Book Reviews – May 2024

Isaiah (An Exegetical & Theological Bible Commentary). By J. Gordon McConville. Reviewed by Sr. Mary Micaela Hoffmann, RSM. (skip to review)

Who Do You Say I Am?: Daily Reflections on the Bible, the Saints, and the Answer That Is Christ. By Timothy Michael Dolan. Reviewed by Br. Lawrence Joshua Johnson, CFR. (skip to review)

Distributed Like Bread: Hans Urs von Balthasar Speaks to Seminarians. By Jonathan M. Ciraulo. Reviewed by Steven Umbrello. (skip to review)

That Was Father Stu: A Memoir of My Priestly Brother and Friend. By Fr. Bart Tolleson. Reviewed by Lawrence Montz. (skip to review)

Isaiah – J. Gordon McConville

McConville, J. Gordon. Isaiah (An Exegetical & Theological Bible Commentary) Baker Commentary on the Old Testament Prophetic Books. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2023. 781 pages.

Reviewed by Sr. Mary Micaela Hoffmann, RSM.

This commentary by J. Gordon McConville is the second in a new series of biblical commentaries from Baker Academic, edited by the author of this volume and Mark J. Boda. The series preface describes claims to be “innovative . . . in its division into canonical subsections,” a choice that permits the commentaries in that subsection to focus on “issues that are distinctive to that literature” (viii). The preface identifies rhetorical strategies and the relationship to history as some of the prominent features of the prophetic books; as a result, rhetorical strategies in particular will receive attention in each commentary. This is, in fact, one of the strengths of McConville’s book.

Those familiar with modern biblical commentaries on Isaiah will know that the book is often assumed to have been written by at least three different authors, and some commentaries are divided into treatments of Isaiah 1–39 or 40–66, or even with 55–66 as a separate volume. While the choice to divide commentaries is dictated in part by length and volume size constraints, it also reflects a tendency to see the sections of Isaiah as somewhat independent of one another. In contrast, McConville exemplifies a growing tendency to acknowledge elements of unity within the whole of Isaiah when he argues that there are “unmistakable signs of careful structuring activity” (5) in it, both within smaller units and throughout the book as a whole. Thus, although he recognizes “the distinctiveness” (7) of sections of Isaiah, throughout the commentary McConville frequently notes thematic connections that run between these sections. This is another strength of the commentary. An example is the overview of Isa 12, in which McConville signals the first use of the term “salvation.” Its appearance in Chapter 12 anticipates its recurrence in Chapters 40–55 (190).

The question of structure in Isaiah is often correlated to the question of authorship. McConville explains that he believes, like most modern academic commentators, that the book was “composed over relatively long period and completed much later than Isaiah’s own lifetime” (8). Nevertheless, he acknowledges with respect those who hold the position of single Isaian authorship (8; see fn. 15), and, overall, his commentary can be read profitably whether one agrees with his judgment — which follows the current majority scholarly opinion — about authorship or not. 

McConville’s commentary primarily focuses on the message of the text itself. Each section of text begins with an overview, followed by an English translation with extensive footnotes addressing textual questions, as well as details about choice of vocabulary, and poetic elements. When referenced, Hebrew words are transliterated so that those who do not read Hebrew characters can nevertheless appreciate sound plays, or recognize significant vocabulary. At times, the notes presume familiarity with the Hebrew verbal system (e.g., references to hiphil or niphal verbs), and a transliteration key might have been helpful to readers. For the most part, the editorial choice to transliterate Hebrew does make the commentary’s linguistic notes accessible to readers from a variety of background who have an interest in the original text and its poetics. 

Following the translation, an interpretation of each passage is presented in small unit blocks. The comments on each textual block cover topics such as the historical context, key words, repetition, metaphor, and other rhetorical strategies. For example, the interpretation of Isa 31:1–3 focuses attention on the “topics of trust and help,” and explains that “‘help’ in Isaiah is used in several texts exposing the delusion of relying on impotent allies.” Moreover, “reliance and trust,” two of the words that occur in 31:1, “belong to the vocabulary of faith in Yahweh” (357). McConville then notes that there is irony and word play in the verses that follow, which strengthen the impact of the text. At the end of larger sections, McConville provides a “Theological Reflection,” which frequently links these sections to larger themes within the Isaiah, and sometimes calls attention to the use of passages by the New Testament or to possible applications to the lives of current Christian readers.

