Leo T. McCarthy Funeral | Feb. 9, 2007 | St. Ignatius Church

Readings: Isaiah 1:11-17; 1 John 4:7-12; Luke 20:20-25


On November 22, 1989, I was startled when the theology department secretary told me that Lt. Gov. Leo McCarthy wanted to speak with me. I wondered why in the world the lieutenant governor of California would be calling a junior faculty member at Santa Clara University. Leo came on the line and told me, did not ask me, that he wanted to meet with me and one other person of my choice from the university at his office in San Francisco on Saturday morning at 9 o’clock.

You may recall that November 22, 1989 was less than a week after the Salvadoran army murdered six Jesuits, their housekeeper and her daughter at the Jesuit university in San Salvador. Leo had called together two representatives from every Jesuit institution in Northern California on that Saturday to urge us to organize a carefully coordinated response to the Salvadoran tragedy.

It was Leo McCarthy, not our Provincial superior, who strategized with us Jesuits and supported our efforts to mobilize the people in our schools, parishes and universities to be part of a national and ultimately successful campaign that led to Congress’ cutting all military aid to El Salvador. That was my first experience with Leo McCarthy.

Eleven years later, almost to the day, I was leaving the sacristy of this church on my way to a reception across campus after my inauguration as president of USF. Leo McCarthy came up behind me, tapped me on the elbow and said, “Fr. President,” (he and Art Agnos are the only persons who always call me Fr. President) “Jackie and I would like to help you with some of the social justice projects that you mentioned in your talk.” That brief statement was the genesis of what is now the Leo T. McCarthy Center for Public Service and the Common Good. I was privileged to work closely with Leo as he dreamed, designed and developed the Center, always with the expectation that its programs and events would fire the idealism, channel the energy and equip our students to effectively fashion a more just and humane society, no matter what profession or career they chose. More than once, I heard Leo remind students that knowledge is not just something you carry around in your head; it is what allows you to be of service to others. No one exemplified that very Jesuit understanding of education better than Leo McCarthy. I cannot tell you how proud USF is to claim Leo as an alumnus and as part of our rich legacy.

I was with Leo in the hospital a few nights after the Democrats regained control of the Congress, weak as he was, his eyes were dancing and his smile was real as he savored the victory. I remember coming back from a December reception that then Speaker-elect Pelosi hosted at the St. Francis Hotel and starting to tell Leo about the terrific talk she gave on faith and politics. He put his finger to his lips and motioned me over to his left side, “talk here in my good ear,” he said, “I really want to make sure I hear this.”

We may well say of Leo what was said of another Democratic politician of my generation: that he “need not be enlarged or idealized in death beyond what he was in life; to be remembered simply as a good and decent man who saw wrong and tried to right it, who saw suffering and tried to heal it.” That is the key to the life of this good and decent man who served the common good his entire adult life.

We selected the readings for this liturgy with Leo in mind. He “rendered unto God” precisely by “rendering unto Caesar.” We are accustomed to think of two discreet sets of responsibilities: those to civil society and those to our religious community. For Leo, the one permeated the other. Leo’s life of public service was an expression of his deep faith in the God who calls us all to seek justice, support the oppressed, and defend the weakest and most vulnerable. Let us celebrate Leo’s life and honor his memory by hearing the word of God calling each one of us to take responsibility for creating the world that God would have us create — a world where the hungry are fed, the thirsty are given drink, the homeless are housed, the stranger is welcomed, and the sick are cared for.

In the second reading, Isaiah presents a God who is burdened and wearied by endless, empty religious rituals that do not result in good people — people who share God’s concerns for the world. God does not countenance the substitution of religious practices for the living of a good life, much as we might want God to do so. Piety cannot substitute for practice. Authentic religion nourishes goodness; it does not substitute for it. Leo was a regular communicant and for him prayer and the sacraments were not an escape mechanism but a source of strength for doing what God asked of him: “doing right, seeking justice, encouraging the oppressed, defending the orphan and the widow,” in the words of our reading.

Leo’s successful legislative efforts to preserve the coastlands, safeguard welfare benefits for the aged and infirm, protect farm workers and children, secure the human rights of homosexuals, and insure quality care for those in nursing homes resonated with what God asks of us, and were the fruits of a solid spiritual life. He understood the Gospel mandate “to worship in spirit and in truth,” and he worked to translate his prayers and religious convictions into effective legislation and good public policy. Let us celebrate Leo’s life and honor his memory by hearing the word of God calling each one of us to personal integrity, to live the prayers we voice in our hearts and in our public worship; let us resolve to close whatever gap there may be between our praying and our living, as we make every effort “to love, not with words or tongue, but with actions and in truth.”

For Leo, who returned home to San Francisco every night from Sacramento to be with the loves of his life, his wife Jackie and their four children, the axiom would certainly ring true that the best part of traveling is coming home. This is true, and more true than ever for the great journey of life: for the best part of life is coming home to God, where we come from, where we belong. Our destiny lies beyond the cramped confines of this earth. God has given each one of us an insatiable hunger for the good, the beautiful, and the true that simply cannot be satisfied by anything this world has to offer.

Leo is home now; back where he came from and back where we all long to be.   May we continue our life’s journey more sure of ourselves and of where we are ultimately headed because of Leo and, most especially, because of Jesus Christ who died and rose from the dead so that we may live in the sure promise of everlasting life.

Let us go now to the table to receive the nourishment that God offers us for our journey home.