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Floor Speech
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Mr. MURPHY. Madam President, my colleagues, I come to the floor today to celebrate a remarkable man, a really important friend of mine, an irreplaceable member of a community that is very important to me. Monsignor Robert Weiss--more affectionately known as Father Bob-- retired last month from his post at St. Rose of Lima Church in Newton, CT.
A Florida native, Father Bob was just a teenager when he heard his calling to join the priesthood. In 1968, he entered St. Bernard's Seminary in Rochester, NY. He was ordained 5 years later.
His first assignment led him to St. Andrew Parish in Bridgeport, CT, and 26 years later, he was assigned to St. Rose in Newton, CT, what became his last job in the church. Father Bob gave his final sermon just weeks ago.
I am going to tell you the story in a moment of why Father Bob is a household name in Connecticut. He is a hero to many of us, forged by fire and tragedy. But that is not the sum of Robert Weiss because during his 50 years in the priesthood, he has brought such great joy to the people and the families he has served. He is such an easy person to talk to. You just meet him for the first time, and you see why it is no wonder that over his years of leadership, thousands and thousands of parishioners have sought out his counsel and advice, confided in him, relied upon him. He has this wonderful smile, a buoyancy to him. He will admit that a little bit of that has been robbed from him in the last 10 years, but it does just make you feel better just by being around him. He is also wise. He has a gravitas about him that he carries with him. It just makes you feel safer. It makes you feel cared for when you are around him.
He cares about his church community. He helped grow St. Rose, but he cares about the community beyond the church just as heartily. He reaches out and builds bridges between religious institutions, between church and state, between believers and nonbelievers. He isn't judgmental. He is a consensus- and community-builder. He is an exceptional leader. That is who he was before December 14, 2012. That is who he has been after December 14, 2012. But that is the day, whether he likes it or not, that defines his career.
It started out like any other day for Father Bob. He went to his favorite diner in Sandy Hook. He ordered his usual: French toast. He was going to spend the morning wrapping Christmas presents. He didn't have a mass that day. Then he got a call from the Newton Police Department: A gunman had opened fire at Sandy Hook Elementary School.
He told the administrators at St. Rose School, the school affiliated with his church, to put the students in lockdown, and then he drove to Sandy Hook. He stopped at the firehouse, where parents and teachers and kids were waiting. He went to the parking lot of the school. The State police officer on the scene asked him if he would bless the children-- the 20 bodies that lay on the floor of that school--and the 6 educators who lay on the floor as well, all waiting to be identified. So he stood at the front door of that building, knowing that those children and those educators were no longer living on this Earth, and he prayed for them.
Then he went back to the firehouse, where he stayed for the rest of the day and held the hands of these parents as they waited to find out whether their child was in that school dead or somewhere alive. He had officiated the weddings of these parents. He had baptized these children. These parents had confessed their regrets and their fears to him.
By 3 p.m., Governor Malloy had alerted the families who remained at that firehouse about the fate of their children. But Father Bob's day wasn't done. He led an impromptu service at St. Rose that evening. Senator Blumenthal and I were there. It was maybe the most emotional night of my life when Father Bob, with no time to prepare, stood up in front of thousands who had come to grieve that tragedy at his church-- because that is where so many of the families belonged--and he told the crowd: Evil visited us today, but we have to get through it, and we have to find some good.
Even after the service, Father Bob didn't stop. From there, he joined the State police until 1 or 2 a.m. in the morning so that he could be there when the final body identifications were made and he could be there with the parents when they were given that final, awful, tragic news.
The following week, Father Bob officiated 8 of the 26 funerals. They were all students at St. Rose's religious education program. He wrote eight homilies. He picked three lessons from each of their short lives that the community could learn from.
It is hard for me to explain to you what Father Bob meant to that community in those days, in those weeks and months after. In many ways, he was the emotional sponge for that entire community, not just for his parishioners. He was so unbelievably generous with himself, with his time, and with his heart--in one-on-one time with those who were grieving; in big groups who needed to hear some spiritual guidance, who needed one of the preeminent religious leaders in the community to make sense of what happened; and on television, where Father Bob would speak for the community, relieving that burden from so many others who weren't yet ready to process and talk about what all of this meant.
He did it all: the one-on-one hand holding, the group counseling, the spokesman for the community.
The Catholic Church requires bishops retire upon their 75th birthday. But when Father Bob's 75th birthday was around the corner in September of 2021, he realized he wasn't ready to be done.
In his resignation letter, he requested a very rare extension to stay on at St. Rose of Lima for 2 more years because he wanted to mark the 10th anniversary of Sandy Hook. He wanted to see through that journey the first decade after this tragedy that had ripped a hole in the heart of the community that he loved so much.
I remember talking to Father Bob at that moment when he decided to stay on. He acknowledged what he had gone through, how much pain he had experienced, how different he was from the man that took that job. But he still knew that he had to see that finish line, at least the first decade after the tragedy.
Father Bob may have celebrated his final mass as pastor of St. Rose of Lima Church, but he will remain a pillar of this community. We will never, ever forget how in the days, weeks, and years after that tragedy in Sandy Hook, he led with his heart on his sleeve. He helped heal a broken community. More than anyone else, he bore the burden, separate and aside from the families who bore the majority of that burden.
Father Bob's career would have been remarkable even if December 14, 2012, never happened. But what he did that day, what he did in the days and the weeks and years that followed, that makes him a legend.
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