Fr. Roger J. Landry
The Anchor
Putting Into the Deep
December 24, 2008
One of my Christmas traditions as a teenager, in a parish without a Christmas Midnight Mass, was to turn on NBC at 11:30 pm and watch the time-delay broadcast of the Midnight Mass from St. Peter’s in Rome. Every year Archbishop John Foley would greet us with his deep, sonorous and distinctive voice and his delightful, soothing and dignified manner. He had been chosen by Pope John Paul II to be the President of the Pontifical Council for Social Communications and, therefore, was able not only to provide play-by-play for the Mass itself but color commentary on the Holy Father, the Vatican, Christmas tradition and more. He became an annual Christmas guest in our home and his voice became for me the voice of Christmas.
It was, therefore, a great joy for me when, during my first semester at the North American College in Rome, I learned that he would be the celebrant of the seminary’s Christmas Vigil. It was a tradition that he would bring all the Catholics on the NBC broadcast team for the Mass, as well as their spouses, to Mass and then Christmas Eve Dinner with the seminarians. I looked forward to meeting him.
I got my wish, and more, when one of the faculty members approached me and asked if my identical twin Scot and I would be willing to serve the Mass. Scot and I hadn’t provided symmetrical service at the altar together in more than a decade — we didn’t serve at the College, since you needed to be a third year theologian — but we willingly agreed.
I’ll never forget the beginning of Archbishop Foley’s homily during that 1995 vigil Mass. With his familiar Christmas voice, he stated that if scholars are correct that Jesus was born not in the year “0” — a miscalculation by Dionysius the Short in the year 525 — but in 4 BC, and if Jesus were really born on the VIII Kalens of January or December 25, then “the 2000th anniversary of the birth of the Word of God would be,” he paused for what seemed forever, “tonight.” That certainly got and kept my attention.
After Mass, the NBC folks came on over to greet Archbishop Foley. A couple of them were also interested — people always are — in meeting the identical twins and asking us the questions monozygotes are routinely asked. We would soon meet them again.
When we went down to St. Peter’s for the Midnight Mass, Scot saw an American papal chamberlain he had befriended two weeks earlier at a seminary dinner for the Immaculate Conception. The papal chamblerlains, dressed in tuxedos with all types of medals, are in charge of seating visiting heads of state, diplomats and other VIPs at the papal events. Scot went up to him to wish him a Merry Christmas. The chamberlain, in return, politely asked to see our tickets. The tickets weren’t bad, but he grinned, said, “follow me,” and proceeded to lead us up to the second row of the southern transept, the row right behind the cardinals and bishops in choir. Already sitting there were the NBC people we had met earlier in the evening. The chamberlain was a little surprised that we seemed to be having a mini-reunion with VIPs, but we told him that it was turning out to be a very special Christmas, thanked him profusely and joyously sat down.
About ten minutes later, Archbishop Foley came over to speak to his friends from the network. When he saw Scot and me sitting there, he smiled and asked whether getting good seats was something they teach us at Harvard. We laughed and said it was yet another case of the humble being exalted. He queried what part of Massachusetts we were from, whether we were fortunate enough that our parents were still living, what their names were, what they did for work, and how they promoted our vocations. We thought that these questions were considerate small talk from a naturally curious man. We were wrong. He was preparing, rather, to give a special Christmas present to a couple back in the United States who had given two sons to the Church.
During the broadcast of the Mass later that night, the NBC cameramen focused on the NBC execs and family members sitting in the second row. Then the voice of Christmas sprung into action. “There in the second row, you see identical twin seminarians from Lowell, Massachusetts, Roger and Scot Landry. They graduated from Harvard and now they are preparing for the priesthood at the Pontifical North American College in Rome. They are the sons of Roger and Midge Landry, who must be very proud.”
The phones started ringing at the seminary just about 6 am, which was midnight back on the East Coast. It began with friends and various seminarians who were watching the telecast. Then our folks got through and said they were stunned first when they saw us on television. They had no words to describe what it was like for them to have Archbishop Foley introduce us, and them, to the world. They said it made not having their two sons home at Christmas easier to handle.
Tonight at 11:34 pm on NBC, now-Cardinal Foley will be presiding over the broadcast of the Papal Midnight Mass for the 25th time and doubtless will be doing similar acts of kindness to families of American seminarians, religious and students back home. The broadcast of the Mass is paid for by the Knights of Columbus and is a great opportunity to evangelize not just America but the world with the beauty of the liturgy coming from St. Peter’s. He said at the Knights’ Supreme Convention in Quebec City in August, “The NBC television network in the United States asked me to continue to be the voice of Christmas, and so I will continue as long as God grants me strength.” This is good news of great joy to all the people.
I cannot write on the voice of Christmas without telling one more story about his kindness. During my fourth year of studies, he asked me if I would be able to give him a private tour of the Scavi underneath St. Peter’s Basilica. On occasion on Wednesday mornings, when the basilica and excavations office were closed because of the papal general audience, I would be asked by the office to give private tours to various prelates. Cardinal Foley had heard a senior Vatican prelate describe the tour I had given him, and he came up to me and asked in a good-natured way what a lowly-prelate like him would need to do to receive a similar visit. We arranged to do so the following Wednesday morning. During the tour he really made me work, because he demonstrated how much he knew about early Church history and had read specifically about the Scavi.
After the tour, he said he wanted to take me out for lunch to thank me. I told him I was honored, but that my parents were in town and were planning to take me out to celebrate my birthday. He asked when was my birthday was and I replied, “Today.” He then sincerely wished me a happy birthday and asked me please to greet my parents for him at lunch.
Almost a year later, he phoned me out of the blue at the North American College and asked if he could take me for lunch on Wednesday. I said sure, not knowing what he wanted. When we sat down for lunch, he said, “I know that today is your birthday, and since I wasn’t able to take you out last year, I wanted to do so this year.”
The thoughtful prelate who gives voice to the Church’s Christmas joy is generous, I discovered, not just in December.