McConville highlights the openness of the text of Isaiah to multiple layers of meaning, including a trajectory in multiple texts toward eschatological fulfillment. Examples include his note on Isaiah 11 that deliverance from both Assyria and Egypt become images of deliverance from oppression in general; the prophecy “leads the reader’s vision from historical particularities to a perception of patterns and trajectories” (188). Likewise, the progression from the “eschatological sequence” in Isa 24–27 to a more historically anchored section in 28–25, followed in turn by narratives about King Hezekiah in Isa 36–37 result in a reading of Israel’s history that “looks through the issues” of the particular historical period “and on toward eschatological fulfillment” (317).

A weaker area of the commentary are the theological reflections. Some of these might be classified more as summaries of themes than investigations into theological arguments. Catholics in particular may look for more, especially on passages that they are accustomed to read as anticipations of the life of Christ. McConville, who comes from a Protestant background, does point out the use of these prophecies in the NT, and even holds that there is an innate openness to how the prophecies are framed that allows them to be applied to Christ. However, in most cases, an intrinsic (what one could call a real metaphysical) connection between the prophecy and the fulfillment is not expressed. For example, in the reflection on Isaiah 9:6, “For a child is born for us, a son given to us!” McConville states, “Matthew’s reception of the sign is faithful to Isaiah’s presentation of it in the sense that, both as it came to Ahaz and as it is fulfilled in Jesus, it comes at times when Israel is threatened or subdued by a hostile foreign power.” He correctly and helpfully adds, “As in chapter 7, the theological reach of the chapter embraces both the events and issues in the time when Isaiah spoke and issues and events well beyond it” (151). The awareness that the texts of Isaiah have an openness to a future fulfillment does point toward the possibility of a genuine fulfillment of the prophecies in the life of Christ; nevertheless, it does not explain how Christ could be considered the ultimate fulfillment of the prophecies in the strong sense of being the most perfect or complete realization of what had been described or promised. Similarly, his approach to Isaiah 52:13–53:12 accents the appropriation of these texts by later NT authors, while stopping short of asserting an intrinsic connection between them. He writes, “The poem’s silences have contributed to its availability for appropriation. The NT and early church found in it an unparalleled resource for understanding the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus” (604). McConville’s language about NT authors in this section focuses on actions such as appropriation, finding a resource, seeing connections, bringing together concepts, and applying the texts. This leaves open the question of whether Jesus is actually in some way the most complete fulfillment of the servant portrayed in these passages.

McConville does take a stronger position vis-à-vis New Testament fulfillments in some of the servant passages in Isaiah 40–53. For example, in the theological reflection following 43:28, he notes that relationship between sin, divine anger, and salvation found in the preceding chapters establishes a narrative that is completed in Christ and the church: “The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and the establishment of the church of Christ on earth, are intelligible as part of the story that is unfolding here” (498). In this case, the connection of a single story ties together the OT text with NT, and even post-NT events.

In conclusion, in spite of some areas open to further discussion or possible disagreement, this commentary has much to offer through its literary consideration of the text of Isaiah, and its attention to connections between texts and sections of Isaiah. It could be a useful addition to an exegetical library, or serve as a resource for someone desiring to make a detailed Bible study with the original language in the background.

Sr. Mary Micaela Hoffmann, RSM is a member of the Religious Sisters of Mercy of Alma, MI. She holds an M.A. in theology from Ave Maria University and a License in Sacred Scripture from the Pontifical Biblical Institute.

Who Do You Say I Am? – Timothy Michael Dolan

Dolan, Timothy Michael. Who Do You Say I Am?: Daily Reflections on the Bible, the Saints, and the Answer That Is Christ. New York, NY: Penguin Random House, 2019. 369 pages.

Reviewed by Br. Lawrence Joshua Johnson, CFR.

In Who Do You Say I Am? Cardinal Timothy Dolan provides a one-page written reflection for every day of the year. The reflections presume a Catholic audience, but other than that are remarkably accessible and do not presume a high level of background knowledge. In fact, Cardinal Dolan packs a fair amount of basic catechesis into the book.

As the subtitle indicates, each of the 365 reflections takes its point of departure from either a particular Scripture passage or the life of a saint. The selected Bible passages are not necessarily linked to the lectionary, but the reflections on saints are given on the day of their liturgical celebrations. Those looking for inspiration for specific daily homilies can therefore only hope to mine content for the liturgical feasts and memorials of the specific saints Dolan chose to write on.

