As I have been reflecting on, praying over and mourning the death of Bishop Doran, I thought a lot about our interaction over the last 22 years.

A lot has been said about Bishop Doran’s intellect, his wit and wisdom and his passion for education, vocations and the universal church. Some of the memories are complimentary and some have been contrary.

In my reflection, I realized that I had nothing left unsaid with Bishop Doran.  Bishop Doran required a lot. All of us who worked with and for him didn’t just work hard, we had to work smart.  If you had a problem, or made a mistake, he expected you to work equally as hard on a solution as you did recognizing the problem.

I remember the first time I had to meet with Bishop Doran one-on-one. My predecessor was on medical leave and I had to take over the regular weekly meeting with Bishop Doran and (at the time) Father David Kagan at the Chancery and then join Bishop Doran on the radio for “The Catholic Forum.”  I wasn’t sure what made me more nervous — being on the radio or being with Bishop Doran! I was escorted to his office and there he sat waiting with a half-smile and said, “Well, Penny, come in.” I remembered thinking, “oh good a smile.” Then I said, “Good Morning Bishop, how are you?”  “Better for your asking,” which I came to learn was his standard reply.

His reputation for being high-standard always compelled me to over-prepare and sometimes overthink  every task and every meeting with him which admittedly paid off in pleasant exchanges. That morning, he took all my pages of prep, tipped back as he flipped through the pages as if they were to be graded and said,  “Very Good.”  And that was it. We proceeded to the radio show where we talked about women in the church.

After the show, he said, “That was fine. You do a nice job.”  I was almost paralyzed by the unexpected compliment.

I wish I could report that I relaxed after that. Well, just a little.

Bishop Doran expected us all to prize excellence as much as he did. We knew what he expected and worked to deliver. Doing a good job meant we had to keep upping our game and I got the chance to tell him so shortly after Bishop Malloy was ordained. When I found out Bishop Doran had died, that conversation, although far from our last, was what came to mind and is my comfort.

Shortly after the ordination I met Bishop Doran in his office to talk about his columns and what he should write about now that he was Bishop Emeritus. We shared a little small talk as we always did and he went on for some length of time about how well orchestrated he thought the ordination ceremony and media coverage was for Bishop Malloy.

“Well you know, it was partly your fault,” I said.

He looked over his glasses with one eyebrow cocked, looking prepared for some verbal fisticuffs and said, “Oh?”

I explained to him that the ordination was no different than anything else we ever did for him as bishop.

Every person, every seminarian, priest, deacon, sister or staffer that worked for him was at the top of their game when it came to preparing for every imaginable detail. Even when egos collided or our patience wore thin and through, we kept going and didn’t just strive to make things work, we strove for excellence. And the reason we were well-prepared for Bishop Malloy is because we worked for a bishop who expected nothing less. We operated with a level of formality and professionalism that Bishop Doran held up not just for us, but for himself. Working for him meant that we didn’t just represent ourselves, we represented our diocese and the universal church. Nothing less and always more. As difficult as it was at times, he made us operate in the best version of ourselves. After my little speech, he just smiled, made a couple taps of his fingernails on the desk and we got back to work. He heard.

I am happy I was able to tell him that and to thank him.  

And even though I will regret not having more time with a bishop with whom I shared many milestones, I’m at peace having told him that I too, was better for his asking me to be.