Mass of the Resurrection
For John D. Mulligan, S.M.

December 11, 2004
Queen of Apostles Chapel
Mount Saint John


There was man sent from God and his name was John
He lived in the desert,
he ate locusts and wild honey, and he wore a hair shirt, the skin of a lion.
He came to prepare the way of the Lord
and bring us to the person of Jesus

We have also had a John in our lives.
He didn’t live in the desert exactly, but in Dayton, which some people say is not much different
And he flourished here though he much loved the hills of Berkeley and his view of the Golden Gate Bridge from his apartment.
The diet would more likely be shrimp and wild honey
And the shirt made of 100% cotton,
But the vocation was the same --
To prepare the way of the Lord
and bring us to the person of Jesus

Because he was so talented he carried out this calling and pointing to Jesus in many ways.

He was a professional

He taught high school and our scholastics in college
He edited Mary Today
He was a novice master
He was a seminary rector
He was a Provincial
He was on the national board of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men
He headed the Institute for Spirituality and Worship in Berkeley CA
He was pastor of St. Joseph’s community, Sykesville MD
He directed the Marianist Mission
He was a leader of pilgrimages

      In all these posts John showed himself a wise administrator, an exceptional writer, a sharp and imaginative businessman, a comfortable companion, and an effective provider for the many ministries of the Society of Mary.


More than a professional John was a religious, a Marianist

He lived the gift of his faith and was a Marianist through and through.
Our Superior General, Fr. David Fleming, said “He was a beautifully integrated and generous person, who loved Marianist life a great deal and lived his faith deeply and inspiringly.”

He was an outstanding writer and preacher of retreats, homilies on Sundays, holydays, funerals, marriages and everyday, for pilgrimages in this country and in many foreign countries. In all these positions and on all these occasions he used his gifts of writing and preaching to touch the mysteries, yearnings and struggles of our human and religious living, and illumine them with the light of faith, nudge them with humor, and pour on them the healing oil of practical wisdom and kindness.

One of the reasons he could reach others so well was that, even though there were a lot of successes, he walked some dark roads himself. I saw some of those struggles from close up and it was courage, support, determination and faith that brought him through. He was no stranger to testing, pain, and darkness. But the light lasted. Though his soul burned and his body bent, the spirit endured. So he was able to be a wonderful wounded healer for others. Many a person he generously helped with their discouragements and struggles, because he knew them well.

I could have left out any mention of John’s pain and in a way he would like that because he didn’t parade his trials, but that wouldn’t be true to who he was, and because what he endured and conquered made him all the more a precursor of the Lord, a man of faith and compassion, a friend of Jesus.

As he was a fine professional, an outstanding Marianist religious, he was also a great friend, very special on the personal level.

John made close and permanent and dear friends throughout his life, from Cleveland to Beacon, Pittsburgh to Puerto Rico, from Fribourg and Dayton to St. Louis, from Baltimore, Sykesville and Washington to Berkeley. He loved them all dearly and brought the person Jesus who is our loving brother, alive to those many women and men. Many of his friends are here, and many more are with us in love and spirit and prayer. He exemplified the gift of friendship, which is such a treasure of human life -- mutual affection, admiration, respect, humor, values, truth and love.

One of John’s friends wrote earlier this week: “Among the many things that I will miss is John’s joyfulness in loving life. Whatever the hardship, he managed to stay involved and engaged; optimistic and encouraging.”

His parishioners at St. Joseph’s Sykesville showed their love by picking him up for an anniversary dinner in a limousine and even rolled out a red carpet for him to walk on. Then they proceeded to take him to a McDonald’s. After the shock and humiliation of this arrival, they took him on to the real and more dignified destination.

John would understand the sorrow of losing a friend, but in his case he wouldn’t want us to skip the humor. He would want our memories of him to be happy ones, remembering not the trials so much as the sparkle in his eyes as he told a story, the laughter that followed, or the closeness of friends relishing each other’s company.

When disasters on his pilgrimages to the Holy Land, Poland, Ireland or Lourdes, like collapsing beds, bad food or rickety busses threatened to break the group’s spirit, John would compose humorous lyrics for songs to sing on the bus or at dinner. He became a scrabble player on the international circuit in these last years and his competitive spirit reved up whenever there was an opportunity for a game. Backgammon was another favorite.

We can’t forget his words to his mother when she asked him when he was Provincial whether “they” wouldn’t let him come to a family gathering. “Mother”, he said, “I am THEY.”

Or his other story on himself about his audience with Pope Paul VI with his mother, I believe on his way back to the US in 1967. The monsignor said as they approached the Holy Father that his Holiness preferred to speak French or Spanish. “French”, John said. So the Pope and John spoke a bit in French and the Pope gave them his blessing. “What did he say?” asked Elsie Mulligan excitedly. “What a lucky mother to have such a holy and intelligent son!” John said. “And I thought he was supposed to be infallible!” said Elsie.

Jesus says in the Gospel, “All those you gave me I would have in my company where I am, to see this glory of mine.” After the example of his Savior, John cherished all those little ones God brought into his life, and like Jesus, wanted God’s love for Jesus to live in them. John had a soft spot for the radicals, the wayward and the marginalized, and, among the many issues of justice which preoccupied him, he often spoke on the rights and dignity of women.

He trusted that if he welcomed the Spirit into his own heart, the Spirit would give witness through him that we are beloved of God and are his cherished daughters and sons.

Like Job in our first reading John knows that his Redeemer lives, and that He will stand at the last, and that with his own eyes, not another’s he shall behold Him whom his heart longs for. That’s what happening right now.

Almost three months ago John Mulligan stood where I stand now and concluded a homily with a story which now applies to him. (August 24, at the funeral of Fr. John Mueller)
I will do the same. John’s life is epitomized in a story about a man who died and went before St. Peter to render an account. St. Peter said, “You need 100 points to get in here. What have you to say for yourself?”

The man responded: “Well, I was a good Catholic. I went to Mass on Sunday. I sent my kids to Catholic school, I tried to lead a decent life….”

St. Peter said: “OK, that’s three points.”
“Three points!” the man said. “Well, I contributed generously to our new church, I served on the parish council, I was a devoted husband and father. Doesn’t that count for a lot?”
“That’s three more points,” said St. Peter.

“WOW,” said the man, “but for the mercy and goodness of God, I’ll never get in here!”
“That’s ninety-four points,” said St. Peter; “you’re in!”

John, you’re in!


Jack McGrath, S.M.
December 10, 2004