While anyone just looking for quick orientation for a daily homily might therefore be disappointed, the book does provide many examples of the traits that characterize excellent homilies. For starters, each reflection is brief and focused. While it may include a story, example, or anecdote, the message of each day’s reflection could often easily be boiled down to a single succinct sentence.

Each reflection is also easy to read and inviting. A typically folksy sort of warmth comes across in many of them, with Cardinal Dolan’s extroverted cheerfulness coming through again and again. Different generations will react with varying degrees of nostalgia to reflections which draw on his childhood experiences, but I imagine most will find the all-American references comforting.

In addition to being brief, focused, and inviting, the reflections also carry substance. Sometimes the substantive themes are both recurring and simple. For example, going to Sunday Mass is very important, as is learning to return to a frequent reception of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

In many respects Cardinal Dolan also shows how to approach controversial topics. The book clearly does not evade them. Anyone who has read the book will know that the Catholic Church values children and openness to life, and opposes contraception. He explicitly asserts that Humanae Vitae was not only true but prophetic (191), and repeatedly makes it clear that abortion is never a legitimate option. These topics are each addressed one at a time, though, and framed in a positive manner. Dolan is not seeking to score partisan points, nor is he trying to preach or write against anyone. Perhaps most importantly, though, such topics are present without being over-represented. Rather than over-focusing on controversy or ignoring it altogether, the reflections carry persuasive power precisely because they are presented as part of a coherent whole.

Taken individually then, each one-page reflection only treats one particular point of Catholicism. Taken all together, they paint an attractive and proportionate picture of Catholic life. One will hear about the Trinity, the events of salvation history, and our fidelity to the creed. Reflections will invite us to deeper reverence for the Eucharist and to greater Marian devotion. We also hear about such varied themes as the importance of grandparents, Catholic health care workers, and common courtesy.

The book is recommended for those looking for accessible, sound, pastoral guidance in bite-size chunks. Clergy and catechists may find it helpful as a clear example of what it looks like to provide reflections and messages that are focused, accessible, and substantive.

Br. Lawrence Joshua Johnson, CFR holds an M.T.S. degree from the University of Notre Dame and is currently a seminarian for the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal studying at St. Joseph’s Seminary, Dunwoodie.

Distributed Like Bread – Jonathan M. Ciraulo

Ciraulo, Jonathan M. Distributed Like Bread: Hans Urs von Balthasar Speaks to Seminarians. Omaha, NE: Institute for Priestly Formation, 2023. 92 pages.

Reviewed by Steven Umbrello.

In Distributed Like Bread: Hans Urs von Balthasar Speaks to Seminarians, Jonathan Ciraulo engages with the theological insights of Hans Urs von Balthasar, especially as they pertain to the priesthood and seminary formation. This work not only introduces readers to Balthasar’s complex and nuanced understanding of the priestly vocation but also serves as a guide for those discerning or living out this calling. Through a detailed examination of Balthasar’s life and writings, Ciraulo uncovers the profound notion that the priesthood is a mission, one in which God elects individuals to become instruments of divine grace despite and within their human limitations.

Ciraulo’s volume is grounded in the belief that to be a priest is to be “distributed like bread” — to become as accessible and necessary as the Eucharist itself. This metaphor captures the essence of Balthasar’s vision: The priest is called to embody Christ’s self-giving love, to be broken and given for the life of the world. The author systematically explores Balthasar’s theological framework, focusing on key themes such as discernment, the tension between objective and subjective holiness, and the integration of the priestly identity with the broader Christian call to holiness. By doing so, Ciraulo provides a comprehensive overview of the demands, challenges, and profound beauty of the priestly vocation as articulated by one of the twentieth century’s most influential theologians.

This work emerges not only as an academic exploration of Balthasar’s thoughts on priesthood but as a spiritual manual for seminarians and priests. It offers insights into the nature of discernment, the importance of theological formation, and the intrinsic connection between the priestly mission and personal sanctification. This short volume stands as a testament to the enduring relevance of Balthasar’s theology for those seeking to understand or live out the call to the priesthood today, offering a rich theological reflection that invites engagement with the mysteries of faith, service, and sacrifice.

Distributed Like Bread is structured into three main chapters and a conclusion in which Ciraulo examines Balthasar’s theological insights on priesthood. Each segment builds upon the last, forming a cohesive exploration of priestly identity and mission.

