Story by Joe Pisani

For ten years, I worked in midtown Manhattan. For five hours every day I’d commute back and forth to work. I’d get up at 4:30 a.m., leave my house at 6:10, catch the train, and get to the office at 8:30. I’d catch the 5:45 train home and stagger through the door at 7:30, eat dinner, share a few pleasantries with my wife, my daughters and the dog. Then, I’d put my head on the pillow at 8:30 and get up and do it all over again. Sounds like a life sentence doesn’t it? 

But there were blessings along the way. My office in the Chrysler Building was across the street from the Church of St. Agnes, which had an illustrious history and was where Venerable Fulton J. Sheen delivered his homilies. 

The New York Times from March 25, 1978, ran a story with the headline, “Thousands at St. Agnes Hear Sheen in Good Friday Rite.” It said:

“Thousands jammed St. Agnes Church and the sidewalks outside it yesterday to hear Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen speak at the traditional Good Friday service.

“Inside the red‐brick church, the 1,200 seats in the balcony, and the 800 of the nave were filled, and worshipers overflowed into the side aisles, leaning against the confessionals, sitting on the carpeted ficor and perching on the steps to the altar. 

“Still a thousand others filled a basement room to watch on closed-circuit television. Outside, on the sidewalks of 43d and 44th Streets between Lexington and Third Avenues, loudspeakers carried the Archbishop’s address on the seven last words of Christ to thousands more.

“Although Clare Boothe Luce, former United States Ambassador to Italy, read prayers, the Archbishop was clearly the center of attention during the three‐hour service, which began at noon.”

From St. Agnes, Archbishop Fulton Sheen’s sermons were heard by millions around the world. He was such a venerated figure in the city that in 1980, then-Mayor Ed Koch named East 43rd Street the “Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen Place.”

The original church, which was built in 1873, was destroyed by a fire in 1992, and the current one opened in 1998.

After I read about his Good Friday sermons, where people crammed into church and listened on the street, I felt a sad nostalgia. What happened? That was a mere 45 years ago. 

Of course, a lot happened. These have been tumultuous years for the Church, and we’re still looking for answers. Many of us wish we could return to those fervent times, if that’s even possible. This much is certain: There’s a lot of work ahead. 

Today, the Archbishop’s cause for sainthood is before the Vatican. Videos from his “Life Is Worth Living” television show, which attracted millions of viewers, are still popular on YouTube and EWTN. The true faith still inspires us.

I never heard Fulton Sheen, but I was blessed to be able to sneak out of the office at lunch, take the elevator down from the 53rd floor of the Chrysler Building, rush across the street and get to Mass five minutes before it started. The church was like a sanctuary from the noise, the mayhem and the traffic in midtown Manhattan. Every afternoon there was Eucharistic adoration, and on a few occasions, I’d sneak out again, if only to kneel in the last pew for a few minutes in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.

There were other spiritual benefits. Every week I’d go to the parish office and buy Mass cards for friends and family members and even strangers — for their healing, their conversion, their well-being and the repose of their souls. All sorts of intentions. I certainly hope people have Masses said for me someday when I’m gone. Is there any greater gift?

Therese, the woman at the desk, would always tell me, “You can’t give anybody a greater gift than having Masses said. Someday, these people are going to thank you in Heaven.”

I certainly hope she was right. Not that I’m looking for any appreciation, but just knowing they all got to Heaven would be a reward in itself. However, I did receive my reward on Earth because every year, Therese would have a Mass said for me at St. Agnes on my birthday. 

Years later, long after she left the parish office and long after my career in the city ended,  I still have Masses said for her, and I occasionally return to St. Agnes for the Christmas Vigil Mass and an opportunity to recall the faith of our past, a faith so strong and fervent that we have to work hard to bring it back for younger generations.