was greeted with near-universal astonishment. He had always been the picture of vitality. Yet now he looked very old.

The funeral was set for Wednesday morning in the college chapel, about a hundred yards away from the seminary and of more ample proportion than our seminary chapel which can only seat 160 people comfortably. We had two questions: where Barney would be buried and whether or not his family would come from Ireland. The first matter was resolved quickly. The afternoon of the day he died, Barney had told the Rector that he wished to be buried in Mount Saint Mary's cemetery. Later on Monday we were told that his sister, Lily, and her husband would be arriving from Ireland on Tuesday. A niece from Toronto would also attend the funeral.

And so, Barney lay in state for two days in the seminary chapel. Our regular chapel exercises took on a decidedly different air as we meditated upon Barney's life and death and upon the transitory nature of our own lives as well.

The two days prior to Barney's funeral were marked by rather dreary weather. The air turned unseasonably cold; it rained or drizzled constantly. The morning of the funeral, however, the gloom was gone. The temperature was barely above freezing, yet the sky was a clear blue. After the funeral director prepared Barney's coffin for removal, the 165 seminarians led the funeral cortege down the driveway to the college chapel. We were followed by 75 priests, a number of officials from the college, as well as a good representation of local people. Marching two-by-two, the procession covered the entire distance between the seminary and large chapel.

The Most Reverend Harry J. Flynn, former Rector of the seminary, and recently-named auxiliary bishop of Lafayette, Louisiana, was the main celebrant. A choir of twenty-odd seminarians provided the music. Several selections were worked into the Mass that were based on Irish folk tunes or which incorporated passages from the Spiritual Exercises. I myself sang the “Pie Jesu” from the “Faure Requiem”, a beautiful piece of music in my opinion, and one which I wanted to sing for Barney.

Over and over again reference was made to Barney's over-riding kindness and cheerful disposition, his ability to walk into the gloomiest setting, the most contentious of environments, and leave everyone smiling after a few minutes. The bishop tied it all together with Barney's vision of the priesthood, with Barney's own personal way of spreading the love of Christ among those who needed it the most.

After the funeral Mass, most of the participants gathered in the cemetery behind the seminary. The seminary building is located at the precise spot where à 1,500 foot high mountain meets the coastal plain. Our founder, an exiled French priest by the name of John Dubois, built his first church on the mountain side in 1806. Adjacent to the church was the cemetery. The church is gone but the cemetery remains, holding several hundred graves and dating back to the second decade of the 19th century. Barney's remains were placed in the faculty plot, which is composed of the graves of about a dozen former Rectors, spiritual directors, and the like. The faculty plot is located at the base of the cemetery which measures about 100 x 300 yards and stretches back into an oak forest at about a twenty degree incline.

A canopy covered the grave, near which chairs had been set up for Lily, her husband and the niece from Toronto. Bishop Flynn read the final prayers of commendation, after which he bent down to offer his condolences to the family. The mourners then began walking down the hill toward this parking lot. This was when a sole instrumentalist, placed further up the cemetery behind a small mausoleum, began playing Barney's theme song. The Rector had thought that Barney, who had spent so much time making people smile while he was living, would have wanted people to smile while remembering him in death. So the instrumentalist played “New York, New York” very quietly and slowly. And as each of the mourners realized what was being played, a smile spread across their lips. And so, by a fortunate musical association, Barney made everyone smile once again.

Before leaving the cemetery, I offered two roses to Lily, telling her to give them to her mother. (I am also the seminary gardener and can cut flowers with impunity). These happened to be the last two roses in bloom on the seminary property before the arrival of heavy frost. Lily expressed some doubt as to whether she could bring such things through British customs. The niece suggested that the flowers be pressed, however, at which point the ban on live plants would no longer hold. Lily and her husband remained in Emmitsburg until the next morning. They visited Barney's old rooms to retrieve anything that might be of sentimental value. They fastened upon a few photographs and souvenir pebbles that Barney had picked up somewhere or other. This was all they took.