The Book of Bishops - The Maida Era (Beginnings)

 Let's start this era off by warning that, from here on in, things are nowhere near as interesting or exciting as previous eras. And there are fewer tales to tell.

But I can start things off by relating our very first meeting.

It was interesting and most unusual.

Adam Maida took over the Archdiocese of Detroit while I was on sabbatical, studying over in Rome. I got the word while far from home.

However, as is the usual custom, when such an appointment is made, the newly appointed makes a special trip to Rome to meet with the Pope and, perhaps, spend some time discussing the appointment, expectations, findings and observations, and the like. This was no exception.

Adam Maida was making a journey to Rome.

And on the agenda during his time there, he was including some time for us to meet.

Matter of fact, his invitation involved a fine dinner at one of the nicer restaurants of Rome. Members of the hierarchy are usually quite familiar with places like that.

A couple additional Detroiters, also in Rome for various studies, would be included in the dinner but it would be a rather select, intimate gathering of merely a handful of us.

The evening arrived as did the car sent to pick us up and deliver us to the restaurant.

The meal, traditional Italian of course, was absolutely delightful as was the wine.

Eventually conversation and attention turned to me. 

The new Archbishop of Detroit wanted some advice and he had evidently done his homework. He  knew about my involvement in various projects and activities, most especially at that moment, my involvement in the Convocation of Priests that had been held in 198.

It was the first and only.

In the remaining years of the Szoka Era no additional Convocation had been held.

Now the new Archbishop was asking if I thought we should resume the practice. Is it worthwhile? Does it have possibilities? Should he call another one?

My advice was that it was a good took if handled properly and it had positive possibilities. I was not just strongly in favor of calling a second Convocation but I also offered to help in any way I could to make it happen.

That was the beginning for me of the Maida Era.

The new Archbishop of Detroit had actually sought out advice and from me no less!

Positive impression!

And even more, he took that advice!

Soon after his official beginning as the Archbishop of Detroit he called for a Convocation.

And, sure enough, I got "drafted" into service still again.

Matter of fact, I ended up having "work" to do on several more Convocations through the next ten years or so until, finally, I decided to step aside and make room for someone younger.

Next: The Maida Era continues

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (Red Buttons)

 There are many other little stories I could tell about happenings in that Szoka Era, little things. Like when he was heading to Rome for his new assignment/ministry and I was soon to be in Rome for my sabbatical studies. I let him know that I expected to be invited to dine with him in his new digs in the Eternal City. "You will squeeze the last drop of juice out of this old orange," was his reply with a smile.

I got the invite, by the way, and enjoyed a fine, traditional Roman Feast!

But the Roman memory can provide one final, grand moment in my relating of the Szoka Era.

Edmund Szoka was soon to depart from Detroit, heading for his new challenge, organizing the finances of the Vatican and eventually serving as the governing head of Vatican City State. There were all sorts of events and festivities marking his Detroit departure.

And in the midst of all of the activities and events a good number of new monsignori were named. It was likely his was of saying, "Thank you" to several clergy who had served him well in his time with us. 

(For those unsure, monsignor is an ecclesiastical title of honor. It holds no special sort of I-got-more-clergy-in-me-than-you-do kind of element. It's just honorary. Such an animal gets to wear red buttons on his cassock (assuming that he even wears a cassock.) He also gets a red tassel on his biretta (if he knows what one of those is.) And he gets to walk a bit further back in line in solemn event processions. And  most importantly of all, it means no pay increase. Strictly an honorary thing! Matter of fact Pope Francis has nearly eliminated this title, restricting it almost exclusively to clergy seventy and older. In other words, it is now a kindly pat on the back before sending one out to pasture.)

Anyhow, long story short - I was not among the number named  as a monsignor upon the Szoka departure.

But it was also around that same time that I got a phone call informing me that I was being given the Farrell Award. That was truly a big news phone call. This particular award provided an all expense paid sabbatical for some three months at the North American College in Rome. I had to cover transportation, getting myself there and then back home again as well as covering any personal expenses. But meals, accommodations, tuition - all would be covered.

Study Time in Rome! Living expenses covered!

Awesome indeed!

It was some days after the naming of the new monsignors and also after that incredible phone call that my path again crossed with Edmund Szoka.

He simply said to me, "I trust you are pleased with your award. I just thought that you would appreciate that more than having some red buttons!"

He knew me and he knew me well.

Weeks of study in Rome! With some of the finest scholars of the Church! And time to wander those Roman streets! And enjoy the pastas and vino!

Yep!

Edmund C. Szoka - you got it right!

You did well!

Who needs those Red Buttons?

Next: The Maida Era!

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (Bar Fight)

 Once upon a time there was a rather established institution in Detroit called Diamond Jim Brady's. It was an old fashioned bar where some of the most amazing hamburgers were served. It was also practically around the corner from the parish where, back then, I was ministering. Somehow, it became a meeting place after hours for some unwinding and processing of the day's events and meetings. In that time I got to know the owners of Brady's and one or the other  would often join us at the table for some animated conversation.

The Brady's were also quite active and involved in the Jesuit Community in Detroit and stayed closely in touch with the University of Detroit and U of D High.

This tale occurred after the decision had been made to close Precious Blood School. It was, as one can imagine, a difficult decision and a difficult time. It also meant that there was the possibility of a sizable vacant building in that part of Detroit.

That is something neither I nor the neighborhood wanted.

I began some work seeking potential occupants for the building. 

And, behold, one was found in Wayne State University. They were considering a possible extension campus program and our site seemed ideal.

Negotiations began and actually moved along quite smoothly. It definitely looked as if the building would not be vacant for any length of time. We were almost ready to sign on the dotted line when that particular evening occurred at Diamond Jim Brady's.

One of the Brady brothers sat down at the table with us. No big surprise there. The surprise came shortly after however.

"So, I hear that the Archdiocese has plans for your school," he announced.

"Say what," came my reply.

"Don't you know?" he asked.

"About what?"

Evidently the plan was for the Archdiocese to acquire the property and turn it over to De Porres High School, a vibrant city institution that, at the time, was functioning on the campus of Sacred Heart Seminary with no campus of its own.

The Precious Blood Campus would soon become theirs!

And that was the first I had heard of it! The word had come to the Brady's from their Jesuit U od D connections.

And that word came to me in a bar!

The next morning I was on the phone with officials Downtown, insisting that I speak with the Archbishop.

Of course there was a delay.

But I did get a call back that afternoon.

The Archbishop would meet with me on this matter - on a Saturday no less! And at his residence!

The moment I was shown into his study, words of apology were pouring forth from the Great Archbishop Edmund Szoka!

This was not the way it should have gone, he was explaining. I really should have been involved earlier. I should not have found out in this way. Definitely not in some bar!

A profound apology that still moves me.

And from that moment I would be included in the process. There would be a meeting of the Consultors of the Archdiocese and I will be present and a concrete offer will be presented to me.

And, please, do not sign any other contract!

The Consultors' meeting took place and an offer was presented to me, a rather good offer. Edmund Szoka looked across the great meeting table at me and declared, "It's a very good offer, Ron, isn't it?"

And I smiled right back at him and informed him, "I will take it back to the Parish Council. After all, it's their parish!"

And the Bar Fight got good!

It almost seemed as if the Archbishop himself would be coming to the Parish Counsel's meeting. Unfortunately, he was leaving to join Pope John Paul II in Poland and, therefore unable to be present. He assigned a high raking Archdiocesan official to represent him instead.

And the Bar Fight really got good.

The official presented the offer to the members of the Parish Counsel.

And without flinching the Council president simply responded with, "Should we tell him to go home now and leave us alone!"

A few moments of silence and then the offer began to get sweetened.

There was room for negotiation and that clearly had the Archbishop's approval.

And the deal got sweeter and sweeter until, finally, the official declared honestly, "That is really the best I can offer you."

But it was now a very good deal and so it was accepted.

And the Archdiocese got its agreement. De Porres High moved into the vacant Precious blood School Campus after almost a year of building renovations and restorations (covered in full by the Archdiocese.)

And Precious Blood Parish became comfortably, fiscally solvent, all facilities utilized.

And the Bar Fight was over!

More is certainly to come!

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (Quips)

 Edmund Szoka and I had numerous occasions through the years to exchange a quip or two. I could toss a quick quip right at him and he never even ducked and he knew when to come right back at me. Memory only provides me with a sampling of those exchanges through our years of ministry together.

On one of his visits to Precious Blood, the weather was welcoming and so we vested for Mass in the rectory and then did a small procession outdoors to the church. As I recall, this was in that time when females were not to be serving Mass. Gender restrictions were officially in place.

However, somehow at Precious Blood we managed to find a place for females, fully vested in what really looked like server's garb, to have a place at the Table.

