Someone who, tomorrow, will be declared as sitting in the halls of heaven, once appeared on a television game show. Someone who, tomorrow, will be put before the entire Church as worthy of veneration, had his own network show opposite Milton Berle on Tuesdays at 8 p.m. Someone who, tomorrow, will be offered to Christians as a reliable intercessor at the throne of God, entered ordinary living rooms of ordinary men and women and spoke about extraordinary things. When we think of the saints, we think immediately of martyrs and monsters, kings and coliseums, emperors and mystics and crusades in far away lands in cultures alien to our own. Ignatius gives himself up to the lions. George slays the dragon. Helena finds the Cross. And we look at our own lives, and . . . well, what could possibly compare?
Tomorrow is different. The mystic and the warrior, the ruler and the prophet will be a man America knew well. A man from the Land of Lincoln. He will be raised to the altars of the Roman Church. This is, of course, Fulton John Sheen, who, tomorrow, will be beatified in St. Louis, Missouri.
His interior life was one of prayer, sacrifice, and love. By all accounts he was “irreproachable . . . temperate, self-controlled, decent, hospitable, able to teach, not a drunkard, not aggressive, but gentle, not contentious, not a lover of money” (1 Tim 3:2–3). Thus, without any air of self-seeking, he was perfectly suited to be entrusted with the office of bishop.
For decades, Fulton Sheen was a household name across America, known and respected by all, loved and revered by Catholics. He taught with fire and humor and preached with clarity and compassion. Sheen used the power of television to bring the truth of the Gospel into living rooms across the nation. Listening to—or better yet, watching—even one of the shows from his program, Life is Worth Living, is enough to convince you of your own high calling as a Christian.
Perhaps more than his own powerful preaching and apostolic endeavors, however, Sheen’s confident and convicted presence in public life was what captivated. Go watch his appearances on Firing Line, or What’s My Line? He was sometimes serious. He was sometimes hilarious. He was always zealous, and he held everyone’s attention. We know the tremendous power God has given to his shepherds, the bishops of the Church, who “must also have a good reputation among outsiders, so that [they] may not fall into disgrace” (1 Tim 3:7). Like the holy bishops of old with long beards and even longer sermons, Sheen believed in the responsibility and visibility of his position—the relevance of it, for believer and non-believer alike. Bishop Sheen’s spotlight was never his and he was not to be congratulated for his talents: “Where is the wise one? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made the wisdom of the world foolish?” (1 Cor 1:20). He looked into the camera, into your living room, into your soul, and proclaimed one thing: “Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are called, Jews and Greeks alike, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:23–24).
In a world now saturated, even dominated, by the digital, Fulton Sheen will stand as more than a mere reminder of Christ’s dominion over every aspect of daily life—he will stand as a patron. He is a man who looked like us, sounded like us, and knew our ordinary, American life. He preached against communism and he praised the Mother of God. He was on the cover of Time Magazine. He is an inspiration to every ordinary Catholic and every humble preacher. And, tomorrow, he will be blessed.
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Photo from the Province of St. Joseph (used with permission)
