[Congressional Record Volume 170, Number 36 (Wednesday, February 28, 2024)]
[Senate]
[Pages S1030-S1031]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]



                        Tribute to Robert Weiss

  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.

[[Page S1031]]