And the day of this particular Szoka visit, one such garbed female, carrying the processional crucifix, was proudly executing her role. A typical teen with a bit too much make-up, hair nicely done up, and clearly, very evidently, a very female server. (Or maybe, taking that particular era into consideration, a mere assistant to the servers.)

Anyhow, she was leading the procession.

And, of course, Edmund Szoka noticed.

He leaned over toward me as the procession emerged from the rectory doorway, and he informed me.

"Did you notice that the crossbearer is a female!"

"I did notice," I responded. "It's rather evident."

And then silence as the procession proceeded.

Fact stated. Fact noted. End of the matter! And the Archbishop of Detroit survived.

I believe it may have been the same occasion that brought about still another moment of discovery for the Archbishop.

It was at the altar, at the entry into our most solemn moments. The Holy, Holy had been sung and the Eucharistic Prayer had begun.

And the People of God remained standing!

Again, this was a time when kneeling was expected.

It may have been "expected," but it was not in our playbook and so the People stood.

And again the Archbishop leaned in my direction and whispered the obvious.

"They are still standing."

"And they will continue to do so," I replied.

"Through the whole Eucharistic Prayer?" he asked.

"Through the whole Eucharistic Prayer," I replied.

And the Archbishop of Detroit launched into the words of the Eucharistic Prayer and the People continued to stand in reverent attention and again the Archbishop of Detroit survived.

And there were numerous other such occasions and exchanges but in all fairness, I need to include at least one of his moments when he got me.

The occasion was a very significant one. The Apostolic Delegate to the United States was visiting Detroit and there was a special gathering at Sacred Heart Seminary.

As that gathering ended, we began making our way down the corridors and to the parking lot. I was calmly walking along when I heard a familiar voice directly behind me.

It was the Archbishop of Detroit walking with the Apostolic Delegate and deeply engaged in conversation. At least that was the case until he noticed me walking directly in front of them.

Then his voice increased in volume, making certain that I could hear his every word.

Edmund Szoka announced to the Apostolic Delegate, that gentleman in front of us, he's our liturgist."

Nice to hear, I have to admit. The recognition was appreciated, still is.

But then came the rest of that story.

"Do you know the difference between a liturgist and a terrorist?" the Archbishop asked the Apostolic Delegate.

And then came the answer, words Edmund Szoka just wanted me to hear.

"At least you can negotiate with a terrorist!"

The Archbishop off Detroit had won that round!

More is certainly to come!

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (Oops!)

 Not really sure to whom the "Oops" should be credited. It could go directly to me or it could go to Edmund Szoka, Archbishop of Detroit.

Or, maybe, just to be honest and fair, we each deserve an "Oops" for this one.

This event occurred while I was still pastor at Precious Blood Parish, a fine parish in a stunning neighborhood in the City of Detroit. By the time I became pastor, the parish numbers were in serious decline. Other faith communities were doing a far better job at evangelization and that, together with newly arrived residents who had other faith traditions, brought about the decline that made Precious Blood actually a rather small faith community.

Although small in number, there was a strength, a dynamism in the members. There was a vibrant commitment to upholding the neighborhood and to sustaining the Catholic presence.

And somewhere in this timeframe I became the vicar for the area.

Which meant regular meetings on an Archdiocesan level along with local, vicariate and parish meetings and chores and such.

The Archdiocesan vicars' meetings regularly included the presence of the Archbishop, at that time Edmund Szoka.

And that is when those "Opps" occurred.

And I suggest that the good Archbishop started it and even asked for it.

He brought up an item about Archdiocesan support for parishes in the City of Detroit.

Now, truth be told, from the days of Archbishop John Dearden, there had been regular, generous financial support from the top down to the local parish communities. Funding was there for many worthy purposes.

That being said, at this particular vicars' meeting Archbishop Szoka brought up the concern that he was hearing that City parishes were not well supported by the Archdiocese and by him, personally. This was proving concerning to him as he considered himself and the Archdiocese to be very generous.

He looked around the room. Then he spied me.

And then his "Opps" occurred.

"Ron," he called out. "You are a City pastor. Do you feel a lack of support/"

Should have never asked - at least not me.

I can tend to be honest. And that is exactly what happened, which was probably my "Opps" moment.

I can't recall my exact words but I do know this. I spoke out before the assembled vicars and our Archbishop.

I acknowledged that, indeed, financial support is available.

But, I dared to add.

We never see you!

We need your visible, physical presence in our City parishes. We need you not just to be visiting those big, fancy suburban parishes. We need you standing, really, visibly with us. The money is appreciated but you are even more appreciated.

There was a silence in the room.

Listening closely, one just might have heard Edmund Szoka muttering under his breath, "Opps!"

But he asked!

And I answered.

And a couple of days later I got a chance for a very real "Opps" of my own.

A phone call came from that sacred Downtown office.

And I was informed that the Archbishop would be coming to Precious Blood for Mass on the very next Sunday.

No time to fancy things up or get out any pomp.

A true pastoral visit. No real advance warning or preparation time. He was coming to stand at the altar with the people and afterwards meet with and talk to them. I asked for it. And I got it!

"Opps!"

But all in all those turned out to be good "Opps!""

The Pastor of the Church of Detroit got to mingle with some of that Church, a segment far too often taken for granted. It was a good time, a holy moment.

And it was not his last visit with us.

And it is certainly among the many "opps" in my life, one that I continue to treasure.

More is certainly to come!

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (Invitation)

 It came with just hours notice!

An invitation.

It was a day in early March, cannot remember the actual day) but I do remember the general timing of the event. It was late afternoon (perhaps early evening?) and the phone rang. The caller was some Downtown Official. Again, the name escapes me and is actually irrelevant to this episode. Anyhow, the caller was informing me that there was to be a press conference the next morning at Sacred Heart Seminary and the Archbishop wanted me to be invited, hoping that I could also be present.

While the invitation was something of a surprise, the actual press conference was really not all that much of a surprise.

Pope Joan Paul II was coming later in the year to the United States. He had already made a trip to visit the East Coast with a side trip to Chicago. This time the plan was for him to visit the South and West. However, it was rather common knowledge that Archbishop Szoka really wanted a visit to Detroit and was pulling out all sorts of stops to make that happen.

A side trip to the Midwest and Detroit on a planned jaunt through the South and West hardly seemed likely.

But the convening of this special press conference only served to fuel speculation that the Archbishop just may have pulled it off.

And sure enough!

The heart of the conference was the announcement that John Paul II was, indeed, coming to Detroit! He would swing in from the West, pay on overnight visit and then head back West for a stop at a Canadian Native American outpost.Szoka had puled it off!

John Paul would visit Detroit, stop for prayer at the Cathedral, spend Saturday morning visiting Hamtramck and follow that with a stop at Hart Plaza, a meeting with deacons from around the country and close things out with Mass at the Pontiac Sliverdome.

Announcement made; questions answered; the press conference was at an end.

However, before exiting, I made a stop to speak some words to the Archbishop. I offered congratulations and then told him that if in any way he thought I could help with this project, he should feel free to let me know. I was ready, willing and (so I thought) able.

It was only a few days later after still another meeting on still a different matter, that I discovered that the Archbishop had actually paid attention to my offer and even more than that, was taking me up on it.

One of the Downtown Staff walked with me as I left the meeting. 

"I will be calling you to talk about your job for the Papal Visit," he informed me.

Of course I asked what that job might be.

The response was evasive. Something like, we can talk all about it tomorrow.

But I was not giving up that easily.

"You can tell me now," I assured. "I think I can handle most anything."

And then I said it - that most revealing of statements.

"There is only one job that would keep me awake at night."

"And what might that be? my informant asked.

"Trying to coordinate Communion at the Silverdome Mass, " I replied.

"Well, go home and get one more good night's sleep," my informant declared. "We will talk further tomorrow."And with that a simple phone call invitation to a press conference, coming from the Archbishop of Detroit, became a six month life changer!

Thanks, Edmund C. Szoka, for entrusting me with that one!

More is certainly to come!

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (Meeting)

 I would like to schedule a meeting with Archbishop Szoka.

My simple, straight-forward request was submitted.

And the naturally expected responses followed.

Why do you need this meeting?

Can't you just plan and allow the Archbishop to take his role?

But my most clear-cut reasoning finally broke through all of the questions and objections.

We wanted our meetings and planning sessions to be productive and presently were being stymied by trying to guess the mind and potential responses of the Archbishop.

There would, indeed, be a meeting!

Szoka and I would sit down together in his office downtown in the Chancery building.

And that day and that meeting finally arrived.

I walked into the office; we shook hands and were seated.

The Archbishop opened the conversation.

"So, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Sorry, Archbishop," I responded, "But you do not work that way. The better question would be - What are you planning to do?"

