Over the years there have been a number of people as well as various experiences that helped shape who I am today. Whether they are parents or grandparents, parish priests or religious sisters, teachers, friends, students or just random acquaintances, people in our lives leave impressions and can influence us tremendously. Additionally, varying circumstances and events can leave a similar, lasting effect.
Let me tell you about some of the people and factors making me who I am and influencing the way I think.
Growing up as I child I served Mass as an altar boy from the time I was in about 3rd grade all the way through high school. This allowed me to observe and interact with many, many priests. In addition to the resident parish priests, we had dozens of visiting priests helping at the parish annually, since I lived at a seashore resort—Wildwood, NJ. Moreover, there were the priests who taught me in high school. Briefly stated, priests were part of my life from its earliest days.
While I would like to say something about all of them, let me focus in on some of the now-deceased priests whom I knew personally. It is fitting that I conclude with my patron saint—also a priest.
Msgr. Joseph Conlon was my pastor for my adolescent and teenage years. He was nicknamed by some friends and admiring priests “Holy Joe.” I knelt beside him many days praying the rosary, serving Stations of the Cross and Benediction and, of course, when he offered Mass. To this day I recall how I sensed his deep love and reverence for the Holy Eucharist. His eyes were fixated on the host and on the crucifix (sitting on the altar) whenever he celebrated Mass. It was an experience I can only describe as truly mystical.
Fr. Peter Jones became my confessor and helped me through my seminary years. His jovial spirit and sense of humor lifted me up time and time again. His kindness and practical insight in the confessional personified for me Jesus’ love, compassion and forgiveness. No wonder a number of priests from our diocese sought him out as a confessor! He was slated to preach at my first Mass as a priest, but died suddenly the year prior—my diaconate year.
In my time as a deacon, Msgr. Edward Kennedy was the pastor in charge of me in Transfiguration Parish, West Collingswood. Monsignor had spent part of his priesthood as a missionary in Brazil. He took me under his wing and showed me the ropes of what it meant to be a parish priest. I still remember what he told my superiors prior to my ordination: “I think Eddie will make a good parish priest. He is best suited for life as a parish priest. I think that you should keep him in this ministry.” Well, his advice lasted for about four years—until I began 20 years in high school work!
Msgr. James McIntyre became the homilist for my first Mass after Fr. Jones’ death. “Fr. Mac”—as we called him as kids—was our fun-loving parish priest. He was a friend who showed me that the path to holiness often involved lifetime struggles and a need to adapt and change when necessary. Eventually he became the one in charge of Priest Personnel (including me!) for the Diocese of Camden. It was certainly nice to have a friend to look out for me as a newly-ordained priest.
In my East Vineland assignment at St. Mary’s Church I had the pleasure and honor to live with and to get to know two good, holy priests: Fr. Paul Onufer and Fr. Julian Karczewski. Fr. Onufer was a prayerful, soft-spoken, saintly priest whose infectious smile could warm and soften any person’s heart. He had a great sense of humor, being something of a practical-joker at times. I would usually find him at prayer in his room when I came home from school. Very often he could be seen praying in front of the Blessed Sacrament—especially each morning before celebrating Mass.
Then there was Fr. Julian. This truly-unique priest suffered two major handicaps during his lifetime—polio and deafness. His childhood polio—initially crippling him—nearly kept him from pursuing the priesthood. Through God’s grace and Julian's perseverance he was ordained a priest. Later in his priesthood he went completely deaf for no apparent reason. Fortunately he was aided by technology through a device called a cochlear implant. He could once again hear and function in a relatively normal manner. The end of his life found him needing care and professional attention in nursing facilities. He taught me multiple lessons in perseverance, fidelity and long-suffering. He let me see the suffering-Christ but not without a child-like sense of humor. He, like so many other priests in my life, was a man of prayer.
In the college seminary, Msgr. John Foley (later Archbishop, then Cardinal Foley) taught me Metaphysics and Ethics. He had to be the most ethical, honest person I have ever known. We joked as students that the shortest distance between two points was John Foley. He was as straight as an arrow. Cardinal Foley was a holy, prayerful man noted for his intelligence, his self-discipline, his broadcast voice, and for meeting and/or knowing most of the famous people throughout the world. Despite his importance, he took the time to assist me in various personal matters, to correspond with me, and to take my mother and me out to dinner on our visit to Rome!
In my graduate studies at Mt. St. Mary’s Seminary, Emmitsburg, MD, there were two especially influential priests: Fr. Anthony Manocchio and Msgr. Richard McGuinness. Fr. Manocchio was the seminary spiritual director as well as my personal spiritual director. From him I learned so much about prayer—especially centering prayer—and a love for and a devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. Fr. Manocchio was so serious about prayer. He could be found praying entire nights before the Blessed Sacrament in chapel. He was truly detached from material possessions and lived in humble simplicity. When he died, he had already given almost everything he owned away.
