My spiritual advisor and dear friend, Msgr. Stanley J. Krempa passed away Feb. 28. Please pray for the repose of his soul.
When I heard the news that he died, two thoughts immediately leapt to mind.
One was a famous quote. I’d like to say it was a quote from St. Teresa of Avila or St. Francis of Assisi. Instead, the quote is by Thomas Hobbes: “Life is brutish and short.” That’s an odd thought to have, I know. Because life isn’t brutish; life is wonderful. But it is for that reason that life seems so short to those friends who remain on earth. For those we love, irrespective of their age, death always comes too soon.
The other thought I had was that I’m about to receive some big-time miracles in my life, for the intercessory power of the saints is great indeed, and Msgr. Krempa’s role in my life always seemed somehow miraculous.
Msgr. Krempa — “Father Krempa” at the time — often said Mass at St. John the Baptist Church in Front Royal when I was growing up. Even as a teenager, before I knew how to write a speech, I somehow intuited that he was a gifted homilist. He only helped at St. John’s for a few years; his longest assignment was at Sacred Heart of Jesus Church in Winchester.
I hadn’t spoken with him for quite a few years, until one Friday afternoon, when I was in the midst of what might be called a spiritual panic. As one who has suffered from scrupulosity, I think my affliction reached its zenith that day. For some reason, though I hadn’t even really thought about Father Krempa in many years, I called him and asked him if I could come in for confession.
“How about five o’clock today?” he asked.
Thus began a series of regular meetings in his office, where he listened to me, gave me spiritual advice and direction, and heard my confessions — a pattern that endured for about eight years.
In those first few meetings, Father Krempa could tell I was in a difficult place, but he knew how to help me. I told him, “Father, it seems to me like every day is just another day to let God down.”
In response, Father Krempa gave me the single best piece of advice I have ever received. He said, “John, I want you to keep making an examination of conscience at the end of the day. But I want you to do something else: think about the good you have done today, and the good that God is calling you to do tomorrow.”
I cannot overstate the impact of that single piece of advice. It will always remain with me. Now, I could fall asleep, confident that — for all my sins and failings —I have also done good works. Instead of waking up with a sense of dread, I arose with a sense of opportunity. I thought I can perform good works today. I can glorify God today. This is going to be a good and wondrous day. Who can I help today?
Father Krempa was helping me heal. But at some point, I began feeling bad for him. After all, listening to me drone on in 60-minute doses is no minor task. In retrospect, it’s appropriate that Father Krempa and I always met on Fridays. I’m confident that listening to my rants took off any purgatory time that he might have otherwise had.
After Father Krempa heard my confession one Friday afternoon, I said, “Father, I feel sorry for you. You have been a good priest for decades. You deserve to be the spiritual director for someone like St. Therese of Lisieux or one of the great saints. Instead, you are the spiritual director for John Clark.”
And then Father Krempa, who had previously heard my general confession and had heard about all the sins of my life, smiled and assured me, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You could still become one of the great saints.”
He was never lacking his gift of encouraging others.
When my family moved to Florida, I kept in contact with Msgr. Krempa. In fact, when I was preparing for a road trip back to Virginia, I called him and asked him if we could meet for confession. He agreed.
By that point, Msgr. Krempa was retired and living in an apartment complex. When my wife, Lisa, and I arrived to see him, Msgr. Krempa looked much older and used a walker to get around. And since there didn’t seem to be anywhere private that he could hear my confession, he suggested that we could just take the elevator up to his apartment. However, this posed a problem: I’m claustrophobic which manifests itself in a fear of elevators. I’ve grown used to taking multiple flights of stairs, but Msgr. Krempa lived on the 32nd floor.
So, I suggested that he could perhaps hear my confession in my rental car. But this posed another problem. Though I had intended to rent a larger car for the trip, the company rented me a Batman-style black Camaro. It’s a great car in lots of ways, to be sure. But it’s not particularly easy to get into if you have mobility issues. Nevertheless, Msgr. Krempa rested his walker on the side of the Camaro, Lisa helped him into the passenger seat, and he proceeded to hear my confession in the car. At least from my perspective, I thought this made for one of the great moments in sacramental history.
The truth is, Msgr. Krempa would have heard my confession on the moon if necessary.
I don’t know if Msgr. Krempa ever realized how powerful and positive his impact has been on my life — and by extension — on the lives of my wife and children. And I know that I am only one of countless souls that Msgr. Krempa helped to draw closer to God. St. John Vianney once commented that a good priest can lead a thousand souls to heaven. When I look back on the life of Msgr. Krempa, I’m inclined to think that Father Vianney underestimated the number. Perhaps his great humility prevented Msgr. Krempa from focusing on such thoughts of influence. But as I pray that Msgr. Krempa’s time in purgatory be short, if he has any at all, it makes me happy that he will finally realize that impact in heaven.
Clark, formerly a parishioner of St. John the Baptist Church in Front Royal, is a course developer for Seton Home Study School and speechwriter.
