They had chosen St. Matthews Church, instead of the National Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, because Jackie could walk there from the White House, accompanying the caisson and the casket that held her husband. It was forty years ago this week, and as the world watched — as it was riveted — the first and only Catholic First Family resorted in their grief to their religion.
A Streak of Devotion
No one who was alive will forget the drama of the moment, which culminated in an old rite Mass celebrated by Cardinal Richard Cushing, Archbishop Patrick O'Boyle, and Auxiliary Bishop Philip Hannan of Washington, a personal friend and consultant of the president.
Kennedy, despite his roguish ways, had a streak of devotion inspired by his mother Rose — a daily communicant — and so did his wife, who in Dallas had prayed with a priest as he administered the last anointing. That Catholicism proved to be a thread that ran throughout an incredible three days. At Parkland Memorial Hospital minutes after the shooting, the priest, a Vincentian named Oscar Huber, had opened a black bag, extracted holy oils and cotton batting, along with a prayer book, and putting a thin stole around his neck set about blessing the dead or dying president. “I absolve you in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost,” the priest had intoned, lifting his eyes to that part of Kennedy's head that was missing.
Did the sacrament count? No one was sure. Extreme Unction — as it was then known — was not valid if the soul had departed. Father Huber sensed that Kennedy's soul was still there. “Through this anointing, may God forgive you whatever sins you may have committed,” he had prayed. Through a faculty granted by the Holy See he dispensed remission of sins and a plenary indulgence.
Jackie had watched the entire blessing, praying herself. Though in shock — in unmentionable agony — the contours of her face tamed every shadow. “Father,” the obviously frightened First Lady had asked, “do you think the sacraments had effect?”
Yes, Father Huber assured her.
“Father, please pray for Jack,” she had added.
Then it had been on to Washington and the funeral Mass.
God's Work Must Truly be Our Own
At this time, the world stood still. Millions poured into their own churches. Buses stopped in tribute. Subways ground to a halt. Trains stopped on trestles. In Greece, in Rome, in London, traffic came to a halt.
It wasn't a high mass, but it was enough, the eulogy composed in large part with the president's own words. “President Kennedy was fond of quoting the Bible,” noted Hannan in the sermon. “At the last dinner of his life in Houston, Texas, last Thursday night, he applied to a friend, as it should be applied to him, this combination of passages from Proverbs and the prophecy of Joel: 'Your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions. And where there is no vision the people perish.”
There were quotes from Ecclesiastes. There were quotes from his inauguration. America, entering the steep curve of the sixties, would never quite recover. Evil was in the air.
Along with the drama.
“The most poignant moment was the salute given by John John, but what they missed was that there were about 10,000 people on the other side of the street and when John John made that salute, they all burst into tears,” recalls the archbishop. “Nobody got that picture. That picture would have been the quintessential weeping picture of the whole event.”
And Hannan's last words in his eulogy? Again, a quote from the deceased president — who many believe sought confession just before his death. “With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own,” he himself had once said and now Hannan read.
Michael Brown is the author of 13 Catholic books and director of www.spiritdaily.com, a daily Catholic news site.
An Incredible Funeral
Bishop Hannan, 90, lives in New Orleans, and still vividly remembers it. According to historical accounts, Jackie wanted Hannan to read the eulogy and he was informed of this at midnight the night before the funeral.
It was a ceremony 3 a pontifical requiem Mass 3 that would be attended by representatives of more than ninety countries, along with every prominent politician in Washington. Hannan, who had flown in from Rome where he was attending Vatican II, had no time to get nervous. “I said of course I would do it,” he told Spirit Daily. “Archbishop O'Boyle got the message and said Jackie insisted that I give the sermon. Sargent Shriver had called O'Boyle to convey this and I said okay, but that I wanted to have someone from the State Department give me a list of leading dignitaries so that I could observe the right protocol. I was supposed to meet the guy the next morning at 10:30 in the sacristy of the cathedral. I was there and the guy said, 'I don't have any list. We've been overwhelmed. We haven't kept any list. So many came that we didn't know were coming. All I can tell you is stand up there in front of the church — you're going to receive the body anyway — and just watch the chief guests as they come, and remember that.'”
Thus was it the job of this auxiliary bishop to compose a salutation by feverishly searching all the faces.
Hannan had known the Kennedys for years, since Jack was a congressman. They had spoken on the phone and even debated issues like socialism. It was Bishop Hannan who had been up there on the stand for Kennedy's inauguration — greeted there personally by JFK — and had helped arrange for daughter Caroline to receive religious instruction. It was Hannan to whom Kennedy turned for advice that was Catholic. “When he was going to see the Pope, I told him not to genuflect and kiss his ring, because the Protestants would put a real spin on that,” recalls Hannan. Was there a curse? “The risk-taking was just in their blood,” says the prelate.
This was a Catholic family. An imperfect one, yes, but from all indications, it went beyond simple cultural heritage. Kennedy carried a money clip engraved with an image of St. Christopher and when he died bore in his a pocket a note from a priest who that morning had let him know that Masses were being said for him. He thought that important enough to show to Jackie. Perfect? Hardly. But concerned with the rituals of the faith. At their wedding, John and Jackie had received a special blessing from Pope Pius XII. (“The Holy Father on the occasion of marriage cordially imparts Honorable John F. Kennedy and Mrs. Kennedy his paternal apostolic blessing in pledging enduring Christian happiness in married life.”)
When their newborn Patrick died just months before the assassination, the president had been alone in a private chapel with Boston's Cardinal Cushing, weeping as he clutched the tiny coffin.
Now, that Catholicism was to anoint him in his own death.
Bishop Hannan was ready to stand before one of the largest audiences in the history of the world up to that point and had no time even to configure a list of those he should mention. There were people like Emperor Haile Salasie. There was the queen's husband, wearing a sword. There was French President Charles DeGaulle. There was of course the new president, Lyndon B. Johnson. “An usher put Eisenhower and Truman in a side pew — not even in the center aisle — so of course I didn't see them and so I didn't acknowledge them, but they didn't take any umbrage,” recalls the retired archbishop after all these years.
Hannan got through it because he knew the routine from handling other Washington events as auxiliary — he often had dealt with foreign guests — and he simply fell back on that protocol. The homily was just eight to ten minutes with the world watching. “Jackie didn't want long,” he says. “She didn't want a high mass, either.”
