Rev. Columba Enright, T.O.R.
(Dec.14, 1930--March 10, 2006)

--Fr. Robert D'Aversa, T.O.R.

Catherine McAuley needed a miracle for her canonization process and Columba needed a healing so I thought a deal could be brokered.  After all, they had both Ireland and Pennsylvania in common.  While �Jim� Enright was born in NY, the family returned to Ireland after the death of their mother.  Who knew that as a teen, he would return to the States, to Hollidaysburg of all places. The first mission of the Sisters of Mercy in the United States was to �our� area of PA!

Frankly, I was more than disappointed that she hadn�t come through.  (Was she making a cup of hot tea in heaven?)  Carl suggested that she hadn�t failed, but had brought him home to a safe lodging and a holy rest.

So many years ago Jim became one of the first of the second generation of our province, the Highland Hall, St. Bernardine�s, STM generation.  He was Columcille in those days.  The name was not common garden variety, off the rack, American.  And it would further morph into Brother Columba.  Columba was not just anybody on the Irish palette of saints but one of their three patrons.  Hence, a stellar name for a stellar person and you were going to know it!

While still a young religious, he heard the bishop say, as he snipped locks of his still beautiful head of hair: �The Lord is my portion and my cup.  He it is who holds fast my lot.�  We heard from the Book of Lamentations today a selection that is filled with anguish in the midst of life�s trials.  It, nevertheless, is a declaration of confidence.  �My portion is the Lord and so I will hope in him.  The Lord is good to those who trust him, to the soul that searches for him.  It is good to wait in silence for the Lord to save.�  To wait, I suppose, in the end, for a safe lodging and a holy rest.

He was not a man to acquire things, with the exception of books.  In fact, people would give him a gift and he would turn to one of us with a look that was quizzical and impish and rhetorically ask: �Now what will I do with this?�  That meant that he was looking for you to unburden him of the prize.  It was not that he was unappreciative, on the contrary.  But he couldn�t take care of an accumulation of stuff.  He didn�t need material comfort, but he did enjoy the company of books, repartee with those who were worthy of verbal fencing and the pleasure of a dram of scotch.  He could rhapsodize about scotch.

Our province baptized him into a love affair with pasta topped with red sauce.  As ascetical as his surroundings might be, in his later years in Washington, he would afford himself the luxury of hopping the metro for a ride to Union Station where he could indulge in a move and then head to Pasta to Go Go�all within the space of a hundred yards.  Lest you think that his love of Lady Poverty was unsullied, you have to know that he could not walk and chew gum.  Simplicity was a necessity, not an option for the poor.  Once, when he and a diocesan priest were travelling together in Minnesota, he took the wheel of the car.  He had gotten all of about twenty minutes into the trip when the other pries, fearing for his life, reclaimed the driver�s seat.

St. Paul reminds us in the Letter to the Romans that the life and death of each of us has its influence on others.  It is our faith in Christ and that truth is borne out in our presence here today and has been fleshed out in the course of our lives.  One of the women that Fr. Columba allowed to visit him in the hospital commented on how good he looked.  He responded that she should rather have said how brave and graceful he was in the face of illness.  And, indeed, he was.

The ancient Romans, the predecessors and contemporaries of the people to whom Paul was writing, were master road builders.  Their roads are still in use today  as arteries.  Part of that road system is the connecting aspect of bridges that allow the arteries to span and traverse rivers and gorges.  This was so important for life that the emperors gave themselves the title of �Pontifex Maximus,� i.e., the greatest bridgebuilder.  Our popes have assumed that ancient title nuancing it from its solely horizontal meaning to include the vertical.

Who knew that Jimmy Enright, once of Tralee, would emerge as a Pontifex for us.  He is our link between Ireland and America to the family he dearly loved, Mary, Joe and Frank, his nieces and nephews, of whom he was so proud, to the beauty of his grandfather�s land by the sea.  He is the bridge between generations of our province, our initial connection to St. Cloud Cathedral High School in MN, then, later to the Franciscan Sister in Little Falls, to the colourful community of St. Veronica�s in Greenwich Village, Paraguay, Bishop Ford in Brooklyn, The Basilica of the National Shrine, CU and most recently Orlando.  These are not so much places as networks of people, from Miguel Caceres, once his altar boy to Provincial of Paraguay to the cleaning and office staffs of the Shrine, from �my friend, the Cardinal� to Sisters Liz and Judine, from George Mc Kay to Anca, Michael the playwright and Monsignor Rossi.  His famous pilgrimages to Santo Domingo and Mexico established whole groups of friends who welcomed his return.

His bridge building, his networking was miraculous, not only because he could relate to anyone, poet or prostitute, but because it literally spanned the globe from Thailand to Tunisia.  What�s miraculous is he always managed to find his way back to us.  This is a man who could not open a jar of pickles!

He was brave and graceful.  (Not that we want to canonize him at this moment).  He assisted at mass faithfully, though unable to receive the bread and cup.  Yet, he consumed the bread of life in spiritual communion, to be sure�something not easy these days, where the entire church forms the communion procession and perhaps, harder for a priest. In this he found a pause that was a safe lodging and a holy rest so that he could continue his journey.  Even in this he was a bridge, a bridge for all those who cannot receive or fully participate in the sacramental life of the church, yet who have a deep communion and feed on the bread of life.  In fact, he always harboured a predilection for the people on the fringe, on the margins and certainly he reflected the heart of God in this.

In conclusion, I would like to pray for you the prayer he offered at the end of each of his classes years ago.  It is by Cardinal Newman:

MAY THE LORD SUPPORT US ALL THE DAY LONG, TILL THE SHADOWS LENGTHEN AND THE BUSY WORLD IS HUSH AND THE FEVER OF LIFE IS OVER AND OUR WORK IS DONE.  THEN, IN HIS MERCY, MAY HE GRANT US A SAFE LODGING, A HOLY REST AND PEACE EVERLASTING.

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