Appreciation Another luminary lost: F.X. Murphy dies at
87
By ARTHUR JONES
The April 11 death of Redemptorist Fr. Francis X. Murphy, 87,
removes one more of the final few -- the last living luminaries of
the Second Vatican Council (1962-65). The luminaries were those integral to
shaping or extending the councils influence.
As one numbers now among the few Austrias
Cardinal Franz Koenig and Americas Msgr. Frederick McManus, whose
influences were lasting if less public, one is reminded again how immediate was
Murphys impact -- as Xavier Rynne.
His story, these days, is well enough known.
As Vatican II opened in October 1962, there appeared in The
New Yorker Letter From Vatican City, the first of 13
pseudonymous articles spread over the next four years of the council.
All were written by Xavier Rynne, whose identity was a secret, but
not a particularly well-kept one.
Given that the Letter for the first time opened doors
onto the Vaticans inner workings, and candidly profiled its personalities
-- it was revelatory to the point of being incendiary. Rynnes name and
writings spread like wildfire.
Because his commentaries were not those of an obedient
Redemptorist son, Murphy -- his middle name was Xavier, his mothers birth
name was Rynne -- was obliged to deny his authorship more times a week than
Peter denied Jesus in his entire life. Redemptorist superiors -- and others --
knew the exuberant scholar, Murphy, was their man, yet couldnt prove
it.
Years later, Murphy did admit the truth because, as he told
Cardinal Pio Laghi, Vatican nuncio to the United States at that time, If
I died tomorrow, the Jesuits would claim [Rynne], and the Redemptorists would
be delighted to get rid of him. But by then Murphys authorship had
been an accepted fact for more than a decade.
Francis X. Murphy was born in the Irish Bronx, son of immigrants.
The son of a policeman and a hotel worker, he was a scholarly though merry boy
who entered the Redemptorist Minor Seminary in 1928, took his Redemptorist vows
in 1935 and was ordained in 1940.
He was gregarious, occasionally garrulous, reveled in the company
of women as much as men and was a friend in need to a legion of friends. He was
funny, and, when on a roll, a bit of a showoff -- though to great effect. And
that started early.
Though later friends called him, Frank, and others
referred to him as F.X., to his intimates he was Moiph.
Thats because as a teenage seminarian he was asked in class what a
parenthesis was. And Murphy, with a feigned Brooklyn accent, replied,
Its a woid wit a coive at the front and a coive at the back.
Hence, Moiph.
He added to his coterie at every step of his career -- friends
made at the Catholic University of America, where he received his masters
and doctorate in medieval history; as a naval chaplain in Annapolis (at a time
when St. Marys Parish, Annapolis, provided the chaplains); in Rome in the
late 1940s for further studies; in war-torn Europe working for Catholic Relief
Services; as an Army chaplain in Korea and elsewhere.
He doffed his military uniform in 1959 to teach moral theology at
the Pontifical Lateran University and at the Accademia Alfonsiana (1959-71),
Romes Redemptorist seminary.
Murphy was in Rome when the council opened and, just before it
did, he submitted to The New Yorker a Vatican insiders account of
what was underway and underfoot, as distinct from what was being officially
announced and pronounced. At New Yorker editor William Shawns
suggestion, the Redemptorist worked through an agent, who turned Murphys
wry, if somewhat scholarly prose, into The New Yorkers witty,
slightly detached style.
Once launched, Rynne-Murphy, a natural gatherer of information who
loved feasts, friendships and gossip, set down with a sharp eye what he
dispatched to The New Yorker. The articles appeared as a book in 1968,
reprinted in 1999.
From Rome, he went to Princeton in the 1970s as a visiting
professor, from there to the Woodrow Wilson Center for International Studies,
then Johns Hopkins until 1975, at which point he was named rector of Holy
Redeemer College in Washington, D.C., a residence for students, not an academic
institution.
Those attending Murphys installation as rector included the
officiating Washington Cardinal William Baum, which gave the meeting a certain
piquancy.
Baum, as chairman of the U.S. bishops Committee on Doctrine,
had lately castigated the Catholic Theological Society of Americas book,
Human Sexuality. Murphy had just praised it in The Tablet of
London as an achievement that marks the arrival at maturity of the U.S.
Theological Society.
In 1985, Murphy retired to St. Marys, Annapolis. For the
next decade, he was spry enough, and lunch in a nearby restaurant was a feature
for friends occasional visits. His Parkinsons disease advanced, and
the last few trips out meant he relied heavily on his cane and a nearby
supportive arm for assistance.
By the late 90s, lunch with visitors was taken at the
rectory. Afterward, on a bench outside, thered be good conversation for,
once the requisite revisiting of Vatican II was over, Murphy was at heart a
historian. And a fine one. There was always plenty to learn from him.
Twenty-one years ago, NCR asked Murphy, What happens
to the church with 20 or more years of John Paul II? The historian
replied: Well, Pius X (1903-14) drove the scholars underground. Maybe the
repression forced a lot of scripture scholars, particularly, to come down on
one side or the other. And they came down on the open-wide, scientific side.
This pope is very astute, he continued. The curia as set up carries
out his desires and designs because it is of a similar mind. He is strictly a
conservative pope who follows from a theological viewpoint a very tight
scholastic approach. Yet this pope has outreach. So its very difficult to
figure this man out.
Figuring out Murphys contribution is less difficult. An
excellent scholar, he nonetheless prided himself on being eternally Rynne.
And had every reason to do so.
Arthur Jones is NCR editor at large. His e-mail address
is ajones96@aol.com
National Catholic Reporter, May 3, 2002
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