I never encountered Father William Holt, O.P. — Billy Holt, as some who loved him referred to him — without smiling. His joy was contagious. Even after a Confession, he would make me laugh. Maybe especially then. God’s mercy has a way of lifting our spirits and enabling us to remember things that are most important. Father Holt died in Ireland earlier this month while on a trip that was gifted to him by someone whose life was touched by his ministry.
In recent years, Father Holt went viral on social media twice. The first was during Covid shutdowns. A women who took a video of him smoking at the top of the tall staircase to the Dominican priory where he lived on Lexington Avenue posted it on TikTok. (Yes, priests are human. And God works with everything.) The world was freaking out, and he was the same as he ever was. “Why can’t I be more like him . . . ,” she wrote, describing the scene of him in his white habit as “CHILL LEVEL IN THE MIDST OF CHAOS.” (It was Election Day, 2020.) The second time was about a year ago. On Facebook, Humans of New York caught up with him with Grand Central Station in the background — the heart of the city. He recounted a story, the likes of which we could all afford to pray we have at least one of in our lives.
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