Word that Bishop Joseph M. Sullivan had been in a severe automobile accident rocked the newsroom. Although he was 83 years old and retired for eight years, Bishop Sullivan was still a strong and vigorous member of the Church hierarchy.

His subsequent death from the injuries sustained in that accident leaves a big hole in the Church’s social ministry, not only for the diocese but also the nation. For Bishop “Joe,” as he was known to so many, was a national figure in the Catholic Charities and the Catholic Health apostolates. He may no longer have held offices, but his advice and counsel continued to be sought by the dozen or so boards that he continued to serve.

Personally, I knew him since my days as an altar server in St. Alphonsus parish, Greenpoint, where he was a resident priest during his early days at Catholic Charities. Then-Father Sullivan would say an unscheduled 7 a.m. Mass each morning. If you happened to be the server at the 6:30 a.m. Mass, you would be requested to stay and assist him.

A striking memory is that each morning after Mass, Father Sullivan could be found kneeling by himself in the dark rectory office as he made a private thanksgiving. It was a dramatic sight to a impressionable youngster and continues to have an impact to this day.

Later as a seminarian, I would naturally maintain a home parish relationship with him. Often he would seek us out when he opened the gym for a personal workout so that we could organize a pick-up game of basketball in which he enthusiastically joined.

During my career as a Catholic journalist, Bishop Sullivan could be relied on for sage advice and insights into what was going on in the social service field. At times, he would fondly recall our days at St. Alphonsus.

When I covered national bishops’ meetings in Washington, D.C., I witnessed firsthand how much of a national voice Bishop Sullivan was. He would make interventions from the floor, always with a sensitive reminder that the Church was called to serve the poor. He may not have always said the politically correct thing, but he could be counted on to be the conscience of the U.S. bishops.

Bishop Sullivan also was a popular figure at Irish-American gatherings. He attended the Emerald Ball, celebrated liturgies at the Great Irish Fair and spoke at the St. Patrick’s breakfast at Brooklyn Borough Hall.

Once at an installation of officers for the Emerald Association, I chatted with a Jewish lawyer, who told me how impressed he was at the bishop’s articulation of the Catholic Church’s social mission.

Whether it was watching a Cyclones game at MCU Park or addressing a national convention of Catholic Charities USA, Bishop Sullivan was comfortable and confident because he knew who he was and what he was about.

Bishop Sullivan was quick to explain the immigrant roots of Irish-Americans as he urged care and concern for the newly arrived to our diocese and country.

He will be remembered as a great human being and a churchman who never forgot his Irish-American Catholic roots in Brooklyn. And he never missed a chance to remind the rest of us about where we came from and what our responsibilities were to the least fortunate. His voice may have been silenced, but his memory will continue to inspire.