May 2023
Memoirs from the Heart of a Priest: 4
Wrong Number - No Right Number!
It was the year 2011. One day I was asked by a family to go to St George Hospital in Kogarah, Sydney, to be at the bedside of their dying father. They were ready to turn the life support off, and they wanted me to be there to administer the Last Rites and spend a little time with them and say a few prayers with them.
Finding myself in the Intensive Care Unit, I saw all the signs asking that mobile phones be turned off, but I forgot that I had my phone in my pocket. Suddenly it rang – "Oh no!" I looked at it, and it said "Private Number".
Not being able to return the phone call, I immediately ran out of the ICU, ran down another corridor, came out of the unit, and stood in another hallway. I answered the phone and said "Fr Rizzo speaking." A man's voice on the other end said "Oh, sorry, mate – I have the wrong number." He hung up.
I thought to myself "Wrong number? I left that dying man and ran all this way for nothing." As I was about to retrace my steps, a man came up to me and said anxiously "Oh Father, Father – are you a Catholic priest?" I said "Yes." He said "Will you please come and see my wife. She is dying and she needs the Sacraments." Immediately I followed him and went to see his wife.
As I entered the room holding my phone, I said to her "I think your Guardian Angel just rang me, because your husband never would have seen me had I not had to leave the Intensive Care Unit to answer my phone." She smiled, thanked me, and said "Father, what a great consolation to have you here. May I please make my confession?" I heard her confession and gave her Holy Communion and the Last Rites. She died a few hours later.
I thought to myself "What if I had turned my phone off? What if I did not answer my phone? It was not the wrong number – it was the right number."
It is amazing how our angels work for us at all times, being instruments of divine providence.
The Year 2020
What a year 2020 was – the year of Covid. Our world was turned upside down. We all learnt to adjust to a different way of living, and of even being under lockdown. We will never forget what this meant for the Easter Season – Churches were closed, and the faithful were unable to attend the Services of Holy Week and celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord. It was indeed a trying time. But in spite of this, we Catholics, as a whole, learnt to improvise and still do what we could to heal the wounds of our soul.
During the lockdown, different people used to come to see me to receive the Sacraments. One Friday evening, the week before Holy
Week, a group of bikies came onto the property, and asked me "Are you the priest who hears confession?" "Yes", I said. Each of them then went to confession, and afterwards they said "We are afraid of this Covid. We are afraid of dying." What a great act of faith it was on their part, these well-intentioned men expressing their fear of dying but making sure that they were looking after their souls.
A few days later, on the Tuesday of Holy Week, a gentleman drove into the car park. I was outside, so I went over to him and asked him if I could help him. He simply said "Father, I have been away from Church for a long time. This Covid is really scaring me, and I would like to make a good confession." I said "Sure". And then he said "There is something you should know, Father. This will be my first confession. I am already 45 years old." I assured him that it was no problem at all that this was his first confession. After his very good, humble, contrite confession, I asked him "Would you like Holy Communion?" He said "Father, this will be my First Holy Communion." So there he was, sitting in the car park under the shadows of Tyburn Priory, having made his first confession and his First Holy Communion.
How much good will come out of this Covid existence? Through faith, people are uniting themselves more closely, more intimately with God. And perhaps some of them are taking a good, hard look at their souls as they remind themselves of an immortal soul that is united to a mortal body – a body that will eventually die, but a soul that will live for all eternity either in Heaven or Hell.
We can see any type of illness or plague or any adversity through the eyes of faith. And when we do so, our eyes are truly opened. There is no such thing as isolation when it comes to God. It is the opportunity for a deeper union with Him Who loves us.
A Mother's Love
When we consider the love of a mother's heart, it is truly a love that tops the list, so to speak. As St Therese said:
The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God is the heart of a mother.
To contemplate the love that a mother has for her children is one of the best ways to understand love. A mother loves her children unconditionally – and mostly, that love is united to sacrifice.
I remember a lady named Annette, who was dying of cancer. Annette and her husband John had a large family, and the children were being brought up in a beautiful Catholic environment. The family would regularly come to Mass – not just on a Sunday, but on weekdays as well. They would pray the Rosary together as a family. Annette was a very prayerful woman and would spend time alone before the Blessed Sacrament. Even at night, on a First Friday evening for example, she would come to our little chapel. When it was cold, and I would plead with her to turn the heating on, she would say "Oh no, Father, I'm fine. I will just wrap myself in a blanket."
The cancer advanced, and one day I went to visit her when she was in her sick bed. I asked her "Annette, is there anything I can do for you?" "Well Father", she replied, "I have seen all my children – except one – make their First Holy Communion. I am praying that God will allow me to live long enough to let me see my youngest child receive his First Holy Communion." I said "Annette, we are going to arrange that. As far as I am concerned, your prayer has already been answered."
