Fr Angelus: A Polished Arrow in God’s Quiver

A review of a recent book, a biography of a Capuchin Friar, Fr Angelus Shaughnessy, OFMCap (16 November 1929-2 March 1918).

From One Peter Five

By Augustine Himmel

The solution to all the problems of the world resides in the Holy Eucharist.

My brothers Mike and Tim were avid readers. Mike preferred novels, while Tim leaned toward nonfiction, and neither of them shied away from books that, though not written in stone, weighed nearly as much as the Ten Commandments. So you can imagine my surprise the day I asked Tim how he liked a thick opus he was reading and, after feigning a scowl, he said, “Not enough pictures.” From then on that became our standard reply when either of us made such an enquiry: “Not enough pictures.”

No one could say that, however, regarding the recently published biography of Fr. Angelus Shaughnessy. Written by his good friend, Dr. Paula A. Calabrese, the pages are loaded with pictures, and she even describes this work as “a pictorial biography.” There’s plenty of text, of course, and Calabrese is well qualified to provide it, because she knew Fr. Angelus for over sixty years, having first met him when she was a teenager and he, newly ordained, gave a talk at her high school.

The full title of the biography is Fr. Angelus, Capuchin Franciscan: A Polished Arrow in God’s Quiver. That subtitle refers to the opening verses of Isaiah 49, where the prophet says, “Hear me, coastlands; listen distant peoples. Before birth, the Lord called me from my mother’s womb. He gave me my name. He made my mouth like a sharp-edged sword, concealed me, shielded by His hand. He made me a polished arrow; in His quiver, He hid me.”

Could there be a better description of Fr. Angelus? Yet as Calabrese notes, crafting arrows is a multi-stepped process. It takes work. And for Matthew Shaughnessy, a perfectionist with a quick temper—who secretly experimented with pipe smoking at age ten—becoming a polished arrow befitting God’s quiver required a lifetime of work and prayer.

The foundation for such a life was provided by his parents, John and Anna Shaughnessy, who nurtured twelve children in the Catholic faith. The Sacred Heart of Jesus was enthroned in their home and every evening the family prayed the Rosary. Moreover, the devout couple never raised their voices to each other, their obvious love and commitment enabling the children to feel secure. Fr. Angelus said, “Their example was sterling. I’m convinced that without the support and example of my parents, I would either be in prison or in hell.”

Where he did go, after turning down an offer to pitch for the Cleveland Indians, was to St. Fidelis Seminary in Herman, PA, to become a Capuchin Franciscan. His classmates recognized him as a Renaissance man interested not only in religion and athletics—he captained their basketball team—but also music, literature, and history. This diverse knowledge base, along with quotations and anecdotes he began keeping in a file box of 3×5 cards, were the ingredients he’d later bake into his rich, satisfying homilies.

While at St. Fidelis he composed a meditation on the Virgin Mary that Calabrese has included in the biography. The meditation focuses on Our Lady’s humanity, and though Matthew Shaughnessy was only nineteen when he wrote it, his wisdom and wit were already on display. He noted that historical events often seem “picturesque when viewed through the sunset of the past,” but that belies the gritty truth of what happened. There’s nothing wrong with a beautiful painting such as Bouguereau’s Madonna of the Lilies, yet the Capuchin postulant wondered, “Where is the Mary that actually lived as wife and mother? Where is the Madonna of the Sweeping Broom, or the Madonna of the Steaming Kettle, or even Mary, Madonna of the Wash Tub?”

Fr. Angelus was ordained on June 4, 1955. Though he would eventually become renowned for his homilies, which included memorable maxims such as “Only the humble are happy” and “Courage is fear that has said its prayers”—Calabrese calls these “Angelisms”—the Eucharist was the center of his vocation. It was the reason he became a priest. He said, “The solution to all the problems of the world resides in the Holy Eucharist. I believe that with all my heart.”

Fr. Angelus celebrates his first Solemn Mass.

