January 6, 2008, marks the 20th anniversary of the passing of a very simple, humble, loving Catholic priest. At the time of his sudden death from a heart attack, Father Michael Anthony Capuano was the pastor of St. Lucy’s Parish in the Manayunk section of Philadelphia. His funeral seemed like that of a cardinal, instead of a parish priest. Hundreds of people from all over packed the church.

“Father Cap” was very loved by the people he served. One of his last acts on Earth was that of charity, when he comforted the man who had taken him to the hospital. His life was filled with many such stories of service and charity. He truly lived Jesus Christ the servant.

The stories of his service did not end with his death. As described by Sue Brinkmann in the story below, which appeared in the January 2006 edition of the Catholic Standard and Times, the official newspaper of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, many people (including myself) have been praying over the years for Father Cap’s intercession, and several people have said that their prayers have been answered, many more than are reported below.

A representative of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia said that although Father Capuano was obviously a holy priest, and we should pray for his intercession, the cause for canonization could not begin at this time. He said that the Church requires that such a person be widely known among the people of the universal church, and Father Capuano would not have been known beyond the areas where he lived and served.

The purpose of this page on our website, and the article below written by Sue Brinkmann, is to hopefully change that scenario, and to get people to know who this beloved priest was. Since the article first appeared almost two years ago, many people have contacted me to ask for a prayer card to Father Capuano, or to say that they knew him. Many people have told me that they too had stories about his kindness. To date, Father Cap’s story has reached as far as the shores of England.

Is Father Capuano in Heaven with the Lord, and by Church teaching, already a saint (lower case “s”)? I and many others certainly believe it. Has Father Capuano interceded with the Lord for me and others, since his death? I absolutely have no doubt about it! Should you pray to Father Capuano? That is your business. Will the Catholic Church someday formally recognize Father Capuano in the Company of the Saints? That is God’s business.

Read the article below, say a prayer to the Holy Spirit, and let God direct you. If nothing else, maybe Father Cap’s story will inspire us to be more like him, which is really being more like Jesus Christ…and that is who we were created to be!

May God’s abundant blessings be with you all!

Michael Pascarella, Jr.

By Susan Brinkmann
CS&T Correspondent
January 5, 2006

A 32-year-old English teacher prays to him everyday to keep her safe on the road as she commutes to work at Holicong Middle School.

A Conshohocken couple prayed to him to help with infertility problems.

The father of a 9-year-old girl implored his intercession when his daughter was diagnosed with a strange eye disease.

If you’re wondering, who this saint is, who helps so many people, you won’t find his name on a list of the canonized.

In fact, the name Father Michael “Cap” Capuano probably won’t ring any bells for you at all — which suited him just fine in life.

Father Cap was a simple, humble man. He drove a beat-up orange Nova, and never passed anyone he knew on the street without offering a ride. His home was so old the dining room floor sloped, and it took a visiting bishop to convince him it was time to build a new rectory. A handyman at heart, he was the first one on the roof to fix a leak. When he wanted the tabernacle door gilded, he melted down his own jewelry to come up with the gold.

“Everybody loved him,” said Michael Pascarella, a federal probation officer who grew up in St. Lucy Parish, the parish where Father Cap spent his last years as pastor.

“The day before he died was a Sunday, and I was the lector,” Pascarella said. A probation officer for the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas, he had applied for a federal position in the U.S. Court system and was still waiting for word.

“Father came up to me and asked, ‘How’s it going with that federal job?’ I said it wasn’t going well and he said, ‘You’re going to get it,’” Pascarella said. “That was our last conversation.”

Father Capuano died the next day, on the old feast of the Epiphany, Jan. 6, 1988, of a massive heart attack. The day after he was buried in Holy Savior Cemetery, in his hometown of Bethlehem, Pa., Pascarella found out he had the job.

A busy probation officer who is often in harm’s way, Pascarella has never stopped praying to this beloved priest. When he and his wife, Susan, were struggling with infertility in the early 90s, they turned to Father Cap.

“It was late January 1993, and we had just been told by a doctor that I would never father a child,” Pascarella said. “We were devastated. We came home that night, and my wife was crying. I was sitting on the sofa, and Father’s picture was up on the mantle. I said, ‘Father, I know you’re in heaven. We can use some prayers right now.’”