Msgr. McGuinness, the Rector of the seminary, was a father-figure to me. I sought him out and talked to him whenever I could—most notably after my ordination. He always had a ear to listen and time for me. Once, when I came to him as a young priest seeking his advice (after he had been reassigned from rector of the seminary to pastor of a parish in North Jersey) he handed me his rectory key. He told me his rectory was open to me at any time. Wow! No one had ever done something like that for me before! Monsignor died of pancreatic cancer. He was the epitome of gentleness, hospitality and, of course, prayerfulness.
For over 20 years I shared a special relationship with two priests who were part of the Marriage Encounter community like me. Msgr. Charles Barth and Msgr. William Poyatt would join with me and a few couples almost every other month to share a meal and a dialogue question. “Skip” or Msgr. “Skip” Barth would tell people how “mean” and “miserable” he was when he was asked how he was doing. This was so far from the truth! He was kind and gentle with a happy, peaceful demeanor for as long as I knew him! He was a true people-person who loved the outdoors—especially fishing—and telling jokes. “Fr. Bill” Poyatt would never admit to being a monsignor. In fact, he hated the title. He was an introvert who enjoyed reading. Like Msgr. Skip, Fr. Bill was totally interested in relationships—especially between married couples. He had no time for small talk but would be genuinely concerned about what was happening in those relationships that mattered most in a person’s life. Over much time, Skip, Bill and I shared with a few couples and some other priests on too many matters to list here. Most importantly, we learned the importance of feelings and relationship as together we honored the sacraments of Matrimony and Holy Orders.
Msgr. McGuinness, the Rector of the seminary, was a father-figure to me. I sought him out and talked to him whenever I could—most notably after my ordination. He always had a ear to listen and time for me. Once, when I came to him as a young priest seeking his advice (after he had been reassigned from rector of the seminary to pastor of a parish in North Jersey) he handed me his rectory key. He told me his rectory was open to me at any time. Wow! No one had ever done something like that for me before! Monsignor died of pancreatic cancer. He was the epitome of gentleness, hospitality and, of course, prayerfulness.
For over 20 years I shared a special relationship with two priests who were part of the Marriage Encounter community like me. Msgr. Charles Barth and Msgr. William Poyatt would join with me and a few couples almost every other month to share a meal and a dialogue question. “Skip” or Msgr. “Skip” Barth would tell people how “mean” and “miserable” he was when he was asked how he was doing. This was so far from the truth! He was kind and gentle with a happy, peaceful demeanor for as long as I knew him! He was a true people-person who loved the outdoors—especially fishing—and telling jokes. “Fr. Bill” Poyatt would never admit to being a monsignor. In fact, he hated the title. He was an introvert who enjoyed reading. Like Msgr. Skip, Fr. Bill was totally interested in relationships—especially between married couples. He had no time for small talk but would be genuinely concerned about what was happening in those relationships that mattered most in a person’s life. Over much time, Skip, Bill and I shared with a few couples and some other priests on too many matters to list here. Most importantly, we learned the importance of feelings and relationship as together we honored the sacraments of Matrimony and Holy Orders.
Until the time of his moving to New York State, Fr. Charles Fehrenback, C.Ss.R. (a Redemptorist priest) was my confessor. He resided at St. Peter’s Church in Philadelphia—which is also the location of the Shrine of St. John Neumann. This gentle, knowledgeable priest aided me through the early years of my priesthood as I sought his wisdom and pastoral experience. I understood very quickly why so many priests and laity alike sought him out for confession and spiritual guidance!
At the time of my ordination St. Maximilian Kolbe appeared on my invitation and holy card as my patron saint. I wanted people to know about this remarkable priest who gave his life for a married man with a family in the concentration camp at Auschwitz, Poland. Books have been written about him, so suffice it to say that my life as a priest attempts to give service to God and neighbor in imitation of St. Maximilian’s selflessness and love. A statement of his—only love is creative—has become my personal motto.
Now that you have met some of the deceased priests who influenced my life, you have a better insight into my life. Please pray for them and all priests. While some in the media may single out a priest (or priests) who goes horribly astray and project this on all priests, I thank God each day for those holy men in my life who humbly served the Lord without realizing how they made an indelible impression on at least one other person’s life—mine! I am touched by their attempts and struggles to follow the Lord Jesus as His disciples—as his priests.
I am proud to be counted as their brother priest.
Fr. Ed Namiotka
