The former pastor of Saint Patrick's Parish in Catskill, New York – a role he served from 1971 until his retirement in 2005, a third of a century in the service of the community – died on Tuesday, the eve of the 2010 Lenten season. He was my parish priest and, outside of my grandmother Rosealma (who kept us in Saturday vigil masses at the church atop Bridge Street hill), my spiritual compass for many years. I'm not alone. Father Murphy had a profound impact on the students who passed through the doors at Saint Patrick's elementary, on his congregation, on the Catholic community not only in Catskill, but throughout the county.
He didn't do it with an extreme profundity or a charismatic style, but with the sheer size of his heart, his goodness, and the care with which he looked over his parishioners.
What engendered our devotion was simple: he was genuine, and embodied characteristics that you expected in a priest – approachable, personable, trustworthy. He was part Spencer Tracey in “Boys Town,” but without the epic backstory, part Bing Crosby in “The Bells of Saint Mary's,” but without the swagger – and he was absolutely Father Murphy, Father John, Murph in casual corners where the collar could sustain some familiarity – never among the kids, mind you. Pastor, mentor, friend - he was the heart and soul and spiritual vanguard to several generations.
We called him “Father” and all took him into our families. Father Murphy is there in numerous photographs in my albums – my first communion; my sisters' weddings; May processions and elementary school events and Mother's Club functions. In those frames where he isn't solemn in conducting the business of the church, he's smiling. Always. His joy was infectious, a reflection of the wealth of happiness he found in a life given over to faith. The quiet grace with which he conducted the liturgy and preached a sermon hinted at the strength he found there as well.
Even after he retired in August, 2005 and moved to Troy to be closer to family, Catskill was never too far for him to go. He returned to tend to the spiritual needs of a flock that was always his, regardless of changing guards or Diocesan appointments. That he was loved is beyond question. When he went on a Diocesan-mandated sabbatical from his duties when I was a teen – the year escapes me, but I want to say it was in the early eighties, and I'm sure someone reading this has a longer memory than I do - there was a great deal of concern that Albany wouldn't return him to his post after his break. It simply wasn't done, whether for arcane Church reasons, politics or some other explanation unfathomed. Be it the generosity of the diocese, behind the scenes machinations, or the simple will of God, Father Murphy remained pastor of Saint Pat's, and Saint Pat's was better for it.
On June 2, 2007 he returned to the parish he'd served for so long to celebrate his Golden Jubilee with a mass at Saint Patrick's. A full house turned out to celebrate the man whose ordination on June 1, 1957 had benefitted them all in some fashion, and for every person who sat in a carved wooden pew at the church that day, there were dozens more who couldn't make the trip, but cared not one ounce less. Catskill's Jim DiPerna has a few wonderful pictures of that day on his blog, and I don't think he'd object to my linking it below.
Other memories trickle to the surface - I remember shoveling snow off the rectory sidewalks on a couple of occasions, after my family moved from Jefferson Heights over to Prospect Avenue, a block from the church. Father Murphy always had an appreciative wave for that little bit of volunteerism. He'd greet you with a clap on the back or a firm handshake, and he was rock solid remembering names – or faking it with a nickname if he didn't, though for as long as I can remember, he knew I was Rosealma's grandson or Patricia's son. His intonations of the Stations of the Cross on Fridays filled the church during the Fridays in Lent when the church welcomed the elementary school students, and I dare you to not hear that voice if you were there. Then there was the way he'd do away with the sermon on especially hot summer Saturday afternoons at the vigil mass, when the open stained glass panels and tall, gray fans did nothing to lower the temperature. I can only imagine how hot he was in holy layers of cassock and vestments.
The last time I saw him was in June, 2006 outside Traver and McCurry Funeral Home in Jefferson Heights. I had just arrived with my mom for my Aunt Elaine's funeral; he was just leaving, heading to another service. With a broad smile and a solid handshake, the familiar “Brother Lane,” and kind words to us for our loss, it was as if I was ten years old and I'd just seen him after Mass, wishing people well at the door – as if it was only yesterday I'd been there, instead of heading out for the world in 1991.
It was the real-world example of what State Representative Gerald Solomon vocalized in the State House of Representatives on February 29, 1996, when Father Murphy was lauded for his devotion both to the Catskill community and the opportunity for children to receive a parochial school education. “Former students spanning his 25 years of service,” Representative Solomon said, “still know they can expect a warm greeting, sound advice and guidance, or just an open ear upon their return.”
My faith has wavered at times since I left Catskill in 1991; at times, I've set it aside to figure things out for myself. I'm in the process of returning once again, and the ongoing example of Father Murphy is a strong one to help re-light my way.
There may come a time where Saint Patrick's parish is only what we, its parishioners past and present, carry in memories and in lessons instilled. The high school, my alma mater, is long since gone – closed in 1988, and don't get me started on that fiasco, because for some things, I still must learn forgiveness. The elementary school closed forever a few years ago. The church spent 2009 in a “feasibility study” by the Albany Diocese, with its fate in limbo, in consideration of a merger with St. Patrick's in Athens. The church in Catskill remains without a pastor. There may come a time where Saint Patrick's parish is only what we, its parishioners, carry of the faith instilled while it was there.
And now Father Murphy is gone – but not forgotten, especially in this season of penance, reflection and sacrifice. Those of us lucky enough to have known him are blessed by our intersection with this fine man, this exemplary priest, this member of our family who has informed us by his warmth, his example and his care.
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The reception of the body for Father Murphy will take place at Sacred Heart Church in Troy on Sunday, February 21 at 4:00 PM. The viewing will continue until 8:00 PM. The Funeral Liturgy will be celebrated at Sacred Heart, Troy on Monday at 11:00 AM.
Photographer Jim DiPerna's account and pictures of the Jubilee Mass of Father Murphy can be seen here.