The next day, the deputy chief came to his office and showed him an ad in the paper about a new infertility study being conducted at a nearby hospital. The tip eventually led them to the physician who would correctly diagnose and treat the couple’s problem. By October of the same year, Susan was pregnant with twins. She delivered two boys on May 18, 1995. They named one son Matthew, and the other Michael Anthony, in honor of Father Cap.

The Pascarellas are not the only people whose lives have been profoundly touched by Father Cap.

Father Michael S. Olivere, the president of Saints John Neumann-Maria Goretti High School first met Father Cap when he became pastor of St. Lucy’s.

“I was still in high school,” Father Olivere said. “He was so welcoming, such a friendly man. From the very beginning, we all loved him. Very quickly we found out he was also a very good priest.”.

Father Cap was instrumental in Father Olivere’s decision to become a priest: “He was a confidante of mine when it came to my vocation. We had great conversations about it. He was always affirming and encouraging. He kept saying, ‘Your vocation is there. Just allow God to lead you. Don’t be afraid to take the plunge.’ He understood. He was right there with me through every step of that journey.”

Even though Father Cap died the year before he entered the seminary, “I very much felt his presence throughout my seminary years,” Father Olivere said.

“When he died, everyone was in shock. I can remember walking into the church after his body was transferred from the rectory, and looking at all the people, and thinking, ‘These people are devastated over the death of their pastor.’” Father Olivere recalled. “It was sad, but it was a beautiful tribute to him.

“Later on, when I was content with my own vocation, I remember thinking, ‘That’s the way I want to die. I want to die as a parish priest, loved by his people.’”

Father Cap was one of those men whom everyone knew was destined for the priesthood even as a child. The fourth of five sons of the Italian immigrants George Damiano Capuano and Mariantonia Ruggiero, he was born Jan. 3, 1930.

His mother was a devout Catholic who attended daily Mass. From an early age, he was always around the family’s parish church, Our Lady of Pompei in Bethlehem.

“Our pastor … was almost like a father to him,” said his brother, Leonard Capuano. “My dad worked on a railroad, and couldn’t show us too much, but Father would show us things like how to do electrical work — work around the roof. Mike liked that stuff.”

Father Capuano spent so much time around the church that “we all knew something was going to break,” Leonard said.

And it did, in 1946, when Michael was accepted at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary. He was the second-youngest member of his class, next to another seminarian who went on to become Archbishop of Baltimore, Cardinal William Keeler.

Father Cap remained close to his family, even while serving in six different parishes from Reading to Philadelphia.

“I have eight children, and every one of them misses him,” Leonard Capuano said. “They all loved Uncle Mike. He would always take them someplace when he came up — to McDonalds, ball games, Dorney Park. …”

Death has not separated Father Cap from those who loved him: the Capuano family still looks to Uncle Mike for help.

Last year, Leonard Capuano’s granddaughter was diagnosed with a strange eye illness that doctors were struggling to cure. The girl’s father, Leonard Capuano Jr., prayed to his Uncle Mike for help.

Then, “just like magic, without explanation, no medicine, it all went away,” Leonard Jr. said in an e-mail: “I chalk this up to Uncle Mike, because there’s no way I could explain her getting better like this without any medication.”

Good priests never die — at least not in the hearts of the faithful they served.

The last person to see Father Cap alive was Frank Bianco, the sexton at St. Lucy’s.

“He called me at about three o’clock in the morning and said, ‘Frank I’m having a heart attack. Come on down.’”

Bianco drove him out to Sacred Heart Hospital in Norristown. He wanted to call Father Cap’s family, but the priest kept saying, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be all right.”

Bianco wasn’t convinced. “I just felt something was really wrong, but he kept saying, ‘Don’t worry about me — worry about yourself.’”

Father Capuano died later that evening.

Years later, the twin son born to the Pascarellas who bears Father Cap’s name wondered why his dad was telling this story to a newspaper reporter.

“Because maybe they’ll canonize Father Cap one day,” his father told him.

“You mean I might be named after a saint?” the boy asked.

And his father answered, “Son, you already are.”

Click here for a printable version of the prayer card to Father Michael Anthony Capuano

Did you know Father Capuano? How did he touch your life? Drop us a line at info@familyretreat.net