That Day in July . . .

 It was a Sunday . . .  the 24th of July, 1967.

And almost as usual, life began to unfold in the parish early on that Sunday morning.

Our schedules in hand, we, the clergy began to enter into our last minute preparations for the Masses over which we would preside on that Sunday morning.

The early Mass folk were already beginning to arrive at that modest sized, Westside, mostly Polish parish.

It was beginning as just another Sunday.

Or so most of us thought.

But that morning there was one difference.

There was a police car outside, directly front of the front entrance to the church. And a couple of the occupants were asking to speak to the clergy.

Alone . . .  apart from the gathering crowd . . .  somewhere somewhat isolated so that what was about to be said would be spoken in a degree of secrecy.

At least for the moment.

Clergy gathered (and remember, this was 1967 and many parishes back then had more than a single priest!) and the officers spoke to us.

No need for alarm and certainly there is no need to alarm the congregation. However, there is some "trouble" in the streets somewhat nearby. Because of that, keep things as brief as possible and simply, calmly at the end of the Mass encourage everyone to go directly home. Tell them not to linger, socialize or head out anywhere for breakfast. 

Straight home . . .  and immediately.

Some "trouble" in the streets somewhat nearby!

July 24 is the anniversary day of the founding, the establishment of Detroit. 1701 was the day. And here it was - another July 24 only this year, 1967, Detroit was taking a different turn in its identity.

Late night or early morning, depending on your sense of time, something had happened that set tempers flaring and unleashed long pent up frustrations.

And there was violence in the streets.

Some 'trouble" somewhat nearby!

Masses went on as usual and as scheduled. Folks were encouraged to not linger but rather head straight home. As the morning progressed, folks arriving were hearing something of the news of that "trouble" somewhat nearby.

And a bit later that Sunday, I had the opportunity of hosting a gathering of a handful of faculty and students from the University of Detroit. At that time I was a student in the graduate program there, taking courses in education and counseling. Our gathering consisted of some like minds, folks who could name trends and issues impacting society and analyze and speculate possible results.

One of the items that came up was the current condition of Detroit's black population. Several of the faculty spoke about how surprised they were that something had not yet erupted, given the prevalence of racism and its effects.

The discussion continued along those lines on into the evening.

The time came for my guests to depart. The sky was darkening. Night was descending.

And as we emerged from our gathering in that rectory, we could see something more.

Flames were tearing through that darkness.

Somewhere not too distant from where we were, neighborhoods were ablaze.

It was then that I remembered that early morning visit from those law officers. It was then that I realized that the time had, indeed, come.

A people had been dehumanized for far too long.

Now much pent up anger was emerging, erupting, tearing through the streets.

Langston Hughes captured it so very, very well. "What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun?... Or does it explode?"

Every human being has a dream, a God-given dream and that is to be treated as, respected as a human being, made in the image and likeness of God.

And when that dream is deferred . . . it does not dry up like some raisin in the sun.

July 24, 1967 - the results of a dream  deferred!

Meantime, 

Keep Praying

 . . . and Stay Safe!

Oh! And please  get your shot! It's the charitable thing to do.

And Yet Another . . .

I know! 

I know!

It has been a while but, well, sometimes that inspirational muse just takes a little time off and in such times it is better to be silent than to just dish out verbiage.

Or whatever!

Anyhow, while it has been a while, I think I have some words to put together for you now.

So let's get right to it!

And as I get right to it, notice again how I have titled this musing. I am calling this "And Yet Another . . . "

And that "Other" would be SS. Cyril and Methodius Seminary on the beautiful grounds of Orchard Lake here in Michigan.

This seminary is a part of my story, my history.

In 1956 I was sent, as was the policy back then, for my college studies to St. Mary's College on the Orchard Lake Campus. After two yers of liberal arts college, in Junior Year, I entered the study of philosophy, the first two years of actual seminary study. Those two years of philosophy would be followed by four years of theology studies but, for me, those four would happen in Plymouth, Michigan in what was back then our major seminary, St. John's.

However, I would live and study for my four college years at Orchard Lake and the seminary program there became a part of my history.

Some years later, ordained, working in a parish, I was also chosen to work on a new degree, this time in Liturgical Theology. Something known as Vatican II had happened and changes were in the wind and it was evident that there was a need for those who could provide resources and insights and education to help parishes, priests, laity and candidates for various ministries to adjust in a hopefully healthy manner to the changes.

I earned my degree from the prestigious University of Notre Dame and almost immediately I was recruited to be an adjunct faculty member in that seminary at Orchard Lake.

Once again SS. Cyril and Methodius Seminary became a part of my personal history and it remained so for a number of years. I continued as adjunct faculty into the 1980's and was called back into service several times after that.

And now this piece of my personal story is about to go away.

The announcement has been made and the decision is rather final - SS. Cyril and Methodius Seminary in Orchard Lake, Michigan will be closing its doors - permanently.

And that means that yet another part of my history disappears.

I say "Another" because it has been a number of years now since St. John's Seminary closed its doors. That was my home for my original theology studies. From its halls I emerged to be ordained for my years of ministry.

Closed . . . gone.

And I look at the parishes in which I ministered . . . 

St. Cunegunda - still around but a shadow, a mere skeleton of its former self.

St. Bartholomew - gone . . . another piece of that history no longer to be found.

And there was that gem of a parish right in the City of Detroit - Precious Blood, certainly one of the most beautiful of buildings housing some of the most beautiful People of God . . . it evolved into St. Peter Claver nd then . . . well, another void, yet another.

And my roots  . . . that part of my history that set the very foundation of my growth? Well, that would be SS. Cyril and Methodius Parish and School.

Also now gone . . .

Oh, true, there continues to be a SS. Cyril and Methodius Parish, now located in Sterling Heights, Michigan. And this new entity houses some artifacts from the original church, my home parish. Yet, truth be told, this is not the Home I knew growing up. St. Cyril was more than the place we worshipped and went to school. It was our community, our very identity.

And that St. Cyril is now but a memory.

And the Sisters who ministered in that original St. Cyril? Dominicans, originally the Dominican Sisters of St. Rose of Lime, also known as the Oxford Dominicans.

I led a number of retreats on the Oxford Dominican Campus and as a youngster, took part in any number of visits, pilgrimages and festivals there. In retirement I was driving out to Oxford to serve as part--time chaplain for the good Sisters weekly for some time.

I was there when they became the Dominican Sisters of Pece and I was there when . . . they became yet another!

Gone!

And now I am looking back at all so many parts of my life, my formation, my story and realizing that they live now, not as they once did, but they live only within me.

I am SS. Cyril and Methodius Parish and School and I am the Oxford Dominicans and I am SS. Cyril and Methodius Seminary and I am St. John's Seminary and I am St.. Bartholomew Parish and the Church of the Precious Blood.

The institutions are no more but their work, their beauty, their worth continues . . . in me and in folks like me.

Isn't that true of any of our stories, especially as the years roll on by?

The forces that formed us fade away but the work they have done lives on . . .

in us!

Meantime, 

Keep Praying

 . . . and Stay Safe!

Oh! And get your shot!