A Tribute to My Friend, Anne

My friend Anne Dennean died last week. Her death did not merit a public announcement. There were no articles about her in the newspapers. No news flashes across the TV screens. Anne died quietly surrounded by her family and close friends, which is exactly how she wanted to go. Her obituary was just a simple statement about whom she left behind- her children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. Anne was a mother, wife, teacher and friend and a regular church-goer who participated in the life of the church. She was, by most accounts, considered an ordinary person who lived an ordinary life. By my account, Anne was far from ordinary. She was one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met. One line in her obituary summed up who Anne was: “Anne also leaves behind her dearest friend, Kay Spodnick, her friends and family of the Saint James community with whom she walked her spiritual journey and cared for so many others along the way.”

I first met Anne at church many years ago. She came up to me after Mass. I really did not know who she was. I probably saw Anne at Mass and maybe elsewhere but didn’t really know anything about her. I was at a point in my life where I would go to Mass on Sunday simply to fulfill an obligation. So I would go, feign participation and get out as quick as I could so I could check off that box. Anne came up to me and said she just wanted to thank me. Since I didn’t know her I was caught a bit off guard as to why she was thanking me. She went on to say that I coached her granddaughter’s basketball team. Anne and her husband Jim went to all the games. She said she always heard me shouting encouragement and congratulating the girls, I made sure all the girls were engaged, and it doesn’t matter whether they win or lose just that they had fun. I thought to myself, “This woman is someone I want to know more about.”

Over the years I got to spend more time getting to know Anne.  I considered her a friend and mentor. She did not run organizations, speak at rallies, write books or receive great honors. She was just a simple, humble woman who understood what being Catholic and following Jesus actually meant. I think we, as Catholics, often get categorized into three groups: Those who are very pious and spend time in prayer, attending Mass several times a week and participating in Rosaries and Novenas at the church; those who are charitable, who tend to go to Mass every week and maybe bring food in for the food pantry or even volunteer occasionally for the soup kitchen or food pantry. The third category is the social justice Catholics. They spend a lot of time protesting injustice and try to bring about systematic change. Anne was one of those rare people who understood and felt equally comfortable in all three situations.  She would easily move from a Rosary prayer group to hanging out with homeless folks or standing in front the School of the Americas protesting. She understood, better than anyone I know, the importance and intersectionality of prayer, charity and justice. She would say to me that if you are not doing all three you are not really following Jesus. On the same day she would show up at an IAF organizing meeting after spending an hour praying at the Blessed Sacrament. Anne also understood that the church is not about priests or bishops. She understood that we are not there to serve them, but they are there to serve us. She did not hesitate to say that to our pastor, Father Tom, on a regular basis. She also didn’t wait to get permission to act, she went ahead and then told Father Tom afterward. She would say, “It is our church, not the priests’ church.” She knew that action without prayer would fail, and prayer without action was meaningless and if all we were doing was charity we weren’t really doing anything.

I remember about eight years ago, Anne and her friend Kay gathered a few of us together and said we have to do more for the homeless. She said all we are doing is occasionally collecting coats and other stuff and dropping them off at a homeless shelter. We never take the time to hear their stories, to engage, to build relationships. How can we bring change if we don’t even know who they are? So we started a new ministry. It started with eight of us and we would gather on a Sunday morning to make packages of toiletries. We would go to a place underneath a bridge in Bridgeport, CT where the homeless congregated and spend time listening to stories while handing out toothbrushes and soap. The ministry grew from a handful of folks handing out a few toiletries for some homeless folks, to 50 or so parishioners gathering and bringing truckloads of stuff to hundreds of their brothers and sisters who were marginalized. We did this while listening to their stories and occasionally telling our stories and smiling, laughing, hugging, and praying together. Anne didn’t ask permission, she didn’t start a committee to explore the possibilities, and she didn’t draft a strategic plan. She didn’t write to the bishop to make sure it was okay. She just decided it was needed and invited anyone who wanted to be part of this spiritual journey to join. But she also understood that it is not enough to feed the hungry. We also have to question why there are children who go to bed each night hungry.  It was good to visit the sick but if you then vote for politicians who support cutting programs that help the sick, then it is hypocritical to visit the sick. Anne asked me one time “Don’t people realize that if you vote for a person who is racist, that makes you a racist?”

After I took my job as executive director of the Franciscan Action Network I did not get to see Anne as much. Whenever I was back in Connecticut, I would always try and find time to get a cup of coffee with Anne. She would always want to know what I was doing, who I met and when was I getting arrested again. I kept trying to get her to come down and get arrested with me. A couple of years ago, I was on one such coffee date with her, and I told her I was getting arrested the next week and that she should come and join me. She said no, she was too old and not able to travel. She asked me what time and day and then she said, “When you are in your jail cell, I will be praying so I will be with you in spirit.” When I got arrested, I sat in my cell, closed my eyes and prayed, and felt Anne’s presence and prayers. I knew she was with me. Of course, the next time I saw her I asked that since she was with me, maybe she should split the fine with me.

When I was around 11 years old, I remember one day in school we were learning about the saints. We had a discussion about which saint we wanted to be like. The Sister listened and then said that it is good to study the lives of the saints and even try and imitate them. But what is better is to remember that there are saints walking among us today. She went on to say she did not mean the really holy people we read about, but rather the saints living on our street, attending our church, shopping at the grocery store or at the park. Just common ordinary people are saints because of how they live their lives. We should find those folks and emulate them. Anne was my saint.

Peace