I called the child, and I asked him about the Holy Eucharist. He answered my questions correctly because of the good catechetics he had received from his mother and father. I turned to Annette and said to her "Annette, I am coming here tomorrow morning to say Mass, here in your house, and you can witness from your bedroom your son making his First Holy Communion." Tears of joy ran down her face – she couldn't thank me enough.
The following morning, we did exactly that. A few other parishioners who were close friends of the family also came, and sang some hymns during the Mass. Annette, the proud mother, was beaming in spite of her suffering, smiling from ear to ear when she saw her youngest son kneeling at the foot of her bed as he made his First Holy Communion.
Annette's one dying wish was granted. Sadly, she died about two weeks later.
I share this story with you because it really expresses the love of the heart of a mother. I was very moved at witnessing such love – and what an honour it was for me to have been able to help fulfil Annette's last wish.
Annette's love for her children first and foremost concerned their souls – and, as such, that love truly did image the maternal heart of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, the Mother of us all, who loves us, her children, and wants to ensure that we are ever so close to the Sacraments and her Son.
A Beautiful Lesson For Me
During the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s, not much was known about this debilitating disease, at least initially. It was a horrible disease that would immediately attack the immune system, and would sometimes bring about a slow and agonising death. How contagious was AIDS? No one could say at that stage, so there was much fear amongst the population.
I was stationed at Immaculate Conception Parish in Post Falls, Idaho. One Tuesday night, I received a phone call from a woman crying uncontrollably. "Father, Father, will you please come and see my son. He is dying of AIDS." The first thought that came to mind was "Oh, that horrible disease. …."
I asked her where she was calling from. "I am calling from Harbour View Medical Centre in Seattle." I said "Ma'am, I am five hours away. Do you realise that I am in the state of Idaho – another state altogether." "Father", she said, "I have called so many different parishes, so many different priests. I am going through the Yellow Pages looking for other parishes. No priest will come and see my son because they are afraid of this AIDS disease. Will you please come?"
How could I say 'No'? How could I ignore the pleas of this grieving mother? In spite of my own reticence and reluctance, I prayed "Well, Lord, if I am to lay down my life for my sheep like You did, then Your Holy will be done." I thought of the life of St Aloysius Gonzaga, a 21-year-old seminarian who died during the bubonic plague, the Black Death of Europe, whilst he was taking care of plague victims himself.
I had to leave quickly, to give me every chance of getting there in time. I left at 9pm, taking the Holy Eucharist and the Holy Oils with me so that I could administer the Last Rites. I went across the state of Washington in the darkness of the night, spending the journey in prayer. I prayed the Rosary over and over again; I prayed to St Joseph, to my patron saints, and to the Guardian Angel of that dying young man, asking them all to let me get there in time.
I arrived at the hospital at about 2am. I was warmly greeted by nurses and doctors who were expecting my arrival. I was quickly escorted in, donned a plastic apron and a mask, and went into this young man's room.
What a sight awaited me. The doctors and nurses were all wearing protective clothing, cautiously keeping their distance. In sharp contrast, stretched over the bed of her son dying from AIDS, was the mother – kissing her son and embracing him, holding his hand, whispering into his ear, not wearing any protective gear whatsoever. She had no fear of this disease, unlike everyone else in that room. All she had was love for her son. To this day, 34 years later, the remembrance of that sight moves me. It was such a lesson for me – a lesson in the love of a mother.
Our Lady of Sorrows came to mind. She, likewise, had to witness her own Son die before her very eyes.
But my thoughts went further than this. I thought of the love of the Blessed Virgin Mary who, in spite of the contagion of sin on the part of sinful mankind, wants to embrace us and be by our side. If we are spiritually dying because of our sins, she wants to be ever so close to us and see our health restored by being reconciled to God.
If only we realise the importance of invoking the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, especially in times of temptation and sin. She is our Mother, and she is so ready and willing to come to our aid, if only we call upon her.
The mother looked up and saw me. She smiled and thanked me again and again. I went straight to the task, and asked everybody to leave the room. I heard this dying man's last confession amidst his gasping breath, and gave him absolution. I then asked his mother to come back into the room so that she could witness him receiving the Anointing of the Sick. This was a great consolation for her, as well as for me. I gave him a small portion of the Host, and I gave the rest of the Host to his grieving mother.
I left there so fulfilled and happy that I had the opportunity to administer the Last Rites to this young man. What graces I received that night.
I got back into my car for the five hour journey back to my parish. I arrived at about 7.30 in the morning – half an hour before my 8.00 morning Mass, which I offered for that dying man and his wonderful, grieving mother.
Our Lady of Sorrows, pray for us.
Extracted from an uplifting work by Father Rizzo, Chaplain of Tyburn Priory (Contemplative Benedictines), in the Sydney Diocese of Parramatta. Adorned with photos and beautiful prayers, copies of the booklet may be obtained from: priestmemoirs@gmail.com