By Gretchen Keiser

In the end, it was Father John Mulroy's parish "family" who graciously met the hundreds of people coming to services to remember and pray for him. Young men efficiently directed the continuous line of cars into makeshift parking rows along the hillside outside Holy Family's church building Sept. 23.

The modern sanctuary was quickly filled and lines formed down side aisles and across the back as Archbishop Thomas A. Donnellan and some 90 to 100 priests gathered to celebrate the Mass of Christian Burial.

It was tearful and uplifting as the parish joined with many visitors to honor the 53-year-old priest from Brooklyn. He was recalled by Father Joseph Sanchez, the homilies, as an innovator and activist and by his parishioners as a complex man and pastor who spent his last few months opening to the love and care of those who had been placed in his care at Holy Family parish.

Father Mulroy had requested the opening song, "Faith of Our Fathers," music brought to Catholic services from the Protestant tradition after the Second Vatican Council. It was expressive of his desire to reach out to other denominations, said Peggy Stapleton, organist and parish adult choir director. The "Amen" used in the Mass was specifically selected because Daddy King, the Rev. Martin Luther King, Sr., would be coming to honor his friend from the period of civil rights marches when the "Amen" was one of the anthems used to buoy protestors' spirits.

During the eight months when he knew he was suffering from cancer, Father Mulroy held out hope for his recovery and was, Father Sanchez said, still "dreaming out loud" from his hospital bed about plans to expand the parish ministry. Several parishioners, some of whom had been with the parish since its 1973 founding, said his dream was to have the community become like its name, Holy Family, which he loved. "He wanted us to feel like a family," Peggy Stapleton said. "To me (the name) embodied everything he wanted us to be." It became a large, diversified parish of more than 1,500 families, with widely divergent needs and expectations. The size troubled him, friends said, but they believe that it was part of his vision that the parish became a home for so many different organizations and activities. He wanted the parish to be "Catholic" with a place for different expressions of faith.

"He accepted people where they were," said parishioners Ed and Diane Connolly. From that point, they said, he would let a person grown, often trusting their responsibility and leadership even when they might not have believed in themselves. In the final months of his life, he opened to the simple ministrations of his parish family, who helped to drive him when needed, cared for him, prayed for and with him and expressed their love.

"He liked me," one little boy said matter-of-factly after his encounter with Father Mulroy, parish educator Mary Schreiner recalled. That summed up a reciprocal feeling.

Dianne Connolly, one of those caring for him in his illness, said he had expressed gratitude that he hadn't died suddenly. "I would never have known how many people love me and I would never have been able to tell them how much I love them," he had said.