I never encountered Father William Holt -- Billy Holt, as some who loved him referred to him -- without smiling. His joy was contagious. Holt died in Ireland earlier this month, while on a trip that was paid for by someone whose life had been touched by his ministry.
Holt went viral on social media twice. The first time was during COVID shutdowns. A women took a video of him smoking on the top of the tall staircase to the Dominican priory where he lived on Lexington Avenue. The world was freaking out, and he was the same as he ever was. The second time was about a year ago. On Facebook, Humans of New York caught up with him with Grand Central Station in the background. He recounted the following story:
"For two years I was chaplain on the children's ward of the cancer hospital," he explained. "One Christmastime there was a 10-year-old girl from Ireland, dying of leukemia," he recalled. "All this girl wanted was a Cabbage Patch Doll. Ugliest doll you've ever seen in your life, $75. Seventy-five dollars! And sold out everywhere." As it happened, a family in the parish where he was living asked him what he wanted for Christmas. So, of course, it was that ugly doll. He also requested walkie-talkies. "The Cabbage Patch Doll went to the little girl," he said. "Then I gave one walkie-talkie to her, and one to her twin brother, so they could speak while she was in isolation. After she passed away, the mother wrote me a letter. I keep it in my sunshine file. It said: 'Those walkie-talkies were the best medicine she ever had.'"
We should probably all have a sunshine file -- or more importantly, make sure we contribute to the sunshine files of others.
One of the last times I interacted with Holt was at a Hillbilly Thomists concert -- a band of Dominican priests who sing something like bluegrass. I was standing with my friend Sister Maria Augustine, who was holding a newborn, one of the children who lives in her convent in Hell's Kitchen with her mother. (The nuns welcome pregnant women who might otherwise feel pressured to abort.) Holt approached us and, as if breaking news was about to be delivered, he told us: "Eighty years ago, I looked almost exactly like that!"
In recent days, some of Holt's fellow friars have been recalling some of his "Helpful Hints From Holt," or "Holtisms." Most of these words of wisdom have to do with humility. Here are a few gems:
"You think you're indispensable, bud? Go up to All Souls Cemetery. Walk down the row and look at all the people who were indispensable and irreplaceable!"
"I've never seen a Brinks truck following a hearse. You can't take it with you."
"When you're invited to dinner, make sure you ring the door with your elbow." (Because your hands should be full of gifts!)
"A woman called the priory to find out which priest was celebrating which Mass on a particular Sunday (looking to find her favorite preacher and avoid others). I told her, 'Yes, Jesus Christ has the 7:30 and 9:00 and the 11:00.'"
And, in case he is reading this from heaven, he wouldn't want me to leave out: "Jersey City! Cultural mecca of the Northeast!"
We live in a judgmental age, and Catholics who hold the line on Church teachings are probably seen as the most judgmental. Holt probably did more to spread the Gospel by being a normal human -- with joy -- on Lexington Avenue. A few weeks ago, our paths happened to cross. I watched him greeting people with love, as if that were as normal as breathing. That's what he did. The priests tell me if he was asked how he was doing, he would say: "My usual self: reticent but cheerful!"
Holt's earthly remains have been laid to rest in that cemetery in Pleasantville, New York. But as a good life does, his legacy remains to make us better.
(Kathryn Jean Lopez is senior fellow at the National Review Institute, editor-at-large of National Review magazine and author of the new book "A Year With the Mystics: Visionary Wisdom for Daily Living." She is also chair of Cardinal Dolan's pro-life commission in New York, and is on the board of the University of Mary. She can be contacted at klopez@nationalreview.com.)