MY FAVORITE PRIEST

An outstanding preacher

By James Gilhooley

He looked older than his years. His body faxed the information he never met a gym he liked. He was not a pretty man. Or, perhaps better, his beauty was not visible to the eye. For, appearances notwithstanding, the priest Joseph Sheehan had a profound influence on many boys and young men in his 24 years as a priest.

He was our professor of Homiletics at St. Joseph’s Seminary in Dunwoodie, New York from 1952 to Wednesday, April 27, 1955. That day his heart rudely stopped in his doctor’s office. He was 56. He was but one month shy of his Silver Jubilee as a priest.

His acknowledged strength was as a preacher. That is no doubt the reason Francis Cardinal Spellman dispatched him to us at Dunwoodie. One religious, who eagerly listened to his Sunday homilies, reported she got all her meditation points for the week from his 10-minute homily. One priest almost a half-century after his death confessed to me that every time Sheehan preached he found him “a tonic.” Not surprisingly, he was much sought after as a preacher. New York’s archbishop had his fingers crossed that we would become Sheehan clones in the pulpit.

He came to us in the seminary from Cardinal Hayes High School in New York City. He taught there for 11 years. One faculty member told me he had an incredible influence on teens. Many of them would return to consult with him after their graduation. The priest describes his modus operandi. “Joe Sheehan would come early to school. He took a place outside the General Office. Students would literally line up to see him or make appointments . . . he drew them to him like a magnet.” He also found time to encourage the then young priest who gave me this information. He was being put down by veteran faculty members for his “over and above” enthusiasm with the students.

Dunwoodie, we were told by faculty, was the West Point of seminaries. And certainly our faculty acted as an officer class. This properly awed seminarian got the impression they spoke only to God and even then on their own terms. Fr. Sheehan spoke to students and laughed with them publicly in the corridors between classes. He did not seem to have much time for his faculty peers.

He was hardly a Beau Brummel in appearance. I wager his wardrobe did not boast of a single French cuff shirt. Along with everyone else, I owned three or four. Unknown to him, there was a pool to see how many buttons on his cheap cassock would be unbuttoned when he came to class. A high count was ten. In a period of rigid conformity, his independent spirit was refreshing. And, in those gray, leafless days from January to March, any and all levity was welcome.

Many seminarians, like the high school students at Hayes before them, were drawn to him. They used him as their spiritual director and confidant. One then student wrote to me recently: “I always felt he was a treasure – a humble, respectful, intelligent person whose integrity was mesmerizing. I miss him.”

I found his class an hour of charm. It came as a welcome oasis in an otherwise generally dry schedule.

I do not remember any “how to” techniques he taught us about preaching. But I do remember the awe and reverence with which he approached the subject. Preaching for him was not an integral component of the Liturgy; it was an essential. For example, I vividly recall him telling us, “You must be willing to give as much time preparing for eight people as you would for eight hundred.” Every time I grow lazy in preparation for a small group, the image of Joe Sheehan rises up before me. He passed on his love of preaching to us. Too bad he could not also have willed us his talents.

I recall other on liners he would share with us. “Every time you stick your head above a crowd, somebody will take a shot at you.” “The problem of sex will remain a problem until you are eighteen seconds in your grave.” At seventy-two years, I have found both aphorisms to be prophetic down through the years.

His funeral Mass was held at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Cardinal Spellman presided. Bishop Christopher Weldon of Springfield, Mass. gave the eulogy from the pulpit where Sheehan himself had preached. Two thousand people shoehorned themselves into the cathedral. Two hundred of that number were priests. There were three hundred Dunwoodie seminarians present. (That last number is not a typo.)

Next to losing Fr. Sheehan, the most painful event was watching his almost crippled mother laboring down the long aisle following her son’s coffin. It was another Pietá.

You are invited to contribute to this series by sending in an account of a priest whom you admire. Articles should not exceed 800 words. The best of these will be printed. Send to “My Favorite Priest”
c/o Homiletic & Pastoral Review
50 S. Franklin Turnpike
Suite 1
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If you have a good photo of the priest, please send that also. Enclose a stamped self-addressed envelope, if you wish to have your article returned
 ...Fr. James Gilhooley lives in Montgomery, N.Y.

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