He smiled and began to describe how he envisioned his role in the Convocation liturgies. His vision was exactly what I had been expecting. He intended, not to preside at them. Our preliminary working drafts had already set out our plans. We wanted to allow the Convocation participants to get a glimpse of the richness of the presbyteriate of the Archdiocese of Detroit. Our plan was to have an elder clergy preside and homilize one day, a fairly newly ordained at still another, a religious order priest and somewhere-in-the-middle priests on remaining days.

But what about the Archbishop?

His initial response was to embrace the planned presiders. He, however, would take a solemn archbishop's role, vested in alb, stole and cope, located in a position of honor, taking some of the prayers to himself and visually overseeing the whole time.

He would clearly be the one in control, so to speak.

Which was exactly what we were trying to avoid.

Those working on the Convocation plans were hoping to present a more human side to this all to often feared and even disliked Archbishop. We wanted to give him the chance to invite us to actually like him and see him as truly a brother.

And the role he envisioned for himself liturgically, while ritually correct, would also muddy the waters.

But I had come to that meeting prepared.

I responded to the Archbishop by acknowledging that he would certainly be in line assuming the role he was describing. However, there were other possibilities.

And then I produced the Vatican document outlining the possibilities for a setting such as the one we would be in.

I handed a copy of the document to the Archbishop and explained that four varying possibilities did exist and were all possible.

He looked at the document, somewhat surprised that I had such. However, even more surprising to him was the fact that he next acknowledged.

"This thing is all in Latin!" the Archbishop exclaimed.

"Yes, Archbishop," I responded. "I thought it best if we discuss this in the Latin so that you do not in any way suggest that I am misreading or mistranslating."

And he smiled!

And we looked at the four possibilities from the first and most solemn, which was the one he was embracing, to a less formal, to a rather passive but still vested presence to the fourth possibility.

He read and then reread that one.  

"Well, this one puts me in civilian (read that casual, non-clerical) clothes and just one among the rest of you!"

"Exactly!" I replied. "But it is allowed!"

And within seconds he was bringing the meeting to its ending.

"I cannot do that." He was declaring. "Let me think about this and get back to you."

And our meeting was over.

It was about a week later that I got the phone call from the Archbishop's Office.

The Archbishop would accept the fourth option for his role in the Convocation liturgies!

However, a couple of conditions were attached to that seismic decision.

The Archbishop would preside as Archbishop and homilist at the closing Mass (already planned anyhow and so an easy concession) and I would write a letter to all of the priests of the Archdiocese telling them to bring albs and stoles to wear for the closing Mass.

I explained that I would write the letter but could not guaranteed that all would comply.

Understood.

Write the letter and the Archbishop will take his place all week long, seated among his brother priests and wearing his stylish sweater.

And so went my first real one-on-one with Edmund Szoka. That was the first but definitely not the last!

More is certainly to come!

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (Convocation)

 Before launching into this new episode of Book, let me address that other item.

Yes, it has been a bit since the last installment. Honestly speaking, I have been a bit busy and also distracted by some other items. I have been in the process of uprooting my life - yes, even at my age! - and actually, physically moving. I am now in a new location. I have left behind Senior Clergy Village on the campus of Madonna University where I made my home for the last eight years and I have relocated to The Reserve at Red Run in Madison Heights, now my new home. A ministerial possibility opened here and I felt called to consider it. So now here I am in a new location and starting a new chapter in my ministry.

Having said that, let's get on with the bishops' saga as we continue into the Szoka Era.

It was some years after the "Kosnik Episode" that I was to have any further dealings with Edmund Szoka. For me, things remained quiet and some might suggest that, especially in that Era, quiet was a very good thing. Those who had dealings with the Archbishop seemed often to find themselves frustrated, angry, disappointed, and a whole lot of other very negative descriptives.

Edmund Szoka was not, especially in his years as Detroit's Archbishop, a very likable person. 

However, in 1985 I found myself in a position of once again having to deal with the Archbishop and this time it would be up close and personal.

Early in the year it was announced that in the fall of that year there would be a convocation of the priests of the Archdiocese of Detroit. The convocation idea was new but also beginning to catch on as a means of furthering and fostering a spirit of unity and supportiveness in ministry.

However, such an undertaking would also require a lot of effort, planning and organizing. For such an event to be successful, ,amu heads would have to be put together to shape the event.

This convocation would take place in the northern part of Michigan's lower peninsula, in the resort of Boyne Mountain. The resort was just far enough away geographically so that the participants would not be tempted to head home after hours. It was large enough to accomodate the expected number of participants and it had rooms sizable enough for planned group activities.

And I was called on to lead the committee in charge of liturgies and prayer experiences.

Each day would include Mass, common morning and evening prayer, a night prayer to conclude the day, opportunity for quiet time before the Eucharistic Lord and, of course, the Sacrament of Penance.

And we were assigned the locker room as our "chapel" for the week.

My first task was gathering a committee to work together. This could not be all the effort of one or even just a few. It would take a number of individuals with a variety of skills, including competency in music, art and environment. After all, a locker room had to be transformed into a chapel, suitable to being a prayerful surrounding.

I had no trouble finding and recruiting very able bodies.

And the meetings began and the planning got underway.

Early on in this project the various committee heads were flown, at the direct insistence of the Archbishop, by private plane to Boyne to actually spend the day on site getting a hands on feel for what was available to us.

At that day's end we were flown back, given time to freshen up and then we met with the Archbishop for dinner (on him, of course) at the Detroit Athletic Club! Not too shabby! There we gacvve him our reports on the findings of the day's journey.

That was my first face-to-face with Edmund Szoka and it certainly did not leave me shaking in my boots. It was pleasant, productive, enjoyable as was he. (And maybe, just maybe, that glass of fine scotch added a little assist as well.)

But the actual working sessions of the committee began to produce quite a different experience.

A constant question began to emerge as we discussed prayer and liturgical experience possibilities for the convocation.

"Will he (read that as The Archbishop) allow that?"

That question began to take still another sound.

"He won't go for that" or "He won't tolerate that" or "He won't allow that."

Edmund Szoka became the phantom presence in our meetings.

And that presence became increasingly paralyzing.

We were actually trying to read his mind, guess his reactions, and this was preventing us from really creatively planning.

Finally I reached a breaking point.

"Enough!" I declared.

I am going to meet with him directly and ask face to face. We needed to stop guessing and start dealing with actual answers and so I would meet with The Archbishop and ask the questions.

And the committee responded.

It will not happen. He will not meet with you. He doesn't do things like that.

And I replied back, "Just wait and see!"

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (A Resolution?)

Anthony Kosnik's obituary provided a very simple descriptive of that troubled moment:

 As a result of very strong opposition to the book by conservative elements of the Catholic Church, and his refusal to recant, Tony's contract at SS Cyril and Methodius Seminary was not renewed for the 1981-82 academic year. This led to strong student and faculty protest, as well as confrontation with the Archbishop, and eventually resulted in his appointment to the faculty of Marygrove College, in Detroit. Tony directed the M.A. Program in Pastoral Ministry at Marygrove from 1983 until the time of his retirement in 2000.

Short; sweet' simple - however, maybe a bit too brief and simple. At least from what I remember, maybe someone was trying to keep the descriptive brief or perhaps they were just trying to remember events from off top of their head. At any rate at least some of my recollection is at variance, particularly the cited dates.

My recollection puts this as happening in late winter and early spring of 1982, which would mean that the contract renewal in question would have been for 1982/1983. A bit later I will let you know why I stick with those dates.

As to the issue at hand, for me, before making any moves, especially any based on an "unnamed source" phone call, I decided to check the facts. I placed a phone call to Kosnik's office where, as might be expected, calls were not being answered. Fortunately, I had his private number and that worked. I got to speak with him directly and heard him confirm that a new contract was not being offered to him. 

While there was no evident, crystal-clear evidence of any Person in Great Authority being involved in this decision, speculation about an ultimate and greater source was certainly present. Tony was not going public with anything or making any public statements, especially any speculative statements.

Of course there was nothing to prevent me from speaking with the press. Just be careful!

And that was an important element and piece of wisdom.

After all, even if a certain bishop was behind this, well, the bishop of any diocese certainly had the authority and sometimes even the duty to call for the transfer of a priest within that diocese. And back then we were still operating under the older Code of Canon Law which emphasized strongly a bishop's "rights."

Furthermore, as the chief teacher and guardian of orthodoxy within the local Church, the bishop had certain duties. These were not questionable and still should not be.

However, there was another question that seemed at play in this matter. It could be called academic freedom or academic license. It did not and should not mean that the academic field should be "free" to do anything or say anything or think anything at all. There were and should be boundaries but also a certain flexibility for academic development, for growth and deepening and advancing - even in the fields of theology. Research should never be ruled out.

