JEMAIL: Father James Lloyd, an MC Reality Retreat speaker birthday


Hello All,

Mike McEneney shared the following Paulist Post on Father James Lloyd as the Paulists celebrated Fatger Lloyd’s Birthday. 

Colon, Philip J. (MC1962)

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          For many years Fatber Lloyd Celebrated Mass here at St. Barnabas on weekends.


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shared Paulist Fathers’s post.
Yesterday at 7:43pm ·

Paulist Fathers
Yesterday at 1:41pm ·

A very happy birthday to Paulist Fr. James Lloyd, who turns 97 years old today!

Fr. Lloyd is the oldest-living Paulist Father. On May 1, he will celebrate the 70th anniversary of his ordination as a priest (a first in the history of our community).

Fr. Lloyd lives at the Paulist Motherhouse on West 59th Street, just blocks from where he grew up on Manhattan’s West Side. His parents, Morris and Helen, were players on the vaudeville circuit.

In the early years of his priesthood, Fr. Lloyd was a missionary in South Africa.

He holds a Ph.D. in psychology from New York University’s NYU Steinhardt School of Culture, Education, and Human Development.

For 20 years, he worked at Iona College as a professor and director of the college’s graduate division of pastoral counseling. He continues to hear confessions and provide pro bono counseling services.

From 1958 to 1973, Fr. Lloyd hosted “Inquiry,” a Sunday morning television program on NBC New York that featured interviews with authors, public officials and celebrities, including Mother Teresa, Jackie Gleason, William F. Buckley and Florence Henderson.

To see some of the “Inquiry” episodes, visit this YouTube playlist: playlist…

Photo by our media ministry Busted Halo: Bg1nkaRlEP_/

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Good Afternoon All,

It is with great pleasure that I share with you an email from Ed McEneney that I received today regarding one of our Favorite Speakers at our Reality Retreat, Father James Lloyd, Paulist Fathers. Ed has recalled Father Lloyd’s Opening remarks. Many of us were at the Retreat when Father spoke and I am sure very well remember him.

Mike McEneney also shared some wonderful comments which include a great picture of Father Lloyd which I will try to forward after this. We give thanks for the many wonderful Speakers with whom we have been Blessed and for the many wonderful men who have joined us over the past 26 (almost 27) years. We have been truly Blessed. St. John Baptist de la Salle, Pray for us. Live Jesus in our hearts, forever. Thank you Ed. Thank you all. God Bless.

Colon, Philip J. (MC1962)

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From Ed McEneney

Fr. Lloyd spoke to us when he was 91.  Jim Kennedy brought him to our attention and we are forever thankful.

This past week Father Lloyd celebrated his 97 Birthday and he is still going strong.

Here is a copy of his opening remarks to the Manhattan College Businessmen’s Reality Retreat.


McEneney Edward J. (MC1959) 

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                                            ” Speak, Lord, for Your Servant is Listening “

I think that before I begin, I should, with conscience thumping, alert you to two points. First, I have been deeply influenced by a kind of foe of yours — the Christian Brothers of Ireland, the ICBs. I am a Power memorial graduate, I have a degree from Iona. I was  Department head of a graduate school at Iona for 20 years  where I rooted for the Gaels to whomp the Jaspers  in basketball and I am the first priest  associate Brother of that Congregation.

Secondly, I am half Jewish, my father, a Russian Jew named Morris Rosenbloom, an actor who changed his name to Lloyd for business—I was baptized such and have been passing as goy for  91 years. My mother, also in the theatre. irrevocably and noisily Irish and Catholic raised me in the notion that God is important.— I have, then, a yiddisher kop and an Irish  heart. And I am mightily impressed with the spirit and intent of your group and your choice of theme for this year. Listening. A neglected art but a huge –even gigantic—stepping stone to a life with God. I shall try, (at Joe Quinn’s suggestion) D.V., to present a personal testimony reflecting what listening to God has meant to me.

