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If you were to visit his home at Christmas today, you would immediately gain the impression that this is a very special occasion for Fr Bill personally as well as spiritually.  The tree has a bulb or light in every conceivable nook or cranny.  It is, to use an overworked word, magnificent.  It takes two people three hours minimum to put away all of the decorations on the tree.  Each picture has a bright red velvet ribbon around it or a string of holly with a red velvet bow in the center.  Christmas is, and always has been, very special to Fr Bill.

We go back now, some 38 years and a young Fr Bill is attending a Christmas eve get-together for all the priests given by the Archbishop of Washington.  Midway through the festivities, the Archbishop literally pulls Fr Bill into a corner and says, “Bill, I want you to do me a favor.”

Now, when the general says to the sergeant that he wants something, the answer is always “yes”.

“What do you need me to do, Your Excellency?”

“Bill, I need you to go down to old St Mary’s and take over and advise me what we should do with that place.”

“When do you want me to go, Your Excellency?”

“Right away, Bill, we need a decision as soon as possible”

“Yes, Your Excellency”, I’ll be there tonight”

His heart sank.  His first assignment as pastor.  It should be a joyous event for any young priest.  But oLd St Mary’s.  If there ever was a gulag in the Archdiocese of Washington, it was old St Mary’s.  It was built in the early 1800’s to serve the influx of German immigrants into the Washington area.  Long since abandoned because of the commercialization of the surrounding neighborhood, the majority of the faithful had long since moved to other neighborhoods.  With their departure, the school closed its doors and the teaching nuns closed the convent and departed for other areas.  In short, once proud old St Mary’s had ceased to serve as a national parish.  Only a few faithful remained, and they were mostly the poor and the aged.  To make matters worse, the church had a staggering debt to pay off.

Fr Bill arrived at old St Mary’s late Christmas eve and went to the rectory.  Inventory of the kitchen was quick and simple.  There was nothing there.  No food in the cupboards and nothing in the icebox.  Discouraged, he left the rectory and went to the church.  It was dark on the alter, except for a thin, pencil beam of light.  As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he saw two poinsettias that looked like they had been dumped there.  Merry Christmas!  Well, not the ones he had known.

The discouragement he felt before intensified.

He knelt to pray.

Suddenly, he heard what sounded like a cough.  No, just his imagination being in a new place.  Back to prayer.

There it was again. It was a cough. No mistake now!  Someone else is in here!

He  rose and walked slowly to the back of the church.  His eyes straining in the dark.  There seated in the back of the church, he slowly made out the form of a small, elderly woman.

“I’m Fr Bill”, he said, “I’m the new pastor here.”

“I’m Miss Hattie, Father, and I’s 83 years old.”

“Well, shouldn’t you be spending Christmas with your relatives?”

“I’s 83 years old, Father, and they all gone.”

“Well, surely you have some friends you can share Christmas with?”

“I only got one friend.  I gets $56 in social security, Father, and with that I pay $35 rent and with what’s left over I buys a can of dog food and I eats half and gives the other half to my friend and the next day she buys a can of dog food and eats half and gives the other half to me.”

Stunned, he stood there in the darkness trying to fathom what he just heard.  Dog food!  People don’t eat dog food–dogs eat dog food!  It took a long while to compute.  It was like he had suddenly been transported to another world.  In a million years, in his world, he never would have thought someone would say anything like that to him.  But this was another world.  One he had never seen.  Welcome to old St Mary’s, Fr Bill!

Gathering his composure, he said, “Please come with me.” and took Miss Hattie to the rectory.  He remembered there was no food in the rectory.  He had her wait for him while he ran out the door to try to find a store that was open on Christmas eve.  Plenty of stores, none of them open.  Then, as he rounded the corner, he spied, of all things, a Chinese delicatessen. He hurried in and bought some things he knew he could cook and hurried back to the rectory.

He glanced at his watch as he and Miss Hattie sat down to eat.  It was a little after midnight.  It was Christmas.  It was a wonderful Christmas dinner and it Christmas dinner never tasted better, even if it was only beans and franks!

That evening he told Miss Hattie, “From now on you are to share all holiday dinners with me.”  It was a promise he was to keep for the next 13 years he served as pastor of old St Mary’s Church.

Old St Mary’s became a center for serving the poor.  Food, clothing, and housing became a church priority.  The school became a soup kitchen and a homeless shelter and the convent became a shelter for battered  woman.  He worked tirelessly and unendingly to serve the poor.  Nevertheless, he says they were some of the happiest years of his life.

His message: “I look back on that Christmas Day as a special gift from God.  Miss Hattie taught me that the best Christmas is to know that God loves us, and no matter how simple our circumstances, to share that love with others.”

Fr Bill subsequently was elevated to the rank of Bishop; but, to this day, still signs his Christmas cards, “Fr Bill”, a title he still cherishes.