You can tell your old man

You’ll do some largemouth fishing another time

You just got too much on your plate to bait and cast a line

You can always put a rain check in his hand

‘Till you can’t. (1)

I didn’t know that the beginning of things could feel so abrupt, since usually that tends to be an end-of-things thing, but somehow the first lines to this grammy-award-winning song always are.

A characteristic I have come to enjoy about country songs is the occasional odd bit of wisdom that they tend to drop, even amidst the off-hand comments and (speaking as a Midwesterner here) the funny accent. And I can’t think of a more apt analogy for the caravanning, wisdom-dropping, freedom-loving patriot and priest Fr. Anthony Bailleres, than a country song.

I suppose I’m writing this because it’s difficult to believe that he’s not going to show up on our doorstep tomorrow requesting a room and convinced that the American garbage disposal can handle just about anything (kids, do not try this at home). After expecting this to happen two or three times a year minimum, it’s the long absence that kicks in, months later.

So, naturally, that’s when this homage became a necessity.

Though originally from Silao, Mexico, Fr. Bailleres was one of the first Legionaries to complete his novitiate in the United States, and likely one of the longest serving Legionary priests in the country to date. Legends say that he single-handedly revamped the chapel of our seminary in Cheshire, and had the large crucifix installed that adorns the chapel to this day.

With his time in the States he developed an admiration for the American ideals of optimistic perseverance, constant improvement, practicality, and hard work; and to go with his undying love for Our Lady of Guadalupe was added one for the Yankees and the game of baseball. I had learned to listen to his rants even when they ran long, since perhaps it was after years of experience as spiritual director of priests through good and bad times, or with any mixture of the ideals mentioned above, there was nearly always an odd bit of wisdom that would drop— and besides, he was funny to listen to.

At times it would quite literally drop into your hands, since he would often print pages out in large text for you to keep and think about. I recently came across one of these that touches a new chord after his passing, it reads:

“A Fisherman’s Prayer

God grant that I may live to fish, until my dying day

And when it comes to my last cast, I then most humbly pray

When in the Lord’s safe landing net, I’m peacefully asleep

That in his mercy I be judged, as big enough to keep!!”(2)

A lighthearted poem, childish perhaps some would say, but knowing the spirit of the one who hands it to you makes all the difference. It is a window into the simplicity of his relationship with the Lord, and this is what has stuck with me most throughout the years I have known him. There was a joviality about him on the surface, not false, but a commitment to the encouragement that others needed him to be. In rare moments he would be pensive, long enough to give a serious answer or explanation or argue with you for a bit, and then he would return to an outlook of joyful simplicity toward the world around him. This short poem captures his youthful desire to do as much as he could for the Lord, and the simple longing to be “caught and kept” by him in the end.

In any case, I mention all of this because I owe him a debt of gratitude for being one of the Lord’s fishermen that guided so many of us in our vocation and lives of faith through his words and example, and he indeed fished until the end. Truly, it is an honor to have fished with him.

I now live alongside the very basilica that Fr. Bailleres was ordained a priest in, and these days I am sure it is this doorstep that is often graced with his presence when he is allowed to travel. And who could tell him not to travel? I’m sure Our Lord knows that Fr. Bailleres wouldn’t like heaven if he couldn’t make his rounds… heck, by now He’s probably helped him rig up his car to have enough heaven in it to last for weeks, and still have enough to share with us as he goes. I’ll certainly look to him on the next cross-country road trip or kitchen fiasco that surely he never would have been responsible for.

It certainly did feel abrupt that he passed away so soon on the night of his 75th birthday. But I’m sure that, akin to Therese of Lisieux, Fr. Bailleres intends to spend his heaven doing good on earth… in which case this is hardly the end to his travels. Perhaps beginnings can be abrupt too.

Fr. Antonio Bailleres, LC passed away peacefully on June 8, 2024, in Cheshire, Connecticut. You are kindly invited to pray for the repose of his soul and the consolation of his friends and family in the Lord.

(1) Lyrics by Cody Johnson   (2) Poem by Anonymous Author