Shortly after his ordination he was named the St. Augustine Province’s Director of the Secular Franciscan Order, and for a decade ministered to its adult and youth members. He wrote articles for the Valley Franciscan, developed his preaching style, and spent a lot of time on the road visiting high schools throughout western Pennsylvania. Students loved him, and he wound up investing over 1,000 members.

Then, always eager to learn more himself, he volunteered to be a missionary in Papua New Guinea. During the next fourteen years, despite catching malaria several times, he performed over 1,200 baptisms, taught scores of seminarians, and helped the locals establish eleven permanent churches. Calabrese provides wonderful documentation about this phase of his life, such as a 1966 letter he wrote to friends back in Pittsburgh. She also includes a list of student quotes he compiled that revealed their culture at the time, a prime example being, “When that man knocked out my eye, he had to pay my parents two pigs.”

Upon returning to the States, Fr. Angelus quickly found himself in demand for religious conferences and retreats. Additionally, he started an audiovisual ministry, first with tapes and then CDs—a forerunner of the New Evangelization. Whether listening to him in person or through a recording, people cherished his illuminating discourse. As Calabrese notes, “He was skilled at weaving literature, poetry, history, personal stories, and scriptural references into his homilies, along with a touch of his Irish humor.”

In 1992 he began helping Pittsburgh’s Latin Mass community. His reputation made him a stamp of approval for the traditionalist movement. Fr. Angelus loved the Mass of the Ages, the one he grew up with and was originally trained in, and he always celebrated it with great reverence. He said, “The faithful who participate in these Holy Masses truly have a sense of the sacred. Even the children who come are most edifying.”

He encouraged these parishioners in their traditional devotions, their family life, and especially in the homeschooling of their children. Frequently, he spoke at homeschooling conferences, days of recollection, and pious ceremonies such as May Crownings. Fr. Angelus also took time to visit homeschooling families and provide prayerful support for their domestic church.

From 2001-2007, the influence of the popular Capuchin spread far beyond Pittsburgh. Mother Angelica had asked him to be Guardian of the Franciscan Missionaries of the Eternal Word, to help mold the order of priests she founded, and in this role he often celebrated the televised EWTN Masses. These were Novus Ordo Masses, but Fr. Angelus included Latin (Sanctus, benedictio) and Greek (Kyrie Eleison) responses, explaining that doing so showed respect for the multicultural, universal audience of EWTN. Even though he was in his seventies, and needed to rise at 4:30 a.m. to be ready for Mass, he fulfilled his duties like a “good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21), and millions of souls were nourished by his enthusiastic proclamation of the Gospel.

Father Angelus preaching for EWTN, and visiting with Mother Angelica.

When he completed his work at EWTN, Fr. Angelus, now almost eighty, resumed his hectic travel schedule. Calabrese describes him as “indefatigable,” and for several more years he was. Revered not only as a gifted preacher but also a gentle confessor—he referred to penitents as “bruised reeds” (Isaiah 42:3)—he soldiered on despite various health problems. Eventually, however, cancer slowed his pace, and like my brothers Mike and Tim, he bore that heavy cross with great courage until he died in 2018.

Mike didn’t travel as much as Fr. Angelus, but on weekends he was a troubadour, taking his guitar, harmonica, and sound system to the pubs of mid-Michigan where he’d sing the songs of Bob Dylan and other artists. His stage name was Matchbox Mike, a nod to the Carl Perkins composition, “Matchbox,” which contains the line, “I’m an ol’ poor boy and a long way from home.”

All of us who are part of the Church Militant, whether male or female, are a long way from our heavenly home. We still struggle against the world, the flesh, and the devil. However, we know we’re watched over by “a great cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1), and Jesus makes clear that those who have died are indeed, alive (Mark 12:26-27).

Most people on earth never had the pleasure of knowing my brothers Mike and Tim, yet if they read this delightful biography they will get to know Fr. Angelus, and to all three of them we can with confidence say, “Pray for us!”