Each year, as August 15 approaches, I think of a priest who died on the eve of that great feast of the Assumption. His deep devotion to Our Lady and daily sacrifices for his flock prepared him for his ultimate self-gift in death. Maximilian Kolbe? Yes, but, for me, also Monsignor Funaro, my parish priest.

Joe Funaro grew up in Brooklyn, the son of a plumber and a stay-at-home mother. His bright red hair came with a personality to match. When the desire for priesthood dawned in his heart, he had to pay his own way through seminary. So, at night and on weekends, he worked as an animator for Paramount: Casper the friendly ghost was his creation.

During this time, he began to experience severe headaches. Eventually, they became so debilitating that he could only obtain relief by lying on the floor with his feet propped against a piece of furniture. A brain tumor was suspected, and Joe decided to visit Lourdes to ask Mary to heal him and allow him to reach the priesthood. After he bathed in the waters there, his headaches vanished permanently.

As a little girl, I was sitting in the pews as Monsignor told this story. I finally understood why every single one of his Masses began with his sure voice leading us in “Hail, Holy Queen, Enthroned Above” and ended with “Immaculate Mary.”

Perhaps it was because he had fought so hard for the priesthood that he lived it with such intensity. Monsignor’s was a true father’s heart that expanded to embrace every person who came to him. His merry kindness brought many back to the Church.

Days before entering the convent, I approached the sacristy after Mass to ask his blessing. By this time, his legs were failing him, and he had obtained a dispensation to sit during the celebration of the Mass. This suffering, with the disappointment and loneliness that must have accompanied it, he never mentioned.

In the sacristy, I found him sitting in a chair gazing quietly out toward the sanctuary. Kneeling beside him, I begged his prayers. “You have them,” he replied, looking down at me with unaccustomed gravity. “Every day after Mass, I sit here and look at the statue of the Blessed Virgin and entrust to her all my intentions. Including your vocation.” Less than two weeks after I made vows, he rendered his soul to God.

Monsignor Funaro lived magnanimity, or largeness of soul. The magnanimous person knows his own talents, not as his own but as given him by God for the good of others. He embraces arduous tasks with enthusiasm, confident in God’s help. He avoids complaining, because he sees the frustrations of life as part of a larger tapestry woven by God’s loving hands. Let us ask of Our Lady the virtue of magnanimity, which she possessed to the full: “Let it be done unto me according to thy word.” God’s plans for us, as for her, always exceed the wildest expectations.

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Sr. Maria Veritas Marks is a member of the Ann Arbor-based Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist.