In June of 1972, Father Richard Guastella arrived at Holy Rosary Church for his first assignment as a parish priest.
Curiosity about a new priest always ran high, beginning the moment we heard that one of our resident priests would be leaving. But it rose to new levels when we learned that our new priest would indeed be a new priest. When the entrance procession emerged from the sacristy at his first Sunday Mass with us, all eyes sought him out.
After Mass, a welcoming cluster of eager parishioners clasped his hand and smothered him with questions. As they broke off into the after-Mass chatter groups, one phrase was consistently repeated: “He’s so young.”
Most priests fresh out of the seminary are young, but Father Richard had an appearance of extreme youthfulness. His hair accounted for some of that. In keeping with the times, Father Richard wore his hair long enough to cover his ears and graze his Roman collar—unlike the older priests who wore conventional clippered cuts. Eventually he grew a beard, as many men did in the 1970s.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8). Perhaps this quality, too, enhanced his youthful aura, along with his request to be called Father Richard rather than Father Guastella. This kind of informality with a priest was unheard of at the time.
If his youth and informality were the initial draw, it was the substance of his being that cemented his relationships. His youthful aspect belied what was underneath—maturity, wisdom, and a perceptiveness more often seen in those with many years of life’s experience behind them.
Parishioners of every generation responded to this approachable priest who seemed to effortlessly build rapport with them. He was the priest most frequently requested for weddings, funerals, and baptisms. Families invited him into their homes for meals, for conversations, for pastoral visits, for friendly visits. In the heart of Holy Rosary, Father Richard clearly held a special place.
As a good friend to my family, Father Richard gave us guidance and support on everyday matters as well as moral conflicts. With his usual serenity, he helped us meet and manage the milestones of life, whether joyous or sorrowful. As my parish advisor while I wrote the history of Holy Rosary Parish for their 50th Anniversary, Father Richard provided not only information and insight, but encouragement as well.
Father Richard left Holy Rosary in June of 1980 to become Vocation Director for the Archdiocese of New York. A few years later my family left the Bronx too, but we all met back at Holy Rosary in the spring of 1983 when Father Richard baptized the new baby in our family.
Within a few years Father Richard was working as a parish priest again, eventually being assigned to Staten Island and another church called Holy Rosary. While serving as pastor there, he rose to the rank of monsignor. Despite the new title, he still wanted to be called Father Richard. Later he was named pastor of the Church of St. Clare.
In 2012, Father Richard celebrated the 40th anniversary of his ordination to the priesthood. We traveled to Staten Island to attend the festivities at St. Clare’s, seeing him for the first time since that family baptism in 1983. His beard was gone, his haircut clippered and conventional. But he still looked like young Father Richard to us.
On Holy Thursday, April 9, 2020, while still serving as pastor of St. Clare’s, Father Richard succumbed to the plague of our day, COVID-19. By ministering to the sick, he gave his life so that souls could be saved.
In Memoriam ✙ Reverend Monsignor Richard Guastella
© Barbara Cole 2020. All Rights Reserved.