I was born and reared on Manhattan’s West side, just north of Hell’s Kitchen, San Juan Hill district—where the street, sixty-first,  (properly pronounced  “ sixty foist”) was our playground and the Church was our Watch tower. I was a typical dirty necked New Yawk kid. The Street was the stadium for our games of stickball and roller hockey and Central Park, our vacation venue with occasional trips to faraway places like Coney Island and Brighton Beach. Our family had one radio and the ownership of a car, only a fantasy.

When I was an undergraduate at CCNY, I joined the ROTC with intention to seek a commission as a 2nd Looie in the Reserve. But in 1941,   a particularly terrible war broke out (and aren’t they all terrible) when everything turned topsy turvy. I had been battling (in my high school years) a powerful unremitting pull toward the priesthood.  I kept saying no to this voice—what would my Jewish father say, he whose forebears suffered so deeply  at the hand of Christians, he who painfully and reluctantly agreed to my baptism and my Catholic upbringing with Rosaries and Holy Water and prayers to Jesus, he who believed that his immortality depended only on his having grandchildren bearing his name. My sister would marry and his name would die with me (in fact my sister married an Irishman whose children look like they just came from County Cork). Besides, I liked girls. Marriage looked most attractive to me. But that Voice! It was more powerful and beautiful than anything I had ever heard.

My draft Board was willing to give me space to try out a vocation with the mutual understanding that if it didn’t work I am immediately in uniform. So I listened deeply and prayerfully to the Voice and made the decision to go with it. When I told my father, he became almost insane. I was no longer his son. He who loved me and I him. Still, somehow, I listened to the Voice and was ordained with this burden on my soul. He refused to come to my ordination. I was shipped out to Africa immediately afterwards and was away on the missions for 7 years.

On my return somehow I was commissioned to run a TV show on WNBC, 30 Rocke for 15 years. To my father, this was a kind of show biz  and our friendship improved remarkably when I had him and my mother on the show for several Christmases. Their old song and dance act! Soon he was carrying my photo around to show the cigar smoking guys who hung out around the Palace theater —the picture of his son the priest.  Not his son , the doctor, which he really wanted but somehow this was now a point of pride for him.

We got so close he stood by me in one of my more terrified moments as a priest.

I  had baptized the adult daughter of  an orthodox rabbi who reported me to Cardinal spellman as an overzealous priest and who wished to confront me in the Rectory with his two sons who were also Rabbis. My fellow priests wished me good luck but no one offered to help. But my Jewish father who had fixed and  ugly ideas about Catholics, stood outside the office door and told me he was there if I needed  him. Paternal love triumphed over generations of inbred bias and distortion. What was love anyway? The Voice was right!  I listened, paid a price but received rewards beyond my richest flight of imagination.

My second item of testimony involved my appointment instructing persons who were interested in becoming Catholics. Armed with a degree in Thomistic philosophy from Catholic University, I believed that life functioned like a syllogism. Major premise, minor premise, conclusion. My logic I knew was inexorable. No reasonable person could deny what the Church is teaching. Look! see how clear it is. It Is so beautifully logical! I was stubbornly and unflinchingly sure that I knew what was right!

Yet good and sincere people refused to accept the Truth! Why? One reason was that I wasn’t listening with what certain professionals call the “ The Third Ear”. I didn’t hear a profound dimension of the “other.” I wasn’t listening deeply to the subtle hints of the Voice.. But the Voice came through to me—You are more than mind and intellect. You are feelings and temperament and genetics and socially influenced and historically situated and mystery and soul! The Voice told me: First get rid of the brambles and the cobwebs, the psychological and sociological conditionings. And then get logical and then they can see! How do I do that? I am a hack of a priest. But, This Voice. What was it? The Holy Spirit? My unconscious mind? What? But I trusted and moved on.

So, I got myself a Doctorate in Psychology from NYU and a state license to practice psychotherapy—and learned that we are moved more by feeling than by reason. Even Dr. Fraud (not a misspelling) some of whose ideas I thought were inane taught me that “things are rarely only what they seem.”

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