Chapter 1, Balthasar as Seminarian, Priest, and Theologian, is both a biographical sketch of Hans Urs von Balthasar and an introduction to the central themes of his life that resonate throughout his work on priesthood. Ciraulo delves into Balthasar’s early life, academic pursuits, and entrance into the Jesuits, highlighting Balthasar’s profound encounter with God that directed him towards the priesthood. The narrative tracks Balthasar’s theological evolution, emphasizing his unorthodox path and the development of his theological vision, which contrasts sharply with his contemporaries. This chapter sets the stage by illustrating how Balthasar’s life and theology are inseparable, providing a living context for his insights into the priesthood.

In the following chapter, Discerning the Objective and Subjective Holiness of the Priesthood, Ciraulo tackles the nuanced distinction Balthasar makes between the objective holiness conferred by the priestly office and the subjective holiness to which every priest must aspire. This chapter discusses the tension between these concepts and the necessity of both for a fruitful priestly vocation. By examining Balthasar’s understanding of discernment and mission, Ciraulo articulates how priests are called to embody Christ’s sacrificial love, navigating the complexities of living out this calling in a world marred by sin.

Focusing on the themes of self-emptying (kenosis) and celibacy, Ciraulo explores in Chapter 3, The Kenosis of the Pastor and the Value of Celibacy, how these aspects are central to the priestly vocation in Balthasar’s thought. The chapter examines the theological underpinnings of priestly celibacy, not merely as a disciplinary requirement but as an eschatological sign that points to the complete self-giving required of priests. Through Balthasar’s lens, Ciraulo elucidates how the kenotic path of the priest mirrors Christ’s own self-emptying on the Cross, challenging priests to live out their celibacy as a radical form of love and service.

Ciraulo concludes by reflecting on the apparent paradox of the priestly vocation: a life spent in service to God’s people can often seem thankless or ineffective. Drawing from Balthasar, he reassures readers that the value of priesthood is not measured in worldly success but in fidelity to Christ’s call to be “distributed like bread.” This concluding chapter encourages seminarians and priests to persevere in their vocation, trusting in the inherent worth of their sacrificial love and service.

Beyond this, Ciraulo, in his epilogue, Orthodoxy without Mimesis, addresses the risk of reducing the priesthood to mere role-playing or adherence to orthodox practices without a genuine interior transformation. Ciraulo stresses the importance of authentic witness, urging priests to live out the truths they preach in a manner that is both faithful to tradition and responsive to the Spirit’s movements in their lives.

More broadly, Distributed Like Bread presents a rigorous and enriching exploration of the priesthood through the theological lens of Hans Urs von Balthasar. This work is a significant contribution to contemporary Catholic theology, not only for its depth in explicating the nuances of Balthasar’s thought on priesthood but also for its broader implications within the field of ecclesiology and the theology of vocation. Ciraulo’s book meticulously outlines the intricate relationship between the objective and subjective dimensions of the priesthood, a theme central to understanding the comprehensive demands of the priestly vocation in the modern world. By drawing from Balthasar’s rich theological repertoire, Ciraulo elevates the discourse on priesthood beyond canonical and disciplinary frameworks, positioning it within the existential and soteriological mission of the Church. This perspective is crucial for a holistic understanding of the priesthood that transcends legalistic interpretations, offering a vision deeply rooted in the mystery of Christ’s kenotic love.

The discussion on celibacy, situated within the broader theological narrative of kenosis, is particularly noteworthy. Ciraulo advances the conversation by presenting celibacy not as an ancillary aspect of priestly life but as a profound participation in the self-emptying love of Christ. This aligns with the broader theological currents that seek to understand celibacy in light of Christological and eschatological realities, moving the discourse beyond the often polarized debates surrounding this discipline.

Here, scholars may find it fruitful to place Ciraulo’s work in conversation with Bernard Lonergan’s contributions to theology, given that it provides a fertile ground for understanding Balthasar’s position among his contemporaries. Lonergan, known for his emphasis on method in theology and the role of consciousness and conversion, offers a complementary perspective to Balthasar’s thematic focus on beauty, truth, and goodness.¹ While Lonergan’s methodological approach to understanding faith and revelation underscores the intellectual dimensions of theological inquiry, Balthasar’s emphasis on the aesthetic and dramatic aspects of divine revelation highlights the experiential and transformative power of encountering God.²

Ciraulo’s engagement with Balthasar’s theological vision, when juxtaposed with Lonergan’s methodological rigor, offers a fruitful intersection between the existential and the epistemological dimensions of faith. Lonergan’s framework, grounded in the dynamics of questioning, understanding, judging, and deciding, underscores the cognitive process involved in the appropriation of faith and theological reflection. His focus on the operations of consciousness, particularly in the movement from understanding to judgment, emphasizes the role of intellectual conversion as foundational for theological discourse. This methodological approach, while deeply analytical, aims at facilitating a more authentic grasp of religious truth and a more committed engagement with the divine mystery.