After all, Vatican II would not have been able to present us with the beautiful renewal of liturgy except for academic study, discussion and development. Other Constitutions and documents, likewise, evidence theological growth and development. Matter of fact, without such growth and development, we might be relegated to the ancient practice of allowing the Sacrament of Penance to be administered only once in a lifetime after Baptism. No third chances back then! But growth, development happened.

So, the real question emerging from all of this was - what is this action possibly saying regarding academic development in the area of theology?

And as a teacher, this question and its answer impacted me and every other theology faculty member!

And when, somehow, the story leaked out to the local press, this was the question set out before the public. And when, a short time later, the National Catholic Reporter made contact with me for comments on this breaking story, this was my point of focus.

And along with the story breaking in local and national news, I began to get phone calls from students asking what they could or should do. 

And an opportune moments was definitely presenting itself.

Just days after this breaking event the Archbishop of Detroit, Edmund C. Szoka, was hosting a unique gathering of clergy and laity from the Church of Detroit for the first ever Archdiocesan Assembly. The numbers would be sizable enough to fill the seats of the auditorium of Sacred Heart Seminary.

And somehow those gathering for that Assembly were greeted (as was the Archbishop on his arrival) by a significant crowd, carrying signs, of course, and asking in their chant, what was going on at Orchard Lake and with Father Anthony Kosnik. 

And that questioning did not abate or disappear inside the seminary auditorium. Delegates to the Assembly picked up the question and began to take to the public microphones joining in the search for clarity.

Oh! And I was nowhere near that scene!

I had received still another "unnamed source" phone call. And this is why I also know that the obituary dates may be off. This had to be happening in 1982 because early that year I had decided that it was time for me to consider moving on from my current pastorate. I was considering a new opportunity and folks Downtown knew this. In fact by this time I had my eyes on one particular parish and that was also known.

So the phone call I received was a simple word of advice.

"If you want that assignment, you had just better settle down!"

I got the hint.

I shut my mouth. 

Shortly afterward I was named pastor of the Church of the Precious Blood in Detroit, a ministry that I assumed in 1982. I was also, then, added as adjunct faculty at Sacred Heart Seminary temporarily until another could get academically qualified to take over full time.

Oh, and Tony's contract was actually renewed. An understanding and agreement managed to be reached. He stayed on for one more year and then gracefully resigned. He chose to not renew!

And he was allowed to take on another teaching assignment, continuing to use his academic gifts now at Marygrove College.

And from my new position at Precious Blood Parish new opportunities unfolded for interacting with Edmund C. Szoka! The fun had just begun!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Szoka Era (Dawning)

 And now we arrive at memories of what may well have been the most significant of my Memories of Bishops - The Szoka Era.

Edmund C. Szoka came to the Archdiocese of Detroit following the retirement of John Dearden. His origins were Pure Michigan and his episcopal roots were as the first bishop of the Diocese of Gaylord.

When John Dearden came to us from Pittsburgh, he bore the reputation of being "Iron John," steel cold and inflexible. Edmund Szoka came with no such designation. He really did not need a nickname. His actions spoke loudly enough. I suspect that there are some who would even suggest that Iron would be too flexible and pliable a material for describing Edmund Szoka!

His voice -- his very presence -- one glance from him -- any of these could make even those very strong tremble in their boots.

I think that may have been why the Szoka Era played such a significant part in my life.

And having set out that descriptive, now let me back up a bit and capture a prelude to our very first encounter.

I was back from my studies at the University of Notre Dame and I was newly positioned as pastor of St.  Clement of Rome in Romeo, Michigan and still very early in this process, with that new degree safely in hand and no office job to accompany it, I was asked to join the faculty of SS Cyril and Methodius Seminary in Orchard Lake, Michigan.

They needed someone to handle this newly emerging "science" of liturgy and all of the emerging documents and at that time in our history, such qualified persons were few and far between. However, I was a newly appointed pastor who had just spurned a bureaucratic full time position.

It was agreed that I would serve as adjunct faculty, maintaining my parish life while setting aside time weekly each semester to provide needed courses in liturgical theology.

I would have the best of both worlds (so to speak) or just maybe the worst!

But honestly, teaching was exhilarating and I especially enjoyed interacting with the students, often learning from the examples being set by lay students, newly being admitted to theological studies and exhibiting deep appreciation to what, far too often, seminary students were then taking for granted.

And the Dean of Studies, my immediate supervisor, was also a joy with whom to work. He was then becoming a well known theologian, Anthony Kosnik. He even had a book about to be released. It would prove to be, for back then in the 1970's, a very radical work on human sexuality.

And that is where my first real up close and personal encounter with Edmund Szoka would take place.

I had been serving on the adjunct faculty of the seminary for a number of years when "It" happened. Matter of fact, I had also been in parish as pastor for even a slightly longer period of time.

During this span of time there were numerous occasions when I would have the occasion to meet with and have discussions with Tony Kosnik. Mostly we spoke of educational approaches and techniques on the graduate study level. I do believe that we both felt strongly about how subject matter should be handled when dealing with those who had arrived at  this particular level of learning.

But then one fine day I received a phone call.

And do not try and even pretend that, at least back in those days, even Archdiocesan Offices did not have news leaks!

This caller, aware that I was working, even if part time, in the seminary and also with Tony Kosnik, just wanted me to be informed.

Anthony Kosnik was being removed from his position!

He was not going willingly. He was being ordered out.

And guess, just guess who might be giving the order!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era (Payback?)

The days of late July, 1967 in Detroit are still remembered by those who lived through them and still talked about and even studied by those hungry for some lessons in history. These were the days when the streets of Detroit erupted in anger and frustration, days of our very own home-brewed troubles.

Following these days of turmoil and trouble many leaders sought to learn the lessons needed to move forward. One such leader was the Archbishop of Detroit, John Dearden. By this time the Second Vatican Council was finished and its impact was clearly felt on Detroit's Archbishop.

One of the ideas he developed for responding to the Troubles of 1967 centered in the annual fund-raising drive, actually inaugurated years before, by his predecessor, Archbishop Edward Mooney. That was the Archdiocesan Development Fund. (ADF)

Each year in springtime this fund-raising drive swept across all parishes raising funds for a variety of purposes, all necessary and all just too expansive to be handled by any single parish. Funds were raised to purchase properties for new parishes, for enabling and enriching educational endeavors, for counseling projects and the like. And each year Catholics across the Archdiocese proved themselves generous again and again.

Until the year after those Troubles of 1967.

That year, to the mix of charitable causes already funded the Archbishop added special outreach into the Black Community, providing seed monies to enable self-help efforts at bettering lives.

But far too many were having no part of this added effort.

Too many Catholics back then were still not ready to hear the powerful message of the Gospel in terms of true outreach to neighbors.

The ADF in 1968 tanked in terms of raising designated funds.

And it continued to tank the next year and the year after that.

Recovery would be a long time coming.

Then came the surprise for me personally.

I cannot remember today exactly what year it happened but I do know that I had managed to avoid that desk job downtown, the heat was off and I was settling into my position as pastor out in Romeo.

And the call came.

Archbishop Dearden had named me as that year's priest chair for the ADF!

And he was calling on me to work closely with the newly named lay chair to strat bring a robustness back to the ADF!

Payback for letting me settle into a parish position instead of sitting behind a desk? Who knows. What I do know is that for the next two years I would be front and center as the clergy face for the ADF and I would be spending a whole lot of time in person and on the phone with brother priests convincing them to get behind the efforts and bring this important effort back to a strong, healthy life!

Oh! And that also meant having a "make-over." Seems I was one of those "with the times" and my hair back then was a bit too long and too curly.  And those glasses! The kind that would darken when impacted by sunshine! Get rid of them. Photos of me had to be of a straight-laced, clean-cut, respectable looking cleric! The pros got busy and I got that make-over.

And I got to meet and work with the lay chair of the ADF who was also the president (and I guess in today's terns CEO) of the Burrough's Corporation, at that time one of the leading local innovators in computer technology. This was back when computers occupied whole rooms and even whole floors! He introduced me to the future and shared visions of days ahead and brought me in on the ground floor of a dawning era.

And we actually did, also, turn the ADF around, hitting target once again after a number of years of falling short.

And I have John Dearden to thank for that part of my life.

But then he retired and his replacement was named - the bishop of Gaylord, Michigan, someone named Edmund Szoka!

And if we thought Dearden was Iron John when he came to Detroit, we were about to get a lesson in what Iron truly meant.

Edmund Szoka was coming to Detroit. The Szoka Era was about to begin.

And some years of real "fun" were dawning!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era (Fact/Fiction)

 This tale is one not often spoken of, in fact so infrequently has it been told that even some close to me (including family members) have probably never been aware of it.

At least until now.

And part of it is definitely fact but there is also a part that remains and will remain questionable, uncertifiable, not able to be documented or proved due to the fact that principles involved have passed away and so leave a part that cannot be authenticated.

