Local Priest Father Shanley was Beloved by Many

Father Kevin Shanley. He was one of my favorite Will County people, sure. One of my favorite people ever. My son, Liam Shanley Gallagher, has his saintly namesake for leavening against the Gallagher devilment.

Although he passed away a few years ago, his memory lives on for thousands of people right here who knew him.

Most locals remember Father Kevin as Father Finbarr at Joliet Catholic. In fact, he taught my dad English there. Others may remember him for his active role in the Irish community here. He was one of the founding members of the Irish American Society of County Will.

Still others may remember him from his day job as the rent-a-priest. He seemed to be on wheels every Sunday saying Mass at any church that needed a fill-in.

I remember after the great Tornado hit in 1990, we talked. He said that was the first mother-son dual funeral Mass he ever said. He was deeply saddened by the loss.

Kevin had a great heart. It seemed big enough to offer love and healing to anyone — to everyone. In the less public life of Kevin, he applied his master's degree in social work as a therapist. I don't remember the story exactly.

He told me about a particularly rewarding moment when he helped an elderly woman realize the death of a sibling when they were both young children was not her fault. She had been carrying that guilt around for 70 years. After a particular session with him, she had a breakthrough. He told me she was so happy she danced out of his office.

Father Kevin was modest. These delightful stories were in no way bragging. He was celebrating the happiness of others, not his successes.

I love that story about him. I'm sure he heard the drudge of life, and yet he always smiled. His basic happiness seemed to mask his depth.

One of the most amazing homilies I ever heard was in St. Patrick's Church in Joliet.  The Irish Society was celebrating the annual Paddy's Day Mass and Father Kevin was at hand. He talked about his father.

Now, before I get into great detail about his story, I'm gonna wind back a bit.

Throughout history, Ireland never truly had a complete nation as we know it today. The island had a cycle of invaders, the most recent was the British occupation. I'm going to call it oppression. Horrific atrocities that I cannot begin to describe. So for the sake of this discussion, let's just call it bad stuff.

At the turn of the century, the Irish had managed to gather up enough of a paramilitary. Liken it to the American Revolutionary War. Well, Father Kevin's dad was one of the revolutionaries. In 1916, he was a part of the Easter Uprising that eventually led to the Irish Free State.

(I thank God and cross myself as I say this.)

After the revolution, the Irish plunged into a civil war over the split of the six counties in the North that remained under British control. Two political figures arose from that time. Eamon de Valera, who became the first Prime Minster of Ireland; and Michael Collins, the man played by Liam Neeson in the movie. Father Kevin's dad was the bodyguard to de Valera.

Indeed, Eamon de Valera, himself, sent Father Kevin's parents a congratulatory telegram when Kevin was ordained a priest.

Fast forward to the Paddy's Day Mass in Joliet. Father Kevin talked about his da (as they say in Ireland). I still get chills when I remember how Father Kevin described the way his father paced the floor the same exact way every time. For years, when he was thinking, he paced. The priest said he did not know until much later in life that the length of his dad's stride was the exact width of the cell. His dad had been captured by the British and jailed in Dublin's Kilmainham Jail (spelled gaol in Irish).

The Irish have freedom today because of – among others – Father Kevin's dad.

That's the only time I ever heard Father Kevin talk about it. He focused more on the beauties of Ireland and not the sadness.

One of the reasons why I came to be so close to Father Kevin was through journalism. As a young high school student writing for the JTC Journal, Kevin took me under his wing. Among an alphabet soup of degrees was a master's in journalism. As a teen, he took me up to his alma mater, Marquette University, for the annual homecoming Alumni Award Banquets.

It was no surprise I ended up a Warrior.

He would often come to Milwaukee for some reason or another and sometimes left an unexpected note in my mailbox. That was a treat and a disappointment that I missed him.

While I was studying in Ireland at 17, he was visiting family not far from my college. Once, he even popped over there to see me, leaving another note in my mailbox.

Father Kevin lived in Darien at the Carmelite Spiritual Center. He once told me that it was halfway to everywhere. He most certainly was on wheels, that one. He tracked me down on two continents.

When he passed, I met hundreds of people who had similar stories. Each of us felt special. Each of us felt like we were the most important friend in his life. He had that way about him.

"How are you doing, Father," I would say on the phone.

"Better now that I am talking to such a lovely, talented, beautiful woman like you," he always answered.

Oh, and he also kissed the Blarney stone.

He made us feel special, because he was special.

Here is a sample note he sent me dated Sept. 24, 2001.

"My dear Erin,

I spent the week-end in Alma Center & Fairchild, Wis., preaching for the Carmelite Missions. Had a few deadlines to meet just before then. So the upshot of all this is that I'm late in wishing a "happy birthday" to one of the most beautiful, delightful & talented journalists it is my good fortune to call friend! – Hope you enjoyed the 21st. You certainly deserve to! Love, Fr. Kevin"

See what I mean?

Father Kevin started the Celtic News Service. He wrote tons of press releases to all the Irish publications on anything and everything relative. I was lucky enough to be on the mailing list. I learned all sorts of things from a man so dedicated to the Irish.

No, it cannot be a true St. Patrick's Day celebration without mentioning the late great Father Kevin Shanley. He was an original "da man."

So no matter where you live or how you knew him, Father Kevin Shanley will always have a special place in the history of the Irish in Will County.

And for so many of us, a special place in our hearts. (Probably a place with wheels.)