Mychal Judge

By Sister Irene Hartman, OP

“I had to bust my tail to get this habit, so I wear it always. I wanted to be a Franciscan so bad. I have absolutely no regrets.” Born in Brooklyn May 11, 1933, Mychal Judge was the son of two Irish immigrants from County Leitrim. Knowing suffering from the age of six when he watched his father die after a long illness, Mychal took to shining shoes to help his mother and two sisters make ends meet. He ran errands and did odd jobs until he answered the call to become a Franciscan in 1954. He made final profession in 1958, and was ordained in 1961.

Father Judge loved a life of service to the world. When asked at the Christmas season what he wanted, he replied, “You know what I really want? Absolutely nothing. I have everything in the world.” Then he would go on naming the blessings God had given him: family, friends, his priesthood, his work with the fire department, his health, his exciting life. With tears in his eyes, Father Judge would say, “I don’t deserve it! Why is God doing this to me?”

As a parish priest, Father Judge served in Sacred Heart in Rochelle Park, New Jersey, assisted the president of Siena College in New York, and also served in two New Jersey parishes, each called St. Joseph: one in East Rutherford and another in West Milford. In the latter parish, there were trying times in the town’s history. Five teens committed suicide and two others died in alcohol-related accidents. Father Judge told his people, “When tragedies strike at an early age, maybe religion takes on a greater meaning. The closer the tragedy is to our heart and home, the more likely faith is to form, because we’ve been tested and tried, and from that comes faith.”

In 1986, Father was assigned to St. Francis of Assisi and became a fire chaplain in 1992. “I always wanted to be a priest or a fireman; now I am both.” Father Judge is called by his friends “a man of compassion.” He treated every person like family. He was especially compassionate at funerals. Many people received notes/cards/phone calls on birthdays, anniversaries, dates of sobriety. He must have kept a huge calendar. He showed great love as he gave his priestly blessing. “With his thick Irish hands pressing down on the person’s head, he would ask God to bless them.”

Father Judge was known for his ministry to those suffering from AIDS, even years back when very few people would go near an AIDS patient. He shared a story of a visit to an unfortunate AIDS patient in an advanced stage whom no one would go near because of the stench. Father would visit the man, hold his hand, bend over him, and kiss his forehead.

The friends of Father Judge said he never built a church or a school, or raised a lot of money. “What he did was build the kingdom spiritually, so people would feel close to God. You can’t measure that, and you can’t see that. He didn’t realize that that was his gift. But it was evident in the thousands of people who came out to his wake and to his funeral.” Was it a hostage situation, a distraught man who was holding his wife at gun point, a police officer left paralyzed by a gunshot; was it the crash of Flight 800 off Long Island which left hundreds of grieving survivors … Father Judge was there ministering in compassion and love.

It was Sept. 11, 2001 when a fellow Franciscan gave him the news that the twin towers had been struck. Without hesitation, Father went to the site to assist in whatever way he could. As he was anointing a firefighter and a woman who had fallen on the firefighter, Father Judge removed his helmet in prayer and was fatally struck in the back of the head by falling debris. The firemen wrapped his body in a sheet and took it to a nearby church, placing their hero on the floor of the central aisle. On his body they placed his stole and his fire badge; they knelt briefly in prayer, and returned to continue their work.

As it was said of St. Francis of Assisi, Father Judge’s life was a lived image that allowed the world to grasp the Invisible Truth beyond.