Let's begin with the fact part.

I had never considered myself as an "academic." True, I passed through those early grades and then college and seminary grad school rather easily. However, given the choice between settling in with some classic tome or playing a couple of games of pinochle, one could easily find me at the card table.

However, evidently others, certainly some in high places, saw things differently.

And John Dearden saw a potential need to fill.

The winds of change were clearly in the air in the Catholic Church and John Dearden was definitely impacted by them. In his wisdom he realized that work would be needed to enable the folk in the pews to enter wholeheartedly into the spirit of the dawning age.

One critical area to be addressed was that of liturgy. The Fathers of the Second Vatican Council had made this the number one item on their agenda, acknowledging that reform was needed and long overdue. As a result new tools, books and documents were being prepared and needed to be studied, understood and introduced in such a way that the average Joan (or Joe) would be at home in this strange territory. (I might be inclu=ined to say"new" territory but there really was nothing new emerging. Rather, we were rediscovering our ancient roots.)

At any rate a handful from the Archdiocese of Detroit were tapped to engage in advanced studies, the plan being that this would provide a resource pool for introducing the coming books and documents to the Church of Detroit.

I was among that handful chosen and selected for liturgical studies at the University of Notre Dame.

I accepted the call with one very important and strong stipulation.

I would be allowed to remain in parish ministry.

I believed then and still do today that far too many get advanced education and then get removed from the common folk. They wind up in office jobs or teaching positions with hardly any regular contact with real people and their lives. I did not want that. I would resource the Archdiocese. I would teach when called on. I would do whatever might prove necessary but all of this just as long as I would never be removed from the daily life of a parish faith community.

Agreed!

So the assurance was given to me.

And off I went for graduate studies in liturgical theology at the University of Notre Dame (where, by the way, I decided not to ever try out for the football team!)

And four years later the mission was accomplished and I was full time back home, diploma in hand. Actually, diploma was not yet in hand when I returned home. I skipped the commencement and had the parchment mailed to me. But I was back home.

And in only a matter of days I was called Downtown for a special meeting.

And at that meeting I was informed that in a couple of months I would be receiving a new assignment. Of course, it would be an office job, heading a department Downtown.

That promise of my remaining full time in a parish? Well, forget it. There was a greater need. And I had a couple of months to get used to the idea.

But I also have at least a little knowledge of things like politics and bureaucracy and how they work.

I left that meeting, traveled across the street and down the block into another set of Archdiocesan offices. And there I asked what parishes might be open and looking for a full time pastor. My thinking? If I got a new assignment, it would be guaranteed for six years and no one could move me for that amount of time without my full agreement.

And I also figured that one department would not know what the other was doing until, hopefully, it was too late.

And sure enough!

A parish was open and looking for a pastor and I could apply even though I was still so very, very young. And I applied. When the time came, I got the phone call.

I had been appointed pastor of St. Clement of Rome Parish in Romeo, Michigan.

And by Canon Law I would become untouchable for the next six years unless I agreed to move!

And the phone call that I received shortly after getting this news was from a different Archdiocesan official who, needless  to say, was not a very happy camper. Such language! And from a cleric!

And that is the fact part of this story.

Now the undocumented part.

Well, for some time after there were still movements to undo the assignment. It was a sort of "get him out of that parish and back down here where he belongs!" situation.

And then suddenly - silence.

The movement stopped and I was left in peace.

It was only some years later, too long after these events to document or verify, that I was told, "Did you know that John Dearden intervened?" He finally stepped in and told those officials whose plans had been upset that they should just leave me alone.

"If that is what he wants, if that is what he believes he is called to, just leave him alone!"

Fact? Fiction?

Don't know.

What I do know is that it sounds like John Dearden and in the months and years after, I joined the adjunct seminary faculty, gave many a presentation throughout the Archdiocese, resourced in the area of liturgy in numerous ways, but never left parish life and the real, day to day faith community.

And eventually, someone else was groomed for that position that I managed to avoid. And life has gone on.

And we have all somehow survived!

And that is fact!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era (I See You!)

 It was not quite four years after Iron John Dearden arrived in Detroit than he was off in 1962 to Rome for the first session of the Second Vatican Council. Sessions of that Council lasted until its conclusion in 1965, reshaping so much of the Catholic worldview.

And somewhere, somehow within that very process good, old Iron John also began to melt.

I can find no other way to describe it.

By the end of the workings of Vatican II Iron John was no more.

Instead we found ourselves dealing with a man who had, somehow (call it the working of the Spirit,) been radically transformed.

Instead of iron cold, steely, hard and inflexible, John Dearden was now warm, approachable, engaging and, well, downright pastoral.

He was actually a joy to speak with, to listen to, to learn from, to be with.

So amazing was the transformation in this man that he was the one whom his peer bishops from all of the United States elected as their first president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops! His hand would guide the Church of the United States through the often unfamiliar waters of the post-Vatican II Era.

It was this John Dearden that I finally had aa chance to meet, greet, sit and speak with and even get to know somewhat personally. Until this time my dealings with him were what might best be called remote - singing or assisting in other ministerial ways at services.

And the really up close but still frankly impersonal moment - my ordination to the priesthood. His hands anointed me. His hands rested on my head. His hands clasped mine as I was commissioned to set Word and Eucharist before God's People.

But my up close and personal meeting with John Dearden did not come until a few years later.

By this time I was in my second assignment, a parish on Detroit's Eastside. I also had a couple of years of graduate studies in liturgical theology at the University of Notre Dame under my belt. I was becoming a liturgical resource for the Archdiocese of Detroit.

And that is when my first one on one came with John Dearden.

Until that time we had never met up close. Never spoken other than, perhaps, a word or phrase of courteous greeting. To John Dearden I was just one more face in that crowd of so many who constituted a part of the Church of Detroit.

One more nameless face!

Or so I thought!

He had come to our parish for Confirmations and, as was expected, there was dinner beforehand with the clergy of the parish. (Remember, this was back in those ancient times when parishes actually had more than one priest! We had four at that time plus weekend help!)

Anyhow, after the obviously elegant dinner and courteous but general table conversation, and before  the Confirmation ceremony, much to my surprise, John Dearden took my arm and pulled me aside and said, "Let's have a chat!"

He led into a sitting room away from the gathered crowd. We sat down.

And that is when his next statement blew me away.

"I understand," John Dearden, Archbishop of Detroit, said to me,, "That you disagree with my theology of Confirmation!"

Now how could he possibly know that?

He had definitely done some serious homework before coming to the parish. And we were definitely not strangers, faces in the crowd to him - at least I certainly was not! John Dearden knew me and whatever his sources, they were good! Very good!

He knew my theological position on Confirmation!

He saw me!

And, yes indeed, I did disagree with his position. I had actually never said so in public, announced it from the rooftops or anything like that but my studies had been leading to some research and conclusions that put us sort of at odds with each other. In a word, our starting points were different and as a result, our conclusions were different.

Really,  I am not sure if I should even describe this whole moment as being at odds. Maybe if I were dealing with Iron John that would have been the case but this was no longer Iron John.

And it showed.

"Let's talk about your conclusions," he invited.

And we began a discussion on the theology of Confirmation!

And he listened to and showed respect for the sources I was citing and, when appropriate, he countered with his views tempered by candid admissions of not really having explored the actual subject in all that depth!

That evening so long ago I truly met John Dearden.

And we had a decent, respectful conversation. At its ending he concluded by saying (and I still deeply treasure this comment) "I cannot, at this time, agree with your conclusions but I will always respect your stand and if ever a guest in your parish, I will respect your theological conclusions!"

John Dearden was a pastor of the finest class!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era (Birettas)

 

That is a biretta!

And I wanted you to see the item that will be the center of attention for this writing so that you do not in any way get confused. After all, I do believe that there is a quite different item which is also could easily sound almost like the item of which I am writing.

That other item is a beretta.

And that is a gun.

This is about the hat not the gun.

The funny looking hat called biretta.

It's a clerical garment, rarely seen anymore, although I suspect there are some of you who may still be seeing clerics proudly wearing these things as if to announce that they are really from a previous century.

There was a time when all Roman Catholic clerics wore bettas.

And I grew up in that time.And in my junior and senior years of college, all students of philosophy, as normal, daily attire topped our heads with birettas.

Or at least that is what some in authority thought.

John Dearden, then Archbishop of Detroit (AKA Iron John, remember) was one of those who assumed that we dressed properly with those birettas on our heads.

And in my senior year of college at St. Mary's, Orchard Lake, this newly-arrived bishop of Detroit was about to make his visit to our campus.

And part of that visit would include a uniform inspection!

Which meant, get those birettas out from wherever they may be in your closets!

For some it even meant get to that religious goods shop and buy yourself a biretta.

