Sad week. We bid a final good-bye to our former pastor and friend, Father Bernard McLaughlin. A bit of irony played itself out in the timing of his death. He was well known at Logan Airport as the “7-27” priest at Our Lady of the Airways at a time when 727's were the planes du jour. He died on 7-27.

      I grew up in the Catholic tradition of you are not getting out of going to church. I don’t ever recall looking upon any of the priests that I knew as friends. That is, until I met “Father Mac”.

      He had a voice that would fog horn its way across a crowded parking lot, “Hellllooooooo N-a-n-c-y!” he would bellow. Inevitably I’d return the volley, “Helllllloooooo Father Mac!” We’d then stop and chat. If he found something amusing in the course of the conversation, there was nothing understated in his reaction - he would throw his head back and roar. I really liked that about him.

       Father Mac brought ideas, energy and enthusiasm to our church. Deep in his core, he believed that if not for the good of others, then why are we here? He loved politics when ethics played its hand and he loathed politics when greed overshadowed the common good. He created a shelter in Boston for the homeless and developed a “neighbors in need” program in our parish. Programs developed, committees were formed, masses went outside and music moved upward. He challenged us to become better people.

       When news of the church crisis broke, Father Mac was outraged. He tore down the picture of Cardinal Law that hung near the sacristy (I personally thought it would have made a fine dartboard) and he spewed his anger to the press loud enough for Cardinal Law to hear him. He had no respect for the coward that blatantly refused to protect innocent children. Boston Globe and Herald reporters were regular visitors at our parish. Other clergymen shared his disdain in secret, but it was Father Mac who stood alone at the helm staring down any consequences in his path.

      He was our captain. He steered the ship through the darkness. He was also the same friendly figure who compelled children to run to him and teenagers to gather around him. His gregarious manner and open arms threaded us together. Our identity changed. Father Mac called us something we had never heard before. He called us family.

      You have come to know greatness when someone leaves this earth and you can’t stop thinking about ways to to perpetuate his memory.