Love of the Irish: Monsignor John Barry
Mosignor John Barry celebrates his Jubilee Anniversary with an outdoor Mass at American Martyrs. Photo by Ciley Carrington
Monsignor John Barry could read an instruction manual and hold his listeners spellbound. Maybe it’s the Irish lilt, or his innate skill as a storyteller, or maybe it’s the undertones of strength and gentleness in his voice.
Whatever it is, he’s tapped the power of the spoken word to transform American Martyrs Catholic Church in Manhattan Beach from a sleepy seaside parish to a powerhouse, with thousands of members.
You won’t hear fire and brimstone from this monsignor. His weekly homilies are filled with humor and emotion, with an emphasis on the human side of the God and Man relationship.
In one Sunday sermon, Barry told of a Saturday evening stroll he took to downtown Manhattan Beach. His homily wasn’t coming together, so he had gone out to clear his head. Suddenly a group of boys recognized him and called him over for a group photo. They were on a scavenger hunt and needed to take a picture of a “nerdy guy.”
“I was the nerdy guy,” he laughed. “They completely threw me under the bus.”
He doesn’t preach where you should go, he simply invites you along for the journey.
Monsignor John Barry American Martyrs
“Life is to be celebrated. If you look at the Scriptures, what is the gift that Jesus gives us? The gift of joy,” said the 74-year-old priest who just celebrated his Golden Jubilee, the 50-year anniversary of his ordination.
More than 2,000 people attended an outdoor Mass on the American Martyrs School baseball field. It was testament to how far he’d come since his less-than-stellar arrival at the church 24 years ago. Some say he was a breath of fresh air, others thought he was more like a Category 5 hurricane.
“It wasn’t easy for him. There was a core group of people who wanted things done the way they’d always been done,” said one parishioner.
That meant Masses by rote, limited to 45-minutes. Barry’s vision was of a more personally involved Mass that included lots of music, children on the altar during the breaking of the bread and a question and answer session after the homily. He used newspapers and singing, stuffed animals as props. He called on his flock to volunteer to help others through the various new ministries.
“He basically came in and said it’s time to get to work. This is what it means to be a church. You can do more. You’re more gifted than you even know,” said Deacon Derek Brown, who Barry tapped to sing and play guitar for the 5 p.m. Mass.
The resistance he encountered began to wear. Six months after his arrival, he went home to Cork, Ireland, and had serious doubts about returning to American Martyrs.
“I just felt this wasn’t a good match for me and I wasn’t a good match for the people,” he said.
Monsignor Barry's sister Breda Fennessey (center), her husband Tony and daughter Marie came from Ireland to participate in the Jubilee Mass. Photo by Ciley Carrington
His mother stood firm, telling her son that she did not raise her children to run from anything and that the people needed him. When he landed at LAX, a group of parishioners sensing his apprehension and self-doubt, met him at the airport.
As he looked back on those first six months, Barry admits he made mistakes. “This parish was mourning the sudden death of their priest,” he said. “I should have been more patient.”
Barry says a missionary priest who often visited his family’s home sparked his first interest in the priesthood. Then, as a high school senior, he had a chance meeting with Cardinal Francis McIntyre of the Los Angeles Archdiocese. There was shortage of priests in Los Angeles and the cardinal was on a recruiting mission.
“He painted LA as the most pagan area in the world. I was excited about what I could do,” Barry said.
Instead of accepting a university scholarship, Barry decided to enter the seminary in Dublin, where he spent seven years studying philosophy and theology. He was ordained in June 1961 and sent as a missionary to Bellflower. Throughout his studies and subsequent travels, Barry always had the support of his family, who considered it a blessing that he was called to the priesthood.
“We did think America was a long way away, but whatever he did, we were happy for him,” said his sister Breeda Fennesy, who attended the Jubilee with her family.
Bellflower was not the America he envisioned. “It was totally dead. I was expecting a lot of buzz in America,” he said. “They rolled up the sidewalks at 6 p.m. But the people were wonderful.”
He speaks in equally glowing terms of the American Martyrs parishioners, many of whom he says have become his teachers and mentors. The devotion of the people in the pews now serves as his inspiration and has led him to a deeper spirituality.
“I’m brought down to earth by the goodness and holiness of the people here,” he said.
American Martyrs choir
That includes the parishioners who volunteer to feed the homeless, help the sick and teach the children.
Patti Williams, who runs the church’s religious education program, never thought she would have a role in preparing the area’s children for their communions and confirmations.
“He just has a way of drawing you in,” she said.
Anastasia Dorn delivers the Sunday reading. Photo by Ciley Carrington
Williams says the children of the parish are drawn to Barry because of his sense of humor. “They say he’s just a normal guy.” In their letters to Monsignor, the boys often say he’s cool, she added. During his frequent visits to the school, he’ll tell the children that they’re all perfect, while the mothers just shake their heads.
During one visit, the kids became painfully aware of Barry’s lack of computer skills. Just before leaving though, he told them he’d Tweet them all later, which drew lots of laughs.
“He’s funny and always puts a smile on my face,” said Madeline Phillips, a third-grader at American Martyrs School.
Barry also puts a smile on the faces of the adult parishioners who seek him out in their times of need. Lifelong Hermosa and Manhattan Beach resident Kevin Campbell turned to Barry days before undergoing knee replacement surgery. Campbell was about to turn 50, the age his father died at.
“I was freaking out and then just starting bawling in front of him,” Campbell said. “He gave me a lucky rock from the Holy Land — Ireland. Barry eventually recruited Campbell for one of the popular Cornerstone retreats. “I kept telling him, I can’t…my schedule. But he persisted and got me to go.”
Barry is equally persistent in recruiting for the popular ministries, including Matthew 25, which feeds the homeless on L.A.’s Skid Row.
“They’re about the richest church in the diocese and the most generous,” said Jeff Dietrich of Catholic Worker. “About a dozen of them come to help us out, and it’s because of Monsignor.”
Barry says he’ll continue to provide strength and support to his parishioners for as long as he can. He’s not ready to retire just yet and should know more about his future by next year. His plan is to remain in Manhattan Beach, in a pastoral ministry house, with a limited role in the church. Ireland is out of the question, he says, because he’d never be able to survive there without his faith family and the energy of his lay mentors in Manhattan Beach
“I’m going to be staying. So they’re not getting rid of me,” he said with a grin. “I’m going to be part of this community as long as God keeps me alive.”
Micah Worner contributed to this story.