During my time at Villanova, I have read books that sharpened my arguments, complicated my politics and deepened my understanding of history. However, the book that changed me most worked more quietly, reshaping my thoughts about patience, vocation and what it means to live well. That book is Green Bananas, the story of Augustinian priest Father Bill Atkinson and the unlikely friendship he formed with his caregiver, Steve McWilliams. If I had to name one book every Villanova student should read before graduating, it would be Green Bananas, not because it is assigned, but because it speaks directly to the kind of people we are called to become.
At first glance, Green Bananas reads like a straightforward account of Father Bill’s life and ministry. A beloved Augustinian who became paralyzed after a sledding accident as a young seminarian, Father Bill spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair, serving students and parishioners with humor, stubborn hope and an unflinching honesty about the limits of his condition. Yet the book’s power lies as much in Steve’s voice as in Father Bill’s. Steve does not present himself as a spiritual hero. He is candid about his hesitation to take the job, his fear that the demands would overwhelm him and the awkwardness that marked their early interactions.
That candor grounds the story. Steve’s growth from a reluctant employee to devoted friend is the emotional backbone of the book. Through daily routines that might appear ordinary from the outside, he begins to recognize dignity where he once saw inconvenience and friendship where he once felt obligation. The transformation is gradual, almost imperceptible at times, which makes it all the more convincing. The book suggests that moral growth is formed in repetition, responsibility and proximity to another person’s vulnerability.
What makes the book especially resonant at Villanova is how naturally it reflects the university’s Augustinian commitments to community, humility and care for the whole person. Father Bill embodies these values not through grand speeches, but through consistent, unremarkable acts of attention. One scene that has stayed with me unfolds in a diner, where a man angrily confronts Father Bill about the Catholic Church’s abuse scandal, directing his frustration at him personally. Father Bill does not respond defensively. He listens. He pays for the man’s meal. He thanks him for speaking honestly.
It is a small moment, yet it reveals a rare discipline: the ability to absorb anger without returning it. In a culture that often rewards quick rebuttals and public takedowns, Father Bill’s response feels almost countercultural. His restraint does not signal weakness. It reflects a deliberate choice to prioritize dignity over ego, reframing strength as steadiness and humility as a form of moral courage.
The title Green Bananas comes from Father Bill’s habit of buying bananas before they were ripe, serving as a simple reminder that not everything has to be ready all at once. Father Bill is open about his own frustrations and fears. He does not deny the hardship of his condition, but instead acknowledges it and intentionally turns his attention toward the small graces embedded in daily life. His optimism is not naïve, but practiced.
What I value most about Green Bananas is that it does not present a flawless life, but a faithful one. Father Bill’s story is marked by physical limitation, public misunderstanding and routine demands. Yet, he insists on joy rooted in service and relationship.
As I consider the books that have filled my shelves at Villanova, this is the one I return to because it quietly demanded more of me. It asked me to slow down, listen longer, be patient with others and to accept that growth takes time. If one of the primary missions of Villanova is to shape our understanding of who we are, then Green Bananas may be one of the clearest guides for doing so.
