On my return from abroad I heard of the death of Mgr Richard Breen, affectionately known as "Dick" to his friends. My first meeting with Dick was when he came to give the address at a Lenten service. Few will forget his rich, modulated speaking voice, which was known not only to the people of Bunclody, where he served faithfully as parish priest, but throughout the British Isles, where he conducted missions and retreats.
Dick was born and raised in Main Street, Wexford, where his father had a draper's shop. He used to tell me that we could shake hands across the street, as his family shop was opposite the magnificent St Iberius church. He recalled former times when Masses began at 6 a.m. and continued all morning on the hour. How times have changed.
A year or so ago I came upon Dick in hospital. He was very ill and "down in the dumps". I laid hands on this giant of the faith, and afterwards he often recalled how that prayerful interlude had strengthened and sustained him.
Mgr Dick was a wonderful priest and father figure. He had a great gift of encouragement. There was a graciousness about his presence and I always felt the better for having been in his company.
He would have been a fine pastoral bishop, and indeed administered the diocese of Ferns for a short period. While he wore a purple biretta, a mitre would have been out of place. He led by love, not authority.
We were sometimes paired together on clergy golf outings. Dick was our unofficial president, patron and father figure. It was always a joy and privilege to play with him. He loved his golf and the company of his fellow Ferns priests. He loved Enniscorthy Golf Club and his rounds with the senior veterans. They will miss him.
Last year, at the tragic funeral of our young golfing captain, Dick said to me as we left the graveyard: "Norman, I thought he'd see us down first." Dick was always conscious of "the final round" and that we have "no abiding city" here! In a society where priests get a bad press, Mgr Dick is a shining light which shall never be quenched.
"The pro is my shepherd, I shall lack nothing,
He leadeth me down clear fairways.
But thy loving kindness and mercy shall follow me along all the courses of life,
And I shall score in the low seventies forever".
N.T.R.