A Prayer of Gratitude for Monsignor Fitzgerald

Lord of Mercy,
Lord of Memory,
Lord of the quiet harvest—
this morning we gather our gratitude for Your priest and servant,
Msgr. J. Terrence Fitzgerald,
who slipped into eternity last night at eighty-nine years of age,
having poured out his life
like oil from a vessel
never afraid of being emptied.

For many decades
he walked among us—
steady as a pillar,
gentle as a shepherd,
courageous in the small,
and unwavering in the necessary.

He built things, Lord—
parishes and schools,
friendships and vocations,
places of learning,
and places of belonging.

But more than buildings,
he built the Catholic heart of Utah— a quiet Church in a desert place,
made stronger because one man believed
that faith should not apologize for existing
and love should never be rationed.

He nurtured Catholic education
not as a project,
but as a promise—
that the young should know
both wisdom and wonder,
both truth and tenderness.

He guided generations
through sorrows and sacraments,
burials and baptisms,
confusion and clarity—
always with the touch of someone
who understood that mercy
is the Church’s first language.

Lord, we thank You
for the countless souls who walked lighter
because he walked beside them.

For the weary who found shelter,
the doubting who found direction,
the lonely who found a friend,
and the grieving who found a voice
to speak their sorrow without shame.

Let the record show, Lord,
that leadership was his legacy,
but compassion was his crown.

Let the Church in this valley remember
that institutions endure because of structure,
but they flourish because of love.

And now, Lord—
receive him into the heaven he longed for,
the land without winter or weariness,
where those who built Your house on earth
are welcomed into the house You built for them.

Grant him rest among the sages and the saints,
where every unanswered prayer is finished,
and every good work is finally understood.

And grant to us who carry his memory
the grace to keep building
where he left off—
not with fear,
but with fidelity;
not with hurry,
but with hope.

For a priest dies,
but a priest’s work does not—
and the harvest he began
will bloom long after his name is no longer spoken,
because love has always been the most durable architecture
of the Church.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon him.
May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed,
through Your mercy,
rest in peace.
Amen.