It is time to produce the final segment of this Book and to introduce the final Bishop being remembered here. It is time to share some interesting interactions between myself and this "Mystery Bishop" whom I saved to the last.
It is time and long overdue but that is because in the interval I have been dealing with some personal health matters. But that is another story and one about which I simply request that you continue to remember me in your prayers. I am doing well, still kicking (so to speak) and trying my best to provide ministry.
That said, on to the final Bishop.
Who is not and never actually was a Bishop of Detroit.
At least not technically. I say that because in a sense he just might be considered the Bishop of Detroit and of every other diocese and archdiocese in the world.
I am speaking of The Bishop - That would be the Bishop of Rome.
Specifically, John Paul II.
And, yes, we have had some interesting interactions, some direct and some indirect.
So, let me share with you some special memories.
The first dates back to the first visit of John Paul to the United States and is would be classified as a remote contact memory.
During his first visit, a special gathering was scheduled in Philadelphia for the clergy of the USA. Those who could, were welcome to take part.
I went.
It was a morning gathering in one of the Philadelphia's churches. The exact name and location excape me. I just know that, along with numerous other priests from across our land, I was there and I was seated very near the center aisle.
John Paul would enter and exit via that center aisle and I had my camera on the ready. I would get a good close-up of the Holy Father.
Or so I thought.
His entrance was not photogenic as he was, as I recall, turned in the other direction, looking at and greeting those across the aisle from me. I could get a photo of his back but that was far from my plan. I would wait for the exit.
And so it came.
And he was looking squarely in my direction as he came down the aisle.
Ahead of him and on either side of him were Seccret Service agents, assigned for his protection.
I leaned out into the aisle, camera in hand, ready to get the photo of lasting memory.
And then I got it!
Not the photo of my dreams but a swift, sharp blow to my ribs from an accompanying Secret Service agent!
I was, in the moment, perceived as a potential threat.
My first memory of John Paul, my first contact, so to speak, was not the photo but sore ribs!
The day would come when I would get that photo but this, clearly, was not the day.
More memories ahead!
No comments:
Post a Comment