But he was unfailingly generous, to me and to everyone around him. He spent hours listening carefully to my no-doubt half-baked apologias for Anglicanism, answering my long list of questions (theological, political, personal, you name it), patiently working with my writing, giving advice, praying with me, and just generally being a good guy. People sometimes forget that before he was a writer and a national figure, he was a pastor. First Things was a ministry of love for him. He was a man who had the ear of presidents, professors, and popes, but he also had time for me. I don’t know if I was ever able to tell him how much his encouragement and example meant to me, but it meant the world.
Requiesat in pace, aeternam.