He Practiced What He Preached
By JOE SIXPACK
The saintly Archbishop Gaspard Mermillod (1824-1892) of Geneva, Switzerland, had the good and pious custom of paying a last visit to the Blessed Sacrament every evening. He would then lock the doors to the cathedral for the night. Returning to the altar, he would make a deep and respectful genuflection, kiss the floor as a sign of reverence before the Blessed Sacrament and then retire to his home.
One evening, believing himself to be alone in the cathedral, he finished his devotions as usual. When he got up from his knees, he was startled by a noise. Suddenly the door of a confessional opened and a very distinguished looking lady stepped out.
“What are you doing here at this hour, my dear lady?” asked the archbishop.
“I’m a Protestant,” she answered, “and I’ve been present at the sermons you’ve given during Lent on the Real Presence of Christ in the Holy Eucharist. Your arguments have convinced me of the truth of this doctrine. Only one doubt remained, and that was: Does he himself believe what he says? I wanted to see if, when alone, you would conduct yourself before the Holy Eucharist as one who believes in It, and I had firmly resolved to become a convert if you practice what you preach. I’ve seen it for myself, so now I want to become a Catholic.”
This lady became one of the most zealous Catholics of Geneva.
There are several wonderful lessons that can be learned from this story. We can easily find lessons on the worship of God, love and respect for the Real Presence of Christ in the Holy Eucharist, setting a good example by practicing what we believe, and the importance of having zeal for our holy and ancient faith.
I’ve always had a certain sort of “holy envy” for priests and bishops who have round the clock access to the Holy Eucharist. Like most people, I can’t get to the parish church during regular hours to pay visits to our Lord in the Tabernacle as I’d like, but a priest can do so anytime he wants…and I know of many priests who make visits to the Hidden Jesus often each day. Today, rather than give you one of the lessons you’d expect, let me tell you about one such priest I knew who has since gone to his reward.
The priest’s name was Fr. Killian Mooney, and he was a member of the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity. Fr. Killian would begin each day visiting the Eucharist. As the sky began to turn pink with the first rays of the sun coming toward the horizon, Father would go into the sanctuary and pull his chair up close to the tabernacle to speak to His Master and Majesty. Then he would return several times throughout the day.
What benefits did Fr. Killian derive from his multiple visits every day? When he died, Fr. Killian was an octogenarian, but his bishop told me he got more done each day than any ten priests half his age. It’s almost as if God altered time for this very holy priest. But that isn’t nearly all these visits to Our Eucharistic Lord did for him.
Fr. Killian was so much in love with the Holy Eucharist that, on multiple occasions, those of us attending Mass would watch in awe as he lapsed into a holy ecstasy during the Elevation of the Host. His feet were firmly planted at the altar, but it was more than apparent to the rest of us that his soul was in Heaven before the throne of our Creator and King.
Father could read souls as well. Twice in the confessional I had forgotten a sin when making my Confession. When I’d indicated my Confession was finished, Fr. Killian would ask, “What about the sin of. . . .?” I replied, “Yes, Father, and the sin of. . . . But how did you. . . .” He would cut me off and say, “Now tell God you’re sorry,” which was his way of telling me to make a good Act of Contrition…and that how he knew wasn’t any of my business. Fr. Killian could read souls, just as Padre Pio and the Curé of Ars could do.
Fr. Killian tried to make every penitent understand that we are God’s children in a real way. That was why he said, “Now tell God you’re sorry,” instead of telling penitents to make a good Act of Contrition. It was like telling a child to tell Daddy he was sorry. And when Father gave absolution and made the Sign of the Cross, he would finish by reaching over and giving a fatherly tap on the head of the penitent. He simply wanted penitents to know and understand that God loves us the way a father loves his children. It certainly worked for me.
Fr. Killian’s parish covered two and a half counties in one of the poorest regions of the country. One day each week, people would line up from the rectory door to the street and all the way around the corner to see Fr. Killian. All of them had problems. Some might not be able to pay the power bill, others needed food, and still others might need medicine. I recall one man who had recently gotten a new job, but the battery on his car died before he got his first paycheck, so he wouldn’t be able to get to work until he got a new battery. He went to Fr. Killian to ask for help.
No matter the need these people had, Fr. Killian would pray with them and counsel them on how they got into their dire situation in the first place and how to avoid it. Then he would give them a voucher that could be used anywhere in the area — the grocery store, the electric company, the drug store, the hardware store . . . anywhere. All the people had to do was present the voucher and say, “Fr. Killian sent me.” The voucher would be honored immediately.
It was estimated that Father’s charity was at least $250,000 a year, but his was a small rural parish that could in no way support such a ministry. I’m told that when Fr. Killian died and the parish audit was done, no one was able to find the source of all that money. There was no bank account, no records, no benefactor could be identified, and there was certainly no treasure chest or stuffed mattress. It was finally concluded, I’m told, that God simply made the money materialize when it was needed, much as He had done for St. John Bosco or when Jesus fed thousands with the few loaves and fishes.
Fr. Killian Mooney was no doubt a living saint, and his saintly life was attributed to his deep love for the Holy Eucharist and his equally deep and tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Fr. Killian had a passion for souls, which was a natural extension of his love for our Lord and our Lady.
The good news is, Fr. Killian proves to us that we can all achieve that level of holiness. He wasn’t anything or anyone special, and he’d have been the very first person to make that point. All he did was believe, serve, and love. He believed everything the Holy Catholic Church teaches without question or reservation. He served God and the men God created for the love of God. And he loved God, our Lady, and everyone he met.
Everyone can be like Fr. Killian, if only we will use the confessional as a means to root out all the little things that keep us from perfect union with God. We may never be able to experience ecstasy before the Eucharist or make money materialize out of thin air, but those were just signs from God to draw attention to the holiness of a man who loved Him as we all should love Him. . . . God telling us He wants the same level of love from us He received from Fr. Killian.
If you have a question or comment you can reach out to me through the “Ask Joe” page of JoeSixpackAnswers.com, or you can email me at Joe@CantankerousCatholic.com.
Hey, how would you like to see things like this article every week in your parish bulletin as an insert? You or your pastor can learn more about how to do that by emailing me at Joe@CantankerousCatholic.com.
