Father Daniel Joseph Sheehan, CPM

August 28, 1922 - April 6, 2008

Requiescat in Pace

Oh, Yeah? Oh, Yeah.

Article by Fr. James Costigan, C.P.M.

Father Dan Sheehan, retired pastor and missionary of the community of Catholic priests known as the Fathers of Mercy, headquartered in South Union, Kentucky, succumbed to kidney and heart failure Sunday morning, April 06, 2008, in his bed at Taylor Manor nursing home in Versailles, Kentucky.

Father Dan, born August 28, 1922 and raised in Brooklyn, New York, received his BA from St. John’s University, New York in August, 1942 and was formed as a priest for the Fathers of Mercy at Catholic University of America, Washington D.C. Ordained June 20, 1946, Father Dan continued his studies at the Sorbonne in Paris. Between 1948 and 1953 he was a Latin instructor at Our Lady of Mercy Seminary in Lenox, Massachusetts. Returning to France in the early 50’s, Father Dan helped to establish the first Catholic parish for Americans in Paris. Between 1957 and 1960 Father Dan was pastor at Our Lady of Lourdes in Monroe, North Carolina. He led Jesus’ flock at St. Helen’s in Glasgow, Kentucky from 1960 to 1963, and then again from 1982 until his retirement in 1996. Father Dan also served as Rector of the Fathers of Mercy House of Studies in Bethesda, Maryland from 1963 to 1971. He fulfilled his priestly duties as pastor of St. Peter’s in Olney, Maryland from 1975 to 1982.

In the years after his Paris assignment, Father Dan was, on two occasions, ordered to prepare to set out for the foreign missions : first, to Jamaica, then, to Ecuador. At the last minute, both commissions were rescinded. Missing those opportunities to bring the Gospel to faraway countries was always a small regret for Father Dan.

In terms of CPM seniority, Father Dan Sheehan was the youngest of the Old Guard in the Fathers of Mercy; Father Frank Sherry is [almost] the oldest of the Young Guard. In Father Dan’s last months, it was Father Frank Sherry, Chaplain at Taylor Manor, who proved himself the dying priest’s good friend and faithful servant. In a dizzying round of hospitals, medical centers, doctor’s offices, ICU’s, and CCU’s, Father Frank watched as Father Dan gradually ¾and if at first reluctantly and fitfully, then later more deliberately and in a sweeter spirit ¾prepared his death in Christ. In his last days, when the nurse’s aides would carefully turn him over in bed, Father Dan would scream in pain ¾then immediately apologize to the aides. When asked by visitors how he felt, his answer was usually, “Fine.” Or maybe, “Not too bad.” But, when alone with Father Frank, who demanded candor, Father Dan would confide, “My back is killing me. . . . Everything hurts. . . . My skin feels like it’s on fire. . . .” Another resident at Taylor Manor told Father Frank, “Whenever I pass Father Dan’s room I hear him saying, ‘My Jesus, mercy. Jesus, have mercy on me.’” This quintessential New Yorker, who’d lived most of his life south of the Mason-Dixon, loved listening to gospel tunes sung by Tennessee Ernie Ford; the music seemed to ease his pain (though sometimes when he sang along with the old Pea Picker, Father Frank observed, there was a net increase in pain for listeners in the general vicinity). On the worst days, what did infallibly stop Father Dan’s fussing, moaning, and restlessness was Father Frank’s suggestion : “Dan, do you want to pray a chaplet?” He never said no. The last time the two priests prayed the Chaplet of Divine Mercy together, about an hour before Jesus called his servant home, Father Dan had neither strength nor voice left to speak. Father Frank took hold of the old man’s hand and, leaning close, whispered in his ear, “Dan, if you’re praying with me, squeeze my hand.” Father Dan gave the hand a good squeeze.

Father Dan Sheehan is best remembered as a father of mercy ¾and very practical and material mercy ¾to the poor. He was a constant reminder to his confreres ¾verbally, yes, but even more in action ¾that a shepherd after the heart of Christ not only serves the poor who come to him, but diligently seeks them out, giving to those in need, in the words of Pope John Paul II, not only from his surplus but even from his substance.

All of us who love him and don’t have him around are certainly poorer now.