It was at a San Fernando Mission retreat in September when Isaac Cuevas was immediately struck by the sound of an unplanned devotional hymn, its melody echoing during a moment of quiet reflection and prayer.
Within seconds, Cuevas and his fellow worshipers thought of one person who wasn’t there — physically, anyway.
“Everybody’s heads turned and we started to look at each other, saying ‘Oh my gosh. This is Bishop David’s song. He’s here.”
It was the same song — “I Love You Lord and I Lift My Voice” — that Bishop David O’Connell used to lead 3,000 young folks in prayer during the National Catholic Youth Conference in Long Beach, just two years ago.
O’Connell, a beloved leader within the L.A. Roman Catholic diocese and beyond, loved that song. And many who knew him knew it.
It was a reminder that months after his death, O’Connell, the charismatic former episcopal vicar for the L.A. Archdiocese’ San Gabriel Pastoral Region, has been anything but forgotten.
It was one year ago, Feb. 18, when O’Connell, 69, was found shot and killed in the bedroom of his Hacienda Heights home.
The priest’s death stunned Southern California’s Roman Catholic community: Popular, nationally known priest. A man of the people. An advocate for the forgotten. Funny. Outspoken. A peacemaker shot dead.
Just days after a mass shooting in nearby Monterey Park, it sent ripples from L.A. to the White House and from the Vatican to O’Connell’s native Ireland.
In the days ahead, local Roman Catholic churches from Long Beach to L.A. and in the San Gabriel Valley will remember him.
The Church’s Religious Education Congress, a mammoth annual gathering of Catholics each year in Anaheim, will save a special moment near its end on Sunday to reflect on O’Connell.
On Feb. 24, a special Mass will be held at the San Gabriel Mission, where items belonging to him, such as his handwritten notes, a Bible, Rosary, a book of jokes, will be displayed.
But a year later, it won’t be the only way the slain priest’s legacy is being remembered.
Cuevas, a friend to O’Connell and the director of Immigration Affairs for the L.A. Archdiocese, said O’Connell’s ardent compassion for the struggle of immigrants has been alive and well over the past year as the church responds to an influx of migrants.
At a time when buses full of immigrant arrivals show up in cities across the country — including a couple dozen to Union Station Downtown L.A. — Cuevas said the diocese’s response is energized by one of O’Connell’s most endearing traits: kindness.
O’Connell was long on the front lines of leading and organizing for the poor, and for helping migrants find a foothold.
His ministry in the Southland began in 1979, mostly serving South L.A. It would grow to serve the poor and the marginalized – a theme that ran through his work, even when he was named auxiliary bishop of Los Angeles by Pope Francis in July 2015.
But many remember him for his efforts to help unaccompanied minors and DACA students in L.A. County. Such efforts would help many obtain green cards as they worked on a path to citizenship in the U.S.
“As an immigrant himself, Bishop Dave understood what it meant to have an immigrant journey,” he said. “He also understood the flip side of the coin: To welcome the stranger. To recognize the face of Jesus in every person we encounter, no matter where they are in their journey.”
For many, that journey has ended up on an L.A. street after many miles on a bus.
Since last summer, buses have arrived in L.A., prompted by states with governors who are protesting what they say is lax border security under the Biden Administration and the so-called “sanctuary” that some cities, such as L.A, provide for the arrivals.
The debate over border policy has hit fever pitch in the U.S., emerging as a major issue on the campaign trail as former President Donald Trump has pledged mass deportations if he is reelected.
But amid the politics, Cuevas said the goal is to simply help people who need help.
Locally, the diocese is part of the L.A. Welcome Collective, a group of nonprofits teamed with city and county offices to deploy every time a bus arrives.
Using churches, schools and welcome centers, collective members offer medical attention, mental health services, brief legal orientations, hygiene kids, even socks to folks whose clothing and shoes may not yet even dried from a border crossing through water. A priest is also available to listen, often offering more comfort to people initially than a clinician.
“It’s what Bishop David would always encourage us to do. He was always front and center at these gatherings and opportunities to serve,” he said. “He would always find a way to support them as best he could.”
Ultimately, O’Connell’s goal, much like those he inspired, was for seeking a path to legalization and holding legislators accountable for fixing a broken immigration system. But Cuevas noted that on a whole other level, it was just about making sure “these individuals are being welcomed in a way Bishop Dave would have welcomed them.”
Peacemaker
A year after the shooting, Msgr. Jarlath “Jay” Cunnane, pastor of St. Cornelius Catholic Church in Long Beach, reflected on a kind of “delayed grief” for his friend.
