A New York funeral Mass celebrated by a Catholic bishop and a trio of nationally known priests would seem to indicate that the person being mourned was famous or perhaps a major church donor. Yet the deceased who drew such notable clergy, as well as lay leaders of the pro-life movement and a host of Sisters of Life, was a simple, humble, blind woman who with unalloyed joy and steadfast faith kindled hope and courage in scores of others.

Nivene Ann Young was a stalwart presence on the streets of Manhattan who prayed outside abortion clinics, organized processions and rallies for life, served on the board of a pro-life maternity home, and was arrested with Operation Rescue. She lived in an apartment on West 51st Street in the area known as Hell’s Kitchen, where she was a familiar neighborhood figure, tapping her guide stick along the sidewalks on her way to daily Mass at Sacred Heart of Jesus Church, or taking a crosstown bus to St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where the ushers had a special seat for her. Indeed, everyone who knew Nivene had a special place for her in their heart.

Presiding at the Funeral Mass was New York Auxiliary Bishop Peter Byrne, whose pro-life activism began when he was a young priest and spans decades. He came from his Staten Island parish to Holy Family Church in Manhattan near the United Nations, to pray for the repose of Nivene’s soul and pay tribute to her fervent faith and unique pro-life witness. In closing remarks, Bishop Byrne recalled a rescue years ago. He was about to sit down in front of an abortion clinic entrance when he noticed a blind woman who was unaware that police officers were about to arrest them. He thought that if she had the courage to block the entrance without seeing the possible dangers, he had no reason to fear.

The main celebrant for the Mass was Father Gerald Murray, pastor of St. Joseph’s Church in Yorkville and a regular on Raymond Arroyo’s EWTN show, who said in his homily that Nivene was now free of her physical blindness and able to see God face to face. Though allowing for the possibility that Nivene was in Purgatory, Fr. Murray expressed a confident hope that she was experiencing the beatific vision in heaven. Concelebrants included Father Fidelis Moscinski, who has dedicated his priesthood with the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal to defending human life and engaging in rescues (he had been released from prison a few days earlier and was soon to face another hearing), and Father Donald Haggerty, a noted spiritual author assigned to St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

I first met Nivene more than 30 years ago, when I was sidewalk counseling outside an abortion facility at 68th Street and Broadway. She was in the prayer pen with a dozen others reciting the rosary and singing hymns to encourage and spiritually protect the counselors. I was struck by her unblinking eyes and magnetic smile; exuding joy that transcended the tensions of the scene as pro-abortion escorts screamed blasphemies and obscenities. This young woman, I thought, was either blind or in a religious ecstasy with eyes set on heaven. I approached her after the event and noticed the walking stick. “So, you are blind,” I remarked with an “aha” tone of discovery, not exactly the best way to say hello. Unoffended, she laughed, “Oh, yes, I am! So watch out when you see me coming because I can’t see you!” I walked her to the subway and was so struck with her story that I wrote a profile for Catholic New York, where I was a reporter at the time. She kept a copy of the article on her bedroom wall where those who visited her could read it.

And there were so many who visited Nivene in her simple apartment on the unfashionable side of town where she lived on her own for years before failing health finally forced her to accept a home aide. Her phone was always ringing, and every time she returned home there were multiple messages from friends far and wide—priests and nuns checking up on her, seminarians asking for prayers, prolifers reporting on the latest prayer vigils and turnarounds, and lawyers describing cases that required prayer warriors. A spiritual warrior she was, with a quiet strength and unwavering will. I never heard her say a bad word about anyone—she saw the good possibilities even in pro-abortion advocates—but I often heard her stand up for goodness and truth. One time, at a conference sponsored by Planned Parenthood, she entered enemy territory with an innocent mischievousness, raised her hand and asked if she should have been aborted because of her handicap. The room was silent. She also was strict with the many who trusted her with their personal problems; though sympathetic, she never tolerated self-pity or indulgence. “I won’t hear you say that!” was her signature retort. How could you argue with a woman who never showed a hint of pity for herself and accepted her blindness as a gift? Her story inspired everyone to be more courageous in the face of setbacks.

Born with normal sight in Kinsgston, Jamaica, Nivene’s Christian parents sent her to a Catholic school, where the example of the nuns convinced her to seek baptism. Soon after her conversion she moved to New York with her family. Five years later, at age 17, she became blind when her optic nerve was damaged during an operation to remove a benign brain tumor. She suffered some dark psychological days and had many questions for God. This process, she later said, deeply increased her faith. She finished college, earned two master’s degrees, became a teacher and advocate for the blind, and made friends across social and religious lines. She asked me to be the godfather of a blind Jewish man whom she tutored at a group home. He wanted to become Catholic because Nivene had shown him the God-inspired love he had found nowhere else.

Nivene had other surgeries for benign growths, then a malignant brain tumor precipitated a long and hard fight. Her devoted sister Joni oversaw her home hospice care in the final months, sharing the same faithful spirit and simple joy of Nivene, who passed away on November 15 at the age of 68.

May the soul of this friend of God rest in peace.