About Mychal's Message: Our Stories - Memories of Father Mychal

Memories of My Friend,
Father Mychal Judge, O.F.M.
By Robert Hickey, Sr.

Robert Hickey Sr. is Shannon's Grandfather. He knew Fr. Mychal for most of his life serving as an altar boy for Fr. Mychal as a child and maintaining a close friendship for many years.

Mychal Judge was a caring man, a loving priest, a great friar, one of the best Fire Department Chaplains New York City has ever had, and my friend. To recall memories of his life, I must first deal with the reality of his death. In order to do this, I will have to draw upon my emotional strength, held deep in reserve. I will need to admit my humanity and gather all the faith Father Mychal planted deep in my heart and soul so long ago. I recall these moments in the shadow of my family’s new ministry.

My granddaughter, daughter and wife have embraced the death of our dear friend. They have fallen in love with the people Father Mychal brought into our lives and hearts. They are on a mission to meet the needs of the homeless and spread Father Mychal’s message while on this journey. Great sadness, because of the violent loss of a friend, is replaced by a great sense of joy as I watch my family honor this loving friar. I am strengthened by Father Mychal. Even in his death he is there for my family as he guides us through our grief.

I first met Father Mychal about 40 years ago. St. Joseph's in East Rutherford, NJ was his first assignment. He was immediately embraced and loved by all because of his youth, enthusiasm and joy for life. In those days, all life centered around the church. People stopped in on their way to shop, to the movies or to visit friends. I was always there. There were dances, CYO sports, plays, Mass and devotions.

The celebration of Mass became alive with spirituality and love when I served for Father Mychal as an altar boy. He was different. I admired and respected him for the special feeling he brought to the Mass. He made me see the holiness and joy that was possible in this celebration. His example surely changed my life.

Some vivid memories include one of him standing among the CYO basketball team wearing his brown friar robe and black hi-top sneakers! We kidded him so much about his outfit that for the next practice he showed up in gray sweats. I remember once Father Mychal invited me to go along with him to pick up a bishop from South America. Before going to the airport, he suggested we stop at Macy's Herald Square in Manhattan because he wanted to show me the Christmas window display … he always did that extra something special. I still remember how heartily he laughed when one of my friends couldn't attend CYO basketball practice because he told us that he had to stay home to polish the refrigerator! Father Mychal and I laughed about this story many times over the years. I remember running to the rectory to show Father Mychal my Varsity gym bag, a trophy given as one moved up from J.V. How proud I was to share that with him. I remember the year St. Joseph's Mother's Club held a fashion show. Father Mychal modeled Bermuda shorts, a spring jacket and his brown friar sandals. The crowd was delighted and roared its approval.

When I was a young teen, my dad was very ill. Father Mychal would visit often to entertain him with his Irish wit. He would sing and tell jokes to amuse my dad. The visit always ended with a blessing and a prayer. Father Mychal was a very busy priest, yet he always found time for my family. I shed a tear or two as I recall these memories. This man was a remarkable friar. Later, when my dad died, I remember running to the rectory to find my friend, Father Mychal. He hugged me - if I close my eyes and dream, I can still feel that hug today. He made me know that it would be okay. Again, he was there for me.

Later, when I married Sharon, Father Mychal embraced her and loved her as my wife. The two connected and became fast friends. He was a frequent visitor to our home. Once he surprised us with a gift of an antique baby high chair from 1890. He knew we loved antiques. It still holds a place of honor in our hearts and in our home.

As our lives unfolded, Father Mychal remained a loyal friend. We lost a 2 month old daughter to crib death, and Father Mychal was there. Our newborn son needed a life-saving blood exchange, and Father Mychal surprised us all by showing up in the nursery of the hospital. He was always there for my family. His visit always ended with a blessing and a prayer.

Just as the celebration of the Mass was a new and exciting experience with Father Mychal, so was confession. He was the first priest I knew to hold "open" confession. The sacrament was an awesome experience and we shared it frequently with Father Mychal. He once gave Sharon a very unusual penance. He didn't prescribe the usual 3 Hail Marys or 3 Our Fathers. Instead, he said to her, "do something nice for someone." Sharon held the door for elderly women, helped people in parking lots and finally gave a bouquet of flowers to a neighbor, but she was always unsure that her act of kindness fulfilled her penance. The next time she returned to confession, Father Mychal began to administer the same penance to her. She pleaded with him not to invoke this "do something nice for someone" penance again. Father Mychal laughed aloud and honored her wish for the normal 3 Hail Marys and 3 Our Fathers. Reflecting on this now, we both wonder if he gave all his penitents the same task - "do something nice for someone." What a way to change the corner of the world known to Father Mychal! Just imagine if everyone could “do something nice for someone.” I think there was a twinkle in his eye as he prescribed this penance.

