SDG here. My state has just lost its governor.
While Jim McGreevey supported some extremely evil policies, including NJ’s precedent-setting support for baby-killing fetal stem cell research, and while ordinarily I would be elated to see him go, the sordid circumstances behind his resignation and the domestic havoc it will entail for his wife and two daughters are so appalling that I can only express my sorrow at the tragedy he has made of his life.
I very briefly met McGreevey once, on Good Friday a couple of years ago, at the cathedral of my diocese, the Archdiocese of Newark. We were sitting in the second pew, and shortly after the liturgy began McGreevey was quietly ushered into the first pew, right in front of us.
Needless to say, it was a bit distracting to have my state’s top pro-death politician sitting in front of me on Good Friday in my diocese’s cathedral, although I was fairly confident that Archbishop Myers’ office would have made it clear to him that he would not be permitted to receive communion (this was before Archbishop Myers’ pastoral letter on pro-abortion politicians not receiving communion that some of you will remember Jimmy blogging at the time), and indeed that turned out to be the case.
While I was standing there, I gave a fair bit of thought to what I would say to McGreevey if I had the opportunity. I felt that a pro-death candidate in the cathedral of this archdiocese on this day should be under no illusions that he was among people who agreed with his policies, that he should not think he would not be confronted. But whatever I said, I knew it would have to be short, so that he couldn’t interrupt me or walk away, and I wanted it to have a prophetic force that might stay with him for awhile and perhaps bother him a bit from time to time.
So, after the liturgy ended, when he turned and held out his hand to shake mine, I leaned toward him and he inclined his ear to hear what I had to say. And I said, very quietly and calmly, “The Lord avenges the blood of the innocent.”
And he very calmly leaned back, looked at me, and said quietly, “Thank you.” A perfect political response, absolutely meaningless.
Much later, I learned that even though I only whispered the comment in his ear, word of the event somehow got back to someone in the archdiocese, and I later heard from Archbishop Myers himself that he was glad to hear that someone had said something to the governor that, in his words, he hoped might be an occasion of grace. (Archbishop Myers is the greatest.)
I have no idea if McGreevey ever again thought about what I said to him. And now, as his life dissolves, I find that I have nothing more to say.
I can only imagine that, last night, as the Governor pondered his dissolving life, he harkened back to that amazing Good Friday where the truth was finally whispered to him very quietly and calmly.
: I can only imagine that, last night, as the Governor
: pondered his dissolving life, he harkened back to
: that amazing Good Friday where the truth was
: finally whispered to him very quietly and calmly.
Hey man. What I did was nothing, but it was all that was given me to do. I tell the story now not because I imagine that McGreevey was or should have been thinking about it, but because it’s the McGreevey story I have to tell.
Wow, Mr. Akin, that was powerful!
Thanks, Sandra, but I live on the opposite side of the country from Jim McGreevey, so that post wasn’t mine. That was my guest blogger and New England buddy Steven Greydanus (a.k.a. SDG) sitting behind the governor on that Good Friday.
Personally, I think it’s a strategic political move to avoid his current scandals (ie: Fundraising mishaps, brother-in-law hiring a prostitute, etc.)
Why do so few normal people get elected to public office?
The Lord was undoubtedly with you that day, Steven. I only hope and pray that if such an occassion were to present itself, I would be courageous enough to do something similar.
> Why do so few normal people get elected to public office?
Because normal people don’t want the job. 😀
Stephen, you are so blessed to have John Myers as your Archbishop. He was my bishop just a few short years ago, and I’m sad he had to go, but Peoria’s loss is definitely Newark’s gain.
Peoria’s loss is Newark’s gain. There’s gotta be a punchline in there somewhere.
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