In contrast, Balthasar’s theological aesthetics, as explored by Ciraulo, invites a more immediate, though no less profound, encounter with the divine through the beauty of revelation. Balthasar posits that the encounter with God’s beauty, manifest in the world and supremely in the Person of Christ, precedes and grounds the intellectual assent to theological truths. This encounter is transformative, drawing the believer into a participatory relationship with the divine that transcends mere cognitive assent. For Balthasar, and subsequently, for Ciraulo’s analysis, the aesthetic dimension of faith is not peripheral but central to the process of conversion, fostering a holistic integration of truth, beauty, and goodness in the life of the believer and, by extension, in the priestly vocation.

Ciraulo’s work is important because a further synthesis of these perspectives contributes significantly to a more rigorous and expansive understanding of Catholic theology and priestly formation. Ciraulo provides an easily digestible text that permits us to situate Balthasar among contemporaries like Lonergan. This does not merely highlight divergences but rather elucidates a complementary relationship between the intellectual and experiential facets of faith. This dialogical engagement enriches the Catholic theological tradition by advocating for a model of priesthood that is intellectually engaged, aesthetically attuned, and existentially committed.

Furthermore, this approach underscores the indispensability of ongoing formation for priests, who are called to navigate the complexities of contemporary culture while remaining anchored in the timeless truths of the Gospel. Ciraulo’s work, informed by Balthasar’s theological aesthetics, presents a compelling vision of the priesthood as a life of deep intellectual inquiry, aesthetic sensitivity, and existential openness to the divine mystery.

In the broader discourse of Catholic theology and doctrine, Ciraulo’s contribution through his exploration of Balthasar’s insights reaffirms the Church’s commitment to a faith that is both thoughtfully reasoned and deeply lived. The pastoral argument presented in Distributed Like Bread not only advances academic scholarship but also offers practical pathways for the renewal of priestly ministry in the Church, advocating for a priesthood that embodies the fullness of Christ’s truth, beauty, and goodness.

Distributed Like Bread makes a significant contribution to broader Catholic theology and doctrine by articulating a vision of the priesthood that is deeply Christocentric, ecclesial, and sacramental. Ciraulo’s work reaffirms the Second Vatican Council’s teachings on the nature of the Church as both hierarchical and charismatic, emphasizing the indispensable role of the priest within the community of believers.³ Moreover, by engaging with Balthasar’s thought, Ciraulo enriches the ongoing dialogue on the renewal of priestly ministry in the post-conciliar Church, advocating for a priesthood that is both deeply rooted in tradition and dynamically open to the guidance of the Holy Spirit in addressing the challenges of the contemporary world.

Jonathan Ciraulo’s exploration of Hans Urs von Balthasar’s theology of the priesthood in Distributed Like Bread is a valuable addition to the corpus of Catholic theological literature. By drawing meaningful connections between Balthasar and his contemporaries, including Bernard Lonergan, Ciraulo not only situates Balthasar within the broader theological discourse but also highlights the enduring relevance of his insights for understanding the complexities of priestly identity and mission today.

Dr. Steven Umbrello is the Managing Director of the Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies, a postdoctoral research fellow at the University of Turin, and an associate researcher at the Collège des Bernardins.

That Was Father Stu – Fr. Bart Tolleson

Tolleson, Bart. That Was Father Stu: A Memoir of My Priestly Brother and Friend. San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2023. 215 pages.

Reviewed by Lawrence Montz.

That Was Father Stu is a memoir reflecting the personal interactions of the author, Father Bart Tolleson, who was a close friend and seminary companion of Father Stu. Within the space of ten short pages, nearly three dozen highly descriptive adjectives were used to depict this enigmatic priest. Stu was a contradiction in terms. The written vignettes help provide a great deal of insight into the holy man. Fr. Stu, who only served as a priest for seven years and most of that in a continuing care facility, positively influenced the lives of many people within his diocese and the rest of the country. These impacts continue after his death.