Everyone of us would be properly uniformed and that definitely meant a scramble for birettas.

Iron John would tolerate nothing less than full dress uniform!

And this event also occasioned a very important lesson in anatomy as well.

Until then I never knew (and bet you did not know until reading this) that God gave us those seemingly useless little fingers solely for the purpose of properly balancing birettas!

That little finger on your left hand, the one you thought was merely decorative, well, it is the biretta finger!

We were, in anticipation of Iron John's visit, schooled, trained, rehearsed in how to courteously welcome and greet our new Archbishop while balancing our biretta firmly on the little finger of the left hand.

Biretta on head (as a hat should be) and then methodically moved with right hand from head downward and into left hand and securely attached to that left pinky, held firmly in place while the right hand clasped the Archbishops hand and the head bowed to kiss his episcopal ring.

Soldier!

You have nothing on those ancient seminary routines!

And for Iron John, we were sure to know well the routine.

And he judged us to be good, model seminarians, promising future priests.

After all, we had birettas,

We wore birettas.

We knew how to handle those clerical tools.

And we knew why God gave us a little finger on our left hand.

Our birettas witnessed to the very quality of our clerical potential.

We had birettas.

At least until Iron John went home!

 

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era

 John Dearden came to the Archdiocese of Detroit from Pittsburgh. Edward Mooney, who has been Detroit's archbishop, had died while awaiting the openning of the conclave in Rome to elect the successor to Pope Pius XII.

It was in very short order after Mooney's passing that the new archbishop was named.

He came to Detroit with a nickname said to embody his persona.

Iron John!

That was the nickname and reputation that preceded him as he moved to Detroit.

And early on my dealings with Iron John began.

They were remote dealings at first, kind of second hand.

My mom's family had come to Detroit from Pennsylvania, a small - and I really do mean "small" - town called Rossiter. It was a coal mining town where families knew well what it meant to get dirty earning a living.

However, it seems that one of the town's natives had made good for himself. Jacob Shiner had become a priest. Word, as I remember it, was that we were even somehow related. At any rate, this priest, Jacob, rose through the ranks to become the secretary to the then archbishop of Pittsburgh, John Dearden. 

First contact point!

And I did tell you that the initial contacts were rather remote!

The second "contact" was rather equally remote.

At the time of the new Archbishop's installation, I was a junior in college at St. Mary's, Orchard Lake. I was also in the choir there and we were asked to join several other choirs in singing for the installation. It was not only a great honor but also something of a mandate. After all, this was the installation of Iron John!

The day of the installation arrived. Rehearsals had taken place. It was time to depart for the event. One small matter remained. Getting there.

It seems that, for a handful of us,  our scheduled ride was unable to make it.

And those were the days when seminarians could not own, rent, lease or in any way actually have a car. The only autos on campus were those of faculty and institution employees. And by the time we discovered that our ride was not coming, faculty going to the installation had already departed.

One car remained for certain, at least one that we knew of.

It was that of an elderly philosophy professor who was not attending the event.

However, seminary rules prohibited any faculty from loaning a mere seminarian a car, at least without permission from higher up, meaning the rector of the seminary, and he, of course, had already headed off to the installation.

We begged. We pleaded. We invoked the reputation embodied in that title, Iron John. All to no avail. 

Finally one of us, not saying who (protecting reputations) invoked a principle directly from the philosophy class taught by that very professor.

Epikeia!

An awesome, ancient principle of ethics.

Epikeia. n. The principle in ethics that a law can be broken to achieve a greater good.

Iron John will not be happy with this seminary if he learns that we could not get to sing at his installation because of some rule regarding use of faculty automobiles!

Break the law to achieve a greater good! We want him to like us!

And so the keys were handed over to us and we were on our way.

And while that Big Man way up there at the altar of the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament never knew it, some voices in that choir that day were singing because reputation that had come with that bishop from Pittsburgh. And a seminary rule had been broken just to make that sound happen.

Iron John had arrived in Detroit!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops (Chapter Two - Thank you, Robert Callahan)

 And who was Robert Callahan?

He was a Sulpician priest, a faculty member at St. John's Provincial Seminary in Plymouth, Michigan. Very specifically, Robert Callahan taught liturgy in that era just in the shadow of the Second Vatican Council.

Robert Callahan was a rather unique, some might prefer to use the word "eccentric", individual. Perhaps that was due to his being immersed in the field of liturgical theology at a time when for most "liturgy" meant rules, regulations and directives on how to do the rites right.

Anyhow, Robert Callahan, in those seminary days way back in the early 1960's was professor and also, for me, spiritual director. 

And that is the critical piece in the tale that unfolds here.

June 5, 1964 - I remember that date so very, very well.

It was the last day before our ordination to the priesthood.

All of the underclassmen had already gone home to begin their summer vacation. The halls of St. John's echoed with emptiness. Only faculty and deacons remained on site. There was really nothing more scheduled other than our meals for the day. Classes were done. It was just a matter of waiting.

On the morning of June 6 we would board the provided bus and be taken to Blessed Sacrament Cathedral in Detroit. There we would enter into the ancient ritual of ordination and emerge as presbyters (priests for you Catholics.)

Maybe it was the erie silence of the place or the feeling that comes with waiting or whatever. But as that day, June 5, 1964, faded into late evening, I could feel that "certain" feeling.

Jitters?

Nerves?

Doubts?

Maybe.

All I know is that a strong feeling began to take hold.

What are you doing?

Who do you think you are?

You are definitely not one for what is scheduled to take place tomorrow!

Get out of here! And get out of here NOW!

But before just packing my bags and heading to the nearest door, I headed instead to the chapel.

And there I sat in the emptiness, in the silence and in the darkness that descended as evening progressed into night.

It was almost midnight when the back door of the chapel opened.

Footsteps broke the silence.

It was Robert Callahan.

He had spent the evening in the faculty lounge in the front of the building and now he was headed to his room at the opposite end of the building.

And he had decided to take a shortcut through the chapel. That was far easier and quicker than traversing through the maze of hallways.

In the dark of night, in the silence of that space of all people, my spiritual director was in the chapel.

Taking a shortcut to his room?

Taking a Spirit-provoked pathway?

However you choose to evaluate it, he was on a journey right passed me.

And, of course, he noticed me in that darkness.

He stood for a few moments taking in the scene.

Then he stood directly in front of me and said, "I suspect you and I need to have a little conversation. Get up to my room now!"

And so I went.

Once there, we sat facing each other.

And he stated the obvious.

"Having second thoughts?"

I nodded.

And then he made the statement that has held its place in my mind for all of these fifty-nine years now.

"After all of these years and all of these studies and all of the journey thus far, now tonight you might be thinking that this was all a big mistake! Well, if you want to believe that God brought you this far only to say, 'I didn't really mean it," you go ahead and believe that.

Me! I'm going to sleep.

Goodnight!"

And he sent me out of his room and out into the night.

And into the next morning I, obviously, was still at St. John's and I did get onto that bus and make that journey to the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament.

And there on June 6, 1964, John Dearden, the Archbishop of Detroit placed his hands prayerfully on my head, followed by so very many priests of the Archdiocese of Detroit, and that Archbishop of Detroit smeared Sacred Chrism on my hands and declared me to be a priest.

And that was not my first or last dealing with John Dearden.

But it was certainly the most life-changing.

And, Robert Callahan, after fifty-nine years, I suspect your insight into the mind of God on that fateful night was far greater than was mine.

So, thank you!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops (Chapter One)

 Well, let's start at the very beginning.

And while that may sound very obvious and logical, going back to the very beginning is also going back to the boring part of this saga.

The very beginning goes back to the very first bishop (OK - Archbishop since Detroit is what is called a Metropolitan See which means that other dioceses within the geographical region are under the care and oversight of the bishop who heads the Metropolitan See.)

Told you that this would be the boring stuff!

The Metropolitan See of Detroit includes all the other dioceses of Michigan. That is what makes Detroit an Archdiocese and that is why Detroit has an Archbishop.

Or in more plain and practical language, when the Michigan bishops get together, the head honcho, the one who wears the largest pointy hat would be the Archbishop of Detroit.

And having, hopefully, helped you to understand some hierarchical jargon and politics, now we can dive in and start somewhere near the beginning.

And that would be with the first bishop of Detroit in my lifetime, Edward Aloysius Mooney.

He became the Archbishop of Detroit the year before I was born and he served in that ministry until his death in October, 1958.

He was the lucky one!

During his time as our Archbishop, I was far too young to cause any real waves or even ripples.

Matter of fact, I was so young that my only remembered encounter with him, and by the way in 1948 he was made a Cardinal, was during a visit to my parish church. That visit was a very big deal because it would be the first time that a Cardinal of the Catholic Church would come to SS. Cyril and Methodius Parish on the East Side of Detroit.

