July 28, 2020
Editor’s note: This post was originally published on the Facebook page of Old St. Mary’s Cathedral in San Francisco.
I heard the story of Fr. Paul Maloney’s “last supper” in Rome from Paulists who were there. Fr. Maloney was at different times associate pastor and then pastor at Santa Susanna in Rome. The Paulist Fathers left Santa Susanna last year to assume pastoral responsibilities at a new parish, St. Patrick’s. We had served at Santa Susanna from 1921 until then. I heard many stories about Santa Susanna including that of the liberation of the Church by the American Army (including Chaplain Fr. Don Forrester whom some of you may remember from his later service at the Chinese Mission). But my favorite story involved Fr. Maloney, whom I met only once in my years as a priest, while visiting Rome.
Fr. Maloney was noted not for his preaching skill nor for his administrative abilities but for his friendliness to everyone he met. It was a revelation to accompany this priest to one of the neighborhood trattorias he frequented. When he settled in, everyone—the owner, the waiters, the cooks, the table cleaners—would stop by his table to show him the latest photos of their family or bring them up to date on their recent trials or triumphs. In those days Santa Susanna was a church where one might meet anyone from the American Ambassador to a star of television or the silver screen to one of the prostitutes who plied their trade near the hotel just across the street. Fr. Maloney had time for everyone. He encountered new people every day and effortlessly listened to their stories and remembered their names. It didn’t matter whether they were rich or poor, saint or sinner. He genuinely liked them and they liked him.
As happens with all pastors, the time came for Fr. Maloney to leave Santa Susanna. He was suffering the early effects of a degenerative disease that would eventually claim his life. He needed to return to the United States where he could receive treatment. Some of the wealthier parishioners wanted to express their appreciation for his years of service in Rome. They offered to host a dinner in his honor. Fr. Maloney was never much for a fuss, but he agreed to the banquet on one condition—that he could invite all his friends!
They say it was quite a sight. The meal was served in a large but elegant setting. The tables were set with fine linen and silver. The food was abundant and of the best quality Rome could provide. So was the wine. Surveying the crowded tables one could spy a financier in the most elegantly tailored suit in animated conversation with a shabbily dressed homeless man, a matron bedecked in jewels sharing a joke with a streetwalker. Everyone had plenty to eat. Everyone had a good time. And Fr. Maloney circulated from one table to the next, enjoying the fun and saying goodbye to every last one of his friends. No, I wasn’t there. But it’s hard to imagine that another guest was not present that night, another of Fr. Maloney’s old friends—the one whose banquet he is now enjoying!