Many are familiar with the Hollywood movie about Stu’s life. While well received in his home diocese of Helena and by those who knew Stu well, the movie, as movies often do, makes use of a certain “artistic license.” The film generally portrayed Fr. Stu as his friends saw him, but there are certain episodes depicted that were offered for cinematic effect. Fr. Tolleson wrote this memoir to better familiarize his companion to the world.

Fr. Stu was described as a “spiritual dynamo,” a tenacious minister but not a stern priest, rather a life-long practical joker and free thinker. Stu’s life experiences were formative. In college he took up the sport of boxing, which suited his nature well, and even tried it professionally until a savage blow ended that aspiration. He attempted a career in acting and moved to California where he was involved in a serious motorcycle accident from which he never fully recovered. The mishap ultimately led Stu to better control his anger issues. While in California he came close to getting married, but God had other ideas. Observing his girlfriend’s spiritual growth after she reentered the Catholic Church began to stir his own desire for God. Subsequent relationships with women ultimately helped convince him that he was being called to the priesthood.

The culminating factor in that holy decision was his attendance at an event where Fr. Benedict Groeschel, C.F.R. was the keynote speaker. Stu traveled to New York to work with the friars, but when he expressed interest in becoming a Franciscan, the Order spurned him, believing him to be too old, and recommended that he seek a vocation as a diocesan priest. In character, Stu was annoyed that the Franciscans did not want him to join but simply took this kind of setback as a challenge rather than a failure. He contacted the Helena chancellery to obtain an application to their seminary and was accepted by Bishop Morlino.

After he entered Mt. Angel Seminary in Oregon, his body began to fail. Stu underwent surgery to remove a tumor in his hip hoping that this was the cause of the physical difficulties he was experiencing. Further examination led to a diagnosis of an autoimmune disease called polymyositis for which he began to receive treatments in hope of relief. His physical decline continued and even menial tasks became a chore. In characteristic fashion he admitted that the disease “sucks” but his optimism made him hopeful for a cure. Subsequently he was tested by a specialist in Los Angeles and the conclusion was much worse, inclusion body myositis (IBM), which has symptoms similar to ALS and for which there were no effective treatments. His worsening condition caused his seminary formators to recommend he not be ordained to the priesthood. Like the earlier disappointment experinced with the Franciscans, Stu was devastated. Fortunately for Stu and God’s people, his bishop was convinced that Stu would make a good priest and in 2007 ordained him to the priesthood in the same ceremony as the author.

Fr. Stu was assigned to active parish ministry. If anything, his failing body made his preaching and ministry more powerful by example. As the former declined and he was forced into a wheelchair, it only prompted his flock to support him more, ostensibly via simple acts of kindness to the invalid, but ultimately helping themselves to be more open to God’s graces, particularly charity. His homilies were imaginative but doctrinally sound and enticing to the listener.

The outward aspects of his Mass celebrations changed as the disease progressed, and while his ministry was inspiring, his condition could not be ignored by his bishop. Fr. Stu was removed from official ministry and took residency in his final chapel, Rm. 227, of the Big Sky Care Center. Although he did serve the residents, he still ventured out and helped in parish life. Fr. Stu was not oblivious to his shortcomings and did become despondent about his effectiveness as a priest, but others, including the author, convinced him to continue as long as possible during his four-year residency. Fr. Stu’s ultimate sacrifice took place peacefully on June 14, 2014, surrounded by family and friends.

The reader is walked along Fr. Stu’s pilgrimage of life as we see how his disease impacted the man who was becoming holy and how the people of God were affected. Fr. Stu’s influence did not end with his death. Some witnesses claimed to have seen a sphere of light depart from his body. They were reluctant to relate such experiences but came to realize that the “gift” was not just for them but to help convince others of Stu’s holiness. Fr. Tolleson took troubled faithful to pray at Stu’s grave site and often sufferers experinced God’s solace. His relics were used to pray over sick people and often their lives were improved. The Hollywood movie introduced Stu to many more people and helped peak interest in his life and holiness. Were Stu’s perceived interventions miracles? Only God knows for sure, but his influence continues beyond the grave. After his death his friends founded a pious organization known as Beyond 227. Its goal is to help people grow in faith by service that continues the mission of Fr. Stu. No formal canonization process has been instituted. If God desires it, that will come; but Fr. Stu obviously has had a lasting impact on the Church.

Lawrence Montz is a Benedictine Oblate of St. Gregory Abbey in Shawnee (Oklahoma), past Serran District Governor of Dallas, and serves as his Knights of Columbus council’s Vocations Program Director. He resides in the Dallas Diocese.