As Catholics mourned the bishop in the days following O’Connell’s death, Cunnane was in a kind of shock-driven auto-pilot mode that kept him from fully grieving for the man he knew so well from seminary in their native Ireland.
“So many things had to be done, between the funeral and arrangements with his family. It was kind of task-oriented,” he said. “I think it was later on, once the initial bustle and activity had died down, I began to miss the friendship that we had.”
A year later, Cunnane was building into his Sunday homily a remembrance of his friend. He, too, remembers O’Connell’s solidarity with the immigrant struggle. But he noted his friend’s unfinished efforts to bolster education for young people, including skills in trades and vocational training, and to establish peacemaking skills in a polarized society.
“It was the passion, sincerity and energy he brought to those commitments that spoke across confessional distinctions,” he said.
Near the end of his life, amid the pitch of a highly polarized society, O’Connell was increasingly interested in developing some kind of curriculum that could teach peacemaking, or conflict resolution skills, to young people, Cunnane said.
Cunnane said a team within the diocese is building off of O’Connell’s work with Scholas Occurentes — a global education project looking to expand in the U.S. that promotes connections among young people.
Cunnane said the team is working on such a curriculum, which might cater to junior high and middle school students.
Nicole Tobin and her husband Sean, among many young adults who befriended “Bishop Dave,” as they knew him, said with his support they started the L.A. campus of Encounter School of Ministry, which trains lay ministers within the church.
“We always think about him — it’s really because of (O’Connell) that we’re here,” said Nicole Tobuin. “He’s been such a father figure in our lives, and was really a champion of the laity.”
Bittersweet
The pastoral region that O’Connell administered is one of five in the L.A. Archdiocese. The San Gabriel Pastoral Region includes East L.A., San Gabriel and Pomona valleys, with 66 parishes, 14 high schools and Mission San Gabriel Archangel — the first church founded in the Archdiocese in 1771. It encompasses multiple cultures and languages.
O’Connell was the top administrator in the pastoral region.
These were not easy shoes to fill for new Auxiliary Bishop Brian Nunes, who was tapped by Pope Francis to fill the role. His installation Mass in November marked a time of transition in the year since the shooting.
It was a bittersweet moment. The loss of a regional giant still fresh. And yet, the beginning of something new.
“I like to tell people I’m still on my honeymoon,” he said last week. “ I’m loving it. I’m trying to get out to the 66 parishes that make up this region and I’m not there yet. But I’m getting towards halfway.
“One thing that I lack that my colleagues have is, I don’t have the ability to pick up the phone or have coffee with my predecessor and ask questions and pick their brain.”
That was the personal touch that was so typical of the relationships that O’Connell built. But the lives he impacted paved a way for Nunes, who was a business writer before becoming a priest in 2008. His posts included St. Gregory the Great Parish in Whittier and Mary Star of the Sea in San Pedro before becoming an auxiliary bishop.
“We always stand on the shoulders of those who go before us,” he said. “But the amazing thing about the legacy of Bishop Dave is, he touched so many people’s lives by being involved in this ministry. I can trace his footsteps in the lives of all these people. He made a big impact on so many people.”
Ireland and L.A.
What Cunnane was more tuned in with was O’Connell’s family and his homeland.
He said there will be a special Mass at O’Connell’s childhood parish, Sacred Heart Church in the village of Glounthaune, Ireland.
Back in Southern California, his adopted home, Archbishop Jose Gomez on Friday opened the Anaheim Religious Education Conference in O’Connell’s memory. Various parishes will remember O’Connell on Sunday. And on Feb. 24, Gomez will preside over the special Mass at San Gabriel Mission. The Rev. Timothy Dyer, a good friend of O’Connell’s and pastor at St. Patrick Church in South L.A., is set to preach the homily. Afterward, they’ll christen the small exhibit at the Mission to remember the slain priest.
Amid the remembrances, there’s an awareness among O’Connell’s admirers that part of the aftermath of his death is tied up not in a church but in the courts. The 62-year-old suspect accused in the killing remains in jail on $2 million bail, awaiting a court date in March.
O’Connell’s admirers acknowledge a passing interest in what happens.
But from here to Ireland, Catholics are focused elsewhere.
For Nunes, a solemn one-year anniversary will be a moment of resilience for parishioners.
“They’re moving forward with him, rather than staying behind with him,” he said.
Staff Writers Victoria Ivie and Allyson Vergara contributed to this story.
Source: Orange County Register
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