Contacts & Publisher

Subscription Form

Kristin Lukowski of The Michigan Catholic
Published May 12, 2006

Detroit – "To have my mom as my mom is not only a privilege but a great honor," said Fr. Tim Laboe, pastor of St. Valentine Parish in Redford.

"She's my greatest fan," said Fr. Dan Jones, an instructor at Sacred Heart Major Seminary, about his mother.

"She had infinite patience," said Fr. Stephen Rooney, pastor of St. Michael Parish in Monroe, about his mother.

Fr. Ray Lewandowski, pastor of St. Patrick Parish in Wyandotte, said his mother is "accepting and loving" as well as concerned for others.

With Mother's Day this weekend, the archdiocese's priests are no exception to the many people who will be bringing their mother flowers, taking them out to dinner or calling to wish them well on their special day. In addition to feeding and clothing their children, mothers of priests also have to foster and support what can be a difficult vocation.

Fr. Rooney

Fr. Rooney, for example, is one of 13 children of a "very devout" mother. Mary Catherine Rooney would often take a sick baby – or several – into the family's two-bedroom house for care, Fr. Rooney remembers.

"She was known to be good with children," he said.

She also has a genuine concern for people, and never showed off her faith. When Fr. Rooney told her he wanted to be a priest – on laundry day, when she was in soap suds up to her elbows – she told him he shouldn't be doing it just for show.

With the civil conflict in Northern Ireland in the past decades, she suffered a lot, especially since five of her sons were imprisoned. But she would visit her sons in jail and make sure their wives were cared for.

Fr. Stephen Rooney,with his mother, Mary Catherine Rooney,and dog, Sorcha, stay in touch although she still lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

Fr. Rooney's parents were married for 60 years, and although his father didn't go to church for decades, she never forced him to go. Instead, she prayed for him to come back to Church, and he did return before he died.

One thing Fr. Rooney did not have was gourmet meals. He admits his mother lacked imagination in the kitchen and would prepare the same meal every Monday, every Tuesday, and so on throughout the week. "Every day we knew what we were having," he said. "She was not a great cook."

Living in the Belfast area, she now walks two miles to daily Mass and two miles back, even though she's in her 80s.

Fr. Laboe

Fr. Laboe is also one child in a big family, the second of nine. He said his mother is hard-working and cheerful, and always willing to help out.

"You really have to know my mom," he said. "She has more energy than you would believe."

He's quick to admit that his training for the priesthood began at home, and that he learned to be kind, gracious, giving, cheerful and hard-working from his mother. Both parents were very comfortable around people, and the house was always open and full of friends and cousins.

Fr. Laboe said he can remember playing football and being able to hear his mother screaming over all the other fans in the stands. "I could definitely hear my mother cheering me on," he said.

Fr. Laboe's mother, Marilyn Laboe, 67, of Monroe, said her son was active in sports and student government, and had a curious mind growing up. It was his lifelong dream to attend Notre Dame, and the day he got his acceptance letter was a happy day for the family.

"We didn't want to live with him if he didn't get in," she joked.

She was supportive of her son becoming a priest, Fr. Laboe said. In fact, although he had only been thinking about it for a few months, he later found out she'd told her pastor two years earlier she knew her son was going to be a priest.

Fr. Tim Laboe learned many life lessons from his mother, Marilyn, such as how to work hard and how to be cheerful.

Although Laboe admits she's prejudiced, she thinks her son is a great priest and a good role model for young men. She also said she admires him for answering the call, as there are probably a lot of people out there being called who are discouraged.

Fr. Laboe was rarely influenced by his peers, standing his ground when he felt strongly about something, but neither criticizing people, she remembered. "He was always his own person," she said.

He has a good relationship with his brothers and sisters, although they never miss the opportunity to one-up one another. If Fr. Laboe is at a Pistons game, for example, he will make sure to call his brothers courtside to let them know he's there and they're not, Laboe said.

"They all do that," she said.

Fr. Laboe has also been known to provide plenty of sugary treats to his nieces and nephews and get them riled up before turning them over to their parents, she said.

Fr. Laboe said everyone knows his mother, and she knows and has the ability to keep track of everyone else. "She's just so well-loved by so many people," he said. "She is a fantastic person."

Fr. Jones

Fr. Jones, the oldest of six, said his mother also taught by both word and example at home. When he was about 5, she was pregnant with his brother, and she was told by the doctor that she would die if she carried the baby to term. She was advised to have an abortion.

"She said 'no, over my dead body,'" Fr. Jones said.

The pregnancy wasn't without difficulty, but both mother and son lived and she had three more children after that. For Fr. Jones, it became an example to him of how she took her faith seriously.

Joan Jones, 76, of the Ypsilanti/Ann Arbor area, said she hoped at least one of her children would choose religious life. Young Dan was a regular boy growing up, she remembered, and she didn't push him to the priesthood.

Although Fr. Dan Jones’ mother, Joan, thinks her son works too hard, she’s grateful for the person he is, she said.

Fr. Jones said his mother taught him to pray and how to respect others, among other things. Although he got cold feet and delayed his entrance into the seminary, his mother was always supportive – partly because her own brother is a priest, Fr. Michael Chowning, OFM, who served at St. Michael Parish in Southfield and is now in Kentucky.

"She was very, very happy I decided to do it," he said. "That was one of the best things she could imagine, one of her sons being a priest."

His father died in 1974, when he was 21, which means his mother had to finish raising her children by herself. "It was tough for her," he said. "We all turned out OK. That's the greatest tribute – her kids all turned out well."

Jones, who is also a member of the support and prayer group Parents of Priests, said God has blessed her son and, although she thinks he works too hard with too few days off, she is glad he's happy in what he's doing. "I'm so grateful that he is the person he is," she said.

Fr. Lewandowski

Not only did Fr. Lewandowski's mother, Theresa Lewandowski of Warren, always insist her children had a hot meal for breakfast, she always watched her son and two daughters leave from the window, most likely while praying for their safety, Fr. Lewandowski remembered.

He also remembers his parents being concerned for him when he told them he wanted to be a priest, because he was a shy child.

Lewandowski, 79, was surprised when her son announced he was going to be a priest, but said he was always involved at church, giving readings and singing in the choir. "I think I kind of sensed it," she said. "He was involved in Church work a lot."

Although his parents wondered how he would celebrate Mass in front of a congregation, his seminary training helped him learn.

Lewandowski said her son is devoted to his nephews and to her, coming over to help if she needs a favor or needs to make a long drive. Even though he's very busy at his parish, he makes the time for her, she said.

"If I need to do anything or go anywhere, he's more than willing to take me," she said.

Lewandowski said not only was she pleased with him as a boy, she was also pleased when he was ordained a priest. Although Fr. Lewandowski's father died in March, he and his mother talk several times a week.

"I think they were very proud of me," he said.