You have probably heard about Dennis, his life, illness and death. Dennis was the pastor of two parishes in Duquesne, PA, for 32 years--Christ the Light of the World and St. Joseph. He was a beloved pastor, making church"work" while almost everything else in that declining mill town didn't.
Two years ago Dennis was diagnosed with ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a degenerative neurological condition known as Lou Gehrig's disease. He was saying Mass on Easter Sunday, and for no apparent reason, fell at the altar. Several parishioners urged him to see a doctor, which he did the following day. On Easter Friday, he was given the devastating diagnosis. Loss of all motor function, and death probably within two years.
Yet it did not stop Dennis, from pastoring. He continued doing as much as he could. When he couldn't do something, as for example, when he gave up driving after he crashed his new car into a wall backing up, because he couldn't control his feet, others drove him. When he couldn't cook, parishioners and friends brought him food. When he couldn't walk the one flight of steps to his bedroom, the parishioners came together and had an elevator built into the rectory. When he couldn't stand in the sanctuary to preside at Mass, he sat on his motorized scooter and preached. And when he couldn't even speak, he drove to Mass and cried with the people.
And the disease did not stop him from being himself. I joined a priest support group, of which Dennis was a charter member, five years ago. I loved his loud cackle of a laugh, his irreverent sense of humor, his sarcasm which was never a downer. Dennis was truly one of the great "characters" of the Pittsburgh presbyterate--and Dennis reveled in being a character. We would rib him that he was "the bishop of Duquesne" and "things were different in the diocese of Duquesne." And he agreed--and then laughed some more.
Dennis received a lot of tv and print publicity in August 2014 when he publicly invited Bishop David Zubik to participate in the "ALS ice bucket challenge" with him. The bishop agreed, with one stipulation, that he would first celebrate Mass with Dennis and his flock, and give Dennis the sacrament of anointing of the sick. The church was filled, with 150 more outside on that warm summer Saturday. But Dennis didn't need the additional publicity. He was already widely known, throughout the Steel Valley and greater Pittsburgh area.
How ironic that at almost every meeting of our priest support group Dennis would say, "Well, only seven year, one month, and four days until I retire." Or, "only six years, nine months." (Our clergy personnel policy only allows us to retire at the age of 70.) With the onset of ALS, Dennis never got to fulfill all his well-thought out dreams of what to do in retirement.
About five weeks before his death, Dennis hosted our priest support group at his rectory. He and we knew that death was drawing closer (those none of us would have guessed only a month away). He told us he loved us, he loved the priesthood, and he loved the people. He knew he was loved by God, and had tried to return that love in ministry. He said that he found it better for his spiritual life if he only went to Mass once a week, on Sunday. Dennis said longing to receive Jesus Christ in Holy Communion for a whole week made the reception of the sacrament all the more sweet and powerful. I am not ashamed to say I was crying as Dennis quietly spoke to us. His words and his spirit from that day are forever embedded in my memory.
What Dennis did as a pastor was extend hospitality far and wide, and the message of God's incredible mercy. (See next post.) People bought it, because Dennis lived it. People came to Christ the Light parish, and stayed, and participated in both church work and community service, because of Dennis's leadership and personality.
Yes, Father Dennis had a big funeral on Easter Saturday, April 11, with an overflowing crowd in Christ the Light of the World church. But Father Dennis is far from dead. He and his Christian spirit is alive in everyone who met him and for whom he ministered. May your rest in peace, brother, and may your laugh and spirit even bring smiles to the angels of heaven.
P.S. As I was noodling around on the internet, I found a wonderful and touching post about Father Colamarino and his impact on the city of Duquesne and its people on a blog, "The Duquesne Hunky." www.duquesnehunky.com Check it out.
No comments:
Post a Comment