Writing the icon of 9/11 – Remembering Fr Mychal Judge, the first gay saint?

Fr Mychal Judge’s biographer, journalist Michael Ford, speaking at St Bride’s Liverpool, September 11, 2017
ON SEPTEMBER 11, 2017, sixteen years after the devastating terrorist attack on New York’s World Trade Center, an article appeared online about its first recorded victim, which asked: ‘Could Father Mychal Judge Be the First Gay Saint?’, writes Kieran Bohan from Open Table Liverpool.
Father Mychal Judge was a little-known Franciscan friar ministering humbly to the disenfranchised and unloved on the streets of New York City… until September 11, 2001, when he suddenly became a global figure.
As chaplain to the city’s Fire Department, he rushed to help first responders at the World Trade Center but was killed by falling masonry in the North Tower. The picture of his body being carried out of the debris became an icon of the atrocity.
Writer and BBC journalist Michael Ford wrote the first biography of Mychal Judge after his death, which became an overnight bestseller. Michael Ford explored the outer and inner life of the ‘Saint of 911’, his extraordinary ministry among the homeless, immigrants, gay people and AIDS patients, and the struggles of a charismatic but deeply wounded man wrestling with guilt, alcohol addiction and his gay sexuality.
Also on September 11, 2017, Michael Ford gave a talk at St Bride’s Liverpool, hosted by the Open Table ecumenical worship community. We learned how Fr Mychal’s story inspired so many throughout the world, through unique footage of 911, letters he wrote and photos from his album.
Here is the introduction to Michael Ford’s talk:
On the bright, sunny morning of September 11, 2001, he was sitting calmly in his third floor room with his head in his hands, no doubt quietly praying for all those he always promised to pray for. Suddenly the silence was interrupted by a loud banging at his door.
It was a fellow Franciscan priest who had been out in the city. ‘Mychal – I just saw a plane fly into the World Trade Centre.’ / ‘Oh my God! Oh my God, you’re kidding me’ Father Mike responded, intermingling his reaction with an earthier phrase or two. Then his bleeper rang.
Within minutes, Mychal had changed into his heat-resistant uniform and was running across the street to the Engine 1/Ladder 24 firehouse to get his car. Instead, a fire captain, ending a 24 hour shift, offered to drive him down. Neither was to return. The New York Fire Department mobilized hundreds of firefighters from Lower Manhattan who were joined by units from across the five boroughs. As Mychal arrived outside the World Trade Centre, clouds of choking smoke were obliterating the azure sky, flames were licking their way across the towers and people were leaping to their deaths. It was likened to a scene from Dante’s Inferno.
Father Mychal began to comfort people as he usually did. The firemen had never seen such a grim look on his face. It was one of sorrow and distress. As women and men fell from the buildings, you could see Father Mike praying for them. One of the first to speak with the chaplain was the mayor of New York, Rudolph Giuliani. As Father Mike ran past, Giuliani put a hand on his shoulder: ‘Mychal please pray for us.’ With an expansive but anxious smile, he answered: ‘I always do.’ Then Father Mike ran with the firefighters into the lobby of the north tower. Never one to flinch from danger, he was there to offer solidarity to the crews.