In all honesty I cannot remember why he came or what the visit was all about, some sort of ceremonial for sure.

What I do remember was that the Cardinal Archbishop processed from the rectory a full half city block to the church accompanied by parish groups and organizations waving their banners, marching proudly, altar servers in full garb, vested clergy . . .

And the Cardinal in full regalia.

Which meant a magnificent cape with a very lengthy train.

That I do remember because of all possibilities, I was the one chosen to be his train bearer!

I had to wear special vestments for the occasion too.

I walked behind the Cardinal, at the very end of that long and pomp-filled procession.

And I suspect that to this day somewhere in some closet or trunk, tucked away there is still a photo or two of me, little me back then, in my fancy finery walking carefully behind the Cardinal, lifting that extensive train to ensure that not one inch of it touched the ground or got the least bit soiled.

Along the sidewalk, up the stairway, into the church, down the aisle and up to the altar.

And when whatever the occasion for this visit was was finished, reverse the process back to the rectory.

That was my one, sole dealing with the first Archbishop of Detroit in my lifetime.

I shook his hand, probably kissed his ring and someone told him my name. Then I lifted that train and walked - so proudly.

I don't know if I should count that day late in October when his body was brought back to Detroit from Rome. I, like so very many others, stood in a line that snaked around outside the Cathedral, gradually making the way into the building for one final viewing of our late, deceased Archbishop.

He had gone to Rome with much fanfare as a Cardinal about to vote for the next Pope. Pius XII had died and a successor was to be chosen and through our Archbishop Cardinal, Detroit would have a vote in choosing the new pope for the first time in history.

But that was not to be. Edward Cardinal Mooney died suddenly just prior to the opening of the Conclsave. Detroit would have no vote in that election. The deceased would be returned to Detroit for the final farewell.

And I was still too young, too unseasoned to claim anything more than that I once was chosen to be train bearer to the Cardinal Archbishop of Detroit.

Probably because those fancy vestments fit me!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops (Prologue)

 Well, here goes!

Consider this blog to new an introduction, a prologue, if you will, to what lies ahead and the coming weeks. 

It was November, 2018 when I decided to give this blog thing a try. I have a history of writings - articles, columns, stuff like that. And while there have been those voices prompting me to do a book, that has not yet happened and, given that they days grow more and more limited, that book will likely never happen. Matter of fact, somewhere along the line I suggested to my siblings that they should keep a handle on these writings and someday, when all is said and done, they could gather things together, find an interested publisher and reap the royalties for themselves to enjoy.

I may from time to time be inspired to pen a few words, a column, article or blog, but that book tings just seems not to be in me.

However, for those who have followed this blog for any length of time, every now and then some dots can be connected and articles can be grouped together to address some common themes.

And with this blog I am embarking on a rather deliberate grouping together of a series of reflections, writings that I am not just joining together but even giving a title, a canopy, so to speak, to bind them all together, I am calling the coming collection of writings The Book Of Bishops.

Maybe starting this on Pentecost Sunday is what is inspiring this project.

Maybe the fact that, earlier today, after the Pentecost Mass presided over by a real, live bishop, I was bold enough to remark to him that, "Pentecost reminds us that we are all entitled to red; it's not the exclusive domain of you guys!"

Maybeit's realizing that the current bishop of Detroit will be submitting his letter of retirement soon and we will be waiting for word of a new bishop for the Church of Detroit. Maybe that is part of the inspiration behind what is unfolding in this blog.

Maybe it is just a bit of nostalgic reflection that comes with reaching a certain age and stage in life. Time to look back and remember and share some stories, maybe it is that time for me.

Whatever it may be, and it likely may be any number of things, I am going to do some looking back and telling stories. Some, you readers may already have heard and will find yourself familiar with. Some may provide a surprise or two.

Whatever the result . . . here goes!

The Book if Bishops!

I have decided to do some looking back and narrating experiences I have had over my fifty-nine years as a priest (and a couple more before that) uniquely with the various bishops of Detroit.

Counting the time before those fifty-nine years began, I have experienced five bishops of Detroit (Archbishops actually.) True, when counting auxiliary or assistant  bishops, there have been many more but I intend to limit these reflections to the five who were in charge, so to speak, Archbishops.

And as I reflect back, the very fact that I have stories to tell about personal interactions with such as these is its own surprise.

See, when I was ordained, my plan was to minister in the shadows. That would be a way of describing it. As I looked ahead to whatever years I might be given, my assumption was that I would quietly minister, serving as an assistant for maybe twenty, twenty-five years always with someone else in charge. Then, with a sufficient amount of seniority, I would be given a parish, probably a rather minor parish in the outskirts of the Archdiocese where I would quietly spend the remainder of my years.

That was my plan. That was how I saw my life's journey.

Suffice it to say that Someone else had other plans.

Where I assumed that, if my name came up at any time in those hallowed offices Downtown, the bishop would likely say, "Who?"

As it so often turned out in  reality, when my name did come up in those hallowed offices, more often than not the bishop might just respond with something like, "Ohm, him again!"

And so begins The Book of Bishops.

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Sound of Silence (and Other Sounds too!)

 Hello, Darkness, my old friend,

I've come to talk with you again.

And so that ballad by Simon and Garfunkel begins.

The Sound of Silence!

How well that seems to capture the memories I hold of many, many Good Fridays.

Silence!

As a youngster, I can recall being told to keep all speech, all words, all sounds to a basic minimum on this day. Good Friday is not a day for noises and sounds. It is and should be, so we were told, a day for quiet and reflection.

Even the radio (Yes! I go back that far, back to when radio was our norm for background sounds. Phonographs were also in play back then. However, no matter the device, radio or phonograph were not to be turned on, not on Good Friday.

It was a day for silence.

Even when television came along, on that one Friday of the year, that dial was not to be touched. That screen was to remain blank.

And when I grew older and was spending those Fridays in the seminary, the rule of the house echoed that of my parents' home - silence. Good Friday meant Grand Silence - nothing spoken, nothing to be heard, nothing to break the stillness of the Silence.

And that was the rule right up to the final year of studies. In that final year we were deacons and many of us on Good Friday were sent off campus to various places to enhance the services in parishes. And because we would be out and about, if necessary, we would be allowed to break that Grand Silence, at least until we got back on campus at day's end.

And if a silence ruled Good Fridays that week called "Holy" seemed to be filled with still other sounds, sounds that still come to me in present Holy Weeks and sounds that, I suspect, many of you, reading this, remember as well. While a Good Friday Silence may or may not have been a part of your days past, you may still remember sounds from your Holy Weeks past as well.

Palm Sunday - palms were blessed, usually only before the main (or High) Mass and for that purpose priest/presider and altar servers gathered outside the church's main entrance and that door was shut. When the palms were blessed, there came a sound.

A knock - but a strange sounding one.

The base of the processional cross was used to strike the door three times, in a sense demanding - "Let us in!"

A strange sound that sharp metal against wood knock.

And then on Thursday, early on the sound of the singing of a triumphant Gloria, a sound not heard for some six weeks, now restored and even enhanced.

It was accompanied by the ringing of bells, every bell available was in play including, if that particular church had a bell tower, the steeple bells. It was a shockingly jubilant sound to be certain!

Which was followed by a somber sound - voices singing through the remainder of the service but singing a cappella. No mighty organ, no other instruments accompanied the voices. Suddenly, the jubilation of that Gloria had faded into an ominous seriousness.

And still another jolt.

At the time we usually did hear bells, now, not bells but a jarring clap of wood striking sharply against wood. Almost as if we were hearing the sound of hammer against nails!

And on Friday - that Day of Silence - still another haunting and memorable sound, shuffling, feet shuffling as young and old, rich and poor, saints and sinners made their way forward to the cross, to touch, to kiss, to weep perhaps, and to remember the ugliness of sin and the wonder of Love.

And then back into the Silence.

And waiting.

Until at last another sound broke through the silence and the darkness of a dark,  dark night.

Exultet!

Rejoice!

This is the Night!

And the storytelling began, stories from history, our history, stories of a God Who chooses not to give up on us! Who wants to wash us clean! Who wants, one day, to welcome us Home!

The God Who even now is giving life to those daffodils and crocuses!

This is the Night of the triumph of the God of Life!

And then another sound.

"I do believe!"

And finally the greatest sound of all, the one that has power to break through every Sound of Silence.

Alleluia!

SURPRISE!!!

 Yes!

That is what some might discover as we enter the holiest of days of Christians. Triduum is now upon us and that means that Lent ends (with the beginning of Mass on Thursday) and our immediate journey into Easter begins.

And on that Thursday that we call "Holy" we are invited to gather and to remember that evening when, before He died, Jesus gathered His closest friends at table with Him.

When we speak of that remembering, most often we speak of what happened in the course of the meal shared at that table. We speak of bread and wine and of those words spoken over the bread and wine. "This is My Body" and "This is My Blood."