I remember how Father Mychal spent an afternoon with my son as he discerned about entering the priesthood. I remember the late night birthday calls! I remember how he made the whole church laugh as he buried my mom’s second husband, Jim, a hunter. Father Mychal joked that St. Francis told God that Jim had killed so many of his creatures, but he asked that God let him in anyway because he was such a good man.

Geographically, our lives went in different directions, but our connection always remained strong. We always kept in touch through letters, cards, occasional visits and frequent telephone conversations.

Father Mychal was eventually stationed at St. Francis of Assisi Church in New York City. He was so happy. He loved New York and St. Francis Church.

Our granddaughter, Shannon, needed a liver transplant when she was born. The surgery would take place in Chicago because it was the only place performing living donor transplants. Our daughter, Kelly, would be Shannon's donor. Father Mychal came from New York City to Hackettstown, NJ to send us off with a blessing and a prayer. The procedure awaiting Shannon and Kelly was experimental and dangerous. Father Mychal assured us all that God would be with us to carry us through the surgery. He was so sure of this! He told us that God had a plan and wouldn't abandon us. He gave us such hope that day as we prepared for a 3 month stay in Chicago.

Father Mychal called us each evening to keep track of Shannon's progress. Every call ended with a blessing and a prayer whispered into the phone. One night, as Shannon faced another morning surgery, Father Mychal told Sharon to remain in today. "Stay out of tomorrow," he said, "God hasn't even created it yet." What a profound idea! This is a quote of Father Mychal's that we rely on today. We often remember his words.

The first episode in my life that I couldn’t call Father Mychal about was the death of my mother. God love her, she was 94 when she died. Mama never wanted to die. She always let us know that death was something she would never welcome. We smile when we think of her. You see, she died 3 weeks after Father Mychal. I think she waited for him to get there first. Then she wasn’t afraid to let go. She knew he was there waiting for her. She died in her favorite chair, surrounded by children and grandchildren praying the rosary. Over her right shoulder, sitting on her window sill, was a framed 5x7 photo of her dear friend, Father Mychal.

Father Mychal was always just a phone call away. We would never go to Manhattan without scheduling a stop at St. Francis. He would always have a story, a smile, and a blessing for us. I remember how sad he was once because one of his homeless friends had died earlier in the week. He had a tear in his eye as he recalled his own grief about this man. He told of making a “grave marker” for this forgotten one of God’s children. He wrote the man’s name and date of his death on a piece of cardboard. He tacked it to a piece of plywood where the man slept and died. He wanted everyone to know this man existed, was loved, and died. He loved this man and wanted him to have dignity in death. He loved all these homeless people. Sharon once asked him how he remained so Christ-like in his attitude toward the homeless. He told her, “These are all God’s children.” He told her that he looks at them right now. “Right now, these people are homeless, cold, hungry or thirsty. Right now, they need a pat on the shoulder, a ‘good morning’ and a sandwich. Do not judge how they got on this Bread Line – just know that right now they are here.”

The Bread Line at St. Francis has been feeding the homeless every day since 1929. There is great love on that Bread Line thanks to the compassion and graciousness of the friars. The friars have been giving more than a sandwich and a hot cup of coffee each day. They have been giving hope and love.

As Mychal’s Message ministers to the Bread Line at St. Francis, Father Mychal’s message becomes loud and clear. While trying to follow him, our hearts leap for joy. We appreciate the grace God has allowed to fall upon us. Our love for Father Mychal has inspired us to embrace this ministry.

With Father Mychal’s death a new idea has been born. I can now see the good that has come from such an evil act. I remember that my Father Mychal died doing the work he loved so much. I remember the strength of my faith – a seed planted so long ago by his example and exuberance. I remember his love. I remember that hug of so long ago.

I remember how I cried when the towers came down. I remember how I cried when I heard they came down on him.

I am pleased and honored to be able to share the memories of my friend, Father Mychal. It is my hope that Mychal’s Message will continue to meet the needs of the homeless and spread Father Mychal’s message of unconditional love. The world is a better place because Mychal Judge lived here.

And so, it is fitting that I end with a prayer – the one Mychal Judge wrote, spoke, spread and lived by … Lord, take me where You want me to go. Let me meet who You want me to meet. Tell me what You want me to say. And keep me out of Your way.

Mychal … until we meet again … Robert

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This page was last updated on: June 4, 2005.

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