Father Bill Holt was the last of the old time greats
Father Bill Holt was the last of the old time greats
I initially encountered Father William Holt, OP, during my time as a novice. Father Holt had some purpose that required him to stop by St. Gertrude’s, our Dominican novitiate’s residence. (He had likely come “to fly the flag,” a phrase he frequently used.) His stature overshadowed even that of my formidable novice master. Whenever Father Holt was present, everyone found it difficult to contribute to the conversation (apart from him).
He was brimming with clever quips, which he referred to as “Helpful Hints from Holt.” Frequently as insightful as they were audacious, he holds legendary recognition among the young friars who were acquainted with him, largely due to these commonly shared — seldom sought — snippets of clerical counsel.
“Always use your elbows to press the doorbell,” suggested Father Holt. In his opinion, both arms ought to be laden with presents for your host.
“It’s referred to as the economy of salvation, brother,” Father Holt admonished. This signified a Sunday Mass was to be 38 minutes.
“Notice these hands?” he would inquire while waving them in front of you. “They’re blessed, not severed.” A priest ought to exert significant effort, Father Holt was convinced. This implied not only fulfilling priestly responsibilities but also embracing any other tasks that presented themselves.
“You’re not in the Order to build friendships, buddy. Observe the crucifix. That’s your companion,” he insisted. There was a profound understanding in his regard for religious life. He had scant tolerance for those who craved attention or voiced grievances.
A magnetic priest
Father Holt appeared flawless. His white robe was seldom marred by a blemish and was consistently pressed with precision. (This feature alone set him apart from numerous friars who frequently show signs of the week’s meals on their scapulars.)
His greatest attribute was his capacity to consider others.
He was a person with a multitude of friendships. He sent an outrageous quantity of Christmas cards annually. He consistently corresponded with the brothers separately, honoring their careers, ordinations, and significant anniversaries.
At times, it manifested as playful ribbing, similar to the Holt-isms mentioned earlier. He gained widespread attention multiple times on social media. Most recently, he was featured in a Humans of New York Facebook post. (He contacted me later to confirm that I had noticed it and teased me, stating that seasoned friars can still demonstrate to younger friars “the way to do it.”) In the message, he expressed a prayer, “From all grumpy saints, rescue me, O’ Lord. I do not wish to be among a grouch, a crank, a reptile in a swamp.”
That presence was captivating. Some of it stemmed from his New Jersey upbringing, some of it was influenced by his Irish heritage. Everything about it had a clerical quality. It attracted individuals towards him. And it wasn’t merely an act; it was genuinely authentic.
Companionship with Christ
I am curious about how many residents of New York were impacted by him, as he lingered outside the priory on Lexington Ave., savoring a moment of “fresh air.” How many lives did he cleanse in the confessional at St. Vincent Ferrer?
He possessed a talent for capturing one’s focus on what was truly important. Moreover, he cherished being a priest.
Indeed, Father Holt departed this life in Ireland, experiencing a remarkable last day in this realm. The day prior, he had administered the anointing to another senior priest and co-celebrated a wedding Mass. He remained a vibrant and involved priest right up until the very end.
In the previous year, Father Holt told America Media“Jesus is at the core of my existence. It’s not just his teachings, but also the connection with the Father and the commitment to obedience. I genuinely believe that’s what it’s all about.”
Unyielding, determined, and joyful, Father Holt’s method of living as a priest was made possible not due to his numerous companions, but because of his one true companion, Jesus Christ.
He genuinely was, as he referred to himself, “the final figure of the bygone era’s legends.”