Thursday is for remembering the beginning, the institution of Eucharist.

But, if we are paying close enough attention on this most Holy of our Thursdays, we just may be in for a surprise.

At the very heart of the Scriptural Words set out for us on that Thursday evening we hear words from the Gospel of John.

Not Matthew or Mark or Luke but John.

And why might that be a surprise?

Well, if we wanted a recounting of those Words spoken over bread and wine, if we wanted a recounting of the actual institution of Eucharist, we would certainly be better served with Matthew, Mark or Luke.

You see, John never mentions in his Gospel the bread and wine or the words spoken over them.

Matthew, Mark and Luke all contain the narrative. There may be slight variations in these narratives. One version joins the bread and cup, making the words and gestures simultanious while a variant narrative puts the sharing of the meal in between the actions and words of bread and cup.

But John's Gospel mentions nothing!

And this is the Gospel chosen for us on this holiest of our Thursdays!

Instead of hearing anything about "This is My . . ." what we do hear from John is the narrative of the washing of the disciples feet by Jesus.

We could have been given any of the other Gospel narratives or we even could have alternated among the three based on which was our reading source for that particular year. With either of these scenarios we would be hearing about the institution of the Eucharist on the very evening when we gather, supposedly, to remember the institution of the Eucharist.

But that sort of logic is put aside and we are, instead, given a surprise.

John's narrative of the washing of the feet! (John 13:1 - 17)

And very obviously that Gospel selection is a very deliberate choice.

We need to remember what is at the very heart of Eucharist - the one on that night before Jesus died and the one for which we gather on this Thursday and every other one as well.

Eucharist is all about washing feet!

In Eucharist Jesus shows His willingness to serve us, each and every one of us. He bends low and humbles Himself for our sake. He gives His whole self for our sake.

On the cross He continues to show His willingness to serve us, each and every one of us. He is made lowly and humbled, treated like a common criminal for our sake. He gives His whole self for our sake.

And in Eucharist we express our hunger and our willingness to enter into communion with Him.

That communion means, or certainly should mean, that, like Him, as His disciples, we choose to live in union with Him, humbling ourselves in loving service to one another.

And not just to the others with whom we may be comfortable.

We are called to serve as He serves.

No matter if someone is "worthy" or "deserving" or fits this mold or that.

He washed the feet of Judas who would betray Him nd of Peter who would deny Him and of the others who would desert Him.

And He declared from His deathbed, "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do."

He drew no lines, set no boundaries!

The Footwasher calls us to Eucharist, to enter into union with Him and to become, like Him, Footwashers.

What a people we would be, what a Church we would be if we only grabbed those towels and basins and water jugs, and got busy joining our Footwasher!

No Ashes!

 As I write this, Lent is at our doorstep. Starts tomorrow. That would be Wednesday, Ash Wednesday. And I am raising the question - can we actually have Lent without Ashes?

For so many Ash Wednesday has become almost a religious holy day. You just have to get to church nd get those ashes. There is, actually, no such regulation and/or stated obligation but still this thinking is embedded in the minds and hearts of many of the faithful (and even some of the less than faithful.)

And because for so many Lent is so much about those ashes and that smudge mark on the forehead, I raise the question out loud and in print.

Can we actually have Lent without Ashes?

And, no, I am not somehow suggestion that we rid ourselves of those Ashes or of Ash Wednesday. Those Ashes can serve a very important purpose. My question is more about Lent itself.

And this year for me the matter is of real consideration because, come Ash Wednesday, I will not be receiving ashes on my forehead.

A couple of days ago I tested positive for Covid. I have begun my Paxlovid treatment. However, it will be a couple days more before another test, this time hopefully negative. In this present situation, I dare not present myself in any sort of public gathering, potentially exposing others to this virus.

No ashes for me on Ash Wednesday this year!

And no big deal either!

Knowing a bit about this wondrous Church of ours and its numerous "faces," I am aware that some of our branches have already begun Lent. They started on Monday last. Obviously, they do not have an Ash Wednesday. Others will begin Lent this coming Sunday, and, again, that Ash Wednesday thing is not on their calendar.

Lent is not about Ash Wednesday.

Ash Wednesday is meant to be a good reminder of why we should take this sacred time seriously but it is definitely possible to have Lent, even a very good Lent, without those Ashes on the forehead.

Forty Days!

Whether counting from the Monday that just passed or the day just ahead or the next in our list of Sundays is all about God's Time and not ours. We are dealing with a Biblical number not a mathematical one.

It is about hearing God's call to us - a call to examine honestly, the seek to do better and commit to take more seriously. God is calling us to give to God the time that God needs for the Holy Spirit to enable us to be more fully, more richly who God has created us to be. God is eager to send/pour forth that Spirit to shake us to our very core!

So it's hearing God to say, "Hey, you and I have got some serious work to do! Let's get busy!"

And Lent is about us replying, "OK, let's go!"

If you need Ashes to call you to that moment, go for it.

And if you do not, go for it still.

The time has come to embrace the call to make of ourselves more beautiful people so that we can be a more beautiful Church so that we can build a more beautiful society so that we can all live in a more beautiful world!

Happy Lent!

Thank you for your service!

 I grew up when (and I know that I am dating myself here, but that is no big deal!) words and phrases like, "Can I help you?" and "Please" and "Thank you" were rather commonplace. A shopping experience, for example, would often be interspersed with such phrases.

Out on the street a "Good Morning" or "Good Evening" or even a folksy "Howdy Neighbor" broke any silence.

Then, somehow, somewhere something began to change.

I cannot document its beginnings but, apparently, someone got the idea to get a bit more personable. And so a greeting was given.

"Have a nice day!"

And, behold! that greeting seemed to catch on like wildfire and it spread everywhere and under almost all circumstances.

Checkout clerks were inviting us to have that nice day and bank clerks were joining the chorus and, I suspect, even a pastor or two sent religious congregations out after a service inviting them to "Have a nice day!"

In fact I think that one of the few places where we were not told to "Have that nice day" was the funeral home.

Without much real thought, speaking out of force of habit, well wishers have invited us to that "Nice Day" even at eight in the evening.

It has become a greeting without much real significance or meaning.

And more recently a still newer phrase, limited in usage to be sure, has emerged.

"Thank you for your service."

With our growing fascination for the military and law inforcercers and public servants in general, there has now emerged that phrase of gratitude. We learn that the person alongside us served in Iraq, "Thank you for your service." A firefighter? Thank you . . .  Works the emergency room? Thank you . . .

The gratitude phrase is becoming commonplace and almost expected. Why, even Pat Sajak now says it on Wheel of Fortune when discovering a public servant.

And while the phrase is becoming commonplace and even in danger of becoming trite, I was caught by surprise recently. I was at a funeral. The Mass was soon to start and I was traversing from paying respects at the bier to my place for the coming time of prayer. I was clearly and evidently clergy. Had all the right attire for it. I could also be discerned as having a rather sufficient number of years behind me. The accumulation of years is evident.

And as I walked innocently from point A toward point B, one of the other participants in the event noticed me, stopped and surprised me with that greeting. "Thank you for your service, Father!"

It was a first and it was a surprise and, not ashamed to say it, it was a welcome blessing.

But then came the real surprise.

I don't know where this came from, probably one of those Holy Spirit moments, but, honestly, without giving thought or preparation to it, I responded. And I am very certain that my response surprised my greeter. I do know that it did surprise me.

"And thank you for being Church!" I responded.

Surprising! Certainly!

But true? Hopefully.

Is not that exactly what Christians, Disciples of Jesus, are to be all about? Should that not be the gratitude that each of us merits? Deserves?

Granted, there will be many in our world, in our time who will not be terribly grateful to be in the presence of those making the sincere effort to live as disciples of Jesus. There will be those who criticize, who tell us that we should keep our religious stuff to ourselves.

Thing is, though, that Jesus did come to reclaim this world and all of its flawed and failed social structures. He came to reclaim this world in the Name of its Rightful Owner. He came to establish the Kingdom of God and that will often go against the values that so many wish to live by.

Meekness? Mercy? Builders of peace? Foot-washers? Servants? Sisters and brothers? Walking the extra mile and turning the other cheek?

What sort of world would that be?

Well, perhaps it is time to try and find out.

Perhaps it is time to do the sort of things that just might cause someone to declare to us, "Thank you for being Church!" Perhaps it is time to take Jesus seriously in His teachings and not try and diminish their potency.

Another Lent is here.

Forget the candy and stuff like that, the stuff of our childhood.

How about giving up the things that are not "Of Church"?

And how about getting busy doing the things that enable us to be called "Church"?

How about a Forty Days that move in the direction of inviting someone, maybe THAT Someone to say to us, "Thank you for being Church."